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reiderwriter · 8 months

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More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds smut #So much plot #maturereiding

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qdbs-writes · 8 months

Note

How do you think the Cullens would act around a disinterested crush? Maybe they're fated but reader isn't having it lol

(I love your twilight writing btw thank God someone is still doing it 🤤🤤)

ah it has been many moons since I've gotten a twilight request yay!

Cullen Clan Reacting To Their Crush Being Disinterested In Them

Carlisle Cullen

Being alive for just over 400 years tends to give one a good perspective on life and the bigger picture, and Carlisle sure has a pretty good idea of how all things pan out. So you're not interested in him? That's fine, Carlisle can wait for as long as you need to change your mind.

In the meantime, Carlisle will continue to maintain your friendship and continue to show just how hard he's worked to become the kind caring father figure he is. He knows you'll fall for him, eventually.

Esme Cullen

Obviously, she's not going to stop caring about you just because you don't return her feelings. But she might switch up how she shows her affection.

Rather than flirty winks and suspiciously candle-lit wine tastings, she'll back up to more traditionally motherly affections. Making sure you're eating right, baking cookies, etc. And of course, giving you homemade soup when you're sick is still one of her favourite things to do, no need to stop now.

Edward Cullen

Of course, you're not interested, how could anyone love a monster like him? Who did he think he was, thinking he was worthy of your love? Or so his inner monologue goes.

But it's really not that dramatic, it almost never is, Edward just sprung his crush on you suddenly and it caught you off guard. It was largely the excessively long preamble about how he was an irredeemable murderer that put you off first, but of course, he won't realise that until considerably later.

Rosalie Hale

She's a little relieved actually. All her mortal and immortal life, Rosalie has been aggressively pursued by people she wasn't particularly interested in, so the fact that she can crush on someone who isn't really that interested is a wonderful change of pace.

For the first time ever, Rosalie has butterflies in her stomach, she fumbles with her words when she speaks to you, and she feels like a silly, mortal teenage girl again, begging her mother to let her go to the dance just so she can sneak away to catch a glimpse of someone just like you.

Emmett Cullen

You and Emmett had been good friends for a while so when he casually drops a blissful "We should get married" into the conversation, you initially choke on your drink in laughter.

Emmett's a little heartbroken that you'd laugh at something like that, considering that he was being 100% serious. But since you've known him, the both of you have been constantly cracking up jokes, trying to get on each other's nerves, so no wonder you thought this was another one of his pranks. He decides to take this reaction as a blessing, you have no idea he's actually into you, now he knows he has to work out a different way to confess his feelings for you.

Alice Cullen

She's a little confused obviously, having multiple visions of the two of you in a romantic relationship kind of gave her the impression that it might've been going to come true, but your disinterest says something else altogether.

But the worst part is that those damn visions of you and her together keep coming back, taunting her, luring her in deeper to despair with the thoughts of what might be. It's all getting so intense, so she decides to skip town for a bit, see if that changes anything, or at least helps her clear her head.

Jasper Hale

Oh well, so you're not interested in a romantic relationship, so what? Doesn't mean you can't still be friends. Doesn't mean he can't be the charming Southern gentleman he is. Doesn't mean he can't still pull out chairs or open doors for you. Or send anonymous bouquets to your house. Or leave your favourite snacks in your locker when you're having a rough day. Of course not.

It doesn't mean he can't worry about other people who might want to date you. Doesn't mean he can't scare off people who'd be bad for you. I mean, what else are friends for?

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crystallilytarot · 3 months

Text

(sorry for the lighting, it's getting dark here)

A little reading for people who are single since birth. Choose a butterfly

Pile 1 - purple butterfly

(I know it looks pink, but it's light purple actually, just saying this because maybe purple is a significant color for you)

If you are trying to manifest someone, praying or anything, don't give up, it's working! Have confidense. Don't give up on hope, you will find love, don't worry. But also, I know it's a little confusing, but try not to be too obsessed about it. I feel there will be a big change in your life, I don't think it's bad, just something big. And you will be too busy to think about love, but suddenly there will be your person. I almost wrote soulmate, they can be your soulmate too. It's definitely a fated connection. It can happen relatively fast, the energie is pretty fast. You can meet online. Or in a trip, they are traveling to where you live or you travel to their city. It can be a long distance relationship for a while at first. They seems like a fun person, probably an extrovert, optimistic. A youthful person, even if they are older than you. Sexual chemistry is very good here. It can be that you will study or work somewhere else and you will meet them there. I feel you won't be sure if they are good for you at first, because their personality. But it's not like they can't be serious too, so they aren't just a fun loving person. You can overcome anything together, they are the kind of person who will support you in hard times too.

Pile 2 - orange butterfly

Feels like love at first sight. Or should I say lust at first sight? I feel they are like want you right there, when they meet them. You are like two magnets to each other. It can be a little overwhelming though. They will be your type physically. They are very charming, confident, they will sweep you off your feet. They are probably a foreigner or have foreign parents /roots. I feel you two need to focus to know each other too. Because the physical attraction here is so strong. At one point there can be separation too, or a misunderstanding, I see a little conflict here. But I think it's actually good for you to take some time seperately, because it felt like it was too much for you two, you suddenly went from single to fully in love and it was overwhelming. You can meet when traveling. Or it can be after some hard time in your life, or that specific day will be a hard one, but you will be tired, but they will still find you very attractive. It's either raining or snowing that day.

Pile 3 - black and red butterfly

Oh definitely soulmates. I think they are older than you, mature, a little conservative maybe or just traditional. Very loyal, a hard worker. Their love language can be gift giving, they like to take care of their loved ones. Maybe they find it a little harder to tell you how they feel, but they will show you with actions. Very protective over you. You two probably get married too. You can meet in a church too. Or in a grocery store, somewhere you can buy something. I heard book store or a library too. For some of you, family or friends will introduce you two. I feel like you need to be patient, they are coming, don't worry, but it's need a little more time. I think they like to take their time anyway, not a reckless person, likes to think about their decisions. If you have any physical or mental problem, they will be very understanding and you will get better. If you need medical help, please go to a professional doctor, but I'm just trying to say that they will bring positive change in your life, you will be more balanced with them. I feel for some of you, you will move in together fast, so you can leave that bad environment.

#free tarot #pick a card #tarot #pick a pile

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jellipuff · 3 months

Text

Pretty.

Pairing: Sub!Mingyu x reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut (18+, Minors dni!).

Wordcount: 4.2k

Summary: His interest in you was shocking. Star player Mingyu crushing on you? Who knew two years later that calling him pretty was all that was needed for him to fall deeper and who knew for him to get his way all he had to be was pretty? Short answer: you both knew.

Warnings: sub!mingyu!!, established relationship, football player mingyu, idk if this is gn!reader but i don’t think i mention anything too gender-related, Slight pwp, this is literally just reader fingerfucking Gyu with a side of fluff, anal play (m receiving), he's so spoiled, and a lil slutty, reader records them, slight exhibitionism(no one walks in but there are people in the house while they do this), mingyu just can't be quiet no matter how much he tries to say he can :(, reader teases gyu bc he’s cute, he just wants to be called pretty 24/7. (i think that's it?)

A/n: this is my first time writing in forever & my first time writing for svt. I can barely find any sub!svt fics especially mingyu so I thought let me write em myself 🙄. I hope its okay though LOL. also if you don't like it, don't read‼️ No need to burn me at the stake friend. Feedback is appreciated :)

You and Mingyu have been together since sophomore year. You both go to the same college and shared a few classes that year. Classes that weren't too important but important enough for it to affect your grade, school is just like that.

You heard about him in freshman year. He was admired by those around him for his athleticism in football. Quickly becoming one of the best players resulting in him being liked by not only his team but others as well. You didn't really know him then though, not caring to honestly. He was a wonderful football player, the crowd around him either being the same or being interested in it.

Oh, and interested in him.

Mingyu is a stunner, his looks giving him many opportunities in more ways than one. You would hear about how good in bed he was from people talking a bit too loudly in a library. When you’d go to parties with your friends you'd also see how people would try to get his attention. You’d watch as women threw themselves at him in hopes of being the one he takes to bed that night.

So you could see how you were surprised when he seemed to show interest in you.

You're not knocking yourself, you're beautiful and your personality shines just as much. It's just you and mingyu don't seem to have any compatibility if the things you know about him are anything to go by. “He manhandled me so well”, “Our first date was to see the new Fast & Furious.”, “He's so handsome.”

Sure none of those things are bad per se. You just know yourself well enough to know that when you think about mingyu just a little longer than you should that you want to manhandle him.

That if you were to go on a first date you'd want to take him to a cat cafe just to see how this puppy of a man would interact with them. That when you look at mingyu you know he is handsome but you can only seem to think he’s so pretty.

When you got paired together in two of your classes for a project you didn't know if you were fine with it or not. You don't know his work ethic or how his grades are, he shows up to class every day but does he actually care about his grades?

Though as he smiled brightly on his way over to you when your names were called together for the second time that day, you didn't seem to care too much about any of those things.

“Seems like fate huh?” he says with a grin as he sits by you. “What does?” you ask while pulling up a blank PowerPoint. “Us being a couple.” he says flirtatiously and you can't help but give him a look. “You mean us being project partners.” you reprimand but he waves you off.

“Same thing as what I said, either way, it happened twice. So that means it's fate.” he says taking your pink glitter pen to write both your names on the paper you were given. You watch as he draws a little smiling puppy and then a grumpy cat side by side underneath. He turns to you with a pretty smile, pleased at his artwork.

“Look it's us! You’re the grumpy cat.” he giggles and you think if he weren't so cute you'd tell him to find a different partner. Yet you don't tell him that nor do you tell him that this professor only allows blue or black ink.

You think that's the first time you realized maybe you got mingyu all wrong. Maybe he isn't just a jock who watches Fast and Furious and is strong in bed. You also realize this another time.

You and mingyu were doing your meet-up at his place. When he told you he has roommates you almost wanted to cancel on him. An apartment lived in by men sadly only filled your mind with overthinking.

What if it stunk? What if his room was messy? What if his roommates were creepy? You'd like to think mingyu wouldn't let them be weird toward you and that sedates your worries slightly.

As you walk into his place though you’re met with the smell of food cooking and shouting in the living room. Walking in further you see a game of Mario Kart being played and the smell is from the spaghetti being cooked by a man who smiles when he sees Mingyu.

The atmosphere was nice, leaving you to relax a bit from before. Mingyu introduced you to them all, telling them you're going into his room to work on a project not to fuck as his friend Seungkwan had joked. The way mingyu seemed to be flustered at his friend's joke is what leaves you amused.

The thought of him getting shy at being accused of something he is apparently good at and known for is cute. You learn the man cooking is Joshua, and you compliment him on the smell. He laughs; thanking you before saying “For once Mingyu’s crush has good taste.” he teases and Mingyu freezes.

He looks at you with wide eyes cheeks flushing at Joshua's slip of the tongue. “He’s just joking like he jokes like that a lot you know.” he hurries to say and you feel amused. “Uh huh.” you reply and Mingyu feels the need to make you believe he does not like you because what if you find that weird? You haven't shown interest in him at all.

“Yeah, he's dumb you know cause like I could never have a crush on you so what is he even saying?” he finishes with an awkward laugh. He doesn't see the way your smile falls and the way Joshua watches the whole thing unfold in horror. Feeling the need to check if his tall friend hit his head somewhere.

When mingyu does look back at you though he's met with a look he can't read but one that makes him feel like he wants to sink into the floor. “Let's just get this over with okay?” you say coldly and he feels like crying.

Sure he can handle heavy tackles, can handle sometimes getting bad grades, and can handle everyone thinking of him in ways that he isn’t. Right here and right now though? Mingyu realizes he can't handle feeling anything from you that isn't your usual warm sarcasm or soft smile. He realizes that seeing you dismiss him so seriously hurts him, it makes him small in a bad way.

