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reidmarieprentiss · 5 months ago

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Dare Ya

Summary: Spencer and Penelope are roommates, you get a dare during girls night that changes your relationship with Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, mild crime description, sneaking into beds

Word count: 3.6k

a/n: this is so silly & cute ,, i saw someone say they love penelope and spencer being best friends and i can't disagree hehe

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After surviving a terrifying attack outside her apartment, Penelope Garcia can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that now shadows her every step. Seeking solace, she reluctantly accepts Spencer Reid's offer to move in with him, hoping his quiet, protective presence will help her regain a sense of safety.

—

Penelope was sprawled out on the couch, her colorful blanket draped over her as she scrolled through the latest memes on her tablet. Spencer walked in, holding two mugs of steaming tea, carefully balancing them as he made his way to the coffee table.

"Okay, Penelope, I’ve got your chamomile, extra honey, just the way you like it," Spencer announced with a proud smile, handing her the mug.

Penelope’s eyes lit up as she accepted the tea. "Spencer, you’re an absolute gem! What would I do without you?"

Spencer sat down beside her, taking a sip of his own tea before replying, "Probably starve, considering your idea of dinner is three packets of Pop Rocks and a diet soda."

Penelope gasped dramatically, clutching her heart. "I’ll have you know that’s gourmet snacking in some cultures!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Well, in this apartment, it’s all about balanced meals and—"

"—and daily doses of nerdy lectures from my favorite genius!" Penelope finished his sentence, her grin widening.

"Exactly," Spencer agreed with a chuckle. "Besides, you’re the only person who appreciates my random facts at 2 AM."

Penelope nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Of course! And who else is going to let me blast show tunes at full volume while I reorganize your books by color?"

Spencer’s eyes widened in mock horror. "Wait, you wouldn’t dare…"

Penelope leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, sweetie, it’s already done."

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

"And you’re lucky I love you," Penelope shot back, lifting her mug in a toast.

Spencer clinked his mug against hers. "Best roommates ever."

"Forever and always," Penelope agreed, smiling warmly at him.

—

“Reid, don’t forget I’m having the girls over tonight,” Penelope reminded him as she flitted around the kitchen, her excitement palpable.

“Girls' night, I know,” Spencer replied with a small smile, glancing over at the calendar on the wall where Penelope had circled the date in bright pink marker. “You wrote it on the calendar.”

Penelope paused, turning to face him with a hopeful look. “Are you going to join us this time? It’s going to be fun! We’re talking snacks, gossip, and maybe even some scandalous games…”

Spencer chuckled, already making his way toward his room with a book tucked under his arm. “I’ll pass, thank you,” he said, his voice warm with amusement.

Penelope pouted playfully, but she couldn’t hide her grin. “One day, Dr. Reid, you’ll see the light and join us!”

“Maybe,” Spencer called back with a laugh, already imagining the lively scene that would soon fill the apartment. For now, though, he was content to let the girls enjoy their night.

Penelope Garcia loves hosting her infamous girls' nights with the BAU ladies, filling her and Reid's apartment with laughter, drinks, and the latest gossip. Spencer, ever the accommodating roommate, doesn’t mind the occasional takeover—he’s more than happy to retreat to his books. What he didn’t anticipate, though, is you always showing up in your cozy pajamas, looking irresistibly adorable and sending his heart into a tailspin. As the nights unfold with playful games and shared secrets, Spencer finds himself leaving his room more and more often, struggling to keep his cool amidst the lively chaos.

—

The apartment is buzzing with energy as you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit in a cozy circle on the living room floor, surrounded by empty wine bottles, snack wrappers, and the remnants of your laughter-filled evening. The air is thick with friendship, and after a few rounds of lighthearted gossip, the group decides to spice things up with a classic game of truth or dare.

Penelope leans forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, truth or dare?” she asks, her voice full of playful challenge.

Feeling the warmth of the wine and the comfort of your friends, you giggle. “Dare, obviously,” you say confidently, knowing full well that Penelope won’t go easy on you.

The girls exchange conspiratorial glances, their eyes practically twinkling with mischief. Emily is the first to speak up, grinning as she leans closer. “We dare you to… climb into Spencer’s bed while he’s sleeping.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, your cheeks flushing at the thought. “Wait, what?!” you whisper, a mixture of shock and excitement bubbling up inside you. The mere idea of being that close to him, even in such a silly, innocent context, makes your heart race.

JJ nods enthusiastically, her smile widening. “Come on! You’ve been crushing on him forever. It’s the perfect opportunity to get a little closer,” she teases, nudging your shoulder playfully.

Penelope claps her hands together, her excitement barely contained. “Think of it as a harmless prank! He’ll never know, and it’ll be our little secret,” she adds with a wink.

You bite your lip, your mind racing. The thought of sneaking into Spencer’s room, tiptoeing over to his bed, and slipping under the covers while he sleeps soundly is both terrifying and thrilling. But the encouraging looks from your friends, coupled with the wine-induced confidence, push you to make a decision.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it,” you finally agree, your voice a little shaky but determined. The girls let out a collective squeal of delight, stifling their laughter as they quickly urge you toward Spencer’s bedroom.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully open the door to his room, the soft creak of the hinges sounding far too loud in the quiet of the night. Spencer is fast asleep, his face peaceful in the dim light filtering through the curtains. His glasses are on the nightstand, and a book lies open beside him, his fingers still loosely resting on the pages.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly approach the bed, your steps light and cautious. You glance back at the doorway, where the girls are peeking in, holding their breaths in anticipation. Gathering every ounce of courage, you carefully lift the blanket and slide into the bed beside Spencer, your movements as gentle as possible.

As you carefully slide under the covers beside Spencer, you’re acutely aware of every sound, every movement, your heart hammering in your chest. You had been fully prepared to stay for only a few seconds before making your escape, but the moment you settle in, something unexpected happens—Spencer, in his sleep, rolls over and instinctively drapes an arm around you.

You freeze, eyes wide in shock, as you feel his warmth envelop you. His face nuzzles into your shoulder, his breath soft and steady against your neck. Your initial reaction is to panic, to jump out of the bed before things get any more complicated, but the sensation of his embrace is so comforting, so natural, that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Instead, you find yourself relaxing into him, letting out a breath. Spencer’s grip tightens slightly as if seeking out your warmth in his sleep, and your heart melts at the sweet, innocent way he snuggles closer.

From the doorway, the girls are watching with wide eyes, trying desperately to suppress their giggles. Penelope claps a hand over her mouth, stifling a squeal of excitement, while Emily and JJ exchange looks of pure amusement, both of them barely containing their laughter.

You turn your head slightly, giving them a pleading look to stay quiet, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. There’s something about the way Spencer holds you, even in his unconscious state, that makes you feel safe, cherished, and you can’t bring yourself to disrupt the moment.

As the minutes tick by, the warmth of Spencer’s embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing begin to lull you into a state of calm. You know you should slip out, return to the girls, and let them finish their game, but instead, you find yourself growing drowsy, the fatigue of the night catching up with you.

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift off to sleep, nestled comfortably in Spencer’s arms.

Back in the living room, the girls exchange glances, their excitement bubbling over. Penelope, always the ringleader, whispers with a grin, "Looks like she’s spending the night there. Mission accomplished, ladies."

Emily chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "She’s really going for it, huh?"

JJ giggles, still trying to keep her voice low. "I think we just made Spencer’s dreams come true—literally!"

The girls continue to snicker and whisper amongst themselves, marveling at how perfectly the dare has played out. They decide to let you enjoy your impromptu cuddle session, knowing that this is one girls’ night that will go down in history.

—

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, gently stirring you awake. For a moment, you were wrapped in the cozy haze of sleep, feeling an unfamiliar warmth around you. As your eyes blinked open, reality came rushing back, and your heart dropped into your stomach—Spencer was still there, his arm draped across you, his face just inches from yours.

Panic set in as you realized exactly where you were and what had happened last night. Before you could gather your thoughts, Spencer stirred beside you, his brow furrowing in confusion as he slowly woke up. His eyes fluttered open, and the moment he saw you lying there, his expression shifted from sleepy contentment to utter shock.

“Wha—what’s going on?!” Spencer exclaimed, his voice a mix of confusion and panic as he scrambled back, pulling the blanket up as if it could somehow explain the situation.

You bolted upright, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Spencer, I—I can explain!” you stammered, trying desperately to find the right words. But the sight of his wide, bewildered eyes only made your heart race faster.

“Why were you…? How did you…?” Spencer was clearly struggling to make sense of it all, his mind racing as he tried to connect the dots.

You cringed, feeling mortified beyond belief. “It was just… it was a dare,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Penelope, Emily, and JJ—they dared me to sneak into your bed while you were sleeping. I swear, it was just a silly prank. I didn’t mean to—” You broke off, feeling the heat of humiliation crawl up your neck.

Spencer’s eyes widened even more, if that were possible. “A dare? You climbed into my bed because of a dare?” He sounded incredulous, his voice cracking slightly.

You nodded, biting your lip and wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I didn’t think—I didn’t realize you’d… snuggle up to me like that.” Your voice trailed off, the words sounding as ridiculous out loud as they did in your head.

Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you didn’t think was possible, his mind clearly reeling as he processed what you had just told him. “I—I didn’t know. I must have been dreaming or something. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know you were there!” He was stumbling over his words, just as flustered as you were.

The awkwardness in the room was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your ears. The last thing you wanted was for Spencer to think you were some kind of creep. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, but no coherent words formed. The embarrassment was too overwhelming.

“I should go,” you finally managed to squeak out, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you scrambled out of the bed, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste. You bolted for the door, your face burning with shame.

Spencer started to say something, but you didn’t stop to listen. You couldn’t—every fiber of your being was screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible. You could hear the girls' giggles in the living room as you rushed past them, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t bear to face them, not after what had just happened.

The moment you were out of the apartment, you leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, your heart still pounding. You had never been so embarrassed in your life. The whole thing had backfired spectacularly, and now you had no idea how you were ever going to face Spencer again.

Inside the apartment, Spencer was left sitting on the bed, staring at the door where you had just fled. His mind was still trying to process everything that had just happened, his cheeks still burning. He had never been so confused, or so flustered, in his entire life.

—

After the chaotic morning had settled down and the girls had finally left, the apartment grew quiet. Spencer was still in a bit of a daze from the unexpected events that had unfolded earlier. He moved around the kitchen mechanically, setting up breakfast while his thoughts churned.

“So, boy wonder,” Penelope began, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table as Spencer placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. “Care to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Spencer sighed, sitting down across from her with his own plate, though he wasn’t sure he had much of an appetite. “I’m just… confused, I guess,” he admitted, poking at his eggs with his fork. “About everything that happened this morning.”

Penelope nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, it was definitely one for the books,” she agreed. “But I think there’s more to it than just a silly dare, isn’t there?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t know. It’s just—when I woke up and saw her there, I was… shocked, obviously. But then, after she explained, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have her there, so close. And now, I feel like I completely scared her off.”

Penelope’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Spencer, I think you’re missing the bigger picture here,” she said gently. “Do you like her?”

Spencer looked up at Penelope, a bit startled by the direct question. His cheeks flushed slightly as he considered it. “I mean, yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “She’s smart, funny, and… she makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. But I never thought she’d be interested in me like that.”

Penelope’s smile widened, her heart warming at the sight of her friend finally acknowledging his feelings. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Doctor,” she said with a playful wink. “The reason we dared her to climb into your bed wasn’t just for fun. It was because we’ve all noticed how she looks at you, how she gets all flustered when you’re around. She’s been crushing on you hard, Spencer. We thought a little nudge might help her break the ice.”

Spencer blinked, the revelation sinking in. “She… she likes me?” he asked, surprise and hope flickering in his eyes.

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, she’s got it bad for you,” she confirmed. “But she’s also shy and probably feels like she’s not on your level. That’s why she freaked out this morning—she’s likely mortified because she thinks she messed everything up.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, processing Penelope’s words. It was almost too much to take in at once, but the more he thought about it, the more everything made sense. The way you always seemed a little nervous around him, the way you’d light up when he shared random facts or when you’d bump into each other in the hallway. And now, the fact that you’d been daring enough to go along with something as bold as sneaking into his bed—it all pointed to one thing: you had feelings for him, just as he had for you.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Spencer said softly, a small smile beginning to form on his lips. “But now that I know… what do I do?”

Penelope reached across the table, placing a hand on his arm. “You talk to her, Spencer. You let her know how you feel, that you’re not upset about what happened. She’s probably freaking out right now, thinking she ruined everything. But you can turn this around, make it something good.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of determination growing within him. “You’re right,” he said, his voice gaining confidence. “I need to talk to her. I don’t want her to think I’m upset or that she did something wrong.”

