fleurriee

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can you write a fluff/maybe slight angst with fem!reader who is insecure about not being very curvy/doesn’t have a large chest and spencer helps her feel better about it?

pairings ; spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis ; spencer reassures your insecurities.

themes ; slight angst, fluff, insecure!reader, established relationship

You tugged at your shirt for the third time that morning, your fingers fidgeting with the hem like it was stitched from uncertainty. The fabric clung awkwardly — or at least, it felt like it did. No matter how many times you adjusted it, the mirror didn’t reflect anything new. Just… you. And today, that didn’t feel like enough.

“I just… don’t really fill things out like other girls do,” you muttered under your breath, eyes barely meeting your reflection.

Behind you, the soft rustle of pages stopped.

Spencer looked up from the couch, his book resting forgotten in his lap. His brows pinched together, that familiar crease of concern appearing between them. “Come here,” he said gently.

You hesitated, unsure if you really wanted to be seen right now — especially by him. But there was something about his voice — soft, safe — that drew you in like a magnet.

You shuffled across the room and stood in front of him, arms crossed protectively over your chest. He reached out without hesitation, taking your hands in his. His thumbs began tracing slow, deliberate circles over your wrists, grounding you with just a touch.

“What brought this on?” he asked softly.

You shrugged, eyes dropping to your feet. “Just been noticing things — online, mostly. People talk like you’re only desirable if you have curves, if you look a certain way. And, I just… don’t.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, but not in a way that felt dismissive. He was thinking — carefully, intentionally, like he always did.

“You know I memorize things, right?” he finally said, his voice warm but serious.

You blinked, unsure where he was going with that. “Yeah…?”

“I’ve read over ten thousand books. I can tell you the square mileage of every U.S. state. I know exactly how many freckles you have on your left shoulder.”

Your head lifted at that, brows knitting. “You do?”

He smiled, just barely. “Thirty-four. I’ve counted. Twice.”

You huffed a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He gently pulled you down to sit beside him, his arm wrapping around your waist like it belonged there.

“I notice everything about you,” he said. “Not just your body, but how you hum when you’re thinking, how you curl your fingers under your chin when you’re reading, how you always check to make sure I’m okay, even when you’re the one who’s hurting.”

You leaned into him without thinking, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Beauty isn’t one thing,” he continued. “It’s not a checklist, not a set of measurements. It’s not how you compare to someone else — it’s how you exist in the world. And you — you — are beautiful in a thousand quiet ways.”

“But —” you started, still half-heartedly clinging to that knot of insecurity.

He turned to you, gently placing a hand against your cheek. “I love you because of all the things I feel when I’m with you, not because of how your body looks in a shirt.” His thumb brushed against your cheekbone. “But if we’re being honest, I do think you’re stunning, exactly as you are. I wouldn’t change a single part of you.”

You felt a tightness in your chest loosen just a little, like maybe you’d been holding your breath for longer than you realized. You looked up at him — at those sincere, coffee-colored eyes that saw you so clearly.

“You really mean that?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I do. I’ve never said anything I meant more.”

You leaned into him fully now, his arms wrapping around you with practiced ease. There was something sacred about the way Spencer held you — like you were something rare and delicate, but never fragile. Like he knew exactly where the cracks were and loved you more for them.

“I know it’s hard,” he murmured into your hair. “This world can make you feel like you’re supposed to look a certain way. But if you ever forget how worthy you are, let me remind you, as many times as it takes.”

You smiled into his chest, the weight on your shoulders just a little lighter now.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You’re allowed to remind me forever, if you want.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger there for a beat. “Good. Because I was planning on it.”

[fleurriee]

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I'm in love with these pictures

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girls night

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SURPRISE!!

I couldn’t hold onto this any longer!!

Remember kids, five finger necklace ALWAYS

Kloartz did such an amazing job on this I literally couldn’t wait!!

