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fioiswriting · 6 months ago

Text

Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.

Everything he wasn't.

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable.

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

***

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.

As if to unveil what he held within himself.

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.

An unpleasant heat.

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.

Jace almost choked.

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand.

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this.

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

***

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure.

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling.

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace.

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

***

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.

The sensation was delicious.

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.

You could see through his game.

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

***

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

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fastandcarlos · 2 months ago

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Leo’s Little Love : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: the birth of your daughter was supposed to be the happiest moment for you and charles, but both of you forgot about leo too

Your little family had almost been complete for quite some time. You, Charles and Leo. The perfect trio. Why fix something that isn’t broke? Why add to the chaos of your crazy lives? Well, because you both couldn’t wait to become parents.

It never was meant to be so soon, neither you or Charles had planned to fall pregnant quite so suddenly but your life had always been mayhem, and pregnancy was just another cog to add to the wheel of things that you needed to juggle together.

It had been touch and go for quite some time as your baby’s arrival loomed. With just two weeks to go Charles had never been happier to see the start of the summer break which meant at last he could be glued to your side and be there just in case anything happened.

Being at home was something that Charles very quickly got used to, laid out on the sofa with you tucked into his side. Charles didn’t always get his own way though, with Leo snuggled just underneath your bump to block Charles holding onto it.

“I wonder how he’s going to be.”

Your attention was pulled from your book when Charles spoke, following his gaze down to where Leo laid, snoring lightly with his eyes tight shut.

“What do you mean?” You asked him.

“I’m just thinking about when the baby arrives, do you think Leo will respond well to not being the centre of our attention anymore?” Charles questioned.

Your eyes flickered between Charles and Leo and your bump as you pondered Charles’ question. Truthfully, it was something that you had never quite thought about before, but if there was one word that you’d use to describe Leo, it was definitely needy.

“I think he’ll enjoy having someone else to be around,” you spoke after a few moments.

“He’ll definitely love an extra body to cuddle up to.”

It was almost as if he knew that you were talking about him, as Leo’s head lifted up and his wide eyes looked at you both as if to remind you that he could hear everything.

“You know, I’ve got a feeling that Leo and this baby might just end up being the best of friends, I definitely think we’re going to have trouble on our hands.”

Ever since that conversation you pictured how your family, or especially Leo, would adapt to the baby, counting down the days until all those dream scenarios became a reality.

And just a couple of weeks later your little girl arrived. It was tougher than you could have ever imagined, but with Charles not leaving your side for the many hours that you were in labour for, your family was soon complete. Charles was an emotional mess beside you, but through his tears he knew that he’d just experienced the best moments of his entire life.

You might’ve been a little bit bias, but your baby girl was the definition of perfect. Straight away you were drawn to her bright eyes, a striking resemblance to Charles’. They captured your attention, just like Charles’ had done many years ago when the two of you first met.

And as Charles held her for the first time and you got your first look at the two of them side by side, you knew you had a daddy’s girl on your hands. She was instantly besotted, settled and comfortable in Charles’ strong hold, almost as if you were the one who was intruding on the moment between your husband and your child despite being the one to bring her into the world.

“It’s a good job we’ve got Leo otherwise I think I’d be outnumbered at home with you two,” you joked as Charles made himself comfortable.

You knew deep down though you wouldn’t have Leo for long, as the two of you arrived home with your daughter. It had been a couple of days since he got to see you and Charles, unaware that a new arrival was waiting on the other side of the door to greet him too.

Together you took things slowly as you returned to your apartment, Charles took Leo into your bedroom whilst you settled in the living room with your daughter. Once you were sure that she was settled you called through to Charles who poked his head out from behind the bedroom door.

“Are you absolutely sure about doing this now?” Charles nervously asked you.

“Charles, we’re going to have to do it sooner or later. We might as well get it over with whilst they’re both pretty settled.”

He trusted you more than anyone, and so Charles decided to open the bedroom door and allow Leo to come out. It was as if nothing was going on as if strolled through the apartment, that was until his eye was caught by the carrier that sat on your living room floor. Charles came over and sat beside you, his hand on your thigh as Leo began to inspect.

Leo had a little sniff around the carrier as he familiarised with the something new that had entered his home. After giving him a moment you reached into the carrier and lifted your daughter out, holding her just in front of where Leo was.

It took a little while for Leo to stop fussing over your daughter, looking up at you and Charles. His eyes told the two of you that he approved of your little girl, walking away from her once he was happy with what was going on.

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Your words were truer than ever though that night as Charles laid on your bed with his daughter laid just beside him. You walked through after taking an overdue shower, surprised to see that there was another addition to your bed. They say that three is a crowd, but not in this case.