Penelope beamed at him, giving his arm a supportive squeeze. “That’s the spirit! You’ve got this, Spencer. Just be your sweet, nerdy self, and everything will fall into place.”

—

Monday morning rolled around, and the usual bustle of the BAU was in full swing. The team was busy reviewing files, catching up on paperwork, and getting ready for whatever case might come their way. But Spencer Reid had something else on his mind—something far more nerve-wracking than profiling criminals.

With a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small, carefully wrapped box from your favorite bakery in the other, Spencer made his way to your desk. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anticipation and anxiety as he approached. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over, but now that the moment was here, his nerves threatened to get the better of him.

You were focused on your work, completely unaware of the flurry of emotions heading your way. But when you sensed someone standing in front of your desk, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat.

Spencer stood there, looking slightly nervous but determined, holding out the bouquet of flowers—a beautiful blend of your favorite blooms, carefully chosen with Penelope’s help. Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart skipping a beat.

“Hi,” Spencer said softly, his voice a little shaky but warm. “I, um… I got these for you.”

You stared at the flowers, then at Spencer, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. “Spencer… what’s all this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I wanted to apologize for how things went on Saturday. I know it was a little… unconventional, but after thinking about it, I realized I shouldn’t have let you leave feeling so embarrassed.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, both touched and confused. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. I was the one who—”

He gently cut you off, holding up the box from the bakery. “And I also got you this. I know it’s your favorite,” he added, offering the box with a small, hopeful smile.

You hesitated for a moment before accepting the box, your fingers brushing against his as you did. The gesture made your heart flutter. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling a mixture of emotions welling up inside you.

Spencer shifted slightly, looking down at the flowers before meeting your eyes again. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Penelope said, about how sometimes we all need a little push to see what’s right in front of us.” His gaze was earnest, his voice steady as he continued. “And I’ve realized that I don’t want to miss out on what could be something really great.”

Your breath caught as his words sank in, your heart beating faster as hope began to bloom within you.

“So,” Spencer continued, a small but sincere smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Maybe we can start over, without the dares, and just… see where things go?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. The embarrassment from the weekend melted away, replaced by a growing sense of excitement. You glanced at the flowers and the pastry, your favorite treats carefully chosen just for you, and felt a smile spread across your face.

“I’d love that, Spencer,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

Spencer’s smile widened, relief and happiness evident on his face. “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. “And thank you for the flowers—and the pastry. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Spencer said softly. “You’re worth it.”

Your smile grew even brighter, and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at his words. “Well, in that case, I guess I’m going to have to say yes.”

Spencer’s face lit up with joy and relief, and he let out a breath he was holding. “Great,” he said, his voice full of quiet excitement. “How about dinner tonight?”

“That sounds perfect,” you replied, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

As Spencer walked away to return to his desk, a spring in his step, you couldn’t help but glance down at the flowers and the pastry. The weekend’s awkwardness seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the sweet possibility of something new and delicious.

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jello-chennie · 1 year ago

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relationship hcs!

✧ pairing izuku, katsuki, eijirou, shouto w/ fem!reader

✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

✧ a/n check out my masterlist!

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ izuku ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

isn't at all sure about how he pulled you

but he did and he isnt complaining

would absolutely love a kind soul in his partner

he swoons anytime you do little things to take care of him like if you know he has a pretty busy day, even if you're busy too, you go out of your way to make him a cup of coffee or tea and you always seem to get it just right

or whenever he's super focused on something the past few days and starts getting a little scatter brained, he'll forget to eat

if you're in ua, you'll share your lunch with him (which he will deny at first, but when you start pouting at him, he cant say no)

if he's a pro-hero and working, you take him out to lunch on his break

doesn't matter how far into your relationship you two are, he's always getting flustered by you

despite that, he's always trying to make you laugh (even if it means dying inside from embarrassment)

izuku cannot formally confirm or deny whether or not he may or may not be intentionally getting a few extra bumps and scrapes just so you can take the time to gently and lovingly bandage his wounds

loves it when you cut his hair for him!

even when you mess up (his chest will hurt a little with embarrassment whenever he's out in public, but only a little bc you did something for him, and he loves that more than anything else)

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ katsuki ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

totally would end up in a relationship in which you are his polar opposite

everyone is confused

but it totally works!

you're super shy and sweet, and hes audacious and a little abrasive

he pulls you out of your shell and makes you become less of a doormat, you reign him in a bit and round out his sharper edges

when he takes you to meet his parents, it doesn't fly past him that the two of you have a dynamic that reminds him of his parents

which pisses him off to no end bc that means he truly is his mother's son

he's become his mother

bakugou doesn't form close relationships easily, and is definitely an all or nothing kind of guy

once you're in, you're locked in

it doesn't take him very long to start fantasizing about marriage and kids once you officially become a couple

he is you're personal chef

and once you both enter the workforce, he takes extreme pride in making your lunch for you

can and will enter a silent competition with the significant other's of your coworkers for who can make the best bento

probably makes a social media page dedicated to making cooking videos in which he posts aesthetic af videos of him making meals for you

"pro-hero dynamite is famous on the internet for also being a gourmet chef!"

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ eijirou ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

kirishima would definitely fall for someone super fem presenting

he works out all the time and has all these muscles solely for the purpose of carrying things for you

and carrying you

afterall, that's what a real man does

will stop and buy all the pretty things he sees in store that remind him of you

likes it when you stick some of your cute stickers you make him take you to the mall to go buy onto his gear

is tickled pink by headlines that show up the next day like "red riot big sanrio fan?"

has matching sanrio keychains on his phone case with you

loves to sit and watch you do your makeup

will sit next to you and ask you to explain it to him

kiri will never say no when you ask to put it on him

after all, what kind of man would have his masculinity threatened by a little makeup?

besides, it's not like he can say no when you look up at him with those big, pretty eyes, and the cute, hopeful, little grin on your face

that would be just wrong

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ shouto ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

one of the types of people i see shouto falling for is someone who is a bit of a spitfire

someone who is caring, compassionate, and understanding

someone with endless amounts of kindness in their heart, and a little wise, but relentlessly brazen

he both loves and admires them, and falls for their personality

i see shouto taking little bits and pieces of his partner's personality, and they are ultimately responsible for shouto becoming a little more outspoken

shouto is someone who would become a teeny bit obsessed with his partner

you officially have a shadow once you get together bc he will have no problem following you everywhere, and wanting to hangout with you all the time

isn't at all nervous about having you meet his dad, bc shouto knows that if endeavor starts pissing you off, you'll find a way to respectfully tell him to fuck off without missing a beat

you're also super smart and emotionally intelligent, so when his family life starts to become particularly messy at the moment, you're right by his side helping him navigate

shouto loves you for being his lover and his confidant, constantly there for him with open arms and advice that's strangely wiser beyond your years

once shouto's dad stops being crummy, endeavor actually comes to respect you

shouto's mom and sister love you, and the three of you gossip like school girls

which makes shouto a little jealous when he feels left out

shouto's the kind of bf to get jealous of the cat that he wanted but ended up liking you more

won't say anything, and will spend all day pouting in a corner some where

you have to give him ton of affection to make it up to him

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cherrrydragon · 3 months ago

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➤ reading between the lines

← back to main masterlist

read it on ao3

SUMMARY ↳ Jason Todd loves nothing more than the sight of you with a book. The book's tension builds, your fingers gripping the pages a little tighter as the protagonist faces a crucial moment. You barely register the sound of the water shutting off or Jason stepping out of the bathroom. He stands in the doorway, towel slung low around his waist, shaking his head with an amused smirk. He slowly takes steps toward you, right up until his knees hit the mattress. He leans down, his arms coming to cage you. Finally, you really take notice of him. “Hi, Jay.” pairing: jason todd x fem!reader warnings: smut tags/notes: oral sex (fem receiving), domestic fluff, jason might be ooc sorry, lets just pretend its a less traumatized version of him wc: 2k

You think Jason has a thing for you and books.

You mean together, of course. Jason Todd’s affinity for literature is well known, and so is his affection for you. But you can see the way his lips curl up when he sees you curled up on the couch reading, wrapped in his favorite blanket.

The soft glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, highlighting the way Jason leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. He’s always been drawn to those quiet moments, watching you lose yourself in a world of words.

“Is that another tragic romance?” he teases, stepping further into the room. You glance up, catching his playful gaze.

“Not as tragic as your face.”

“Ouch,” he groans dramatically, clutching his chest. He falls onto you, plopping his full body weight and nearly crushing you. He buries his face in your neck and presses a chaste kiss there.

You huff and half-heartedly shove him away. “You’ll make me lose my place!”

“That’s why you should use those bookmarks I got you, honey.” He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Bookmarks are for amateurs, Jay.” You gesture to the stack of books on the coffee table, a mixture of dog-eared pages and hastily folded corners.

He grimaces at the sight. “I should break up with you.”

“Who would read to you, then?”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Touché.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips and shifts so as to pull you into leaning on him. He wraps the blanket around both of you, plucking the book out of your hands in spite of your protests. “Can’t let you ruin this anymore. Lemme read to you, hm?”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “You can’t do it justice.”

“I’ve got the voice of a poet,” he retorts, arm wrapping around you. His voice is low, intimate and for your ears only. You move to rest on his chest so you can feel the way his chest rumbles as he speaks.

As he reads, you let your eyes drift shut, the sound of his voice becoming a soothing backdrop. Jason leans his down, pressing a light kiss on your head and effectively muffling his voice. Each word he reads intertwines with his heartbeat, spinning a cocoon of intimacy that cradles the both of you.

You notice the way he plops a bookmark on the page you were on just before you fall asleep.

“You’re killing me, honey,” Jason groans over the phone.

The smell of a home-cooked meal fills your apartment as you shoulder your phone. “Come home, then,” you chuckle.

“I swear I can smell it through the phone. Why’re you always cooking something good when I’m away, huh?”

You move to grab a pan. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be away so much.”

“Gotta do my job, honey,” he sighs. “To keep my beautiful girlfriend safe so she can continue to spoil me with her delicious cooking.”

You laugh, stirring the simmering sauce. “It’s just pasta, Jay.”

“Yeah, but it’s your pasta. That makes it gourmet.”

You can’t help but smile at his praise. “Dork. I’ll save you a plate. Just don’t take too long, or I might eat it all.”

“Don’t you dare!” His voice rises in mock horror. “I’ll be home soon, I promise. Just a couple more things to wrap up. You got dessert for me?”

You scoff playfully. “Pick it up yourself. I’ve got a book to finish.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, then his tone softens. “I’ll get you your favorite. Only the best for my girl.”

You exchange sweet goodbyes before hanging up, the warmth of Jason’s words lingers in the air, wrapping around you like the blanket he often claims. You focus on the pasta simmering on the stove, the fragrant aroma filling the kitchen. Your mind drifts to Jason, as it does a lot, and you can’t keep the stupid grin of your face as you finish cooking.

After plating the pasta, you set the table, stealing glances at the clock as you wait for him to come home. You flip through the book, and allow yourself to get lost in the words. The minutes stretch, the kitchen filled with nothing but your muttered words as you read. You’re just about to take a distracted bite of your food when there’s knocks on the door, the specific pattern Jason went over with you.

Jason steps in, Red Hood helmets already off and perched under his arm, a bag carried by his other. You perk up, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face. He steps in, shaking off the remnants of his day, and his eyes light up at the sight of the table set for two. “You’re making me fall in love with you all over again, you know that?”

You laugh, stepping forward to meet him in a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets back one you separate. He places the bag on the table, the logo of your favorite sweets brand greeting you. “As promised.”

“You spoil me,” you hum happily, parroting his earlier words. “Everything go okay?”

Jason nods, pulling out your chair for you before taking his own seat. He grabs his fork with an eager shine in his eye that makes you snort. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Jason, it’s that he loves to eat.

“Usual stuff.” He keeps it brief, for your sake. He doesn’t like you to hear about the stuff he deals with on patrol, once said, “pretty things like you shouldn’t worry about things like that.” Flattering, but it’s whatever.

“Dickhead mentioned this new bakery that opened up, though you might like it,” he mumbles, voice obscured by his chewing.

You smile. “Sure, let's make it a date.”

Jason goes on to mention little things about his day, and you do listen… at first. You love hearing Jason talk, and you love hearing about his day but… you also really wanna finish this book. It starts as subtle glances to the open pages. Then, it goes to skim reading while nodding along to his words. Now, you’re full on reading and have tuned him out. Whoops.

Jason pauses mid-sentence, a playful glint in his eye as he watches you. “Baby.”

“Hm?”

“Are you even listening to me?” he asks, smirking.