Support on Instagram here

DO NOT REPOST

[fleurriee]

Cristina Robles

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Harry & padfoot <3

[fleurriee]

— cat’s out of the bag ; spencer reid

pairing ; spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis ; you thought you and spencer were good at keeping your relationship a secret. spoiler alert: you weren’t.

themes ; fluff, established (secret) relationship

warnings ; none!

author’s note ; first time writing for spencer after having watched criminal minds. i’m in love with him so it was only fitting that my mind starts coming up with ideas for him — send in requests for spencer!!!!

main masterlist request a fic

You and Spencer had agreed on one thing when your relationship first started:

“Let’s keep it just between us for a while.”

Not because you were ashamed — far from it — but, because the BAU wasn’t exactly known for being a quiet, private place. The second Garcia caught wind of anything remotely romantic, you’d both be wearing couple t-shirts and getting shipped like characters from a CW drama.

And, it was nice for a while.

You lasted four months.

It started with a coffee cup.

Specifically, the one with Spencer’s name on it, sitting at your desk.

Morgan strolled in that morning with his usual swagger and an armful of case files. He was halfway through a yawn when he spotted the cup and froze mid-step.

“Hey, Pretty Girl?” he called over his shoulder. “Why’s Reid’s name on your latte?”

You didn’t even look up from your desk. “Oh. He picked it up for me.”

“Uh-huh.” He narrowed his eyes like a detective in an old noir film. “And when did Reid start remembering your custom order down to the almond milk and two pumps of caramel?”

You finally looked up. “I… mention it a lot?”

Morgan snorted. “Okay.”

The next day, he walked into the breakroom to find Spencer standing very close behind you, reaching for the same muffin. There was laughter — soft, easy — and then Spencer let you have it with the kind of look that didn’t belong in any HR-safe workplace.

Morgan didn’t say a word. Just walked out with his coffee, grinning.

“Gotcha, Boy Genius.”

Penelope Garcia’s superpower wasn’t her hacking skills — (though, yes, she could probably access the Pentagon with a shoelace and a floppy disk) — it was her intuition. Especially when it came to anything involving hearts, unspoken feelings, or long looks across briefing tables.

So when she noticed Reid texting someone with a tiny, goofy smile on his face during lunch, her curiosity sparked.

She sidled up next to him.

“Who ya texting, Dr. Reid?” she sing-songed, peeking at his screen before he could lock it.

He jumped. “N-no one. Just… a friend.”

Garcia narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you call Y/N ‘sunbeam’?”

Reid’s face turned the color of a fire hydrant. “It’s — it’s just a nickname. She — uh — likes the sun.”

“Mmhmm.” Garcia leaned in. “Reid… are you dating my girl?”

His silence was answer enough.

She let out a tiny shriek, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I knew it! My OTP is real!”

He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

To her credit, Garcia didn’t spill — not yet.

But the sparkle in her eye was pure chaos.

Prentiss wasn’t nosy — she was observant.

So when you came into work with what looked like Spencer’s scarf around your neck and a sleepy smile that screamed I didn’t sleep in my own bed, she raised an eyebrow.

But she didn’t say anything until a week later.

The team had just wrapped a case in Portland and were gathered at the airport. You and Spencer were seated across from each other at the gate, trying — and failing — not to play footsie under the chairs.

Prentiss watched the whole thing, sipping her coffee like it was a reality show.

Later, on the plane, she slid into the seat next to you.

“So, when were you planning on telling me?”

You blinked. “Telling you what?”

She tilted her head toward Spencer, who was sitting two rows ahead, hunched over a book — but not before sending a not-so-subtle glance back your way.

Prentiss smirked. “I was a teenager once too, you know. I recognize the ‘pretending not to stare at my crush’ look.”

You flushed. “It’s not like we’re hiding it — ”

“But you are,” she said, patting your arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you come out in your own time. Just… maybe don’t play footsie where Rossi can see. He’s got surprisingly good peripheral vision.”

You genuinely thought Rossi wouldn’t notice.

He was older, more focused — a man who’d seen it all. Surely, he wouldn’t pick up on subtle glances or the way Spencer’s hand lingered on your back a little too long after briefings.

You were wrong.

He invited you both over to his house for dinner, claiming he was “trying a new risotto recipe and needed test subjects.”

The moment he caught you stealing a bite from Spencer’s plate with zero hesitation, he set down his wine glass and gave a slow, smug smile.

“Interesting.”

You froze mid-chew. “What is?”