So when you both get to his room and work in silence he thinks he'd rather die from embarrassment at the confession he's going to give than die from the pain of having you not glance his way once in the past hour.

“Um..you know I didn't mean that.” You don't look up when you hum in confusion instead focusing on the information you’re typing. “When I said that I could never have a crush on you I…I didn’t mean that because I do…have a crush on you.” he admits shyly but he doesn't look away. Needing you to understand that what he said earlier couldn't be further from true.

For what seems like forever you finally look at him and just your gaze makes his stomach feel funny. You stare at him, watching him try his hardest to not look away. Seeing his hands fidget from you observing him silently.

You think that right now mingyu looks the prettiest he ever has. His eyes not leaving yours to show his sincerity, blush covering from his ears to his cheeks, and knees to his chest. Leaving his feelings on the table must be scary for him. You know how mingyu feels about this.

He’s told you a few times how people always think they know what he likes, how he feels, and what he thinks. So he never says them, and never is honest with those who aren't close to him. Knowing that with others it's more like they set up what he should like, feel, and think.

Mingyu watches you smile, the warmest one he’s seen from you. Just that alone has him feeling better and then you shock him. “You're so pretty Gyu.” you say with so much admiration he short circuits.

Pretty? You think he's pretty? He's handsome he knows that everyone always tells him that but.. Pretty? Mingyu has never been associated with that and he feels fuzzy at it.

“Pretty?” he questions aloud and you hum with no hesitation “So pretty.” you repeat and mingyu suddenly feels shy, feeling the need to giggle. “You like being called pretty?” you ask endeared and he nods scooting closer to you. “Yeah, I like it.”

─﹒☆﹒─

However, dating mingyu for two years has left you being pleasantly surprised constantly. So when you figure out your boyfriend wants you to take him here with people around, you think for what feels like the millionth time that you’re surprised again.

You hear the laughter and bickering outside of the room. The only thing blocking you from all of the noise is the bedroom door or should you say that the door is the only thing blocking them from you.

Your attention is only focused on the boy who has your shirt fisted tightly as he brings you down to kiss him deeper. You feel him trying to bring his groin closer to your thigh but failing because you keep it too far. He whines again after another failed attempt at feeling something against him.

You pull back from the kiss with a grin, adoration all you feel for the pretty boy beneath you. “No, want more kisses.” he mewls, trying to pull you back down but you don't budge. “But kisses weren't part of the deal, baby.” You remind him and he looks away annoyed at the agreement he agreed to.

Here on a trip with your boyfriends teammates, friends and some of their partners was a joy. Loving being able to go with him somewhere different even if it's not too far from home. It's the fun that comes from enjoying time with him and being able to see him be complimented by his team.

His efforts and talent being highlighted always leave him with high cheeks that glow from smiling too hard. They all are happy right now. Winning games back to back with a few struggles they overcame felt like a blessing.

Just like having Mingyu underneath you with his cock leaking from just a few kisses is a blessing.

Having to split up into two Airbnbs leaves you and Mingyu with others in the house. Mingyu knew that yet he kept trying to gain your attention. He knew he already had it but he wanted your attention in another way.

You first caught onto his little game when he wore a pair of shorts that he knew you loved on him. The way they hug his hips and leave little to imagine at his thighs never fails to make you want to take him right there.

The thing is though Mingyu only wears those in your apartment. He never wears them anywhere else so there would be no need for him to pack them.

When he noticed you staring at him while he looked through the dresser for something he smiled at you before quickly changing. Saying ‘Oh must have accidentally packed these.” While laughing. Yet the throbbing in your core wasn't funny at all.

“Don't be annoyed baby, you were the one to agree, no?” You ask; sliding his underwear down his legs. “Yeah, but I didn't think you’d be this mean.” You smile, enjoying his sulking.

“Mean? Weren't you the one stringing me along all day baby? Until you finally caved in from your own game. Dragging me to the bathroom just begging for me to play with you. And what did I say?” you question watching his ears flush.

“You..you said only if you get to do what you want.” he replies, causing you to smile. “Mhmm and you said I could do anything I wanted, touch you wherever I would like. Do you remember where I said I wanted to touch you?” you ask and he goes quiet, feeling shy.

He doesn’t answer, head still turned away from you. That just won't do, will it?

You grab his chin, turning his face so he can look at you. “Where did I say I wanted to touch Mingyu?” you repeat harsher. Needing to hear him say it out loud. His eyes stay locked on yours before he says “My butt.” he says quietly and you hum, feeling turned on by how he seems so bashful despite this not being abnormal for you both.

“Good boy. You dragged me to the bathroom just to be told I want to see you spread open for me. You wanna know why?” he nods, wanting to hear you tell him. Yet he feels so needy he beats you to it. “Cause it's pretty, you said I'm prettiest when I take you well.” he answers for you.

You pat his cheek before moving down the bed. “That's right baby, so pretty when you're full of me. So pretty when you take anything I give you.”

You wish mingyu would have packed your strap, would have thought to bring at least a dildo in his lust-hazed mind but he didn't. So you'll just have to finger fuck him until you feel satisfied.

You grab the lube that Mingyu didn't forget to pack while leaning down to kiss him. “Color?” you ask and he smiles. “Green, just wish I could take something bigger” he pouts and you laugh softly at the confession. “Then you wouldn't be able to be quiet, so be thankful.” his brows furrow in offense. “I'm not that loud, I can be quiet.” he defends. “Well guess you better prove that now then huh?”

You take his hand in yours before kissing the back of it. You guide his hand underneath his right knee, leaning over to do the same with the left. Tapping his thigh to signal for him to pull them back and hold them closer to himself. He understands quickly, leaving him bare to the cold air and bare to you.

You rub your middle finger on his rim lightly causing him to sigh. Moving to open the lube you apply some to his hole and your fingers. “I'm going to put one in okay baby?” you alert him and he shakes his head. “Two.” you look up at him in disbelief.

“No, I need to prep you, don’t be greedy.” You tell him causing him to whine. “Two! I need something bigger. I can take it, I always take it well.” “Mingyu–” you try to chide.

“Please love, haven't been full in so long. Need to feel you stretch me, miss it.” he bats his lashes, already knowing he has you where he wants you. All he has to do is say a few sweet words, be pretty, and you’d do anything he requests.

“Just tell me if it hurts okay?” you sigh and he smiles, feeling spoiled.

You go back to rubbing his hole a few times before stopping. He looks to see why but you don't meet his gaze. Lust clouding your vision. You need to record him, need to make sure you get a video of him like this. “Gotta film you baby, gotta save it. Is that okay?” you question and he nods.

Loving the feeling of you thinking he’s lovely enough to photograph, lovely enough to be recorded for you to look back on.

You grab your phone from the nightstand before kneeling back on the bed. You open the camera before pressing record. Wasting no time, you slowly inch your two fingers into his hole, watching the way it grips your fingers tightly. You hear Mingyu moan softly, the feeling of you inside him too little but too much at the same time.

“It's pretty?” he asks sweetly and you groan quietly. His warmth surrounds your fingers making your brain feel like it's surrounding you. Making you feel like it's you filling him up, not your fingers, and god how you wish it was.

“Yes baby, it's pretty. All of you is so pretty.” he smiles pulling his legs higher. You point the camera from where your fingers move inside of him up onto his torso and face. Moving faster when you see him look up into the camera.

“Look at you, legs spread wide all for me. What do you think the others would think if they walked in here and saw you like this? Big boy Mingyu, the best player on the team getting his ass played with. Do you think they'd close the door? Or do you think they’d see just how pretty you are?”

His cock jumps at the thought of everyone thinking he's pretty. He only needs to be pretty for you but the thought of them saying it to him makes him groan. At the thought of his teammates, his eyes leave the camera to look at the door, eyeing the knob hoping it's locked only to see it's not.

“Oh no, you forgot to lock the door baby? It's almost like you want them to come in.” you accuse and he shakes his head. Hips starting to rock down to meet where your fingers move just a little faster, still much too slow for him. It leaves him wanting, leaves him jumping at every slide he does get to feel of your fingers on his prostate.

He knows you're missing it on purpose. He knows that you’re only hitting it when you want to and that makes him needier. Makes him have to guess which stroke is going to have to make him bite his lip to quiet his sounds.

You lean back pointing the camera to be focused on his hole as you take your fingers out. He whines at the loss, his hole feeling too empty. His cock lays hard against his stomach, tip flushing pretty against his tan skin. You slide three fingers back into him, the third adding a stretch that mingyu craved.

The stinging is so pleasurable it has him moaning your name. You and your touch are the only thing plaguing his mind.

“You gotta be quiet baby remember? I haven't even touched your dick yet and you're being loud. It's like you want everyone to hear you. Like you want them to walk in and watch.”

He shakes his head quickly even though his cock jumps at the idea. “No!” he whines. You shake your head in faux disappointment. Lifting the camera to his face, his glossy eyes finding it quickly. “Baby told me he’d be quiet and I believed him. Yet he’s such a slut for his ass being stuffed that he can't shut up.” you chastise.

“I c..can be quiet.” he stutters lowly. “Yeah?” you ask and he nods, going to respond yet cut off by you finding the spot that has his back arching off the bed.

You don't relent your movements only seeming to increase. He can't help but cry out, the sounds leaving him bounce off the walls causing you to feel aflame

“Fuck, baby. You look so pretty.” you groan. He doesn’t answer instead putting his hand over his mouth as you abuse his prostate nonstop, his thighs shaking yet never faltering from their position. “Grab your cock Gyu, don't you think it'd feel good baby?” You order him and he looks up at you nervously.

If he takes his hand off his mouth he doesn't think he’d be able to be silent especially if he jerks himself off while you finger him.

Though that's what you want.

You want to see him cum, want to see his jaw slack and cock twitch when he makes a mess of himself. To hear him cry your name out because that's all that pops into his pretty little head. He removes his hand from his mouth slowly, bringing it down to hold his cock: unmoving. “Go on baby.” his eyes flicker from the camera to his cock before pumping it slowly.

The feeling makes him sigh. Your fingers slow down so as to not overwhelm him. “Feel good?” you question and he looks back to you. Pink lips shining and eyes glossy. “Yeah..” he trails off quietly. You smile, your panties left wet from this.

His effort, his beauty, his warmth, all of it makes you go crazy.

You pick up your pace again. Fingers fucking against his prostate unrelenting causing pleasure to overtake him so fast he almost forgets how to stroke his cock. You smile as his hand stutters and his eyes roll back. You look at the camera seeing the way his sweat makes his skin shine.

“What's wrong Gyu? Why’d you stop?” you question, voice laced with faux confusion. He looks up into the camera. His face is so pretty you think you could cum just from seeing him like this.

Even though he's not necessarily staring at you it feels like he only sees you, the phone not even in his vision.

“Can’t Y/n, can't.” he cries out. His lip quivering, he feels so good, loves you so much. He needs your help. Only you know how to ruin him so good, touch him in a way he never can. “Need my help baby?” You inquire and he nods.

His brain is too fuzzy, all he wants is for you to make him cum. Wants to feel your touch everywhere. You grab his cock tightly before pumping him quickly. “Yes, yes..“ he moans out. Hands pulling his thighs closer, hoping maybe it'll let him feel you more.

Suddenly the noise from in the house gets louder, cheering for something unknown being heard. “What do you think they'd say if they knew they were in our video baby? Knew that their voices could be heard while I film me fingerfucking you?” you question before squeezing him tighter. Strokes gliding easily from how messy he already is.

“Ahhh, good s’good!” he moans. Not caring about how his voice is getting louder and how the house is suddenly getting quieter.