You look up, feigning innocence. “Of course. You just mentioned the arcade you went to with Roy.”

He raises a brow and you know he doesn’t believe you. Damn detective skills. If he feels any type of way because of it he lets it go and continues talking. This time you do better to try and pay attention, but when he leaves to go to the bathroom your eyes wander right back onto the pages.

“You’re killing me again, honey.” Shit, he came back fast. To his credit he doesn’t look annoyed, just fond. Still, you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” you groan, shutting the book and throwing it across the room. Miraculously, it lands on the couch.

Jason raises a brow. “Nice throw.”

“Jay,” you whine. He snorts and comes around you, laying a hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “It’s so good. You’ll love it when I finish.”

“I’m not mad, honey.” He leans down and presses a kiss against your forehead, whispering, “Besides, I think it’s hot.”

You blink, watching him sit back down as if he said nothing at all. Well, that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him about it.

You are one of the many people guilty of not knowing when to put down a good read.

In your defense, however, it’s not bedtime yet. Bedtime is whenever you and Jason are in bed, and he still has to shower. Until then, you’re content to let him take his time, as you’re completely taken by your book. The gentle hum of the water running in the background almost becomes white noise to the whirlwind of words in your head.

The book's tension builds, your fingers gripping the pages a little tighter as the protagonist faces a crucial moment. You barely register the sound of the water shutting off or Jason stepping out of the bathroom. He stands in the doorway, towel slung low around his waist, shaking his head with an amused smirk.

He slowly takes steps toward you, right up until his knees hit the mattress. He leans down, his arms coming to cage you. Finally, you really take notice of him. “Hi, Jay.”

“Hi, honey.” His eyes sparkle with amusement as he takes you in. He smooches your cheek before his hands come to grasp at your hips, pulling you to sit at the edge of the bed. You don’t break your focus from your book (if we’re being honest, you’re kind of used to it…)

He knees at your shared bed and spreads your legs. You don’t pay too much mind, even when the feeling of your underwear sliding down your legs sends a familiar shiver down your spine. It is only when a hot wet feel slides against your core that you’re snapped back into reality.

Your body reacts instinctively, squeezing your thighs around Jason’s head. “Jay!” you yelp.

He responds with a hum that sends a buzz through your body. His hands massage your skin as he kisses around your thighs. Your heartbeat picks up and your chest starts to heave. Your fingers tremble around the pages.

A hand leaves your pressure book to grip Jason’s hair. Your hips begin to rock against his face. Your breathing becomes more labored. His thumb begins to swirl your clit, stimulating you to your very core. The room around you fades away, leaving only the rising tension in your body.

Jason's hands move up your thighs, his fingers digging gently into your skin as he holds you in place. His tongue darts in and out, teasing you with gentle licks and soft kisses. You moan, your head falling back against the bed as you give in to the pleasure.

Suddenly, the book slips from your fingers, falling to the floor with a soft thud. You don't even notice, too caught up in the sensations coursing through your body. Jason’s hands pull you impossibly closer, caught up in your pleasure.

"Jason," you moan, voice laced with desire.

It seems that your voice sets him off, because his tongue starts moving faster along with his fingers to bring you to your peak. Your body trembles, and your hips rock against his face, seeking more of the pleasure he's giving you. Your toes curl, back arching against the bed as your moans get louder and louder.

White fills your vision, mouth falling open as a final whine leaves your lips. You take deep breaths as you come down from your high, thighs twitching. Jason’s eyes meet yours, slowly rising from his knees to meet you. His lips brush against yours in a gentle manner. You feel yourself melt once again, your body aligning itself with him.

“Good?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Good,” you affirm, breathing him in.

“Good,” he nods, breaking away from the kiss, before meeting you back for more. You smile against him as the two of you exchange chaste kisses. Your legs fall open to welcome him closer. You whimper at the feel of his bulge against you.

“Jay,” you moan, grinding against him.

You feel his smirk. “Yeah?”

“Please…” He’s only wearing a towel, all you have to do is hook a finger around it and pull…

You’ve never felt such disappointment like when he pulls away from you, tightening the towel. He bends down, picking up your forgotten book, and strolling out of the room.

“Wh- Jay!”

“You said I’d like it, might as well start now. Who knows when you’ll put this thing down again,” he calls from the hallway.

“Jason!”

“This is payback!”

notes: kinda hate this but what can ya do 🔥

#dc x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader

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bloomingdayswithyou · 10 months ago

Note

It's my birthday today can you write how LDS boys would celebrate their s/o birthday?!?

Birthday Celebration for his S/O

Pairing: Zayne, Xavier & Rafayel x gn!reader (separately)

Warnings: none!

A/N: happy birthday! hope you like these scenarios🫶🏻

Zayne

As you wake up on your birthday, you find a note by your bedside table. It's written in Zayne's elegant handwriting, inviting your to meet him at your favorite café for breakfast. When you arrive, you're greeted by a table adorned with your favorite flowers and a small gift wrapped in delicate paper.

After a cozy breakfast together, Zayne surprises you with tickets to a live performance of your favorite artist in the evening. Throughout the day, he showers you with subtle gestures of affection, like a gentle touch or a reassuring smile, always mindful of your surroundings.

In the evening, Zayne takes you to a secluded spot overlooking the city where he's set up a picnic under the stars. He prepared all your favorite foods and even brought a portable heater to keep you warm. As you both enjoy your meal, Zayne presents you with a handcrafted piece of jewelry, a symbol of his love and commitment, whispered softly rather than declared loudly.

You spend the rest of the night cuddled up together, watching the stars and sharing stories until the early hours of the morning. Zayne's birthday celebration for you is filled with understated affection, intimacy, and thoughtful gestures that reflect his deep love for you.

Xavier

Xavier starts the day by surprising you with breakfast in bed. He's prepared a delicious spread of your favorite foods, complete with freshly brewed coffee and a single red rose placed beside the tray.

After breakfast, Xavier takes you on a spontaneous road trip to a secluded cabin in the mountains. Along the way, you stop at picturesque spots to admire the scenery and take photos together. Xavier even packs a picnic lunch, complete with gourmet sandwiches and champagne to toast to your special day.

Upon reaching the cabin, Xavier reveals that he's planned a romantic evening under the stars. He lights a fire in the fireplace, sets up a cozy blanket outside, and prepares a candlelit dinner for two. You spend the night talking, laughing, and reminiscing about your favorite memories together.

Before you go to bed, Xavier presents you with a handcrafted journal filled with notes, poems, and sketches he's made over the years. It's a thoughtful gift that captures the essence of your relationship and the depth of his love for you.

Rafayel

Rafayel wakes you up with a burst of energy, showering you with kisses and playful tickles. He's already planned a full day of adventures, starting with brunch at a trendy café followed by a visit to an art gallery showcasing his latest paintings.

Throughout the day, Rafayel surprises you with spontaneous activities like a pottery class, a scenic hike, and a sunset picnic by the beach. He's arranged for a local band to serenade you as you enjoy your meal, adding to the romantic ambiance of the evening.

As the night falls, Rafayel takes you to a rooftop bar with stunning views of the city skyline. He's organized a surprise party with all your friends, complete with music, dancing, and plenty of laughter. You spend the rest of the night celebrating, surrounded by the people you love most.

Before the clock strikes midnight, Rafayel presents you with a canvas painting he's been working on for weeks. It's a portrait of the both of you together, capturing the joy and love you share in vibrant colors and bold strokes. It's a fitting end to a day filled with excitement, adventure, and the unmistakable warmth of Rafayel's love.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #love and deepspace scenarios #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace x male reader #rafayel x male reader #xavier x male reader #zayne x male reader

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pompadourpink · 5 months ago

Text

Literal French expressions

À deux - at two

À la + n. - in the style of

À la carte - at the menu

À la mode - in fashion

Amateur - lover

Après-ski - after skying

À propos - about

Armoire - wardrobe

Art nouveau - new art

Au naturel - plain

Au pair - at the peer

Auteur - author

Avant-garde - before guard

Bête noire - black beast

Blasé - jaded

Bon appétit - good appetite

Bon voyage - good journey

Boutique - shop

Buffet - credenza

Bureau - office

Canapé - couch

Carte blanche - white card

C'est la vie - that's life

Chauffeur - warmer (n.)

Chef - leader

Cliché - picture

Clique - gang

Connaisseur - "knower"

Coup d'état - blow of state

Coup de grâce - blow of mercy

Coup de foudre - blow of lightning

Couture - sewing (n.)

Cul-de-sac - ass of the bag

Début - beginning

Débutante - beginner

Déjà-vu - already seen

Dénouement - untying

Dossier - file

Double entendre - double hear

... du jour - of the day

Eau de toilette - washing water

Eau de vie - life water

Encore - again

Ennui - boredom

En route - in road

Ensemble - together

Entourage - people surrounding you

Entrepreneur - starter (n.)

Essai - attempt

Esprit de l'escalier - spirit of the stairs

Étiquette - label

Exposé - exposed

Façade - frontage

Faux pas - fake step

Femme fatale - deadly woman

Film noir - black movie

Fin de siècle - end of century

Flâneur - "stroller"

Femme - woman

Folie à deux - madness at two

Foyer - fireplace, home

Gamine - female kid (casual)

Gauche - left

Gendarme - person of weapons

Je ne sais quoi - I don't know what

Laissez-faire - let (someone) do (imperative)

Laissez-passer - let (someone) pass

L'appel du vide - the call of the void

Lingerie - underwear

Maître d' - master o'

Mardi gras - fat Tuesday

Matinée - morning

Ménage à trois - household at three

Mon/ma chéri-e - my cherished

Montage - mounting

Motif - pattern

Mural - on the wall (adj.)

Né-e - born

Négligé - neglected

Nom de plume - feather name

Parole - word

Petite - small (adj.)

Pied-à-terre - foot on land

Poilu - hairy

Pot pourri - rotten pot

Pourboire - for drink

Première - first

Prêt-à-manger - ready to eat

Protégé - protected

Renaissance - rebirth

Rendez-vous - appointment

Répertoire - directory

Résumé - summary

Risqué - risked

Robe - dress

Rouge - red

RSVP - answer please

Sans-culottes - without pantaloons

Savant - "knower" (n.)

Savoir-faire - know how to do (v.)

Savoir-vivre - know how to live

Séance - session

Soirée - evening

Souvenir - memory

Suite - sequel, development

Surveillance - careful watching

Tête-à-tête - head to head

Touché - touched

Tour - circuit

Trompe-l'oeil - cheats the eye

Venue - came

Vignette - sticker, label

Vis-à-vis - face to face

Voyeur - "seer"

Ballet vocabulary:

Allongé - laid down

Balancé - swinged

Balançoire - swing (n.)

Battu - battered

Brisé - broken

Chassé - chased

Chaînés - chained

Ciseaux - scissors

Coupé - cut

Dégagé - cleared

Développé - developed

Échappé - escaped

En cloche - in bell

En croix - in cross

Entrechat - between braid

En pointe - in tip

Failli - almost did

Fouetté - whipped

Glissade - sliding

Plié - bent

Jeté - thrown

Manège - carousel

Pas de bourrée - drunk step

Pas de chat - cat step

Pas de cheval - horse step

Pas de deux - step of two

Pas de valse - waltz step

Penché - leaned

Piqué - pricked

Port de bras - carry of arms

Relevé - lifted back up

Renversé - titled, bent backwards

Retiré - removed

Rond de jambe - leg circle

Temps de flèche - arrow time Tendu - stretched

Temps lié - linked time

Tombé - fallen

Tour en l'air - turn in the air

Kitchen vocabulary:

Amuse-bouche - mouth entertainer

Bain-Marie - Mary bath

Café au lait - milky coffee

Casserole - pot

Cordon bleu - blue ribbon

Crème brûlée - burnt cream

Crème de la crème - cream of the cream

Crème fraîche - fresh cream

Croissant - crescent

Éclair - lightning

Entrée - entrance

Filet mignon - cute net

Flambé - blazed

Foie gras - fat liver

Fondant - melting

Fondue - melted

Gourmet - foodie

Hors d'oeuvre - out of the work

Légume - vegetable

Liqueur - liquid

Mille-feuille - thousand leaf

Mousse - foam

Pâté - pasted

Roux - redhead(ed)

Sauté - jumped

Sautoir - "jumper"

Soufflé - blown

Velouté - velvety

Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive

#vocabulary #expressions

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pinkiceee-prose · 1 year ago

Text

Summertime Service

Summary: Reader throws the BAU team a summer barbeque feast. Spencer is so moved by her hard work that he feels there's only one way to truly show her his gratitude.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut (18+, minors DNI)

Content Warnings: coworker relationship, descriptions of food, mutual pining, heavy kissing, praise, worship, begging, leg and feet massages, use of a gendered nickname ("pretty girl"), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, reader wears a sundress. please let me know if I missed any!