“Oh, nothing. Just watching young love blossom over truffle risotto.”

Spencer choked on his wine.

You coughed. “What makes you think —?”

“Please,” Rossi waved a hand. “I’ve written three books on behavioral profiling. You think I can’t tell when two people are secretly dating?”

You opened your mouth.

He held up a finger. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. Just know I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

You both gaped.

He raised his wine glass. “Eventually, of course.”

Hotch was the final boss.

You and Spencer had been very careful around him — no lingering looks in the field, no brushing hands in the briefing room, no coordinated lunches. You were practically platonic professionals around him.

Until he caught you.

It happened at 9 p.m. on a Friday. Most of the team had already left, and you and Spencer were still in the conference room, finishing paperwork.

You thought you were alone.

So, when Spencer reached over and laced his fingers through yours, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, you let your guard down for just a moment.

And Hotch walked in.

He stopped mid-step.

You both froze like teenagers caught making out on a porch.

Hotch blinked once. “Should I… come back?”

You yanked your hands apart. “No! We were just — ”

“Finishing paperwork,” Spencer blurted. “Very platonically.”

Hotch raised a brow. “You were kissing her hand.”

Spencer blinked. “Right. Well… not that platonically.”

There was a long pause.

Hotch sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just — no PDA at crime scenes, okay?”

You both nodded, mortified.

As he left, you could swear you saw him smirk.

You didn’t plan to tell everyone. At least, not in one grand announcement.

But the BAU had other plans.

It happened during a rare, sunny weekend BBQ hosted at Rossi’s estate. Everyone was scattered across the lawn — beer bottles in hand, kids running around, music playing.

You were helping Garcia string lights along the fence when she casually said, “So, when are you and Reid going to make it official-official?”

You nearly dropped the string of lights. “What?”

She pointed. “Oh, don’t play coy, sweet pea. Everyone knows.”

You blinked. “Everyone?”

Morgan, walking by with a burger, grinned. “Oh yeah. We’ve had bets running for weeks.”

Prentiss added, “Morgan owes me twenty bucks. I said you’d crack before Valentine’s Day.”

Rossi raised his glass. “Cheers to the happy couple.”

Even Hotch gave you a nod that could only be described as… warm.

You turned to Spencer, who looked equally horrified and relieved.

“They all know?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Apparently for a while.”

Garcia beamed. “What gave it away? Everything.”

You and Spencer exchanged a look.

Then you both laughed — loud, breathless, incredulous.

So much for secrets.

Later, as the party mellowed into dusk and someone lit a bonfire, Spencer pulled you close beneath the string lights.

“Do you think it’s weird… that I’m kind of relieved?”

You looked up at him. “Relieved they found out?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… I don’t have to keep something good hidden anymore.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re not something I want to hide, Spencer.”

He looked at you then, all soft eyes and quiet awe.

Even in a team of profilers, even under the most watchful eyes — you and Spencer had managed something rare.

A love worth noticing.

[fleurriee]

thank you so much for all the love on cat’s out of the bag — especially considering it’s my first time writing for spencer.

please, please, please feel free to send in any requests for him!!! <333

[fleurriee]

— cat’s out of the bag ; spencer reid

pairing ; spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis ; you thought you and spencer were good at keeping your relationship a secret. spoiler alert: you weren’t.

themes ; fluff, established (secret) relationship

warnings ; none!

author’s note ; first time writing for spencer after having watched criminal minds. i’m in love with him so it was only fitting that my mind starts coming up with ideas for him — send in requests for spencer!!!!

main masterlist request a fic

You and Spencer had agreed on one thing when your relationship first started:

“Let’s keep it just between us for a while.”

Not because you were ashamed — far from it — but, because the BAU wasn’t exactly known for being a quiet, private place. The second Garcia caught wind of anything remotely romantic, you’d both be wearing couple t-shirts and getting shipped like characters from a CW drama.

And, it was nice for a while.

You lasted four months.

It started with a coffee cup.

Specifically, the one with Spencer’s name on it, sitting at your desk.

Morgan strolled in that morning with his usual swagger and an armful of case files. He was halfway through a yawn when he spotted the cup and froze mid-step.

“Hey, Pretty Girl?” he called over his shoulder. “Why’s Reid’s name on your latte?”