“Y/n…y/n!” he cries hips moving up and down. Trying to pull more pleasure from wherever he can get it. “Close baby?” you ask lowly.

“Mmm! feels good, feels so good. Wish it was deeper.” he whimpers out. “I’ll just have to keep you stretched till we go home tomorrow then huh? Then I’ll fuck you deep baby, make you feel me here.” You press your palm on his stomach and the action sends him over the edge.

His stomach tenses and his eyes open to find yours once more. He needs to see you while he cums, to see how you look down at where his cum lands on his stomach while some drips down your hand.

Your name falls from his lips in a sob, letting the whole house know who makes him feel like this. Letting them know who makes star football player Mingyu sound like this.

You take your fingers out of his hole he whines at the slide of them. Pointing the camera to where his hole is now empty. Watching as he clenches around nothing as if to entice you back in. You moan at the sight, such a pretty hole on your pretty boy. You turn the camera off, throwing your phone to the side.

“Was I pretty?” he asks when you lean over him to kiss his neck. “The prettiest.” you admit truthfully. He giggles, loving how you see him.

“Want more kisses now.” he pleads and you smile moving to look down at him “You weren't quiet.” you jokingly remind him. Mingyu whines, feeling frustrated from his lack of kisses. “Don't care. You like it when everyone knows how much of a mess you make me. So shh and give me my kisses.” he vocalizes pulling you closer to him.

You laugh and kiss him lovingly. His lips are always soft and inviting as you press yours to his. Neither of you moves back until your lungs beg for air.

He leans up for one more peck before laying back against the pillows with a pretty grin. “So what I’m hearing is you weren't even trying to be quiet.” you tease; standing up and helping him lean against the headboard. You help him put his clothes on so you can head to the shower. Sure the bathroom is right across the hall but you don't want to risk the chance of someone seeing Mingyu walking; ass out.

“I was trying.” he replies causing you to roll your eyes. “Sure gyu.” You don't even have to look at him to see his leg bounce. “I was!” you only laugh at his insistence.

“Whatever just be quiet from here to the bathroom, then maybe I’ll give you more kisses.” You open the door and look over your shoulder to see him close behind, mouth shut. You giggle at his cuteness.

He knows it's an empty threat, He’s just too pretty that you'd give him anything no matter what he does.

You both know that.

#mingyu x reader #sub!mingyu x reader #sub!mingyu #dom!reader #svt x dom!reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #svt x reader #sub!svt #svt smut #svt fluff #sub!idol #svt imagines #svt fanfic

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charmwasjess · 6 months

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Strap in for the Soresu form III Obi-Wan lightsaber post. This is gonna be a sad one, girlies. We’re getting into Obi-Wan’s Fucking Trauma.

Qui-Gon’s death changed literally everything about Obi-Wan’s life, right down to the lightsaber form. Still a Padawan himself, he had to watch as an extinct monster from his nightmares* utterly took apart the form he’d learned since he was a child, and then, to complete the destruction, slaughtered the teacher who’d taught him the form and raised him. The devastation of Qui-Gon’s actual death had to be the last in a cascading series of horrors that started with the gut-sinking realization that Qui-Gon was losing. And if all of that weren’t enough, Obi-Wan also loses his own lightsaber in the same duel, a psychological blow to his personhood which we don’t have to guess at the significance of. Obi-Wan tells us the cost of it himself in AotC: this weapon is your life.

The Duel of the Fates on a sheer physical level is a devastating thing to consider. It’s a grueling, full out running battle, the likes of which we don’t see elsewhere in the saga. The beauty (and pounding musical score) of the fight distracts from the sheer brutality of it. Maul is physically attacking them at every turn; he manages to kick Qui-Gon hard enough to knock all 6’3 of him off his feet; he dumps Obi-Wan into a fall that seems to be several stories high. We don’t see Obi-Wan get back up off the floor with Qui-Gon’s body at the end of the duel, and I’d be surprised if he was physically able to even stand again so after the adrenaline faded and the soreness and exhaustion took over. He just been whirled in a lightsaber blender.

I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to pick up a lightsaber again after the trauma of that battle - much less, a new, unfamiliar one, not the kyber crystal that had been his since he was a child. The new canon’s emphasis on the spiritual relationship between a Jedi and their crystal makes this detail even more excruciating. The Ataru form itself must have felt broken and unusable. How can you put your trust in a form once you watched it be broken so ruthlessly?

And this is where Obi-Wan is so endlessly beautiful as a character. He goes through this horrifying experience of violent unmaking, and instead of avoiding lightsabers as an understandable trauma response, or picking up an overwhelming power and dominance form like V, he remakes himself into a master of Soresu: a form of simple, complete defense. He doesn’t attempt to become a weapon of attack like Maul did to disintegrate Ataru; he makes himself invincible, untouchable, with a perfect defense. Soresu works the pieces that fell apart for the Jedi in the Duel of the Fates to an advantage. It is a form of ultimate endurance, of playing out your opponent and staying up in a fight until the attacker is exhausted or angry. It preserves and it lasts. It is philosophical. It is considered. It lacks the showy flash of Makashi or Ataru and returns to the basics, even working in some of that battlefield meditation that Qui-Gon so believed in. And in that simple economy, it’s gorgeous and effective.

I have to wonder: is Soresu, on some level, a form of kinetic self-soothing for a person who faced an incredibly traumatic battle at a young age? Does Obi-Wan use it that way?

All of this is perfectly in keeping with the themes of the character. Obi-Wan’s story remains about life, about hope, about survival. The word he uses to describe the Jedi to Luke in the OT is important to me. “Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice.” Guardians. And what better lightsaber approach for a person who sees his role as one of protection than a form whose signature move is called “The Circle of Shelter?”

*Maul, of course, is a tragedy in his own right, but that’s a different post.

#star wars analysis #lightsaber nerd stuff #lightsaber forms #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #disaster lineage #the clone wars #duel of the fates #the phantom menace #soresu #darth maul #star wars meta

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thesmutsideblog · 1 year

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Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #smut #smut fanfic #no beta we die like jason gideon #reader x spencer reid #bau fanfic #bau smut #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #x reader #bau #criminal minds fic

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inklore · 7 months

Note

whispering "i love you" to your "lover" while they're asleep because you're not sure if they feel the same way but you really needed to tell them that

this screams Jordan pretending to be asleep and accidentally hearing reader confess her feelings

Only they actually love reader as well

THREE LITTLE WORDS.

pairing: jordan li x (f)reader

contents: established relationship, love confession, nothing but fluff with angst, jordan being love sick.

note: thinking about them in love and happy makes me cry ok!!

It actually stops their heart. Like their body is cemented beside you, forgotten how to function properly.

Air stunts in their lungs—that haze that flows through ones brain as they’re trying to fall asleep, swept away by your words.

“I love you.”

A brush of a thumb against their cheek, a touch that they want to lean into, that they want to press their lips to, but their body refuses to let them. Brain refuses to work the way it’s meant to to have them open their eyes and stare back into the ones they know are looking at them.

Even when there’s rustling and you’re turning over on your side, your back snuggly pressed to their front. The smell of your shampoo brings them back to some kind of reality that doesn’t have their lungs deflating.

You completely filling their lungs. The synapses in their brain finally sparking to life. Finally, letting air move through their chest as they breathe in and out slowly.

Their heart following suit and beating rapidly and heavily in their chest.

Their eyes opening, the back of your head a solace in this moment,

This moment where they don’t know what to do.

To say.

To act.

“I love you.”

You love them.

And fuck, of course they love you too. The longer they think about it, the longer their heart pounds in their chest, and the more images of your smile, your laugh, the way you feel beneath their fingertips flash in their mind.

They’ve loved you for a long fucking time.

Longer than they're even sure they’ve allowed themselves to grapple with. To overthink, to wonder, and to worry if you’d ever love them too. In the same way. With your entire heart, like you can’t breathe or think straight unless you know you have them—that's the way they feel about you. That’s the way they know they love you.

They've been completely enamored by you since day one, as silly and cliche as it sounds. Even with strains of hookups with other people. The two of you skirting around each other. Like fate was patiently waiting to push you two together at the right moment—a moment that would feel like a volcano bursting.

Sparks, stars, explosions.

They’re so sick with affection and love for you that their chest hurts.

Any insecurity that has plagued their mind with how you felt about them, how you viewed them, has always been kissed away. Smiled away with reassurances and words.

You were an anchor to their loud mind.

Support they’ve been craving and finally have.

But they still can’t say it back right now. Can’t pull you closer and whisper it against your ear or your lips.

You thought they were asleep; they weren’t meant to hear it.

There’s a fight in their brain as they debate if you really mean it or if you just said it to test it out and don’t actually like the way it feels.

Sounds.

But when they wake the next morning, their overthinking finally lolling them to sleep after hours of tossing and turning—when their eyes meet your sleepy ones, when you give them that groggy smile, they can’t help it.

They need to say it.

Need to tell you, or they might fucking burst.

“I love you too.”

#jordan li fluff #jordan li x reader #jordan li x you #jordan li fic #jordan li imagine #gen v x reader #gen v fic #jordan li x y/n #gen v imagine #gen v fanfiction #ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪ blurb night

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cozage · 8 months

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Hi. How are you? Congratulations! Can I please have an option 1? How about Law, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Sabo and Ace (feel free to pick and choose) teaching a s/o (preferably female) how to fight? Like Zoro teaching the reader to sword fight or Sanji teaching his to use black leg. Thank you 💙🤍💙🤍

Omg girlie hey!!! How have you been?!!? Good I hope <3

Send me an event request!

Characters: gn reader x Ace, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy Total word count: 650

Teaching Moments

Ace

Literally so patient and such a good teacher but works you to the bone. He forgets that you are new at this and he has been training since he was born.

Hand-to-hand combat isn’t necessarily your strong suit, but he figures out you're quite good with a pipe.

He is also very good at fighting with a pipe (is there anything this man is bad at?!?!)

He won’t pull punches or go easy on you just because he loves you. You will crawl away from your training sessions with bruises and cuts all over your body.

After your sessions, he’ll walk with you to Marco to get healed up, and then he’ll give you a really nice, warm massage to loosen up your muscles. That alone makes your training day worth it.

You sometimes feel like you’re not making any progress, but when you start fighting people who aren’t Ace, you realize you’re much better than most of them. Fighting the best of the best really has its perks.

Zoro

Zoro is a good teacher…most of the time.

He gets frustrated easily when you don’t follow instructions, and expects you to come in with basic sword skills, but you don’t have any.

You have to remind him that not everyone grew up in a dojo, where they learned about swords morning, noon, and night. After he learns that, he takes you back to the beginning, teaching you in a new light.

He returns to the bamboo stick and the formations, and suddenly he becomes happier, laughing more with you and telling you about his childhood at the dojo. Every skill you learn is paired with a “Well when I was a kid…” story, and it warms your heart.

He takes you to a store to get your own swords. He definitely believes that you need to pick your own sword. He gives you pointers and advice, but he mostly leaves it up to you. He knows how important of a decision it is, and he won't interfere with fate.

He takes it easy on you. He can skillfully decipher just how much he needs to pressure you to get you to continue to grow.

Zoro doesn't understand much in his life, but he does understand two things: swords and you.

Sanji

Sanji. Bless his heart. He is not a good teacher.

He goes too easy on you and treats you like you’re too fragile.

It actually begins to put a bit of a strain on your relationship because it feels like he doesn’t think you’re capable of fighting the way he does.

In reality, he just doesn’t think a lady needs to fight. And he certainly doesn’t want to hurt you during training. He can’t hit a lady, even to defend himself.

He wants you to learn, and you know he’s not being rude or malicious, but in order to save your relationship, you end up finding another fighting instructor.

Instead of fighting, you help him prepare meals. And thankfully, he’s more than happy to let you help him do kitchen prep.