Author's Notes: This is the first fic I've written and published in a very long time, so please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like more! Huge thank you to the lovely @fortheloveofwonderland for reading over this for me 💗 Also, this was written as a part of @imagining-in-the-margins's Summer Sunshine Challenge!☀️

Word Count: 6.1k

As you stepped out onto Rossi’s patio, the summer sun beat down on the skin of your exposed shoulders. The different, yet still prevalent heat radiating from the large serving dish of meat you carried also played a role in the ever-present sweat gathering on your upper body, but you trekked through the grass with a smile, attempting to appear unaffected.

Tara and Luke rushed to help relieve you of the burden in your arms, but you insisted they refrain.

“Ah, nope! This barbeque is all about you guys, okay—no helping!” You said to their many protests. Lightheartedly dejected they sat back down, offering their thanks as they helped themselves to the food.

You set down the tray amongst a swarm of arms crossing, reaching for utensils in bowls of potato salad and plates of freshly grilled vegetables. You took a moment to admire the feast occurring before you, then turned on your heel to fetch more.

You and Penelope had made this plan weeks ago, just as summer was beginning to heat up and just around the time you’d joined the BAU team as Emily’s personal assistant. After a series of difficult and depressing cases, Penelope suggested that a family get-together was in order, and she enlisted your help to plan it. She, with Rossi’s help, secured the tables and canopies for the event, while you handled the menu and the serving.

You weren’t much of a gourmet chef, but you had a few tried-and-true summer recipes in your back pocket for times like these. From years of family barbeques of your own, you’d honed techniques for preparing brisket and grilling chicken, and you’d also learned a thing or two about making macaroni and cheese and fruit salad.

Under the shade of your sundress, nerves wracked your steps. Despite the bubbly facade and easy-going assurances to the team that you didn’t need any assistance, tremors radiated through your body with each dish that was carried to the outdoor tables. The shaking wasn’t due to their weight or your lack of strength; it could all be attributed to anxiety and stress and upcoming exhaustion.

This was the first time you were attending a BAU “family” event — let alone orchestrating one — so you had put a lot of pressure on yourself to impress the team.

They saved lives and solved crimes across the country while you did mostly clerical work — filed papers and answered phone calls. The division of labor was definitely lopsided, and you felt a certain level of gratitude was in order for the team. For those who did impactful work.

Just as you’d returned to Rossi’s kitchen to retrieve another dish for the table, Spencer appeared behind you. His subtle cologne filled the air; despite summer raging on outside, he smelled of autumn with his cinnamon and coffee scent. The heat of his arm rose goosebumps up your body, but he shifted to stand next to you before anyone could notice the proximity.

“Let me help, please,” He whispered, prolonging the physical contact that was typically out of character for him. As if all the heat of summer wasn’t enough, the pool of warmth he summoned inside you lit aflame with his pleas. When you finally met his eye, that fire reached your cheeks before you could do much to hide it.

Something that you’d once brushed off as a workplace crush blossomed between you and Spencer. Although you weren’t together, there was no denying the tension felt between you two when your hands brushed at the coffee counter in the office, or when you lingered over his shoulder for just a second more than necessary when passing out case files.

Lately, it had been a lot more difficult to will the thoughts away with how the heat of the season forced Spencer to shed his typical layers of clothing. Even now, he stood beside you in a simple polo shirt that clung to his chest. You could almost feel the buttons between your fingers, sliding through the fabric as your eyes grazed over him — but the oven alarm began to blare, dragging you away from the fantasy.

“Spencer,” You took a few steps away from him, pulling a few dishes from the oven and placing them on the counter. You failed to hide the smirk his presence pulled out of you. “You know this is supposed to be about appreciating the team’s hard work. You should be relaxing!”

He rolled his eyes at your insistence, then glanced over his shoulder to ensure no one had yet to notice his absence. Luckily, they were still all consumed by the fruits of your labor — literally and metaphorically.

“Your hard work should be recognized too. You’re going to overexert yourself,” His pleas felt like music and dissonance in your ears. On one hand, the attention he paid you made your knees weak, and it was obvious by the heavy breath in your chest that you enjoyed his company. But on the other hand, you felt resolute in the objective to purely serve the team tonight. The desire to praise them for their work — the desire to feel accepted by them — triumphed over the crush you’d developed on Spencer, at least for now.

“I’ll be fine. Now go back and enjoy before someone else thinks I’m accepting helpers,” You responded, flashing a tender smile as Spencer stayed in hesitation. A flash of something crossed over his eyes — irritation, desire, annoyance, or pity, you couldn’t quite tell. All you could recognize was the way his feet dragged in defeat, leaving you to your serving duties quite slowly.

Although not a profiler, you could’ve sworn he seemed spurred on, like he had to hold himself back from acting on an urge to advance on you. You brushed the thoughts away as best you could for now, returning your focus to the task at hand.

♡ ♡ ♡

The next few hours were a flash of food and drinks and summer heat. Jack, Henry, Michael, Hank, and all of Matt’s kids ran around the tables with their popsicles, definitely giving the ants in Rossi’s yard a feast of their own. Everything from cucumber salad to watermelon slices, to vegetable kebabs made their rounds down each table, visiting each BAU member.

The scent of lavender, peppermint, and citrus candles mingled in the air in an attempt to keep bugs at bay. But a symphony of crickets and cicadas still played as a soundtrack to the feast, and you watched as Emily and JJ were vigilant against flies that threatened to join the party, swatting around the food every few minutes.

You spent most of the event rushing around, finding places for each dish to reside while the rest of the team balanced between repose and indulgence. Tara, Emily, JJ, and Penelope raved about the veggies, while Morgan and Rossi praised the beefier selections you’d prepared. The team showered you with compliments, but you continued to deny their requests to help.

Food acted as an avenue for both nourishment and gratitude that you felt was desperately underserved to your new family, and accepting their help seemed to cheapen that sentiment.

Maybe it was all the incredible ways in which they brought peace to people or all the times that they helped you feel at peace with their work; regardless, you felt they were owed some home cooking and summer relaxation, and you wanted to be the one to give it to them.

“If I had known you could cook like this, I would’ve suggested this barbeque months ago,” Rossi quipped over his clean plate. It must’ve been nice for him to not be the head chef for the team for a change.

“Yeah, I haven’t eaten this good in years,” Emily chimed in, with agreements made by Matt and Morgan. Their wives nodded with them in earnest agreement.

As the sun began to set, a wash of pinks and purples created the perfect backdrop to the barbeque. Penelope had the idea to set up tiki torches, which you lit with Hotch’s help. Their gentle glow kept the brightness at a dim level while still ensuring sight to guide you as you continued your service.

Although the energy level had died down quite a bit thanks to the heat of the day and the abundance of food everyone had, the team was still rapt in lively discussions as you served dessert.

Blueberry pie with a lattice-style crust, chocolate cake with matching frosting, and homemade vanilla bean ice cream graced the tables. You weren't usually one to brag, but even you had to admit the delicious sweets were a perfect final touch to the event.

Even at dusk, the ice cream sweat and started melting almost as soon as it found its place on their plates. The sickly-sweet aroma from the pie carried on long after its trip in the oven, mingling with the already present floral aromas that seemed elevated due to the heat. You were surprised the barbeque hadn’t summoned neighbors, or at least more bugs.

Residual summer heat could be so damning yet comforting all at the same time.

With dessert served, you finally allowed yourself to sit and join the team. The aches in your feet and back that had gone unnoticed during the hours of cooking and service finally surfaced as your weight shifted, encouraging a painful rest to overtake your limbs. Without realizing it, you’d slumped over in your chair for quite a while, staring out into space as the party continued around you.

That was until Spencer detected your quietness and waved a hand in front of your eyes, commanding attention.

“Are you okay, y/n?” His voice was barely audible over the discussions happening around you. But, you still nodded, straightened your back, and reached for a slice of pie.

“Yep, just got distracted,” You gave him a small smile, but you could see that he didn’t quite believe your performance. The fatigue in your body was incredibly apparent, and the look behind your eyes was one of exhaustion. However, Spencer hesitated to react to his observations.

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say or do about it, but you watched as he pursed his lips together in contemplation — planning something.

Whatever he was scheming, it was set in motion as Matt and his family departed. Following him were JJ and her loved ones, plus Emily and Tara. They all offered repeated praises to you, Penelope, and Rossi as they crossed the threshold into the blackness of summer night.

Before you could completely gather your things, suddenly Spencer pulled you aside and insisted on coming over to his apartment tonight. His usual dismissive, demur demeanor had changed, and he loomed over you with a sort of persuasive aura that radiated from his request. It was as if he was protecting you from something, or rather, preparing you for something. Either way, anticipation dripped from his words as you stared back, silent, in response.

“I-If that makes you uncomfortable, by all means, ignore me,” he spoke in hushed tones. “But I really think you’ll enjoy it if you come.”

If you hadn’t been so exhausted, the absolute shock from his blatant flirtation would have caused your breath to catch in your throat before you could ever eloquently reply. However, with the fatigue wracking you, all you could do was scan his face for any sign of sarcasm.

He seemed to be genuine, and your body instinctually gravitated toward him with the offer. It went without saying that this invitation felt incredibly forward, but the sleep that threatened to overtake you also kept you from worrying too much about the obvious blush that spread across your face at the thought of what leaving with Spencer would look like to the rest of the team.

Objectively, though, Spencer’s apartment was closer than yours, and you weren't sure if you could handle the lull of a drive this late at night. You justified to yourself that accepting his offer was out of a precautionary notion — but in all honesty, the seductive implications of Spencer’s plan were what really captivated you, and pulled an ‘okay’ from your lips.

You’d spent all night denying requests, and you didn’t want to forgo this one.

In the passenger seat of Spencer’s rarely-driven car, your body pulsed with fatigue at every stop. You wondered if he could sense it radiating through you or if he was just burnt out on masking his flirtation towards you all day, as you caught him glancing at your body at every red light. Each push and pull brought on by inertia briefly relieved the pain, then rushed it back in, but his gaze did give you another sense of relief.

Thankfully, the drive was short, and the walk up to Spencer’s door was aided by his hand on your lower back. With drowsiness prevalent in every step, you took a moment to check your surroundings and ask yourself if this was truly happening. The flirtation, the lingering physicality between you two, and the blushes that damned every innocent conversation you’d had together seemed to rise to the top of your brain at that moment as you recognized the reality you’d found yourself in.

Aided by his unabashed touch on your back, your awareness of reality fed your deep desire that he truly led you here for scandalous reasons, but the rational side of your brain that was just barely awake triggered anxiety to flare. Fear of unknowns, of rejection, or maybe both floated up your spine and burned in the impression of his fingers upon you.

But, then his door swung open. Almost instantly after you walked inside and he shut the door, Spencer knelt on his knees before you. The swift change in position made you stumble backward, and confusion spread across your face.

“What are you doing?” The question bubbled out of you fast, but you hadn’t meant to sound disinterested. It was alarming, for sure, to abruptly feel the heat of his body so close to your aching legs, but that didn’t mean the view wasn’t incredibly alluring.

“I’m taking care of you,” Spencer responded, his voice was quiet but poignant as if this was standard procedure.

You stood frozen as he slid the strap of your sandal down the back of your heel, and his fingers brushed against the veins of your feet.

“You took care of us all day. Now it’s your turn to relax.”

Taken aback by his sudden servitude, no verbal response came from your mouth. Instead, you melted under his fingertips as he slowly removed the other shoe, then traveled up your calves to pull down your sheer stockings. The gesture was so intimate, so quiet, so tender. Paired with the exhaustion and excitement and bewilderment, the elegance of his touch brought tears to your eyes.

Spencer stood back up slowly, his lips ghosting over your arm on his ascent. Your eyes met in the dim light of his apartment for the first time, both sets deepened with a near primal sense of surprised attraction. Your body felt as if on fire, vibrating, or possibly both with how electric your nerves were with your closeness and the threat of his impending adoration.

Just as the summer sun had earlier shone on your exposed shoulders, the richness of Spencer’s deep brown eyes was now affixed to them. His index finger wrapped around the thin strap of your sundress, pulling it over the curve of your shoulder at an agonizingly slow pace. It was so soft yet so tense — neither one of you had made a sound in what felt like minutes — a whimper threatened to fall from your lips just as Spencer’s eyes flickered back to meet yours.

“You overexerted yourself,” Spencer echoed what he’d warned you against earlier in the evening, breaking the silence. You couldn’t help but wearily smile at the re-use of his own words.