You didn’t even look up from your desk. “Oh. He picked it up for me.”

“Uh-huh.” He narrowed his eyes like a detective in an old noir film. “And when did Reid start remembering your custom order down to the almond milk and two pumps of caramel?”

You finally looked up. “I… mention it a lot?”

Morgan snorted. “Okay.”

The next day, he walked into the breakroom to find Spencer standing very close behind you, reaching for the same muffin. There was laughter — soft, easy — and then Spencer let you have it with the kind of look that didn’t belong in any HR-safe workplace.

Morgan didn’t say a word. Just walked out with his coffee, grinning.

“Gotcha, Boy Genius.”

Penelope Garcia’s superpower wasn’t her hacking skills — (though, yes, she could probably access the Pentagon with a shoelace and a floppy disk) — it was her intuition. Especially when it came to anything involving hearts, unspoken feelings, or long looks across briefing tables.

So when she noticed Reid texting someone with a tiny, goofy smile on his face during lunch, her curiosity sparked.

She sidled up next to him.

“Who ya texting, Dr. Reid?” she sing-songed, peeking at his screen before he could lock it.

He jumped. “N-no one. Just… a friend.”

Garcia narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you call Y/N ‘sunbeam’?”

Reid’s face turned the color of a fire hydrant. “It’s — it’s just a nickname. She — uh — likes the sun.”

“Mmhmm.” Garcia leaned in. “Reid… are you dating my girl?”

His silence was answer enough.

She let out a tiny shriek, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I knew it! My OTP is real!”

He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

To her credit, Garcia didn’t spill — not yet.

But the sparkle in her eye was pure chaos.

Prentiss wasn’t nosy — she was observant.

So when you came into work with what looked like Spencer’s scarf around your neck and a sleepy smile that screamed I didn’t sleep in my own bed, she raised an eyebrow.

But she didn’t say anything until a week later.

The team had just wrapped a case in Portland and were gathered at the airport. You and Spencer were seated across from each other at the gate, trying — and failing — not to play footsie under the chairs.

Prentiss watched the whole thing, sipping her coffee like it was a reality show.

Later, on the plane, she slid into the seat next to you.

“So, when were you planning on telling me?”

You blinked. “Telling you what?”

She tilted her head toward Spencer, who was sitting two rows ahead, hunched over a book — but not before sending a not-so-subtle glance back your way.

Prentiss smirked. “I was a teenager once too, you know. I recognize the ‘pretending not to stare at my crush’ look.”

You flushed. “It’s not like we’re hiding it — ”

“But you are,” she said, patting your arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you come out in your own time. Just… maybe don’t play footsie where Rossi can see. He’s got surprisingly good peripheral vision.”

You genuinely thought Rossi wouldn’t notice.

He was older, more focused — a man who’d seen it all. Surely, he wouldn’t pick up on subtle glances or the way Spencer’s hand lingered on your back a little too long after briefings.

You were wrong.

He invited you both over to his house for dinner, claiming he was “trying a new risotto recipe and needed test subjects.”

The moment he caught you stealing a bite from Spencer’s plate with zero hesitation, he set down his wine glass and gave a slow, smug smile.

“Interesting.”

You froze mid-chew. “What is?”

“Oh, nothing. Just watching young love blossom over truffle risotto.”

Spencer choked on his wine.

You coughed. “What makes you think —?”

“Please,” Rossi waved a hand. “I’ve written three books on behavioral profiling. You think I can’t tell when two people are secretly dating?”

You opened your mouth.

He held up a finger. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. Just know I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

You both gaped.

He raised his wine glass. “Eventually, of course.”

Hotch was the final boss.

You and Spencer had been very careful around him — no lingering looks in the field, no brushing hands in the briefing room, no coordinated lunches. You were practically platonic professionals around him.

Until he caught you.

It happened at 9 p.m. on a Friday. Most of the team had already left, and you and Spencer were still in the conference room, finishing paperwork.

You thought you were alone.

So, when Spencer reached over and laced his fingers through yours, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, you let your guard down for just a moment.

And Hotch walked in.

He stopped mid-step.

You both froze like teenagers caught making out on a porch.