Luffy

Luffy is…Luffy.

Your training sessions always start out strong. He’s surprisingly good at giving you pointers (“raise your elbow” or “a right hook would’ve been better than a direct attack right there”)

Sometimes he forgets that not everyone has gum-gum powers. He’ll advise you to fling your body towards your opponents and you’ll just kind of deadpan and wait for him to realize his mistake, which always leads to a fit of giggles from you both.

Training sessions never last long. You guys always get distracted by someone or something, or you all get hungry or start chasing each other around, laughing and playing another game.

It’s always fun, you’re just never sure how much you’re actually learning. Sometimes you get irritated and think neither of you are taking it seriously, but Luffy’s way of life is “if it’s not fun, we shouldn’t do it”.

Little do you realize, he’s actually training you through the games you all play, and the mischief you guys get into. He’s a pretty good teacher overall.

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unclewaynemunson · 9 months

Text

More often than not, it doesn't work out.

Robin first learned that lesson with Vickie, when she thought she found the love of her life but ended up breaking things off because the way in which Vickie mirrored her anxiety back to her enhanced it tenfold and it turned out to be completely exhausting to keep up with that after the first wave of butterflies had died down.

After Vickie, there was Laura. Laura, with whom it seemed to work out until she told Robin that she couldn't bear keeping up with her weird, unsettling and way too vivid nightmares about Russian spies and monsters from fantasy stories every other night.

After Laura, there was Julia. Julia, who was amazing for four whole months until she told Robin with tears in her eyes that she couldn't tolerate the cheating anymore. It didn't matter how often Robin told her that sleeping with someone didn't necessarily mean sleeping with someone, that Steve was like a brother to her – and that the whole thing was utterly ridiculous in the first place because Robin was very much a lesbian. Needless to say, it didn't work out.

Then, there was Amy. Amy, who, like a cruel twist of fate, actually cheated on Robin. It was only a one-time thing, a drunken kiss during some stupid party, but it was enough to damage Robin's trust in her irreparably. So it didn't work out.

Up until then, she had chalked it up to a string of bad luck or maybe bad taste. But after Louise (who brought up the nightmares again), Valerie (who wanted some adventure in the bedroom and had to guide Robin through a panic attack filled with inexplicable flashbacks when she tried tying her to the bedframe), and Mathilde (who made a problem of Robin's regular 3am calls with Steve when neither of them could sleep), she starts to wonder if it wouldn't be more probable that it is herself who is the problem instead of this whole list of girls.

“Don't you dare say that about yourself,” says Nancy with fire in her voice when Robin finally dares to voice that thought out loud.

They're both lying down on Nancy's brand new couch, a pair of legs dangling over each side and their heads right next to each other in the middle. Except for that couch, the living room is still empty. Boxes are piled up everywhere, still waiting to be unpacked, but they can wait a little longer.

Robin is happy to have Nancy at her side again. It's been a while: college and differing career paths kept them separated through the majority of their friendship. But now Nancy has found her way back to Indiana, only half an hour away from where Robin has been living with Steve and Eddie ever since Mathilde broke up with her a few months ago.

She hasn't really been dating anyone since, and now that Nancy is also living in Indianapolis, she wonders if she'll ever feel the need to. No girl would ever be able to compare to Nancy Wheeler, after all; Robin knew that much as soon as she saw Nancy stepping out of the U-Haul wearing pastel-pink dungarees, with all grown-out curls cascading over her back and a thick layer of eyeliner around her beautiful doe eyes.

“Well, it could be true,” Robin presses on.

“No it can't!” Nancy says it in such an indignant tone that it makes Robin snort skeptically.

“I'm serious, Rob.” It sounds stern. “I know you and I know it's not true. It's not your fault.”

“You're seriously telling me I've been dating seven girls over the past seven years, and none of it worked out, and it's all because of them? All those relationships were wildly different; I'm the one consistent factor in all of them, Nance.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're the problem.” Nancy says it like it's obvious. “Maybe the problem is that you've been picking girls who all have one single thing in common, and that is that they never wanted to make the effort to really listen to you.”

"Huh." Robin closes her eyes for a second, taking her time to let those words sink in. She never thought about it that way. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Mathilde was a bitch anyway,” Nancy says matter-of-factly. “I mean, did she ever ask you to explain why you've been feeling the need to call Steve in the middle of the night lately?”

Robin shrugs. “That's a bit difficult to explain, isn't it?” she points out.

“That's what I'm saying,” says Nancy. “It's exactly why you keep picking out those kind of girls. Because if you're with someone who will actually listen to your story, you're gonna have a problem. Right?”

And, well, shit. It's not like Robin asked for a free therapy session here, but... Nancy is right. Of course she is. She always is.

Robin turns her head to the side, exchanging her view on the white ceiling for a much better one: Nancy's face, so close to her own that she can take in every little detail. The elegant slope of her nose, the wing of her eyeliner, the freckles on her cheeks, her perfect lips... Her face in this en-profile position is mesmerizing. It's not the first time that the thought comes to Robin's mind that Nancy looks like someone who should be in old paintings.

“Do you think you'll ever try to find someone who listens to you?” Nancy asks.

Robin tries to imagine that scenario; it's difficult. Not just because she doesn't really know how that would work in the first place, but mostly because she doesn't actually want to.

“Nah,” she says, trying to make it sound casual instead of really fucking sad.

“Why not?”

Because nobody can ever compare to you anyway, she thinks. But she bites her tongue and shrugs, turning her head back to the ceiling.

“That would be way too complicated, wouldn't it?”

Nancy shuffles and sighs; Robin feels her breath tickle against her cheek.

“I guess,” she mumbles.

“How did you do it?” Robin asks.

Nancy's dating history is not as tumultuous as Robin's. After things ended between her and Jonathan, she had been solo for a while. Then, there had been Ben, and then Kurt, and then it had again been just Nancy for a long time.

“Did what?”

“Did you ever find a way to tell Kurt about all the shit?”

“Nope.” It doesn't exactly sound like she tried very hard.

“Why not?”

“Because I did the same thing you did,” Nancy says. “Chose the wrong people to do that with. So I didn't have to think about it.”

That doesn't feel completely fair to Robin; Nancy had been with her boyfriends longer than Robin had been able to keep even one of her girlfriends around.

“I liked Kurt, he was nice,” she remarks in an attempt to point out the difference without being too blunt about it.

Nancy sighs. “Yeah, he was nice, but he wasn't... Right. I knew that from the beginning. Same with Ben. Even with Jonathan, in a way. Or Steve, even though I was too young to realize it.”

“What do you mean, not right?”

“Boys.”

“Wha-” Robin turns her head sideways so fast that she's lucky she doesn't pull a muscle.

She sees how Nancy's eyes drop from the ceiling and slowly find their way to Robin's face.

“Took me a while to figure that one out,” she says quietly. “But yeah.”

Robin wishes they were lying in a different position; one that would have made it possible for her to take Nancy's hand and squeeze it gently, or to wrap an arm around her, or to pull her in for a hug.

“Thank you for telling me.”

A soft smile is tugging at Nancy's lips. She looks at Robin like she wants to say something, then looks back up to the ceiling again, and Robin copies her movement, biting her own tongue again in order to give Nancy the time and space she clearly needs right now.

Usually, Robin struggles with silences; she'll feel words pile up inside of her until her need to fill the empty space will take over and she'll inevitably start rambling. But this one actually feels comfortable. She wishes that they could keep lying side-by-side on this couch for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, they can't, though. There's still way too much work to be done. So Nancy hauls her to her feet and soon, the couch gets company of a coffee table, a couple of cozy armchairs, a bookcase, a TV... There are boxes filled with books, kitchen appliances, picture frames, video tapes, clothes; there are closets that need to get assembled and a heavy bedframe that they can barely get to where they need it.

It feels like it will never end, but after two long days of hauling furniture around, the apartment starts to look like a home. A home for which Robin gets a spare key. It rests cold and shiny against the palm of her hand, where Nancy has dropped it, and it makes her realize how real it is that Nancy is finally living close to her again.

Nancy's couch becomes just as much of a home for Robin as her own living room. It's where the two of them share stories, tell secrets, laugh loudly, cry ugly... It's where they watch movies until deep in the night, snuggled up to each other under a soft blanket. It's where they read books side-by-side on lazy Sunday afternoons. It's where they listen to music together and where they listen to what the other has to tell about their day or about anything that's on their minds. It's where Robin finally gets the courage to tell Nancy that nobody has ever listened to her the way Nancy does. It's where Nancy scoots closer towards her to press a kiss against her cheek, right before she finds Robin's lips and they share their first kiss, warm and homely and perfect.

More often than not, it doesn't work out. But once in a lifetime, it does. And once is exactly enough.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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halcyonfawn · 5 months

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the meaning behind "face the raven" theme in "wild blue yonder" and more

a continuation of this post. i need to talk about this otherwise i'll explode.

some people have also said that this theme is playing in "last christmas" and "hell bent" (thank you for pointing that out, i'm going to die) which makes it all even worse (better). therefore, this post is, more or less, destined to turn into capaldi's era brainrot. but not all of it, i promise.

you've been warned.

first of all, allow me to refresh your memory. let's look into the context of the scenes where we heard this music theme before.

"last christmas"

according to series 8 official soundtrack, this theme is a part of "every christmas is last christmas" and is heard quite clearly two times. they're both important scenes for the doctor and clara.

too late.

a moment full of regrets and nostalgia. the doctor thinking he's lost clara again, wishing he would have come back sooner. clara reminicing her life without the doctor in it.

"so no one matched up to danny, eh?" "there was one other man, but that would never have worked out." "why not?" "he was impossible."

it is (heavily) implied that "one other man" is the doctor. does the doctor himself realise that she's talking about him? open for interpretation. but what this small exchange truly does is showing a game of saying something without actually saying it.

"can you really see no difference in me?" "clara oswald, you will never look any different to me."

yet another way of dancing around words. there's something special and touching about this last line. it is sort of a confession of unconditional love. but the word itself - love - is never spoken out loud.

then again, twelfth might be face blind.

second chances.

now, this scene is a complete opposite of the one mentioned above. it's full of hope, anticipation, happiness. a beginning of a new arc. he is given a second chance and he takes it. the doctor asks clara to run away with him once again. and she says "yes" without hesitation, takes his hand, kisses him on the cheek.

conclusion? these two scenes are focused entirely on the doctor and clara's relationship. it is there to show their strong connection, how much they mean to one another. utter devastation at the thought of their time ending and the absolute joy of reuniting after being separated. a chance at a happy ending. which also makes the music that plays on the background their theme.

"face the raven"

"every christmas is last christmas" is now turned into "face the raven" and is asocciated with clara's death. it also makes the previous name even more heartwrenching since last christmas was literally clara and doctor's last hurrah. we can hear this piece of music appear in two scenes as well.

clara's monologue about facing the raven.

"if danny pink can do it so can i. die right. die like i mean it, face the raven. maybe this is what i wanted. maybe this is it. maybe this is why i kept running. maybe this is why i kept taking all those stupid risks, kept pushing it."

she's accepting her fate and aknowleges her recklesness all the way throught the season 9. it was meant to be. there wasn't enough space for two doctors in the tardis.

"i let you get reckless" "why? why shouldn't i be reckless? you're reckless all the bloody time! why can't i be like you?" "clara, there's nothing special about me. i'm nothing but less breakable than you. i should've taken care of you."

this scene is also about how a human life can be so very short compared to the time lord's and how easily it can end. it's fragile. and it's the doctor's curse: bearing the pain of losing his loved ones.

clara meeting her fate.

as she approaches the raven, ever so brave, the doctor watches her. he hears clara scream, then witness her collapsing onto the ground. it is extremely painful, but this is, i repeat, the doctor's curse: watching his companions leave. there's no use in running away from that pain, it haunts him every step of the way.