“I think I’ll accept a helper now,” You replied hushed, voice wavering so much you thought it might shatter if any more than a heavy breath was expelled from your throat. The twitch of a smile spread across Spencer’s face just as you had the thought — as if he’d read your mind.

But the silence resumed, and Spencer’s hand sent the top of your sundress cascading down your forearm. The fabric halted at your wrist, and as Spencer coaxed the other strap down the opposite side, he slowly exposed your chest to the cold air of his apartment.

After a day in the sun, his air conditioning felt arctic, and despite the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach thanks to his mannerisms, the tips of Spencer’s fingers iced over the skin of your décolletage.

Whether he noticed your shivering, or if this was all a part of his grander plan, you did not know. But just as the weight of the sundress carried itself passed your hips to pool at your ankles, Spencer clasped your hands together and led you toward his bedroom.

Again, anxiety pulled you from your lustful daze. Was this really happening? Had you been ignorant all along to Spencer’s advances, or was this just as spontaneous for him? It’s not like you didn’t want this — more so, you were just in a state of disbelief at the way the day’s events had transpired.

Disregarding the chorus of cicadas permeating his bedroom window, Spencer guided you to sit on the edge of his bed in otherwise complete silence. He knelt in front of you, mimicking your positions from the foyer. The arousal that sprung from you at his sudden movement made your cheeks blush a shade of red deeper than any summertime sunburn could create.

At the same time, you couldn’t help but become aware of the obvious disparity in modesty between the two of you now, but he caught your wrists before you could shift to cover your body.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He spoke up with a sobering tone. The wistfulness and tension were briefly broken, and you smiled at the notion that he still checked for consent despite all that you’d done so far.

“Not just okay. I want it, Spence. I want you,” Your voice, a little bolder now, seemed to boom in his most private room. Without another word, he guided your hands to the buttons on his shirt, before releasing your wrists in favor of splaying his hands across your thighs.

You inhaled sharply, shuddering at the contact. But it did make your hands move faster, pulling his buttons apart in a quite similar fashion to the eager way you’d daydreamed about doing so earlier.

Just as you’d completed the task and pulled the fabric of his shirt over his head, you felt the pads of his fingers reconnect with your legs and dig into the supple flesh of your thighs. A deep sigh left your lips almost instantly as he worked the worn muscles, firmly pressing into them. You felt the stress shift and dissipate, and your body reacted automatically to his ministrations.

It wasn’t until his massage traveled to your calves that more salacious noises fell from your lips. You knew that this kind of attention wasn’t strictly sexual, but the relief Spencer brought to you, to the tenderness in your legs and feet, demanded a vocal response.

At first, mewls and faint sighs responded to his help, but they deepened in tandem with his strength. The kneading of his fingers across the width of your legs, the pressure he placed upon your Achilles' tendons, and the force he pushed into the worn arches of your feet all played roles in the escalation of your noises into pure, wanton moans.

“You are so beautiful,” Spencer spoke into the landscape of sounds you were creating for him. “Not just like this, but all the time. The way you laugh, the work you do, in all the things you did for us tonight — you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

His impromptu speech stunned you for a moment, and you did your best to keep your interjections to heavy sighs to truly listen to him. But his praise wasn’t something you were used to, and although you’d been complimented all night at the barbeque, something about Spencer’s tone inspired a unique bashfulness.

“Stop,” You half-heartedly chuckled, unsure of how to respond to such an admission other than to dismiss it.

“I’m serious, y/n,” He continued, unfazed. “Ever since you walked through the doors at the office I felt…saved. I’m not religious but — I mean, you’ve literally got me on my knees here.”

Your face burned with the worship, and his joke inspired a smile, but you also did your best to relax your reactions and just take his confession.

“You’re smart, you’re sweet, you’re compassionate and caring, and I just feel like you deserve the world…I don’t know if you—if you’ve ever thought of me like this, but, I really do adore you. And I want to serve you like you did me tonight.”

With his previous, dominant stance seemingly shaken, you took the opportunity to run your hands up his arms and into his hair. He closed his eyes at the feeling, leaning into the touch and basking in it. Leaning in close, your lips met in a soft, slow kiss.

As you gently pushed against one another, your more primal drives slowly regenerated, and you pulled his hair tenderly to just barely create a separation. His eyes shot open, struggling to focus on anything else but your lips. With another gentle tug, you wound him back up to the previous tension you two had.

“Show me how much you adore me,” The command rumbled in your chest before you even truly processed it.

But that was enough for Spencer. With the ending of the last syllable, his eyes fell half-lidded, and he quickly pushed your lips back together.

The steady and slow pace you’d honed since arriving at his apartment was suddenly nowhere to be found. Desperation laced your every move as you traveled up his bed; Spencer towering over you, never disconnecting in your endeavor. You felt the weight of his body settle between your legs. Not only was his skin sweltering with heat, but you could feel how achingly hard he was through his slacks.

You kissed with the desperation of a couple saying goodbye. It was as if both of you were grasping at each other, fearful of any distance that may find its way into your embrace. As your eager hands traversed down his bare chest and stomach, Spencer rushed to match your near nakedness through a rather clumsy removal of his pants.

While the sweet and savory scents of summer seemed distant now, everpresent was the smell of Spencer. Coffee and cinnamon filled your nose once again as his hair cascaded over your face, sweeping behind his trail of kisses down your chest.

He paused on the journey, motioning for you to lean upwards where his lips found yours in another fit of passionate kissing. He reached around you, unclasping your bra and gently guiding the fabric down your arms. Another shiver wracked through you as your breasts were finally exposed, but it was quickly remedied by the warmth of Spencer’s palms.

He cupped them softly at first, dragging mewls from your mouth that he used to slide his tongue between your lips. It wasn’t until he felt the shake of your muscles that he realized how uncomfortable the position must’ve been, leading him to push you back onto the mattress, palms still full of your tits.

With your mouths freshly separated, Spencer let a string of saliva fall from his mouth, coating the valley on your chest in a way that caught every moonbeam in the room. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the plush swell of your breast, setting your skin aflame. You moaned shamelessly at the delicious pressure, earning a satisfied smile from the man between your legs.

You hopelessly clawed at his shoulders in an attempt to feel the press of his whole body against you once more, but he continued his descent toward your center.

Painstakingly slow, he dragged your underwear down your legs, watching your face for any sign of disapproval. When he couldn’t find any, he discarded them before guiding your legs up off the bed and resting them over his shoulders. You watched, enraptured, as he lay prone in front of you and met your eyes one more time before pressing a sloppy kiss on your inner thigh.

Shivers rolled down your spine, and you shook in response to what would be the most innocent of touches from this point on. Spencer seemed encouraged by the heavy heave of your chest, and he taunted you with breathy sighs hitting your folds.

His breath was hot, but it still inspired your body to shake as if freezing. He studied you in an almost delirious state of bliss as he controlled you with just his breath, before slowly licking a devilish stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue like the sweetest summer dessert.

A pained moan escaped your throat, wholly miserable with how much he seemed to be holding back. You did your best to avoid clamping down on his head too harshly, but you couldn’t help the instinct you felt to pull him closer.

Then, he finally dove in. His tongue worked expertly — dragging and pressing and pulling around your bundle of nerves, and even circling your entrance. The lewd sounds coming from his mouth sparked your own in response, and soon you had your own debaucherous melody echoing in his bedroom.

He flattened his tongue, pressed it against your clit, and wrapped his arms around your thighs, giving himself leverage to apply the pressure to your most sensitive spot that he could tell you were desperate for.

You felt his tongue flip and twirl around you, drinking in your essence as if he hadn’t already gorged himself on a feast of yours tonight. Dipping a little lower, his muscle plunged inside of you, inspiring an entirely different kind of pressure that tightened your core and commanded your body off the bed.

Moving his tongue back up to your clit, he lapped at it as he began edging a finger into you, causing you to grip his duvet in a misguided attempt to relieve the incredible tension building in your stomach.

“S-spencer,” You choked out, doing your best to keep your eyes open as the sight in front of you was one of angelic beauty — Spencer’s hair was completely disheveled, and although the room was only lit by moonlight, you could see the wild gaze his eyes held as he worked so hard to please you. You let out a feather-light moan.

But all you got in response was his dark eyes, filled with a fervor that you’d never seen from Spencer before. You laced your fingers in his hair just as he pushed his finger inside you, eliciting a new, loud groan from your chest.

Latching onto your nub, Spencer rolled his tongue over it with gentle suction in tandem with fast, shallow thrusts of his finger. He moaned against you, sending ripples of stimulation through your body, radiating from his mouth. He watched you the entire time, eyes trained on your face as it scrunched up in pleasure.

He feasted on you, and for the second time tonight, you relished in the fact that you had nourished Spencer so graciously.

With a tug of his hair, you finally felt the tension in your stomach snap. A string of moans bounced off the walls of his bedroom, but Spencer didn’t give in to distraction. He pulled off of you only slightly with a deep inhale but kept his finger moving to fuck you through your orgasm.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” He cooed, bringing his other hand up to splay against your stomach, feeling the muscles spasming beneath his palm in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you.

He slowed his finger as your pleasure faded; the tension leaving your abdomen and a look of bliss covering your face, signaling your comedown. He withdrew his finger slowly before resuming his towering position over you, peppering your cheeks and neck with kisses.

Once some sense had returned to your endorphin-flooded brain, your hands roamed over the span of Spencer’s back. You resumed the choreography that neither of you had practiced, even though it felt so natural to you. Your lips found his once more, and eagerness leaked from his saliva as it mixed with the taste of you on his tongue. A low, rumbling moan echoed into your mouth as he gripped your waist and the nape of your neck roughly.

Your hearts were back up to racing, and you tugged at the tight waistband of Spencer’s boxers.

“Please,” Spencer spoke into your mouth, barely disconnecting your lips as he begged. “Please, let me fuck you.”

If the praise wasn’t enough to win you over, the absolutely distraught look on his face would’ve done the job. One part of you couldn’t believe that Spencer could be so commanding and servile at the same time, while another part of you knew this must be the purest form of Spencer that anyone had ever seen before. Apart from his previous partners, you felt as if you were the only observer of him in such a state of subservience. He felt totally and uniquely seen by you, and that’s all he ever wanted.

You nodded and mewled at his request, harshly removing his last remaining barrier before wrapping your legs around his waist. Your movements brought his dick closer to your heat, and you couldn’t hold back the tremors that overwhelmed your senses at the sensation. Kissing you once more, Spencer aligned himself at your entrance, mimicking the shivering of your body on such a hot summer night.

He pushed into you at a listless pace, wanting to give you all the time and space to get comfortable around him despite the instincts that begged him to act faster. His finger had done little to prepare you for his true size, and although you gasped sharply at the intrusion, your body was quick to relax and pull him further inside you.

You shared moans and whimpers on the slow endeavor, kissing each other wherever available — cheek, arm, neck, chest — until he was fully flush with your body.

“Thank you,” Spencer breathed out, so softly that you almost missed it. “Thank you, thank you,” He kept worshiping as you felt his hips stutter and his cock twitch inside you. The size of him, his breath on your neck, and the everpresent smell of sex all tethered together in your mind at once, sparking an almost insatiable desire to demand that he move. You knew the worship was all a part of his plan to repay you for the barbeque, but you echoed the sentiment back nonetheless in favor of a less sweet command.

But Spencer was no stranger to that desire. With gratitude filling the room, he couldn’t hold back any longer, and he began rocking into you just enough to pull moans from your lips. He caged his arms around your head, wrapping one palm around the back of your neck to hold you in place, while the other found itself upon your cheek once again. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, watching as you moved against and around him with a delicious tightness.

He quickened his pace and relished in the way the pleasure presented upon your face. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hung open in a string of moans. He mirrored your expressions, his bottom lip jutted out from his face, brushing yours with each harsh thrust forward. The pressure of him inside you was already swelling the knot in your stomach, and the stimulation melted all fatigue from the day away from your muscles.

Clawing at his back and arms, you opened your eyes to find him once more. The hand on your neck kept your gaze steady despite his rough movements that threatened your composure. There was a charm, a tenderness that you’d felt lingering between you two all night—hell, ever since your first day. From the moment you introduced yourself in the dawn of summer, to the moment he dropped to his knees and begged for you, an intensity magnetized the two of you together.

Before you could get too lost in the beautiful thoughts of your attraction, Spencer adjusted the angle of your hips, reaching even deeper into you. You couldn’t hold back the scream that left your body, and you felt yourself tighten around him as he drove into you at an incredible rate.

Spencer was already close — you could tell by the way whimpers fell over your neck with his every thrust, and he blinked rapidly as if it would stave off his impending release. He called your name as a warning, implicitly asking for your guidance.

Now, it was your turn to beg.