Hotch blinked once. “Should I… come back?”

You yanked your hands apart. “No! We were just — ”

“Finishing paperwork,” Spencer blurted. “Very platonically.”

Hotch raised a brow. “You were kissing her hand.”

Spencer blinked. “Right. Well… not that platonically.”

There was a long pause.

Hotch sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just — no PDA at crime scenes, okay?”

You both nodded, mortified.

As he left, you could swear you saw him smirk.

You didn’t plan to tell everyone. At least, not in one grand announcement.

But the BAU had other plans.

It happened during a rare, sunny weekend BBQ hosted at Rossi’s estate. Everyone was scattered across the lawn — beer bottles in hand, kids running around, music playing.

You were helping Garcia string lights along the fence when she casually said, “So, when are you and Reid going to make it official-official?”

You nearly dropped the string of lights. “What?”

She pointed. “Oh, don’t play coy, sweet pea. Everyone knows.”

You blinked. “Everyone?”

Morgan, walking by with a burger, grinned. “Oh yeah. We’ve had bets running for weeks.”

Prentiss added, “Morgan owes me twenty bucks. I said you’d crack before Valentine’s Day.”

Rossi raised his glass. “Cheers to the happy couple.”

Even Hotch gave you a nod that could only be described as… warm.

You turned to Spencer, who looked equally horrified and relieved.

“They all know?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Apparently for a while.”

Garcia beamed. “What gave it away? Everything.”

You and Spencer exchanged a look.

Then you both laughed — loud, breathless, incredulous.

So much for secrets.

Later, as the party mellowed into dusk and someone lit a bonfire, Spencer pulled you close beneath the string lights.

“Do you think it’s weird… that I’m kind of relieved?”

You looked up at him. “Relieved they found out?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… I don’t have to keep something good hidden anymore.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re not something I want to hide, Spencer.”

He looked at you then, all soft eyes and quiet awe.

Even in a team of profilers, even under the most watchful eyes — you and Spencer had managed something rare.

A love worth noticing.

[fleurriee]

fuck it. posting my first spencer reid fic tonight

[fleurriee]

hey!! I love your fics, your writing skills are amazing!

can you please write something for neteyam based on "am I dumb for thinking there's something here? something that could be real?" from the "couples who aren't together just yet" prompt list + "I just didn't like the way they were looking at you. like you weren't mine" from the "jealous, protective, territorial" prompt list?

sorry if I said something wrong, english isn't my first language.

we all love jealous!neteyam, let’s be honest. thank you for the request <33

pairing ; neteyam x fem!reader

synopsis ; neteyam can’t stand the way others look at you — like you aren’t his.

themes ; fluff!!!!! slight angst, protective & jealous neteyam <33

You had retreated here — a clearing just off the lake — hoping for some solitude after a long day of foraging, but your thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling.

You found yourself pacing, your mind racing, as you thought about Neteyam — golden eyes, the way he cared for you, the tension that always lingered when he was around. You weren’t sure what it was — if it was just a friendship, or something deeper — but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more between the two of you. Something that could be real.

But maybe you were just being foolish — you had never said anything, never acted on the way your heart fluttered every time he smiled at you, every time he touched your arm or leaned in a little too close.

Because he couldn’t like you back.

You stopped, your hand against the rough bark of a tree, taking a deep breath. Am I dumb for thinking there’s something here? Something that could be real?

“You’re not dumb,” a familiar voice said, quiet but certain.

You froze, turning to see Neteyam standing just behind you, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. “Neteyam,” you murmured, a sigh escaping your lips. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I’ve been here for a while,” he said, his voice low as he took a step closer, his golden eyes locked onto yours. “I noticed you weren’t yourself today. Something’s bothering you.”

The same way he spoke made it out like he knew for certain — knew you for certain. You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to explain it. “It’s nothing. I just…” you paused. “Never mind.”

But Neteyam wasn’t letting it go. He took another step forward, standing right in front of you now, close enough that his warmth radiated over you. “You’re not dumb for wondering,” he said softly, his hand brushing your arm gently. “You’re not the only one who feels it.”