"hell bent"

next time, "face the raven" theme can be heard during the memory wipe sequence. there is no name given for the background music in this particular moment, but it's quite obvious it represents loss and... letting go?

the doctor is about to make clara forget their time together (does that ring a bell, anyone?).

it is worth pointing out that the music becomes the loudest at the exact moment the doctor says:

"look how far i went for fear of losing you. this has to stop. one of us has to go."

it is the culmination of their relationship. companions that push each other to extremes. together they might destroy the whole universe in order to keep each other safe. there's no other way but to separate. they've formed such a strong connection than one is ought to forget the other.

even though at first the doctor is determined to wipe clara's memories, he then admits she is right: it is unfair to take away all that wonderful time they had from her. so he gives her a choice. or, more like, an offer to play a russian roulette. it's either you or me. i'm not going to press that button. we will do this together.

to summarise: all of these moments featured a strong connection between clara and the doctor. it also tells us a story about how hard it is to lose someone you care about deeply, especially for the doctor.

how is it all connected to the doctor and donna?

memory wipe

the doctor has to make donna and clara forget about him in order to keep them safe. expect that he doesn't give donna a choice, wiping her memory almost instantly, without saying a proper goodbye to her. obviously, he didn't have enough time to think of a better way to solve the problem since donna wouldn't have lasted long. however, it is still a decision he regrets making.

from "the star beast":

"i'm so glad you're back, donna. it killed me, it killed me, it killed me."

if we take a look at clara's situation, it's a bit different. i've already mentioned it above: at first, the doctor wants to do the same thing to clara that he did to donna. make her forget. expect, this time he is confronted for doing so (even threatened, at some point).

"these have been the best years of my life and they're mine."

i think this line triggers something in the doctor. because this is when he realises that this is not the right thing to do. not exactly. he'd already done it once and he regretted it. so this time, he offers a slightly different solution. someone still has to forget, but they'll press that button together. it's a mutual choice.

now, i know it's not entirely related to the dialogue in "wild blue yonder", but i think it's worth mentioning that donna and clara's stories are somewhat similar. i'm sure it's been said before, but it's still important.

donna's story was incomplete because she wasn't given a choice. now, that she remembers, 14th doctor makes sure their time together is worth-while. a second chance just like in "last christams".

too alike

another similarity between these two stories is that clara and donna are not entirely humans. not anymore.

donna's half timelord. even though her head is still not big enough to fit all the doctor's memories, she still has a part of the doctor in her.

clara's frozen in time, that makes her practically immortal. she risks her life, she reverses the polarity of the neuroblock, she gets her own tardis, she's even reffered to as "clara who" at the end of "hell bent". she has become the doctor in a sense.

but there can only be one doctor. so where's the story heading to at this point, i wonder? but we'll come back to this question later.

"but what really happened?"

before i say anything, it is obvious that the doctor's silence before and after he says "a lot" is him reminicing all that'd happened to him during the 11th, 12th and 13th reincarnations. all of the loss and pain he went through.

but why "face the raven" theme of all things? it could be a general theme of grief/nostalgia/painful memories, nothing else implied.

but please let me be delusional for a bit longer!

just as that scene in "hell bent" brought the doctor back to the moment he made donna forget him, could it be that bringing back his best friend's memories in a whole universe that "he absolutely loves", also reminded him of another important person in his life with similar story? just like "hell bent" mirrored "the journey's end", "wild blue younder" gave us a reference to "hell bent".

this is where we get back to the question about the current story direction.

foreshadowing?

donna's story is not over. and there are a lot of possibilities how it can end.

say, there is a connection to clara's story here, i wonder if that's where the plot's heading. in one of the trailers, the doctor does say "i'm not sure if i can save you this time" to donna. and it worries me. then again, maybe they're just tricking us into thinking something bad will happen (oh the drama).

i'd say it's unlikely donna's going to die because that would be absolutely devastating after just bringing her back. at the very least, the ending wouldn't be completely "happily ever after". perhaps, sacrifices will be made in order to prevent something truly horrible from happening.

why did this face come back?

in "the girl who died" twelfth doctor finally realises why he got his face. it is a call-back to "the fires of pompei" (don't even get me started on its being the episode with 10th and donna).

the message the doctor was giving to himself turned out to be:

"i'm the doctor and i save people!"

but what is 14th trying to tell himself?

i think it's about donna and more.

he's fixing his mistake of erasing her memories and depriving her of the right to remember amazing things that'd happened to her.

it's a reminder to actually tell people how much they mean to him. as we can see, 14th's more open with his feelings and constantly shows signs of affection towards his loved ones, even breaking the "never say i love you" rule.

it's about being honest and open with people because they deserve to hear it from him and he deserves to hear it back. because "things happen and then it's too late".

again, take 12th doctor, for instance. he constantly represses his feelings. but in my humble opinion, the reason why he's changed by season 10 was clara. she pulled him out of the dark place. and even though her death almost threw him back to that state again, he is still a better man by season 10.

but there were things left unsaid. love and care were always there but it was never said out loud. kind of the same thing happened with 13th.

i strongly believe that donna is that person for 14th. they're best friends who love each other deeply. and after the doctor lost her and got a second chance to fix everything, he does, he's being affectione. he's finally open with his feelings.

conslusion: why did you make us read all fo this?

to answer the question in the title: it's all tied with how memories are important and priceless, fixing past mistakes, moving on and learning to treasure every moment with people you care about like it's your last.

it can also be a foreshadowing for something terrible, but i choose to hope for the better.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

aaaand that is the end of my doctor who rant. thank you for getting this far, if you did!

my feelings about all of this can be described with this one meme:

#doctor who #doctor who meta #dw #dw spoilers #wild blue yonder #twelfth doctor #fourteenth doctor #tenth doctor #donna noble #clara oswald #face the raven #last christmas #hell bent #twelveclara #whouffaldi #i'm sincerely sorry if you've stumbled across some stupid grammatical or other mistakes while reading #i wrote a part of this at 3am #[unhinged analysis]

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aurelim · 8 months

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As the Ocean Lures Intro Post

As the Ocean Lures is an interactive novel about being a Merfolk. You will go on hunts, learn more about humans, and perhaps explore the land above.

As the Ocean Lures is a 16+ game with themes that may be triggering to audiences. This includes drowning, murder, death, body horror, dark humor towards death, potential transphobia, and the MC will exhibit sadistic traits with certain choices. This will be updated as the game goes on.

This game is loosely inspired by the Little Mermaid, and has taken inspiration from games like Beyond The Waves and Abysm's Veil.

CHECK OUT THE DEMO HERE!

Everyone has heard of sirens. Mysterious humanlike beasts who use their powerful singing voice to lure sailors to their untimely death. However, the only thing modern mythology mistaked was the fact that sirens retained bird-like features rather than fish tails.

You, on the other hand, are a Merfolk. As a Merfolk, you maintain most of the qualities often associated with mermaids and "sirens". With your family, you work to bring down sailors using your voice and abilities under the sea.

But do you actually want this fate? Is this what you want for the rest of your life?

It was.

At least, that was what you had always thought.

When you meet a captain who is dead set on showing you everything about the surface, you are quite literally pushed into a whole new world. And you discover that perhaps the human world...is not as bad as you were told.

But now you have a dilemma. Will you question everything you know? Or will you remain a part of the ocean?

Customize who you are as a Merfolk, from gender, pronouns, looks and personality.

Helping your family to sink ships full of sailors (or not...)

Watch a captain drown or save them from certain death.

Maintain your relationships with your family—follow what you have been told your whole life or go against everything they have taught you.

Romance one of four characters: your best merfriend, the strange siren who assists your family on their hunts, the human captain you saved(?) or that royal who seems to love spending time by the sea...or no one since being a Merfolk is already hard as it is.

Will you live out of the sea or under the sea? The choice is yours.

Kai/Kaia (He/him or She/her): The Best Merfriend

Your best...er, merfriend. You have known them your entire life and they remain a constant in your life. K has always been interested in the surface, whether you agreed with them or not. If given an opportunity—any, really—to go on land, they would jump at the chance. Friendly and caring, K is loyal to a fault, never-ending when it comes to you and your family. But is there something underlying your friendship? Guess you'll have to find out.

Echo (They/them): The Siren

Echo is...in short terms, a mystery. They first came to your family's rescue during one of the worst hunts of your life, and has stuck around ever since. Your mother treats them like her sixth child, though you are sure the sentiment is not reciprocated. Despite knowing Echo for almost eight months, you have yet to learn anything about them beyond their name and pronouns. It seems like they don't want to get attached to you or your family. They are professional, keeping away from personal questions. Will you be able to break down their walls?

Louis/Eloise (He/him or She/her): The Royal

You don't know much about them, besides knowing they are the heir to the throne of Oceanic. They can sometimes be found standing by the ocean on their private beach, eyes closed as if they are in another world. They address the world with such maturity, garnering them fans across the kingdom. And it certainly helps that they are attractive. Many look forward to the day they take the throne from their father.

Anthony/Anne Maddox (He/him or She/her): The Captain

The captain who you (or someone else) saved from certain death. They once claimed mermaids existed, which brought a reputation that preceded them. To prove it, they recruited a group of sailors to join them. The day they sailed out was the day you found them, the only survivor. A has a knack for getting into trouble, as well as a sense for adventure. Now knowing you exist, they want to show you the human world. Will you let them?

#As the Ocean Lures #atol #if: intro #status: wip #status: demo #twine game #interactive fiction #if #twine if #interactive novel #merfolk #16+#romance #fantasy

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norman-fucking-reedus · 2 months

Text

More GirlDaddy Daryl cause the love I have for him is actually not funny

I thought of a name a longgg time ago for his daughter that I think is super cute, It was gonna be Darylina but then I thought how Daryl would hate that THEN I thought how DARYL would make CAROL the grandma so obviously Carolina is the perfect name

She’d be called Lina for short, Carol as a joke and Carolina when shes in buttfuck trouble (which teenege Lina gets into a lot of but shes her mothers child)

I feel like she’d be a total badass, a good balance between Daryl badass and Y/n badass. She’s a hardcore daddys girl so by age ten she was already mastering the Dixon way of hunting.

“Ya got light steps naturally, let’s keep em tha’ way kiddo”

“Okay daddy!”

Lina would be more like Daryl as a kid, and I feel like Daryl was a rowdy kid.

She practically bounces off the walls from the assigned hours of too early in the morning to too late in the evening. Getting jumped on before he gets out of bed wasn’t exactly on Daryl’s bucket list (but he wouldn’t have it any other way)

Yes, she constantly climbs onto her father like a cat. No, there’s nothing he can do to get her squealing giggling frame off him. His only option is to accept his fate and play 21 questions directly over his shoulder.

“Lina! M’working, get offa me”

“Wha’cha workin’ on?”

“Stuff”

“Wha kinda stuff?”

“Adult stuff”

“Wha kinda adult stuff?”

Daryl uses her whenever he works on his bike, and his massive fingers can’t fit to reach something. She feels very important when her tiny fingers reach it, and she lets Daryl know how very useless he is.

“Daddy yer not gonna be able to fight if ya can’t fit yer fingers in stuff”

“Really? Damn. Good thing yer gonna protect me”

“No daddy, yer have to protect yerself because m’gon go protect mommy”

“Tha’s good idea, mommy can’t protect herself”

“But mommy can fit her fingers in stuff”

“Then why ya protectin’ her ‘nd not me?”

“Because I like mommy”

“I like mommy more”

Oh maybe I should mention they bicker over EVERYTHING. And guess who has to be the tiebreaker?

“Babe! Tell this rat tha peanut butter is indefinitely better than tha jelly!”

“Daryl she doesn’t even know either of those are and everyone knows jelly over butter”

“See mommy is always right!”