“Please,” You pled, eyes half-lidded yet glued to Spencers. “Please, come inside me.”

He could barely hold back after your words, his hips even faltering for a moment. But he kept his pace, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly as your release teetered on the edge of his relentless pace.

“Fuck,” You felt Spencer groan into your hair as his hips slammed flush with yours. Warmth flooded inside you, and the sensation triggered your release soon after. Both of you clung to each other, panting and brainless with bliss, as Spencer slowly continued to fuck you through your climaxes.

As the tension and heat dissipated over your body, you and Spencer reluctantly pulled away from each other. It was the first time since you’d arrived at his apartment that either one of you had given into distance. He was gentle with the motions, watching the way your body shook with each rogue wave of pleasure as he pulled out of you.

When he was fully removed, though, you found yourself alone, laid out across his bed. As the heaving in your chest subsided, Spencer returned with a towel, cleaning you up with the utmost tenderness.

“Here, I can help,” You peeled your upper body from his duvet despite all the resistance in your overexerted muscles, reaching for the cloth only for Spencer to catch your hand before you could make it.

“I’m still serving you, okay? Lay down,” He chuckled at your attempt, finishing up with the towel and discarding it back in his bathroom. When he returned, he continued to refuse your help, pulling the duvet out from under you to tuck you in.

He joined you on the other side of the bed, brushing hair from your face as he settled under the comforter too. You laid facing each other, eyes grazing over each other's bodies in a much more romantic sense than you two had a few moments prior.

“Why did you do all that?” You posed the question quietly, watching his face intently for a reaction. Although anxiety may not be the best word for it, you did feel a bit unsure about what this night meant for your relationship. Was this a summer fling, a coworker crush, or something more real? Something that would permeate the seasons or something that you’d recall late at night in future solitude?

“Well, for one, because I like you,” Spencer said, laughing slightly through the ends of a few words. “But also because of all you did for us tonight. You worked so hard and you deserved to be spoiled too.”

The praise again brought a flush to your cheeks, and you looked away as you tried not to discount the way Spencer was feeling. Even if you were unsure of your deserving of praise, you had to admit it felt nice to be adored by Spencer, and it felt good to know that this meant more to him than something casual.

Despite the summer heat, you found yourself fully engulfed in his embrace. The cicadas’ chorus began to lull sleep into your heavy eyes, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go and close your eyes, which would mean missing out on Spencer’s reverent gaze.

“I like you too,” You finally spoke up, finding his hand in the darkness of his bedroom, and lacing your fingers together. “Thank you for spoiling me.”

“Hey—no more ‘thank yous.’ You deserved it,” Spencer replied, placing a kiss on your knuckles before shuffling further into the bed. You turned over, relaxing into Spencer’s warm body as his arm wound around your stomach, still holding your hand.

Summer heat can be more comforting than once thought, after all.

♡ ♡ ♡

thank you for reading! 💗

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #fem!reader #bau team

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changbeansss · 1 month ago

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Pocket worm pact

Pairings : Seo Changbin x reader

Genre : Fluff

Warnings : None

You and Changbin were sprawled on the couch, the remnants of your latest binge-watch session scattered across the coffee table. The soft glow of the TV flickered in the dim light, but it didn’t really matter; your attention was entirely focused on the boy curled up beside you. His head was resting against your shoulder, and his arms were wrapped snugly around your waist. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, a comforting presence that made you feel safe and cherished.

“Binnie,” you said, breaking the peaceful silence. He tilted his head up to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Yes, bunny?” His voice was soft, like a gentle whisper, and it made your heart flutter.

You couldn’t help but grin. You loved how he always made time to give you pet names, even when he was half-asleep. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

He blinked, taken aback, his brow furrowing in confusion. “A worm?” He chuckled lightly, the sound bubbling up like a giggle. “Why would you be a worm?”

“Just imagine it! If I turned into a squiggly little worm, would you still love me?” You prodded, your laughter mixing with his.

Changbin sat up, pretending to ponder your question seriously, stroking his chin as if he were a wise philosopher. “Hmm… well, I guess I would love you because you’d still be my bunny,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching into a playful smile.

“But what if I was just a slimy, wriggly creature, Binnie? I wouldn’t even have my cute little bunny ears!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“Bunny ears can be overrated,” he countered, his voice full of mock seriousness. “You’d still have your adorable little face… and I could just carry you around in my pocket! Like a pocket worm!”

You burst out laughing at the image of Changbin walking around with a tiny worm version of you in his pocket, like a new-age pet. “A pocket worm? Can you imagine how chaotic that would be? I’d be like, ‘Hey, Binnie, put me down for a second! I want to explore!’”

“Exploring would be tricky with no arms or legs, don’t you think?” He teased, poking your side, making you squirm.

“True! But I’d find a way! I’d wiggle my way through the grass, just like a worm should!” You flailed your arms for emphasis, your laughter echoing off the walls.

Changbin leaned back against the couch, giggling. “You’d be the most adventurous worm out there! But I don’t think you’d like it if it rained. Worms don’t like getting washed away!”

“Yeah, but if it rains, I could just cling to you, and you’d keep me safe!” You said, leaning closer, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Plus, you’d have to make sure to feed me dirt! How romantic!”

“Dirt? That sounds gourmet!” He exclaimed dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d just received shocking news. “What kind of worm would you be? A garden worm or a nightcrawler?”

“Definitely a garden worm! I want to be the kind that helps plants grow,” you declared proudly, your heart swelling at the thought.

Changbin’s expression softened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re already helping me grow every day, bunny. Worm or not, I’d love you just the same.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you beamed at him. “Aww, Binnie! You’re the best boyfriend a worm could ask for!”

“I just want to make sure my pocket worm is happy,” he said, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “So, how about we make a pact?”

“A pact?” you echoed, intrigued.

“If you ever turn into a worm, I’ll turn into a giant bird. That way, I can carry you everywhere, and no rain will wash you away!” he said, grinning like a child with a bright idea.

“Deal!” you laughed, sealing your whimsical agreement with a dramatic handshake. “But let’s just hope that neither of us turns into a worm or a bird anytime soon!”

“Agreed! I prefer you as my bunny,” he said, pulling you into a tight embrace, his laughter mingling with yours.

As you cuddled together, the chaotic conversation gradually faded into the comforting rhythm of each other's breathing. You knew that with Changbin, every moment—whether as a bunny, a worm, or anything in between—was filled with love, laughter, and the delightful chaos that made your relationship so special.

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shybluebirdninja · 3 months ago

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Logan vs. The Cooking Show

Summary: You convince Logan to participate in a local cooking show, thinking his rugged charm will win over the audience.

Pairing : Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Female!Human-reader

Genre : Fluff

It was just another Saturday morning when you stumbled across the flyer. The local cooking show was holding auditions, and they were looking for “unique personalities” to compete. You couldn’t help but picture Logan strutting around the kitchen, his rugged charm mixed with culinary chaos.

“Logan, you gotta do this,” you said, waving the flyer in his face as he grunted in response, trying to sip his coffee like he wasn’t about to face the biggest disaster of his life.

“Hell no. I don’t do cooking shows,” he replied, glaring at you over the rim of his mug. His eyes narrowed, as if you had just suggested a cage fight with a grizzly bear.

“But think about it! You could totally win this thing! Just imagine the viewers swooning over the tough guy who can cook.” You leaned in, your excitement bubbling over. “They’ll eat it up! Literally!”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, I can barely boil water without blowin’ it up. I’m not about to set foot in a kitchen with cameras.”

You smirked, leaning closer. “But I’d be there. I’d help. And you know you wanna show off for me.”

He hesitated, his resolve faltering. “Show off? For you? Please.” But the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips told you he was already halfway in.

“C’mon! What’s the worst that could happen? It’ll be fun!”

Logan grumbled under his breath, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to shake off the impending doom. “Fine. But if I end up in the hospital because I burn something, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal!” You grinned, fist-pumping in victory.

The day of the cooking show arrived, and Logan looked like he was gearing up for a battle rather than a cooking competition. He wore his usual plaid shirt, but somehow, he managed to look even grumpier than usual.

The kitchen was set up with an array of ingredients and utensils that Logan clearly had never seen in his life. You stood beside him, trying to ignore the fact that the cameras were rolling, capturing every moment of Logan’s impending culinary disaster.

“Okay, Logan,” you said, pointing to a table full of fancy ingredients. “What do you want to make?”

He frowned, his gaze darting around like he was on a treasure hunt for something he recognized. “What the hell is ‘quinoa’? Is that some kinda birdseed?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, it’s a grain. It’s healthy!”

“Healthy, huh? Yeah, I’d rather have a steak,” he muttered, scowling as if the very thought of quinoa was an insult to his manliness.

As the show host introduced the challenge—a gourmet take on classic comfort food—Logan stared at the ingredients with a mixture of confusion and determination.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” he grumbled, grabbing a knife.

You watched in horror as he picked up the knife, not quite realizing how he was gripping it. “Logan, you might wanna be careful with—”

Slash!

The knife went flying, landing with a clatter on the floor. Logan blinked, eyes wide. “Shit! I didn’t mean to do that.”

You snorted, trying not to laugh. “It’s just a knife, Logan. Don’t go all Wolverine on it.”

He glared at you, muttering something under his breath. “Can’t believe I’m doing this…”

As the challenge progressed, it became clear that Logan had zero clue how to handle any of the ingredients. He picked up a jar labeled “sea salt” and held it like it was a grenade.

“Wait—what’s the difference between salt and sugar?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

You facepalmed. “Logan, seriously? Just taste it. You know what salt is!”

He unscrewed the cap and took a whiff, immediately making a face like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “Goddamn! This stuff smells like the ocean.”

“You’re supposed to sprinkle it in the dish, not huff it,” you said, laughing.

As he tried to sprinkle it over his mix of questionable ingredients, he accidentally poured half the jar into the bowl. You winced, anticipating the explosion of flavor that was about to hit everyone’s taste buds.

“Too much?” he asked, watching the white crystals pile up like a snowstorm.

“Uh, yeah. Just a tad,” you said, biting back laughter. “You might want to add a little bit of everything, not a whole freakin’ mountain.”

“Whatever. It’s all goin’ in,” he grunted, throwing in a handful of something else—was it cilantro?—and mixing it all together with an enthusiasm that was borderline terrifying.

When it came time to chop vegetables, the real fun began. Logan, who usually sliced through enemies like a hot knife through butter, was clearly out of his element. He tried to use his claws, only for you to shout, “No! Use the knife!”

“Fine! But if I end up slicing my hand off, I swear to God…”

“Just focus!” You could barely contain your laughter as he awkwardly maneuvered the knife, managing to barely chop a tomato without sending it flying across the kitchen.

“You know, I should’ve just brought a steak and called it a day,” he muttered, glaring at the tomatoes like they had personally offended him.

“Or you could make a steak with the tomatoes as a side. Just think of it as... ‘Logan’s Special’,” you suggested, grinning.

He shot you a look that said he’d rather face a hundred Sentinels than create a culinary masterpiece, but he sighed and went back to chopping, albeit a bit more carefully this time.

As the clock ticked down, the chaos reached new heights. Logan, sweating bullets, was trying to juggle too many things at once. He’d put the quinoa on to boil but had completely forgotten about it.

“Crap! The quinoa!” he yelled, running to the stove.

The pot was bubbling over, and steam was shooting out like a geyser. Logan slapped the lid on it, but not before a little bit of the grain spilled over the counter.

“Great. Just great. I’m gonna be cleaning this shit up for weeks,” he grumbled, glancing at the camera crew, who were barely containing their laughter.

“Just breathe, Logan. You’ve got this!” you encouraged, fighting back your own giggles.

“Yeah, I got this. Just me, a million ingredients I don’t understand, and a kitchen that’s about to explode,” he shot back, his hands moving in a way that clearly demonstrated his rising panic.

Finally, with only minutes left on the clock, Logan frantically assembled his “gourmet” dish. You couldn’t help but notice the sheer determination in his eyes, even as he nearly dumped an entire bottle of balsamic vinegar over everything.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you shouted, rushing over.

“It said to drizzle!” he protested, shaking the bottle like it was a ketchup dispenser.

“Drizzle, not drown! You’re gonna ruin it!”

He paused, a sheepish grin breaking through his frustration. “Guess I’m a little too enthusiastic, huh?”

“Just a bit,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes but appreciating his effort. “Just finish up, we’ve got seconds left.”

With one final flurry of chaos, he plated his “masterpiece.” It looked like a mess, but you could see the glimmer of pride in his eyes.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, holding up the plate like it was the Holy Grail.

You clapped your hands, genuinely impressed. “Not bad, tough guy. Not bad at all.”