You blinked up at him, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

Neteyam’s gaze hardened slightly, something dark flickering in his eyes, even as he hesitated, before he finally came to some decision. “I don’t like the way they were looking at you. Like you weren’t mine.”

You frowned, confused. “Who? Who are you talking about?”

“The hunters. The ones that kept glancing over at you today,” he said, his voice low, a protective edge to it. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I know I don’t want anyone looking at you like that. I don’t like it.”

You took a step back, processing his words. “You… you’re jealous?”

You weren’t mocking — you were completely shocked.

He looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening as he sighed. “I don’t know what it is, yawne (beloved) but I can’t stand the idea of someone thinking they have a chance with you,” he rushed, determined. “I’ve been thinking about you like this for a long time, and maybe I’m too scared to admit it, but…”

His voice trailed off, and you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the uncertainty that mirrored your own.

“Maybe I’m scared too,” you whispered. “Scared that you don’t feel the same way. Scared that I’m just imagining all of this.”

Neteyam’s expression softened, and he stepped forward, gently cupping your face in his large hands. “You’re not imagining it. I’ve felt this way for a long time. And I’m not afraid to admit it anymore. I want this — I want you.”

Your heart raced, the weight of his words sinking in. You could feel the tension between you, that invisible thread pulling you closer together. You didn’t have to say anything more.

Without another word, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The world around you seemed to disappear as the warmth of his touch filled you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like everything was finally falling into place.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was barely a whisper. “You’re mine, yawne (beloved). Just as much as I’m yours.”

You smiled softly, the weight in your chest lifting as you wrapped your arms around him. “I don’t need to ask again, do I?”

Neteyam shook his head, his lips curving into a smile. “No, you don’t.”

And for the first time, you believed it.

[fleurriee]

“We did a little improvisation like, “What’s going on? What do you want to say to her? What do you want to say to him? What would you say if you could?” And we did a little improvisation and then Tom [Glynn-Carney] ended it with, “Do you love me?” And that wasn’t in the script. And of course, then we did the scene and he added it in the end. And that’s what that whole scene is about.” — Clare Kilner, 1x09 ‘The Green Council’

[fleurriee]

moving in with spencer and he’s excited over stupid little things like ironing the sheets in the morning, picking silverware and ikea trips for plastic plants😔

this is soooooo cute okay omg

"did you know ikea sells more than 150 million meatballs each year." spencer smiles as he settles your tray of food on the table in the busy food hall.

"it's not that hard to believe" you hum, "i'm probably personally responsible for at least 20 million". spencer chuckles, and reaches across the table to hold your hand, looking at you with absolute admiration.

this was the happiest spence had been in a while. since he’d asked you to move into his apartment, and you’d excitedly said yes, he’d been planning where your favourite artwork would go on the walls and what chores you’d each do. he’d been particularly insistent in buying you a new bookcase. you loved the gesture, but knew it was mostly because he didn’t want your books, which were often kept in messy piles on the floor, to get mixed up in his meticulously organised collection.

“spence are you sure we need all this? I can just bring the stuff I had from my place, it’s no problem” you look at your trolley, it was almost overflowing with new things. photo frames, a new frying pan, saucepan, laundry basket, lamp and cutlery set, all of which you already had, but spencer was adamant.

“we’re moving in together; I want us to have our own stuff and some of this is needed. the lamp is for your bedside table so you don’t get eye strain, the laundry basket will be big enough for both our stuff which I know you don’t even have, and i don’t like the handles on your forks.” he squeezed your hand, he didn’t want you to doubt any part of moving in with him.

“my desk chair is my laundry basket, and my forks are offended by that” you smiled and lightly kicked his leg under the table. “I actually saw something I thought we could do together” you rummaged through your bag and pulled out a crumpled poster for the français film club at a movie theatre by the apartment. spencer gasped and pulled the same poster out of his satchel, his had a lot less wrinkles.

“i’ve actually already signed us up, their next screening is belle de jour”

this was it. this was the most content you and spencer had ever felt. everything was falling into place for you. as you finished your food and cleaned up your table, spencer put an arm round your shoulders and pulled you in to kiss the top of your head. your arm snaked around his waist and held him close.

"come on, i need to get an artificial alocasia from the plant department"

"say that five times fast" you laughed.

there was a pause "plant department?"