“Are ya cheatin’ one me??”

There’s a very strong love-hate relationship between him and teenage Lina, especially when hormones start to change and tempers flare.

Once again, Lina is a mini Daryl and Y/n, so when she shoots back during arguments, she’s aiming for the head.

“For tha last time, no. Too dangerous and m’not gon be able ta keep an eye on ya. End of discussion, quit pushin it”

“M’not a fucking kid anymore. I didn’t want ya keepin’ a damn eye on me in tha first place?!”

“Gettin real ballsy there little girl, I said wha’ I said”

“Ballsy? Little? Clearly I got more balls than ya since yer too fuckin’ scared to take me”

“Carolina. Wherever this is comin’ from, cut it the fuck out.”

“I’m gonna cut you the fuck out.”

“Scuse me?“

“Good luck on the battlefield when ya can’t even fuckin’ hear”

After every hard slam of her door, Daryl is left to stand in the deafening silence feeling like an utter failure.

Obviously, he gives her the time to decompress before going to apologize, this time with his crossbow in hand.

The door creaks slightly open before all the way, however there’s no little girl that comes running out into his arms. She stands tall in front of him, mirroring his expression of anxious discomfort.

“Ya stay close, no matter what. Understand?”

“Okay”

Daryl hands her the crossbow.

“Look- I know yer not a kid, but yer still my kid. Yer gon always be m’little girl an yer growin’ up scares tha livin’ shit out of me”

“Ya’ve killed people.. isn’t tha’ scary?”

“Wha’s scary tha’ if I didn’t kill ‘em they might’ve killed ya”

Lina hugs him tearfully.

“M’sorry fer arguin’ with ya”

“Nah, m’sorry fer not givin’ ya a chance”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

(Daryl’s inner child definitely gets healed each time after apologizing and talking it out. He breathes so much better and just feels so much better AUGH my baby)

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #norman fucking reedus #daryl x reader #daryl x female reader #twd #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl imagines #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic

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novthewolf · 3 months

Note

hello can give crush edward cullen x fem reader headcanons please 🙏 😊

Edward Cullen having a crush on you :

- The moment you cross that damn classroom door, Edward felt a incredible pull toward you.

- The rapidity of it would be ridiculous. But we all know our melodramatic vampire, he loves to make things complicated.

- He would be in a huge denial. Absolutly disregard any possible feeling for you.

- Edward would actually be scared, 'cause he thinks what he feels for you was plain bloodlust.

- So obviously, he distances himself from you even before your first official interaction.

- You didn't know how to react to this, wondering what you did wrong but tried your best to not let it get to you.

- You two were almost forced together by fate, since you have to work on a history project together.

- His incredible knowledge of history surprised you and intrigued, asking him all the questions you might had and always receiving an answer.

- Edward actually really enjoy your curiousity and got more and more eager to answer you.

- Still, you don’t instantly get closer from that. But slowly, he warms up to you.

- You spend more time together, especially in the library.

- His family doesn't quite understand why he hangs around you. And if you asked him at that moment, he wouldn't know either.

- What he does know is that it's getting harder and harder for him to stay away from you.

- Your presence, the way you smile when he explains something to you, the movements of your hands when you turn the pages of your new book.

- The way your eyes met his...

- Edward made a huge effort to never focus on your mind and read it but sometimes he wanted to know what you were thinking.

- He'd spent a lot of nights laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, replaying your conversations and moments spent with you, a smile grazing his lips unconsciously.

- Alice will get tired of his rambling about you but especially of his denial.

- Edward just couldn't bring himself to admit it, but the crush was there. And he was falling hard.

- As you grow closer, he becomes quite protective of you, as one could expect.

- When you hang out of Forks he is clued to your side, only leaving once he brings you back to your doorstep.

- Edward would be smiling and laughing way more often around you than with anybody else.

- Your whole relationship is really soft and slow but the feelings are there, and raising to the top.

- He would be showing signs of courting. Like, sometimes, out of nowhere he would come by to your house, to drive you to school and a tiny hand-picked bouquet flower will be waiting for you.

- Lifting your bag or books for you, holding the door open, glaring other 'suitors' away...

- "Let me get that for you..." He'd say and grab the book of the top of the shelf you couldn't reach, trapping you against his body.

- You would be constantly on his mind, almost driving him to madness. You managed to settle yourself in his head, but he would be a damn fool if he ever try to erase you.

- Now, everyday when he went off to school, he would arrive with a dumb little lovestruck smile on his face.

- But days aren't enough anymore and he regurlaly come through your window at night and observe you sleep peacefuly.

- He sometimes even clean up your room for you. And it's alway a nice surprise to find a tidy room, despite the fact it was certainly how you remembered it looked like when you went off to sleep.

- However, I don't think he would really act on his crush right away, but eventually... heh...

- No, it's better if you at least do the first step, just to reassure him.

- If you're too shy to explecitly confess your attraction toward him, don't worry you can be subtle, he notices the small details.

- When he notices your attraction, he isn't surprised by it (he is ecstatic don't get me wrong) but rather of his feelings for you.

- Edward would be in shock and need some time away from you, to clear his head.

- But like during the months since he met you, you kept coming back to him. He missed your shy warm fingers grazing against his, your oh so sweet scent, your words and smiles...

- You two had build such strong bound, you trusted him so much and so did he. He wanted to be truthful.

- To do so, Edward guides you through the woods, holding your hand in need be and brushing off leaves from your hair.

- He softly pushed you inside the beautiful clearing that laid in front of you, as he stayed put in the outlooks of the forest.

- So many doubts came whirlwinding in front of him but that caring smile you offered him, to invite him in... God, how could he saw no to you ?

- The vampire felt a deep rumbling in his chest as he took step forward, exposing his darkest self and feelings to you.

- "Don't crush my heart..." He muttered, knowing you wouldn't hear him, but all he needed know, was for you to see him.

#edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #edward cullen x y/n #twilight saga #twilight x reader #twilight headcanon #reader insert

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nordschleifes · 3 months

Text

what happens after midnight?

➝ it was just supposed to be ten months of fun and traveling the world. but you didn't count on your heart going against you

➝ word count: 6,5k

➝ warnings: sugar relationships, hospitals, smut

➝ author's note: finally a finished work!

The watch on your wrist indicated that it was 5:30 PM. Pursing your lips, you watched through the screen set up in hospitality as the blue and pink car pulled into the pits for the second time. The momentary confusion that took over the place was replaced by frustration when the engineer's voice sounded across the room.

— Let's retire the car.

The silence that followed could seem melancholic, even given the context. However, you knew that the man inside the car was biting his tongue, holding back all the words that the frustration of yet another race unfinished that season, on that very day, would make him shout over the radio.

“I’m not a kid to whine, Y/N”, you heard him repeat in your mind, the phrase accompanied by the mischievous smile that made your internal organs turn into jelly. You had no idea what it would be like to live without seeing that smile.

Seeing that he was out of the car, you got up from your desk and silently slipped through the halls of the team facility. Something about that lonely walk made your heart sink even more, until you found the door with his name, the white letters against the navy blue background.

Fernando Alonso.

Your paths crossed months ago. With your student debt growing and the salary you earned during your internship being barely enough to pay your share of the bills for the apartment you lived in with a colleague, you decided to turn to the suggestion of one of your friends, whose life you had given a turning point after registering on a website specializing in sugar relationships.

The first few weeks were unpromising. The guys you had expressed interest in seemed more interested in more pictures of your breasts than in actually talking to you and coming to an agreement. Until, during a break in your shift at the hospital, a suggested profile caught your attention.

The main photo appeared to be professional, taken on the deck of a yacht, and showed a man with dark hair and the shadow of a smile on his face with his arms crossed. The other images were more informal, one taken next to an airplane window and another in the gym, a headband and the bulging veins on his neck indicating that he was exerting himself.

In the profile description, he presented himself as Fernando, a 41-year-old Spaniard looking for someone who could accompany him on his travels in exchange for a generous payment. The idea of getting paid to travel seemed interesting, but it definitely didn't fit with your idea of continuing your studies to become a doctor in Miami.

That night, you ended up not touching the heart on the screen.

However, as fate would have it, at the end of your internship, you did not receive the letter of recommendation that you needed so much to apply for the residency program that you had dreamed of since the beginning of your degree. You were passionate about the field of pediatrics and the idea of working in one of the great children's hospitals in Florida, the Holtz Children's Hospital, were always in your mind.

— Y/N, it is clear that, despite you being an excellent intern, you have been making silly mistakes when filling out the forms and records — your advisor said during your last meeting — Furthermore, the reports are far below what we expect from a student with your ability.

— But, my grades…

— They are sufficient, yes, but the program requires more than grades, Y/N — he said, as he removed his glasses — It requires residents to be in their best shape, both academically and mentally. And it's clear to me that you don't meet the second requirement.

You blinked. Was it so obvious that you were tired?

— So, what should I do? — you asked, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

— I would advise you to try to apply for it next year.

— But, what can I do until then?

— I would recommend that you rest a little before continuing with your plans — he replied, smiling — Maybe learning a new hobby would be good. That or even a trip around the world, who knows.

Leaving your advisor's office with your dreams postponed had been a blow to you. However, his words reminded you of the man who was looking for someone to travel with. Sitting in your car, you searched for his profile and, after a deep sigh, you typed a short message, a simple question.

Still looking for a travel companion?

The answer didn't take long and came in a playful tone.

So obvious?

Well, that's what it says on your profile.

Good to know that you read it.

I thought it was something basic.

You'd be amazed at how many women don't read it before sending a message.

I can't blame them, your photos are much more interesting.

The conversation between you flowed almost naturally. He seemed intelligent, good-natured and, above all, interested in your life and career, asking questions and sharing little details, like the fact that his sister was also a doctor, just like you wanted to be. It was impossible to deny that there was an interesting chemistry between you.

However, this was not a flirting game, but rather, a business deal.

Do you still want to accompany me on my travels?

Well, I wouldn't be answering you if I wasn't interested, would I?

Very funny.

I'm just being honest.

Looking at the three dots flashing on the screen, there was some anticipation building up in your chest.

I like honesty. It's a good quality.

I assume you're honest too.

I am. So much so that I want to do this the right way. Can we meet next week?

Will you be in Miami?

In fact, in New York. But I can take a detour, what do you think?

Perfect.

Your first meeting was at a high-end Japanese restaurant, located on Claughton Island, called NAOE. You even thought you were in the wrong place, since the space was completely empty except for the employees who were preparing the dishes next to the chef, who was wearing a sort of white kimono. However, after identifying yourself, the maître d' confirmed that you were in the right place and asked you to sit at the only table that had been prepared there, conveniently behind a bamboo screen.

Fernando arrived shortly after, making you jump to your feet.

— Good evening, Y/N — he said, before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek — It's a pleasure to finally meet you.

— The pleasure is all mine.

After settling in at the table, the waiter wrote down the drinks you had chosen before returning to the kitchen. However, the request from the man in front of you only made you even more curious.

— Aren't you going to drink anything tonight?

Fernando smiled a little.

— I don’t drink.

— Never?

— Never. After I realized that alcohol wouldn't make me go faster, I chose to give it up — he replied — I don't smoke either, if that's your next question.

—Actually, my next question would be if I can drink in your presence — you smiled.

— As far as I know, we haven't signed anything. You can do whatever you want.

Dinner continued without any of you mentioning the agreement that had made him fly to Miami to see you. However, at the same time as you were eager to settle everything with him, something told you to let him bring up the subject.

— Are you always this quiet? — Fernando asked, as he put down the glass of water.

— No — you said, after swallowing the piece of sushi you were chewing.

— So there's something bothering you.

— No, there isn't.

He stared into your eyes, seeming to read between the lines of your words. Then, he let out a sigh, reaching into his pants’ pocket and taking out his cell phone.