“Yeah, well, if it sucks, I’m blaming you,” he said, crossing his arms, though you could tell he was trying to hide a smile.

The judges took their first bites, and you held your breath, half-expecting them to spit it out. But as they chewed, their eyes widened, and one of them exclaimed, “Wow! This is... surprisingly good!”

Logan blinked, clearly shocked. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

“Yeah! The flavors are... interesting. It’s like you combined everything perfectly!” another judge chimed in.

Logan’s face was a mix of disbelief and pride. “No way. You’re messin’ with me, right?”

“Honestly, you’ve got talent!” one judge said, smiling brightly.

You could hardly contain your laughter. “Told you so, Wolverine! Who knew you had hidden culinary skills?”

“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to make this a habit. I still prefer rare meat,” he replied, scratching his head. But there was a glimmer of triumph in his eyes.

As the show wrapped up, Logan was still riding high on the unexpected praise. “I can’t believe I didn’t burn the place down,” he said, shaking his head.

“You did great! I mean, apart from almost turning the kitchen into a disaster zone,” you teased.

“Whatever. I think I might’ve actually surprised myself,” he admitted, a genuine smile creeping onto his face.

“And me!” you added, nudging him playfully. “You might just have a future in the culinary world.”

“Only if it involves steaks and beer,” he said, shooting you a wink.

You leaned in closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “Hey, if you ever want to cook for me again, I’m totally down for it. Just maybe stick to simpler recipes next time?”

“Deal. But you’re doing the prep work,” he smirked, wrapping an arm around you. As you walked out together, the warmth of his embrace felt just right. You chuckled, thinking about the day’s chaos, and how it had only brought you closer. In the midst of cooking disasters and laughter, you found a little more of Logan’s soft side than you ever expected.

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bosphorushop · 24 days ago

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BOSPHORUS SHOPPİNG 3

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rottenpumpkin13 · 4 months ago

Note

Kunsel is actually just… Tseng. In a soldier costume and helmet.

It started as a way for him to steal secrets and get inside information from soldier, but after a time he began to like it a little too much. He still finds ways to assign himself on long, lonely missions that are simple, or hide himself on boring desk duty (nobody goes to he desk duty willingly except Kunsel and nobody is stupid enough to bother Kunsel while he is working) when he is off doing important Tseng stuff. There is something so… peaceful about being lower down in the chain of command. Not to mention nobody suspects good ol’ Kunsel of planting the bugs in people’s offices or misplacing all of Genesis’s pens with pink glitter pens, and sometimes ones with the ink replaced with flammable liquid so they burst in his pocket if he casts magic.

Also? The coffee on the soldier floor is for some strange reason he can’t fully understand so much more delicious than the gourmet stuff in his private office (maybe because it’s shared with friends, and as much as he likes his Turks… there is a line on how friendly subordinates can be with their boss and vice versa).

And sometimes it’s fun to spread information. And misinformation. And replace the shoes in Zack’s closet with the same exact pair of boots but a half size bigger every other week to make Zack think he is going crazy/shrinking. He did the same to Sephiroth’s coat, but replace it with a smaller and smaller size, and now it needs held together by a belt because he can’t close the zipper and instead of buy a new coat like a neurotypical person he just Macgyvered it together and people liked it so much it became a ‘look’™️ despite how stupid it actually is to the point Tseng actually considered killing off Kunsel for that one and considering Soldier and the general public a lost cause.

*Zack sees Kunsel drop down from the vents*

Zack, calm:

*Kunsel rips his helmet off. It's Tseng*

Zack: !

*Tseng puts the helmet back on. It's Kunsel*

Zack, calm:

*Kunsel rips his helmet off. It's Tseng*

Zack: !?

*Tseng puts the helmet back on. It's Kunsel*

Kunsel: Hey man

Zack: What's up?

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #zack fair #crisis core #kunsel ff7

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always-andromeda · 24 days ago

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𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 700

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ Joel mourns a life he wishes he could've had.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ I've had this one stuck in my drafts for a long while. I've been adding to it little by little whenever I've felt sad enough. It's a tiny drabble and I don't feel super confident in it. But I'm trying to ease back into writing. Forgive me for not posting in a while. Life has been a little busy. But please accept my offering of some sad, angsty shit lmao.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ pure, unadulterated angst. mentions of Ellie. nothing else I can think of!!

He tries not to think about it. About what she’d think – what she’d say – seeing him now. Hair longer than she ever got the chance to see; long enough that she could run her fingers through the silver streaked strands. When he finds himself alone on a quiet night he can sometimes feel it. Her lithe digits caressing the nape of his neck in a way that she never could outside the safety of their four walls.

Back then, everyone knew just who he answered to. Joel Miller was her attack dog through and through. All Tess had to do was point and unclip the leash and he was off. It was an effective arrangement. He used to have an anchor point; a shelter to be reeled back into when he strayed too far. It was a shelter that went up in flames along with Tess. And Jackson is all uncharted, all marked by unfamiliar touches that aren’t hers.

Some part of him always knew it went far deeper than a business arrangement. It was pure luck that staying with Tess was beneficial in both a practical sense and a…less practical sense. Of course he’d always been reluctant to question the less practical parts of their relationship.

Maybe that’s why he does now; when she’s no longer around to pick it apart herself.

He finds Tess in the oddest things. Ellie’s jokes, for one. He knows that Tess would’ve gotten a kick out of them. She would’ve rolled her eyes before remarking, “That was terrible.” All while harboring the slightest grin. Sometimes it’s the image in his head of her eyes glimmering that makes him crack a smile of his own.

It seemed a cruel joke that the world had taken Tess and bestowed the teenager upon him in the same breath. But it made sense. After all, it was the same world that took Sarah and then gave him Tess to begin with. Some days he doesn’t question the trade off. There’s no use. Tess wouldn’t have wanted him to question her sacrifice that way. Other days it is much more difficult to listen to the more practical version of her. Some days…he strays.

She would’ve loved the food. It wasn’t like Bill’s gourmet lunches. But those QZ rations had nothing on the food from the greenhouse. She would’ve loved the fruit. When summer came around he remembered the way she’d woken up from a dream one night. She’d dreamt she was a kid. She was at a farm her parents used to take her to in the summers. She got to bite into the deep crimson flesh of a plum. The juice had only just begun to run down her chin when she’d woken up. Her voice was soft and barely audible over the rumble of FEDRA trucks rolling by their apartment. She said it was just something stupid. To him it was something sacred. He couldn’t explain to Ellie why he’d gone quiet when he saw a basket of plums in the cafeteria. And he wasn’t surprised when his tasted sour.

Even his house felt occupied. Her figure floated in door frames as he cooked and cleaned and did whatever menial task he needed to. Hip cocked and lips curled into a smirk as she teased him over how much he traded for coffee beans. He would’ve said something humorous in response, he’s sure of it. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. She was always far too clever for him. She’d state as much as he poured her a fresh cup of coffee.

It always takes him a second to come back to his reality. There’s no second mug to fill, no second plate at the dinner table, no second pair of boots by the door, no one to share a bed or bathroom with. It’s always empty save for him and his cruel imagination.

How could she haunt a place she’d never been? Maybe that didn’t even matter. Maybe what they’d shared over those difficult years went beyond a time or place. Whether he liked it or not, she was there. But not in the ways that mattered most. Not in the ways Joel wished she was.

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#the last of us fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfic #joel miller x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x joel miller #joel miller fanfic #tess servopoulous fanfic

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unlawfulgames · 11 months ago

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Gourmet Street: Dungeon Meshi meets God of Cookery

With Dungeon Meshi being in public eye again with the Netflix series, I thought it would be a good time to shoutout again about Gourmet Street, my free (tips appreciated) Street Food Fantasy zine! Big thanks to our wonderful artist and layout man @feralindiecharlie

A New Setting! - Gourmet Street, a collection of scattered and bizarrely connected alleyways, it seems to pop up in any settlement large enough to begin thinking of itself as a city. Stacked high in wood carts, laid out on intricate rugs, swimming in a myriad of sauces, food is the name of the game on Gourmet Street.

ONE MILLION Food Vendors and Menus! - Never eat the same thing twice! Generate from 8,000 possible unique food vendors and LITERALLY ONE MILLION possible dishes; ranging from Soft-shelled Crabman Sandwiches with Tzatziki sauce and Egg Coffee, to Myconid Zapiekanka in Pesto with a shot of Absinthe!

Food Factions! - From the hyper-radical (and slightly deranged) Neuvo Gastro-Alchemists, to the fanatical and militant Vinegar Knights, the food factions each come with their own wants, goals, and boons, IF you choose to serve them...

A One-Page Adventure: ESCAPE FROM GOURMET STREET! Help a pair (or trio) of star-crossed lovers escape from Gourmet Street in a Snake-and-Ladders inspired chase! Fend off rival lovers, food cart brawls and escaped dishes as you dash through the alleys of Gourmet Street!

And More! Monsters, magic items, and cookbooks for both Players and GMs to use and abuse!

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sleepinthrumyalarms · 2 years ago

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— their affair, bloody

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!vampire!reader

warnings: mentions of blood/blood drinking

summary: could a vampire actually feel anguish? she wished she didn't have to feel at all, but whenever she looked at wednesday she could almost feel her undead heart beat in her chest

word count: 3.1k

a/n: the snippets before the rave'n dance are just a small foreword i feel i had to write not to make the ending scene seem meaningless. enjoy!!

"A new arrival, huh?" A blonde vampire next to (Y/n) chuckled, gently elbowing her friend in the side to catch her attention.

“Doesn’t she look cheery,” Yoko commented, sipping on her bottled blood.

(Y/n) tilted her head, taking a look at the small stranger over her glasses. Indeed, the look on her pale face was far from happy when she looked around the quad, as if judging everything and everyone she was seeing.

The girl was… small. Even from where the (h/c) - haired vampire sat with the Fangs she could see how miniature the ravenette’s frame was as she stood next to Enid. Despite the frailness of her shoulders, she held them straight, hands dutifully by her sides and posture perfect.

(Y/n)’s slitted pupils traced over the dark burgundy lips of the stranger, up to her perfect cheekbones and rested on the ravenette’s eyes.

Oh. Oh no, their gazes met.

“That stare is far too long to be judging, (Y/n). Speak up.” Yoko poked her fellow vampire in the shoulder, bringing the girl out of her thoughts. Adjusting her glasses with her finger, (Y/n) cleared her throat and turned away.

“That looked like it hurt.”

Wednesday turned at the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard before, spotting a (h/c) - haired vampire in the doorway. The girl’s hands were folded on her chest as she leaned her frame against the door, watching the other through her tinted glasses.

“Not as much as my shattered ego.” The ravenette replied, unblinking as the nurse disinfected the cut on her forehead.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” (Y/n) chuckled, moving to sit on a bench opposite to Wednesday, taking off her glasses and resting them on her forehead. The red in her eyes glinted, mischief evident in the bloody pools, “You were really… impressive there. For a second I thought you might beat even Bianca.”

“Are you here to rub it my face, perhaps? Or are you always lured in by the slightest smell of blood?”

“No, no. None of the above,” the vampire shook her head with a smile, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright. I’m (Y/n). It’s very pleasant to make your acquaintance, Ms. Addams.”

“Are all you vampires so fancy and sugar - coated with your words?”

“That’s just my way of wooing you. Is it working?”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, clearly not in the mood for the vampire’s impish antics.

“Do you only drink human blood?”

(Y/n) looked up from her phone, taking her plastic straw out of her mouth and licking a salty droplet off her lips.

“Well... Animal blood just lacks the taste, you know?”

“What are you, a gourmet then?”

The vampire huffed out a laugh through her nose, “You could say that. I mean, you do have a preference in coffee, right? Same goes for me.”

“Is there some kind of a blood type you prefer over others?”

“It’s not really about that,” putting her phone away, (Y/n) leaned closer to Wednesday in her seat, a thoughtful look on her face, “For example... Hard – working people taste better than those who lead an idle lifestyle,” she stirred the straw in the bottle, then took a sip, “And drinking a smoker is like... adding barbecue sauce? Does that sound coherent?” She chuckled.

Wednesday watched the vampire for a while, lost in thought, then her hand suddenly reached for the napkin holder next to her. Grabbing one, she leaned in towards the taller girl who was sitting opposite to her, and, carefully wrapping the white cloth around her finger, dabbed at the side of the vampire’s mouth. When Wednesday pulled away, the napkin had a small pink stain.

“You had blood on your face.” The ravenette deadpanned, fondling the tissue and leaving it on the side of the table before returning her focus back to the book in front of her.