Your heart felt like it could burst as your daughter laid between Charles on her left, and Leo on her right, his head almost touching hers as if to reassure her that he was right beside her too.

Charles’ eyes knew exactly where you were looking. You were supposed to be annoyed that your side of the bed had been stolen, but instead it was a memory that you wanted to snapshot for the rest of your life.

You were sure that you had never seen anything so beautiful in your life, Leo had made sure your daughter was well protected and surrounded by love. Even Charles couldn’t get as close to her as Leo was, firmly establishing himself as her number one.

Just like you, Charles couldn’t fault the scene that was unfolding in front of you though. Things had gone better than either of you could have ever imagined, all of the concerns that Charles had had long been forgotten now that your family of four were all home together.

“Why do I feel like we’re never going to be allowed near our daughter ever again?” Charles laughed across at you.

“I think out of the three of us, she’s definitely Leo’s love before she’s ours,” you added, unable to wipe the smile from your face. “I think they’re going to be the best of friends.”

Charles hummed in agreement with you, tilting his head down to watch them both once again. If he could pause time forever, he absolutely would. It was all that he had ever dreamt of, and so much more.

“We’ve got the two most beautiful children in the world.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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lalunanymph · 3 months ago

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𝟏𝟏:𝟒𝟗𝐏𝐌 ─── your husband notices everything about you—even the things you don't notice about yourself

˚୨୧⋆ sylus x wife!reader

˚୨୧⋆ warnings: wife!reader, reader has just given birth a few months ago, jealous sylus!!, pregnancy, implied mentions of a fight, injuries, mentions of b/lood, explicit s/mut, implication of o/ral, teasing, petnames (wife, darling, doll, sweetie), daddy k/ink, breeding, shamelessly self-indulgent AND very selfship-coded :')

Nothing ever escapes Sylus’ attention.

Other than cunning resourcefulness being his trademark which many associate with ravens—his favorite bird—another marker of your husband’s personality is that like a hawk, he’s acutely aware of everything.

Tonight’s date night after you’ve given birth to the twins didn’t go exactly as planned.

While Sylus was in a convenience store, buying the both of you drinks to whet off the balminess of the summer evening, you were approached by an obviously drunk man who asked if you were here alone.

After countless times of trying (and failing) to convince him that your husband wouldn’t be too happy about his unwanted advances, the man in question whose ring is around your finger appears, tall and imposing.

Safe to say, the night ended with one bloody nose, and a pair of split knuckles, the latter being the ones you were currently patching up.

Your husband is reclining back against the plush pillows, black dress shirt unbuttoned slightly and showing off the deep divot of his pecs. His face is a mixture of emotions—anger, frustration, possessiveness, a hint of concern. All coalescing into one tense ball he keeps close to his chest as the adrenaline from the encounter with that sleazebag still hums through his veins.

You stow your phone back into your purse, sighing.

“I've texted Sara to keep the twins for the night. I think we're both too angry and might say or do something rash.”

His expression softens and he lets out a sigh, the anger and tension slowly starting to ebb away as he gazes at you.

“... that’s good. I wouldn’t want them to see me in this state.”

You sigh again, picking up his bandaged hands.

“Y’know, I did tell him my husband was a big, scary man, but he still persisted in demanding a date,” you bring your husband’s knuckles to your lips, kissing the contused flesh softly.

Sylus grunts, rolling his eyes, though his expression softens at your sweet gesture. “Some people just don’t know when to take a hint… so, I had to make a point.”

You scoff, clutching his hands tighter. “Yes. By socking him in the face. Very classy.”

Instead of appearing reticent like a sane person would, Sylus chuckles. “Didn’t see you complaining when you were cooing all over me, patching up like a good, little wife.”

His words make a flash of heat run through you, and you shoot him an exasperated glare. “Well, at least you looked sexy doing it. Punching that asshole in the face. Consider that compensation for tonight’s turn of events," politely, you add, “Thank you for defending my honor, darling.”

He lets out a low chuckle, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. Crimson eyes darken with a mixture of desire and affection, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips.

“No need to thank me, sweetie. It’s always a pleasure of mine to defend your honor. No one gets to disrespect you without facing repercussions.”

You squirm in his lap, hitching a breath when you feel his hands play with the straps of your dress. Slowly, he drags them down, touch hot and insistent as the pads of his fingers graze your bare shoulder.

“Really, Sylus?” You try to look vexed, but the breathlessness his touch incites only fuels him to misbehave further. “Defending me has seriously gotten you all hot and bothered?”