"no, artificial alocasia" you giggled "i love you" reached up to kiss his cheek.

"i love you too"

anon this was such an adorable prompt and soooo boyfriend!spencer coded. i love him sm 😭😭

[fleurriee]

hi!!! ik u have ur list up rnnn but i kinda really NEED to hear ur takes/ hc on casual dominance with neteyam 🎀 please please please

*kisses forehead to incentivize u* 😙 <33

is this life with neteyam too much to ask for??? i don’t think it is. thanks for the request!!

pairing ; neteyam x fem!reader

synopsis ; casual dominance headcannons with neteyam <33

themes ; fluff, fluff & fluff

• Neteyam wraps his tail around you without even thinking.

• Around your waist while walking, around your leg while sitting, or gently curling around your wrist during ceremonies.

• It’s instinctual — not possessive, just his way of keeping you grounded, connected, close.

• Especially in crowds.

• Even though you’re capable, sometimes your stride is just a little shorter, your steps a bit slower — and he notices.

• So when you’re lagging or tired, he scoops you up and carries you like it’s his right.

• His arms around your shoulders, your legs looped around his waist.

• “No point in making you tire yourself, let me take care of you.”

• Whether it’s fruit from the trees or meat cooked over flame, Neteyam feeds you.

• Hand to your lips, thumb brushing against your bottom lip after.

• He watches you eat like it’s a ritual — like you’re a goddess who deserves to be worshipped every day.

• (You are.)

• Neteyam loves to make you things.

• Beaded chestpieces woven with your favorite colors, necklaces with meaning in every shell and tooth, arm cuffs that match his.

L When you wear something he made, it’s not just a gift — it’s a claim.

• “You look good in my work,” he says with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours. “You look good with me.”

• You’re strong, you’re skilled, but he still hates when you put yourself in danger.

• If there’s a scouting mission, a risky hunt — he insists on going instead, or at least going with you.

• “I know you can handle it, but I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

• No one else hears the songs Neteyam writes about you — but you do.

• They’re softly whispered in your ear under the trees, or hummed while you lay curled in his lap.

• Some are full of longing — others, fierce devotion.

• Even when you’re mad at each other, Neteyam never lets you walk away without a kiss, a forehead press, or at least a soft “be safe.”

• “No going to bed angry, we’re stronger than that.”

• He likes the way you fit against him when you’re both riding.

• His arms around you, your braid tucked safely against his shoulder, his voice low in your ear giving directions or simply whispering your name.

• It’s not just about flight — it’s about trust.

• Fingers brushing your side as you walk, a hand resting on the small of your back, his tail curling possessively around your thigh at rest, a hand tilting your chin up before a kiss.

• His touch says, I see you. I choose you. You’re mine.

• When Neteyam says “come here,” your body moves before your mind catches up.

• Not because he’s demanding — but because his voice makes you feel safe.

• You know he’ll never lead you wrong.

• He stands back and watches you spar, but his eyes never leave you.

• He offers quiet critiques, soft praise.

• “Your stance was perfect.”

• “Almost got me that time.”

• And when you impress him? That smirk, that pride in his voice, it lights you up.

• When another hunter gets too close, he doesn’t argue.

• He just steps in, loops an arm around your waist, kisses your temple slowly — eyes locked on the other guy the whole time.

• “I’ll meet you at the river, yawne (beloved),” he says, deliberately. “Don’t be late.”

• “You’re so easy to love.”

• “I see the whole world when I look at you.”

• “You follow so well — you trust me.”

• His voice is reverent. His words, sacred.

• His dominance isn’t about control — it’s about honoring your surrender.

• He doesn’t stop you from doing things, he just makes sure you never have to.

• He’ll carry it, he’ll fix it, he’ll take the lead when you’re tired.

• “You’ve done enough,” he tells you softly. “Let me take it from here.”

• He weaves tiny, shared details into your hair — small beads, threads, symbols only you two recognize.

• When others ask, you both just smile.

• It’s private. Sacred.

• A quiet way of saying, we are one.

• Even across the clan fire, Neteyam finds your gaze.

• He doesn’t say anything — he just looks.