(Y/n) didn’t like going out to Jericho. She was content with never abandoning the school grounds, actually, as she had been doing for a few decades now, but, alas, Bianca’s outlook on bonding wasn’t limited by sharing each other’s traumas only. So almost every Sunday (Y/n) spent with the siren, walking around the town and checking out shops that didn’t seem to change its stock ever and spooking every normie they would meet on the way.

As the girls chatted, they passed by the Weathervane, and (Y/n) looked at the window absentmindedly, watching customers enjoy the atmosphere of the cozy café. Her gaze landed on a couple of teenagers sitting closer to the glass, and she stopped walking.

There, pointing at some book laying open on the table and talking intently was Wednesday. And right next to her was Tyler, leaning over the small girl, brows furrowed as he listened to her ramble, completely engrossed.

(Y/n) watched her through the lenses of her glasses — and for a second wished they were rose — colored.

"(Y/n)? You okay? What are you looking— " Bianca's voice reached the vampire but (Y/n) didn't see the girl coming up to stand beside her, catching sight of the pair through the window, "Fuck, (Y/n)... Come on.”

It was such a rare thing to hear the siren swear, and that was enough to bring (Y/n) out of her stupor.

She tore her eyes away from the small ravenette she was watching to look at her friend, "Yeah... Yeah, sorry. Let's go." The vampire muttered quietly and let Bianca wrap her hand around her arm in a soothing way, tugging her away from the coffee shop.

"Nothing to be sorry about. That psycho's the one who should be sorry." The girl seethed, frowning.

(Y/n) knew it was more of a personal thing for the siren. Because... Wednesday didn't do anything wrong. She was just there. Cold, distant, calculating and unnervingly beautiful.

She was there... with him. Why was the vampire so bothered by that? She guessed the answer was right there, waving in her face like a red flag. She didn't want to admit it.

Walking up to the door, (Y/n) raised her fist to knock. It was early in the evening as she stood in the corridor of Ophelia Hall, feeling completely out of place despite always being welcomed here, and the vampire hoped her werewolf friend was ready to head out. The possibility of running into Enid’s gloomy roommate was impossibly high, considering she was knocking right on the devil den’s door.

It wasn’t like (Y/n) didn’t want to see her. This was really petty of her, now that the vampire was thinking about it. Wednesday was her friend, first and foremost. Her silly little crush came second. She should’ve been there for her, not running away and moping constantly.

But (Y/n) guessed this was the feature she shared with humans, and one that made her imperfect — she could feel. The jealousy, the heartbreak, despite how angsty and pathetic all of it was. Despite how the girl didn’t even have a heart.

The vampire heard footsteps inside the room and instantly fixed her gaze back on the door, straightening her slouched shoulders. It opened, and (Y/n) grinned, before she saw who was behind the door.

“(Y/n). Did you need something?”

Wednesday stood at the threshold, looking up at the vampire with a seemingly impatient gaze. She was dressed in a warm — looking black-and-white checkered sweater, the size big enough to hang off her shoulders in a cute cozy way. The ravenette certainly wasn’t expecting any guests.

(Y/n) gulped and felt her toothy smile waver.

"Hey. Is, uh... Is Enid around? I was supposed to pick her up at about... right now. " She chuckled, trying to suppress a lump forming in her throat.

"She hasn't come back from her extracurricular yet." Wednesday answered curtly.

"Ah. Typical Enid," (Y/n) cursed mentally, baring a sharp fang to scratch at her lip, anxious about what she was going to ask next, "Do you mind if I chill here for a bit while I wait for her, then?"

There was no way in hell she just asked that.

Wednesday seemed to think for a moment before she stepped away from the door, letting the taller girl in, "As long as you promise to be silent."

"Sure thing. Thanks."

The vampire walked into the room, closing the door behind her, and plopped herself on the bed of her werewolf friend with a sigh. She watched Wednesday take a sit at her desk, back turned to (Y/n), and the monotonous but hardly unpleasant sound of typing resumed.

"So... Are you going to the Rave’N next week?" (Y/n) asked, trying her best to seem nonchalant, and for a second regretted asking – she didn’t want to hear an affirmative from the girl.

“(Y/n). What did you just promise me?” Wednesday scolded, her fingers never ceasing their chaotic dance on the typewriter.

The vampire huffed, “Right. Sorry.”

She watched the smaller girl type for a while, lost in thought, before the ravenette's voice made her flinch.

“Are you and Sinclair going on a date?”

“What? No, no, it’s a girls’ night out,” (Y/n) explained, a bit embarrassed, “Me, her, Yoko, some girls from Ophelia Hall... Didn’t she invite you?”

“It must’ve slipped my mind.” The ravenette deadpanned, as if having lost all the interest in the conversation.

“Well... I can invite you. Right now. I’d be glad if you went. And, you know, the girls would be, too.”

“I’ve got something planned for tonight already.”

(Y/n)’s brows raised in surprise, then she frowned, scoffing, “Right. I can imagine.”

“Can you?” Wednesday asked incredulously.

“Yeah. That curly – haired guy, Tyler, was he? Must be a bit bold to ask you out past the curfew."

“Is there something wrong with that?” The typing stopped, but Wednesday didn’t turn in her seat to face the taller girl.

“No. Nothing,” (Y/n) stood from the bed, turning to head for the exit, “Know what. I think I’m gonna go look for Enid myself. The puppy is certainly taking her time.”

“Do you have some kind of a grudge against me, (Y/n)?”

The vampire stopped in her tracks, “Why would I?”

“Don’t play coy. You’ve been cold and distant – snappier than usual, too,” Wednesday got up from her seat, moving closer to the taller girl but not daring to take a step too close, “Do you hate me? Is that why you avoid me?” She asked, scrutinizing (Y/n) as if trying to figure out a complex math problem that challenged her intellect, and the inability to do so irritated her endlessly.

The vampire felt the dam in her throat she was trying so hard to keep intact break. (Y/n) swallowed, gritting her teeth, terrible burning overtaking her larynx. Her glasses had slid down her nose somewhere in the middle of her movements, and Wednesday could see desperation swirl in the red pools.

“You’re so unfair.” She tried to keep her voice flat, but the anger and sadness was evident in her tone lacking its usual soft cockiness. Her slitted pupils fixed on the short ravenette, and Wednesday froze at the intensity of the gaze.

Hate is the last fucking emotion I feel towards you.

“Unfair and... so cruel.”

Fixing her glasses back to their place, the (h/c) – haired vampire turned on her heel, heading for the door and grabbing the handle.

“Have a fun date, Wednesday.”

The slam of the door made the smaller girl flinch. She stared at where (Y/n) had left, unblinking, wondering if her exit had something to do with a gaping hole forming in her heart.

(Y/n) had promised Enid – no words starting with ‘W’ this evening. It was the Rave’N Dance, the very thing every single student of Nevermore had been looking forward the whole year. The vampire wasn’t as excited as she thought she would be, but the idea of muting her aching thoughts at least for a bit sounded nice. To think of something aside from the cold – hearted ravenette.

She hoped someone would actually spike the punch this time. Heaven knew she needed that.

Teenagers were slowly starting to gather at the huge hall, and Wednesday detested having to be among them. She looked at herself in the mirror. The dress that adorned her being was... perfect. It fit like a glove, the semitransculent fabric on her shoulders clashing gorgeously against her pale complexion, and the black collar complimented her slender neck in a way that could make one want to trace their fingers over the soft skin to really make sure she wasn’t made of porcelain.

But Wednesday herself wasn’t feeling as beautiful as she looked

A certain vampire wouldn’t abandon her thoughts. Her words, the way she had looked at the ravenette that day... Wednesday could swear all of those were hints that were supposed to bring her closer to unveiling the mystery that was (Y/n) (L/n).

Shame she was too oblivious to see the answer right in front of her nose.

But there was no use in pondering now. She hoped the evening would help her forget about the girl... at least for a moment. Grabbing the hem of her black lacy dress, the gloomy girl went down the stairs and past the taken – aback Tyler who hurried to follow her. A familiar voice made the ravenette stop in her tracks, and she turned to look at its owner.

“(Y/n)’s been there for a while...” Enid hummed, standing next to the staircase and looking at the upper floor, hoping to see her friend finally emerge from the corridor.

“She’s allowed to be fashionably late,” Yoko assured, “I don’t remember the last time (Y/n) went to the Dance – and the two of us have been in the academy long enough.”

The girls’ conversation died at the sound of heavy footsteps. They looked up, and there the vampire latecomer was.

“I, uh... I think I went a little overboard.”

(Y/n) wore a silky black shirt with long fringed sleeves, and on top of it she had a dark – red vest, perfectly tight over her torso. Her high collar was adorned with a black broche, and her patent leather shoes tapped on the lacquered floor when she went down the stairs.

“Holy shit, did someone rob Dracula’s coffin? You’re to die for, (Y/n),” Yoko complimented, looking the taller vampire up and down with a proud toothy grin.

“Do a twirl, babes!” Enid exclaimed, and (Y/n) blushed under their gazes, raising her arms and spinning on her heels.

“You’re exaggerating, girls.” She murmured, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“No way,” the werewolf came to the girl’s side to grab her arm, pressing herself closer to her frame, “You look so dapper! Walking into the Rave’N with you will be the biggest flex of the year.”

The vampire grinned, chuckling, “Fine, fine. Thank you. You both look extremely gorgeous, too. I could melt at the amount of such pretty women giving me their undivided attention.”

The three girls laughed before Yoko moved to tug at (Y/n)’s other arm, “C’mon. The girls are already there.”

Wednesday watched the vampire leave, unable to move a muscle. Enid was right – walking with such a beautiful being would’ve been an honor... and it was supposed to be the ravenette’s honor.

“Think we should move out?”

She looked up at Tyler who watched her expectantly, a lopsided smile on his face, and then headed for the Rave’N hall without a word.

How did it go so wrong?

(Y/n) had a hard time not stealing glances towards a certain ravenette and her date – she couldn’t help herself, really. Wednesday looked gorgeous. Even when she danced with him.

But before (Y/n) could sulk over her thoughts, she’d get pulled in to the dancefloor by one of her friends, and then she’d loose the small girl in the crowd.

She didn’t bother seeking her again.

And even if she did, the vampire wouldn’t be able to find her amidst all the red she was seeing.

It reminded her painfully of a horror movie she had seen a while ago, and the recreation of it in real life seemed so obvious and cliché (Y/n) found herself chuckling as she stared up at the thick sprinkling liquid.

People around the vampire were screaming, running out of the hall and slipping on the puddles of blood, and the girl watched with amusement as even the stone – cold principal of Nevermore got overtaken by panic. (Y/n) scrunched her nose, and a single whiff made the vampire realise it wasn’t actual blood – just mere paint. She scoffed – way to go, outcasts.

Taking off her glasses, (Y/n) looked up towards the raining red, liquid staining her shirt and west, getting into her eyes and hair. Students ran past her, bumping into her frame, but the girl couldn’t bring herself to move.

(Y/n) craned her head to the side, and suddenly her eyes met pools of grey. Wednesday stood a few feet away from her, unmoving, her hair completely drenched in paint, some dark locks sticking to her face.

She watched (Y/n), gaze unreadable, then took a single step. Then another. Her shoes squelched against the wet floors.

Wednesday was standing in front of the taller girl now, not uttering a single word. They watched each other, transfixed, fake blood pooling around them. Wednesday stepped closer, looking up at the vampire, and (Y/n) found herself unable to breathe.

The short ravenette leaned in on her tip – toes, and her painted lips pressed against (Y/n)’s.

The vampire’s eyes closed on their own accord, and her hands landed on the smaller girl’s waist, gently pulling her closer. For a second she thought she was dreaming, but the warm feeling of Wednesday’s lips on hers, the girl’s long lashes tickling her cheeks and the herbaceous woodsy smell of her perfume that overwhelmed the vampire’s senses was so real it grounded her to earth like nothing else.

Their lips parted, but (Y/n) wasn’t in a hurry to move away. She watched Wednesday intently, pupils tracing over the slopes of her perfect cheekbones, and the warmth of the feeling bursting in her stomach almost made the vampire pull the smaller girl into another kiss – but she didn’t.

Wednesday leaned in herself again, her plump lips ghosting over the corner of (Y/n)’s mouth where redness was smeared in a feather – light touch.

“Amateurs. They didn’t even bother to get some actual pig blood.” She muttered softly, sighing in half –hearted exasperation.

“Would’ve been a funny thing to watch me run around with my tongue out trying to catch the droplets as if they were snowflakes, huh?” The vampire chuckled, raising her hand to gently wipe some liquid off the smaller girl’s cheek.

Wednesday smiled, eyes fixing back on (Y/n)’s lips. And the taller girl quickly understood the message, leaning in again.

Yeah. She’d rather busy her tongue with something else.

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