— You want to talk about our agreement, don't you?

— Well, that's what you came here to do, isn't it?

— Actually, my intention was just to enjoy some good Japanese food alongside an interesting woman — Fernando said, while searching for something on the device — But, if you prefer to get straight to the point...

He held out the phone toward you. When you picked it up, you noticed that there was a document on the screen, with the title “Relationship Agreement” in bold letters at the top of it. Something about those words made your stomach churn with tension.

— I asked my lawyer to write a draft to guide our conversation. However, I want to make it clear that there are some topics that are non-negotiable for me…

— Sex? — you asked, raising an eyebrow.

— Confidentiality — Fernando replied — I'm a discreet person when it comes to my personal life and the last thing I want is my face on the cover of gossip magazines.

— So sex is negotiable?

— You're very interested in this topic, aren't you?

— Are you not interested?

A mischievous smile appeared on Fernando's lips.

— No — he replied — It's in the contract, if you want to take a look. Page three, if I'm not mistaken.

You scrolled through the document until you found the section that talked about intimacy, reading it carefully. In the document, sexual relations and any contact that could be classified as such were completely prohibited, as your relationship would be limited to the emotional context.

— This means…

— That I don't want sex from you. I just want your company, guapa.

— And you're going to pay me for this? — you raised an eyebrow.

— Yes, as described in the section on financial support — Fernando replied — The trips will be paid by me, as well as all your expenses while you are accompanying me. I will also give you a monthly allowance to do whatever you want with it.

You looked at his phone again, thoughtfully.

— You'll have an apartment in Monaco too — he murmured, as he ran his index finger along the rim of his glass.

— I will? Why?

— Because I want you around, Y/N. Besides, making you come back here every time will be too exhausting. Believe me, the first time is amazing, but after doing this for 20 years, flying has become the part I hate most about my job.

Pursing your lips, you looked up at the driver.

— And how long would that be valid?

— Until midnight of November 20th.

That's how you agreed to become Fernando's traveling companion, as he preferred to put it. And you could only describe those last few months as “a dream”.

When the door to the small room opened, you jumped up in the chair you were in, waking up suddenly from your daydreams. On the wall, the clock indicated that it was already past 6PM. Walking through the door, Fernando held a white towel in his hand and a bottle of water, keeping his head down. Behind him, Edoardo, his physiotherapist, was saying something in Italian, which he wasn't paying attention to.

— Prepare qui le nostre cose e, dopo la gara, lasceremo tutto alle persone dell'Aston — the driver replied, before raising his head and finding you in front of him. Pursing your lips, you fought your own frustration to be open to accepting his. And today, more than ever, Fernando needed you.

Dropping his things haphazardly on a small table placed next to the door, he walked over to you in silence, allowing you to wrap your arms around him and hug him. The silence that followed made your heart tighten in his chest. It wasn't the end of the season he deserved, quite the opposite.

— What happened? — you asked.

— Water pump — Fernando replied, the irritation evident in his voice — That shitbox…

You let out a sigh, stroking the back of his neck.

— It's okay, Fer. Now it's over.

Lifting his head, the driver looked at you, brushing aside a strand of your hair.

— Yeah. It’s over.

— Are you happy? — you asked in a low voice.

— That it’s over? I think so — Fernando said, while you watched a drop of sweat run down his temple — But, I have the feeling that I could have done it differently.

— Differently?

— I think I waited too long, guapa — he murmured.

— But it's over now. And you will move on, to a new place, with new people.

Fernando smiled a little.

— Yeah, I will.

He walked away from you to change, taking off his overalls and underwear to put on his shorts and blue team shirt. Meanwhile, you approached the table where his things were, such as his cell phone, his pass and the blue cap he had been wearing all day. Taking the accessory, you turned to him, who was sitting in a chair, tying his sneakers.

— Your cap — you said, smiling.

— Is my hair that bad?

You nodded, causing Fernando to laugh before stretching his hand towards you. However, you didn't hand it to him, preferring to push the strands that were on his forehead before positioning the accessory on his head. After arranging the strands at the back, he stood up with a smile.

— Thank you, guapa — the driver said, giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading towards the door and, consequently, the cameras that awaited him. After the door closed, your eyes found the hands of the clock on the wall.

“There’s still a long way to go”, you thought.

Between meetings, photos, goodbyes, welcomes and a long break for dinner, you and Fernando arrived at the double room you shared late at night. However, contrary to what you expected that morning, you didn't feel relief that the marathon was over or anxiety about finally catching your plane back to the United States.

You felt an almost suffocating sadness.

— What time does your flight leave tomorrow? — Fernando asked, settling down on the sofa in the small hall that connected the rooms while you placed your bag on the table in front of the television.

— Eight in the morning, I guess — you murmured, turning your face towards him — Why?

— Not at all, I just — he hesitated for a few seconds, running a hand through his hair — I wanted to know.

— Do you want to take me to the airport?

— Sincerely? No.

The coldness of the response made your throat tighten. Part of you wished he had replied that he wanted to take you to the airport. Part of you wanted him to say that he would like to spend every possible second by your side before you, inevitably, had to follow your own paths, your own destinies, that weren't tied to each other.

— You think it will be easier this way, don't you? — you murmured, trying to hide the pain in your voice.

— No — he replied, his eyes searching yours. You didn't want to look at him, but at the same time, you knew that this could be the last time you would do that — I think, one way or another, it's going to be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

The silence in that room was the longest that had ever stretched between you during all those months of coexistence.

— Why would it be?

— It doesn't matter now, Y/N.

You pressed your lips together, feeling something tighten in your throat.

Going back to Miami was the last thing you wanted at that moment. You wanted to be by his side. You wanted to wake up every day to his voice humming some song whose lyrics you didn't understand. You wanted to see the smile on his face every time you commented on an article about pediatrics that you had read.

However, you needed to go back. Those last few months had just been a detour, a break from his monotonous routine. There were people, commitments, a residency whose selection you had passed with flying colors, a lifetime of taking care of children waiting for you to move on.

And moving forward meant leaving Fernando behind.

You didn't notice the moment the first tear ran down your face, nor the second. But you noticed the movement of the driver in front of you, approaching with heavy steps. Placing his hands on your face, his expression was serious, almost dark, contrasting with the heat in his eyes.

— I have to let you go in peace — Fernando said softly, his thumb sliding over one of the tears that was stuck on your cheek.

Your lower lip trembled. You just wish it were all easier.

— Please, Y/N — Fernando continued — Don't ask me to take you to the airport. Don't ask me to say goodbye to you. Don't ask me to see you leaving, because I won't bear seeing you get on a plane without me.

At that moment, you had no idea if you would be able to get on a plane in a few hours. Not without Fernando by your side, carrying his trusty black backpack and making some comment about having a sweatshirt ready for you to wear when you get cold during the flight.

So, you asked the only question your mind was capable of formulating.

— What time is it?

— What?

— What time is it, Fernando? — you repeated, seriously.

Still holding his face, he turned his wrist slightly to look at the hands of the black Richard Mille he was wearing.

— Two past midnight — he murmured — You’re free now.

— No, I'm not free — you replied, bringing your face closer to his.

— But…

— I stopped being free a long time ago, Fernando.

Fernando's expression seemed sad, which made your heart feel heavy inside your chest.

You didn't know how to explain to Fernando that you would never be free again simply because you were completely in love with him. So much so that you hadn't even realized the exact moment it had happened.

Maybe it was the day he saw you reading an article about early childhood nutrition and asked you to explain the impact of cow's milk on babies. Maybe it was the day he took you on his motorbike to a viewpoint so you could watch the sunset over Monaco. Maybe it was the moment he introduced his world to you, describing every detail with enchanting passion. Maybe it was the day you pressed that heart on your cell phone screen, right below his photo.

And no piece of paper could control what your heart felt.

Using whatever courage you had left, you tilted your head and closed your eyes, brushing your lips against his. The touch was delicate and subtle, but enough to fill your chest with an almost unbearable heat. You had thought so much about what that moment would be like, fantasized so much about the different possibilities, imagined so many times what it would be like to be in Fernando's arms, that you felt a little hesitant about continuing.

However, the decision about the direction of that shy kiss was made by the driver. Moving closer to you, he placed your mouth completely against his, hands sliding towards the back of your neck. After a few seconds, he pulled away, panting.

— Y/N…

— Please, Fer.

However, he pulled away from you, pain evident in his green-stained eyes.

— No, Y/N — Fernando said, in a firm tone — Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be for both of us.

— You're the one who's making it difficult — you replied, feeling more tears filling your eyes — I want this...

— But you don't need this — he growled — You need to go back to your city, to your apartment, to your life. And this life has no place for me, just as there is no place for you in mine.

The statement was like a punch in the gut. Taking a step back, the feeling was of having awakened from the best dream of your life to find a true nightmare. Mentally, you questioned everything that had happened so far, from the dinner in Miami to that kiss permeated by your desire for him that had been repressed for so long. “So it was all a lie?”, you thought, as he walked towards his room.

— Fer…

— Goodbye, Y/N — he murmured over his shoulder, before disappearing into the dim light, with the door closing behind him.

Your skin felt cold, even in the residual desert heat that remained inside the suite. It was almost unbelievable that this would be the end of those ten months of smiles, jokes and laughter as the two of you traveled the world. A dry and cruel goodbye, without even looking back.

Walking slowly towards your room, you couldn't help but feel a strange emptiness inside your chest. Dropping down on the mattress anyway, you realized how exhausted you were, both physically, courtesy of the intense pace of a race day, and emotionally, with the mix of completely opposite feelings that made your lower lip tremble.

You felt that it was unfair, that the way you were being discarded by Fernando was cruel, not to mention painful. And the worst part was not being able to understand the reason for that attitude, for that cold look that shattered your heart. However, your rational side soon began to whisper in the back of your mind, condemning you for believing that he could see you beyond who you were from the beginning.

An acquisition. A product. A pretty thing for him to drag around the circuits.

That realization made tears run down your face, anger and sadness spilling out of you and making you sob loudly. You even thought about smothering your crying with the pillow, but you didn't move, allowing it to echo off the walls of the room, until it lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You woke up to the sound of your cell phone's alarm clock. Rubbing your eyes, you stared at the ceiling for long seconds before finally working up the courage to get up from the bed and move forward.

Exactly as Fernando had asked.

As soon as you arrived in Miami, you decided to buy, with the money you had saved in the last few months, a studio near the beach, in addition to arranging the documentation for your residency at Holtz Children's Hospital, which was about to begin. Watching the fireworks that lit up the sea and announced the arrival of a new year, you promised yourself that the months to come would be better than the previous ones.

And by better, you meant no trips, no adventures and no crazy things.

No looks, no jokes, no laughter.

No men, no athletes, no Fernando.

The first few months passed in a blur. Hospital shifts took up much of your time, and your free time was spent reading articles about intriguing cases and organizing your new place. You didn't even notice spring arriving in the city, much less the anticipation for the great sporting event that the city would host in the following weeks.

You were making your first round of the rooms in the west wing of the hospital when, upon entering a room, you came across a little boy playing with a model of a dark blue Formula 1 car. Swallowing hard, you smiled widely.

— Good morning, Mrs. Melendi.

The boy's mother jumped up from her armchair.

— Good morning, doctor — she replied — Greet her, Omar.

The boy looked up at you.

— Hi.

— Good morning, Omar — you greeted him, placing one of your hands on the guard of his bed — How are you feeling today?

— Well — he replied, returning his attention to the cart.

— He spent the night better, doctor, breathing better. But he is still coughing a lot and complains of chest pain.

Accessing Omar's chart on your iPad, you pursed your lips as you thought. The boy's body should already be fighting harder against the infection in his lungs, but his history of asthma didn't make you so optimistic in this regard. This was one of those cases that would ask for patience, both from you and from the boy's mother.