• That lingering stare, the slight tilt of his head, the little smirk.

• It’s not a warning, it’s a promise — and it makes your knees weak every time.

[fleurriee]

hi!!! ik u have ur list up rnnn but i kinda really NEED to hear ur takes/ hc on casual dominance with neteyam 🎀 please please please

*kisses forehead to incentivize u* 😙 <33

is this life with neteyam too much to ask for??? i don’t think it is. thanks for the request!!

pairing ; neteyam x fem!reader

synopsis ; casual dominance headcannons with neteyam <33

themes ; fluff, fluff & fluff

• Neteyam wraps his tail around you without even thinking.

• Around your waist while walking, around your leg while sitting, or gently curling around your wrist during ceremonies.

• It’s instinctual — not possessive, just his way of keeping you grounded, connected, close.

• Especially in crowds.

• Even though you’re capable, sometimes your stride is just a little shorter, your steps a bit slower — and he notices.

• So when you’re lagging or tired, he scoops you up and carries you like it’s his right.

• His arms around your shoulders, your legs looped around his waist.

• “No point in making you tire yourself, let me take care of you.”

• Whether it’s fruit from the trees or meat cooked over flame, Neteyam feeds you.

• Hand to your lips, thumb brushing against your bottom lip after.

• He watches you eat like it’s a ritual — like you’re a goddess who deserves to be worshipped every day.

• (You are.)

• Neteyam loves to make you things.

• Beaded chestpieces woven with your favorite colors, necklaces with meaning in every shell and tooth, arm cuffs that match his.

L When you wear something he made, it’s not just a gift — it’s a claim.

• “You look good in my work,” he says with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours. “You look good with me.”

• You’re strong, you’re skilled, but he still hates when you put yourself in danger.

• If there’s a scouting mission, a risky hunt — he insists on going instead, or at least going with you.

• “I know you can handle it, but I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

• No one else hears the songs Neteyam writes about you — but you do.

• They’re softly whispered in your ear under the trees, or hummed while you lay curled in his lap.

• Some are full of longing — others, fierce devotion.

• Even when you’re mad at each other, Neteyam never lets you walk away without a kiss, a forehead press, or at least a soft “be safe.”

• “No going to bed angry, we’re stronger than that.”

• He likes the way you fit against him when you’re both riding.

• His arms around you, your braid tucked safely against his shoulder, his voice low in your ear giving directions or simply whispering your name.

• It’s not just about flight — it’s about trust.

• Fingers brushing your side as you walk, a hand resting on the small of your back, his tail curling possessively around your thigh at rest, a hand tilting your chin up before a kiss.

• His touch says, I see you. I choose you. You’re mine.

• When Neteyam says “come here,” your body moves before your mind catches up.

• Not because he’s demanding — but because his voice makes you feel safe.

• You know he’ll never lead you wrong.

• He stands back and watches you spar, but his eyes never leave you.

• He offers quiet critiques, soft praise.

• “Your stance was perfect.”

• “Almost got me that time.”

• And when you impress him? That smirk, that pride in his voice, it lights you up.

• When another hunter gets too close, he doesn’t argue.

• He just steps in, loops an arm around your waist, kisses your temple slowly — eyes locked on the other guy the whole time.

• “I’ll meet you at the river, yawne (beloved),” he says, deliberately. “Don’t be late.”

• “You’re so easy to love.”

• “I see the whole world when I look at you.”

• “You follow so well — you trust me.”

• His voice is reverent. His words, sacred.

• His dominance isn’t about control — it’s about honoring your surrender.

• He doesn’t stop you from doing things, he just makes sure you never have to.

• He’ll carry it, he’ll fix it, he’ll take the lead when you’re tired.

• “You’ve done enough,” he tells you softly. “Let me take it from here.”

• He weaves tiny, shared details into your hair — small beads, threads, symbols only you two recognize.

• When others ask, you both just smile.

• It’s private. Sacred.

• A quiet way of saying, we are one.

• Even across the clan fire, Neteyam finds your gaze.

• He doesn’t say anything — he just looks.

• That lingering stare, the slight tilt of his head, the little smirk.

• It’s not a warning, it’s a promise — and it makes your knees weak every time.

[fleurriee]

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