— Well, the night has already brought a good sign. However, the cough will still persist for a while, as the body is trying to get this fluid out somehow. For now, let's continue with what was prescribed and I'll ask the physiotherapy team to send someone here to do some exercises to speed up the release of this secretion, okay?

— Doctor, does this mean I'll be able to see Checo?

You blinked, trying to process if you had understood correctly.

— Who?

— Checo, the Formula 1 driver! — Omar exclaimed — He's going to race here this week!

The Miami Grand Prix, you had completely forgotten about that.

— Ah, I see — you smiled — Everything will depend on your progress. If you take your medication correctly and undergo rehabilitation, I can try to release you by Friday. What do you think?

The boy agreed to your proposal, seeming excited about the prospect of seeing his idol race. However, as you left the room, you felt completely dazed, the memories of the previous year filling your eyes with tears.

That was a weekend of ups and downs, with a punishment causing Fernando to lose the measly two points he had managed to gain. However, those days had been worth it just for the opportunity to introduce him to your city and see how he was enchanted by every detail.

— Doctor? Are you okay? — someone asked you. Looking to the side, you found one of the nurses looking at you somewhat confused.

— Yes, everything is fine.

— Did something happen to Omar?

— No, he's progressing well — you replied, trying to compose yourself — I'm going to ask the rehabilitation staff to do a respiratory therapy session to speed up the drainage of fluids.

— Is the medication dosage still the same?

— Yes, everything’s the same — you murmured, before continuing your rounds, trying to ignore the memories that had been awakened during the visit to Omar's room. However, the task became more difficult when a notification with a painfully familiar name appeared on your cell phone during one of your breaks.

Hi, how are you?

Staring at the screen in almost disbelief, you took a few seconds to type a response, trying to balance your emotions in a single line.

Hello, Fernando. I'm fine, thanks for asking.

Are you in Miami?

Yes, why?

I found your sweatshirt in my apartment. I wanted to give you back.

The photo that accompanied the message made something turn in your stomach. That was your favorite sweatshirt, the first one you had bought when you entered university, and at that point, you had already come to terms with the fact that it was lost forever.

Oh, do you want me to go take it back?

No, I can give it to you. Where are you?

I'm still in the hospital, you can leave it at reception.

I want to hand it personally to you. I can stop by your place later, what do you think?

You were already regretting your answer as you walked to the entrance of your studio, feeling suffocated by anxiety. However, when you opened the door, it was as if you had come to the surface to breathe again, the familiar warmth spreading through your chest.

In front of you was Fernando. He didn't seem to have changed at all since the last time you had seen him, on that fateful night in Abu Dhabi. With a shy smile on his face, he wore a green shirt with the familiar silver wings of Aston Martin, the team he was racing for that year, as well as a white box in his hands.

“This color makes him even more handsome”, you thought to yourself.

— Hi — the driver said softly.

— Hey.

— Can I enter?

— Yeah, sure — you replied, opening the way for him.

The driver passed you silently, taking in the space you were living in. Seeing him there, in the place you had chosen to recover after the mess that had been that Sunday in Abu Dhabi, was strange, not to say wrong. However, this was definitely not the time to question whether his presence there was appropriate or not.

— Everything’s good? — you asked, trying to start a dialogue with him.

— Yeah, all very well. And with you?

— All good.

— It's yours? — he questioned you, gesturing with his finger to refer to the place.

— Yeah, it's mine. I bought it as soon as I got back here — you replied.

Fernando approached a shelf where there were some photos of the trips you had taken with him. There were images from all over the world, from Japan to Brazil, some with your silhouette highlighted or even his. However, he didn't seem to notice that particular detail, as he pointed to another framed image.

— Sardinia?

— Monaco. It's the beach in front of your apartment.

The silence that stretched between you was long, almost deafening. Crossing your arms, you tried to maintain a neutral expression, trying to focus on anything other than the charming lock that fell across his forehead.

— Do you miss it? — Fernando asked.

— Monaco? Not much, I didn't spend enough time there.

— And me?

You looked away to the apartment door, giggling awkwardly.

— I thought you were coming to give me back my hoodie, not do an interrogation.

— Here's your hoodie — he said, harshly, extending the box towards you — And this isn't an interrogation, Y/N. I just asked a question.

— About how I feel about you — you murmured, taking the box and placing it on your dining table.

— Is it wrong to ask?

— When that question doesn't make any sense, yes, it's wrong — you replied, looking over your shoulder.

— Why?

— Because it's wrong, Fernando.

— That's not an answer, Y/N — he replied — Come on, why doesn't it make sense?

Turning at once, anger rose like a hot wave across the back of your neck.

— Because you just discarded me like I was a fucking defective toy.

Fernando looked at you, seriously.

— You know that's not how I see you.

— No? And when you said you didn't have any space in your life for me? Isn't that discarding?

— Y/N — the driver murmured, running a hand through his hair.

— What? — you growled — Is this the way you show that you like me, that you care about me? Saying you don't want me near you?

You didn't have time to react before he advanced towards you, stopping just inches from your face. Fernando was so close to you that you could feel the heat of his skin, as well as the warm and slightly sweet smell of the cologne he was wearing at that moment. It was different from what he normally wore, but it wasn't all bad.

— Would you rather I forbid you from returning? That I stopped you from realizing your dreams? — he returned — Would you prefer if I locked you in a cage or put a collar around your neck to have you all to myself?

The words were stuck in your throat, your bottom lip trembling.

— I know my place in your life, Y/N. And I can't fight it, I can't fight the fact that I can't go further.

— Can't, or don't want to? — you asked in a low voice.

Fernando stared at you for long seconds, as if he was measuring his own words. Bringing your hands up to his face, you stroked the gray speckled beard you loved so much but had never been able to convince him to keep.

— I can't — he murmured, as his thumbs drew circles on his cheek — Y/N, please...

— But you want it — you stated, your eyes going down to his mouth, where his tongue slid to moisten his own lips — You want me.

— Yes, but…

— Then take what you want. Kiss me, touch me, make me what I was from the beginning, from the moment you looked at me for the first time.

The seconds of silence that stretched after your words seemed endless. Bringing your face closer to his, your nose lightly touched Fernando's, almost as a foreshadowing of what was about to happen.

— Make me yours — you whispered.

The moment his lips touched yours was sublime. Your chest filled with a hot, overwhelming sensation, your hands gripping his face tightly. At that moment, you tried to hold on to that feeling of finally being in the place you always imagined yourself in: in Fernando's arms.

It didn't take long for his tongue to invade your mouth, his hands squeezing your waist and bringing your body closer, as if he wanted you two to become one. And personally, that was your only desire at that moment, as you slid your lips down his neck.

— You've always been a naughty girl, haven't you? — Fernando asked as soon as you nibbled on his ear, your fingers squeezing your skin — So naughty, so beautiful...

Taking a few steps back, the driver escaped from you momentarily, sitting on the gray sofa you had in the living room. With his hands to your shirt, you didn't need any words from him to rip it off your body, your shorts sliding down your legs soon after. Taking in the sight of you completely naked for the first time, an almost boyish gleam appeared in Fernando's eyes.

— You are much more beautiful than I imagined…

— You mean you imagined me naked? — you questioned with a suggestive smile, while positioning your knees next to his legs, straddling his lap.

— It's hard not to imagine when you wore those indecent little pajamas of yours to bed — he murmured, his hands sliding down your thighs, while you supported yourself on his shoulders — That baby blue one was wonderful.

— Do you want me to put it on?

A mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

— Now that I've taken off your clothes, I'm not going to ask you to put them back on — Fernando replied, taking his hand to his face and, with a subtle movement, bringing his lips to his in a delicate, almost careful kiss. It was up to you, after a few seconds, to wrap your arms around his neck and ask for passage to explore his mouth the way you wanted.

Sliding his hands down to your butt, the driver made you stand up, bringing his face to one of your breasts. The soft touch of his tongue made you shudder, your fingers digging into his dark curls as a moan escaped his lips.

— I could hear you moaning all night long — Fernando murmured against your skin, his eyes fixed on yours, getting drunk with the pleasure in your expression — Asking, begging for me, the way I always imagined...

It didn't take long for you to start to feel the arousal become uncomfortable, almost painful. You needed more, much more than just kisses and nibbles on your breasts. Lowering your hips just above the not-so-discreet bulge in his shorts, you looked at Fernando, trying to condense what you wanted into a look full of desire.

Without saying anything, he repositioned you a little back, giving him some space to open the button and zipper of your shorts, sliding them and your underwear down. The movement allowed his dick to be revealed, hard and particularly large, with the veins standing out along its length. Biting your lower lip, you brought your index finger to one of them, following the path from the base to the tip, feeling Fernando's muscles tense.

— What do you think?

Looking up at him, you smiled.

— Good.

—Wasn't that what you imagined?

— It's hard to say, since every time I imagined your dick, it was in my mouth or my pussy.

Bringing a hand to your face, Fernando caressed your cheek.

— You are very naughty.

You chose not to answer, rising again to align your own entrance with his cock. Then, you lowered yourself, feeling him enter inch by inch, settling inside you. Closing your eyes, you allowed a moan to escape your lips, as did Fernando, who grunted against your neck.

After a few seconds, you started to move, testing angles and rhythms, until you found one that you liked. With your hands resting on his shoulders, you alternated between quick vertical movements, followed by slower, deeper thrusts. At that point, her breasts were completely red, marked by Fernando's teeth and hickeys. Marks that you would carry with pride, because it was his mouth and his passion that had done it.

— You're so beautiful — he growled, as his hands roamed over her skin — How could I have been able to let you go...

You couldn't resist the urge to kiss him again, searching for Fernando's lips as if they were the surface and you were looking for air to breathe. In that tangle of arms, hands and fingers, you felt complete. Finally complete.

— I'm going to... Oh my God, Fer, I'm going to cum — you whimpered, as you slid your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone. Noticing the agony in your expression, he slid his hand until he reached your most sensitive spot. Then, massaging it, he brought you to orgasm, making you let out a loud moan, your muscles shaking and your head lolling back.

Beneath his body, Fernando took a few seconds before reaching his peak, spilling himself inside you with a loud moan, his hands holding your hips tightly to stop your movement.

The silence inside the room wasn't complete due to your heavy breathing. With your forehead pressed against his, your eyes were closed, absorbing that moment and the entire range of feelings that filled your chest with an inexplicable warmth.

— Y/N — Fernando whispered.

— Yeah?

— What now?

You moved your face slightly away from his, analyzing his furrowed eyebrows and anxiety-filled brown eyes. You knew it was impossible to turn around or simply pretend it hadn't happened, especially when you were sure you wanted to do it several more times. But did he want that?

— Well, we have two ways — you started, brushing his bangs away from his forehead — We can classify this as an accident on the road and go back to our lives...

— No, definitely not.

— Or we can stop fooling ourselves and actually live this.

— This? — he raised an eyebrow.

— This. Our relationship — you tried to classify it.

— And by truly living, you mean…

— Without pretending that we don’t have feelings for eachother.

Fernando pressed his lips together, looking away from yours. He was definitely hesitant about taking that step. And you were sure you wouldn't let him leave you there, with that doubt hanging over you.

— Do you want me to come back with you to Europe? — you asked softly, making him look at you again.

— Would you come back?

— If you wanted.

The driver let out a heavy sigh.

— I don't want to ask you this, Y/N.

— Why not?

— Because I don't want you to give up everything for me and my career.

— You talk as if this is the only place in the world where there are hospitals accepting residents — you countered, placing your hands on his cheeks — I'll find a way, Fer. We'll find a way. But I ask you just one thing.

— What?

— Don't leave me here, alone.

Fernando smiled, bringing his face closer to yours.

— Never, guapa.

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