Your husband grins at your teasing tone, a wicked gleam in his eye as he continues to push the straps of your dress down further, baring more of your skin to his heated stare. His hands continue to explore, tracing over your exposed skin.

“Hmm. I suppose seeing you in danger… really ignited something in me. Hearing someone insult you and disrespect what’s mine… makes me want to claim you all over again.”

Warmth fills your cheeks, and you fail to fight back a shiver. “T-that doesn’t make any sense.”

Sylus’ fingers are now trailing your collarbone, tracing the marks he left there from the night before.

“It doesn’t need to make sense, doll. It’s something primal. Seeing you in danger like that… and the look on your face when I punched that idiot senseless… It's titillating. I just want to claim my wife, remind you and everyone else that you belong to me, body and soul and future baby.”

Heat licks down your spine, and you shudder at his words.

“F-future baby?”

Sylus’ hands snake to your bare back, caressing the expanse of skin with soft, ticklish circles. Without warning, he leans in, lips hovering close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Yes, doll. Future baby. I'm going to fill you with my seed. Breed you over and over until I'm sure you're pregnant. And in a few weeks, we'll have a mini-us growing in your belly, a physical reminder of my claim on you."

His words are soft and sound almost sweet, but the filthiness in them makes you gasp, involuntarily arching your body into his.

“Sylus…”

The idea of him claiming you again so boldly after defending you from danger turns you on like nothing in this world can. You know you have much to discuss with him about having another baby, considering you had just given birth to Sabrina and Protus a few months ago. But, in this instance, desire overtakes logic and all you want is to feel your husband deep inside you again.

His lips are cool when they touch your jugular, trailing down the column of your neck until they reach your heaving chest.

“Sy…” you whisper, eyes fluttering close. “Stop… teasing me.”

You want this, he realizes with a jolt. You want this as much as he does.

He lets out a low chuckle, hands continuing to caress every inch of your skin.

“Oh, my pretty little doll. It’s not teasing anymore. It’s a promise.” His lips touch your ear, the heat of his breath and words snapping the last of your resolve. “And you know I never break my promises, doll.”

A whimper slips from your parted mouth. The heat in this room is too much to bear, pressing down on you with the weight of an ocean closing in.

You can barely breathe when you exhale, “Breed me. Please… breed me.”

Your bastard of a husband grins at your desperate plea, his hands gripping your hips tighter. It’s the predatory confidence of a man who knows he has you completely at his mercy, begging for him to claim you completely.

“Say it again,” his fingers dance to the hair at the nape of your neck, sinking his fingers into your soft locks and using it to snap your face up to meet his darkened gaze. “Tell me you want me to breed you. Tell me you want to only belong to me.”

The bite of pain pulls a wanton moan from your trembling lips, and you lose all bearings and composure, giving in to the desire which always leaves you wanting more of him on your knees.

“Oh god... please... breed me, Daddy. Make me yours. P-put a baby inside of me and make me a mama again…”

Sylus’ eyes darken at your plea, the possessive need flaring in his chest. Those blood-red eyes burn with the desire of keeping and making his promise come true.

“Lay back, sweetie. Go on—there’s a good girl.” His bigger body hovers over you, pressing you into the bed. “Good girl. You're such a good girl, doll. Asking Daddy to breed you, begging to be filled with my seed, to carry my baby. You're mine. Mine to breed, mine to claim. Mine to make you a mommy again."

His words whip through you like an electric shock. You gasp, eyes fluttering and body arching further into his touch.

“Please… yes…”

As much as his self-control is reaching its breaking point, he needs to hear the words coming straight from your mouth; his grip on your hips tighten, eyes darkening with possessiveness.

"You want this, doll? You want Daddy to fill you up—make sure you're pregnant with my baby?"

Your nod is equal parts desperation and desire. You lick your lips, nodding.

“Yes,” your whisper is like a bullet tearing through his chest, leaving it hot and stinging with pure need. “Yes, I want it so badly.”

Sylus groans, your words igniting the unquenchable thirst inside of him to make you his, his, his.

Tearing the flimsy dress off your frame, he digs his fingers into your hips, mouth leaving a burning trail of kisses and bites across your neck, your jaw, your chest.

Your hands grapple at his clothing, pulling off his expensive, tailor-made button-down and slacks, reaching into the heart of him to expose him fully to your lustful gaze.

He sucks and licks on your nipples until they become all puffy and swollen just for him, and the second you tell him you can’t take it anymore, Sylus stakes his claim by sinking inside of you—inch by delicious inch.

Your pretty, milky pink nails stab into his shoulders, dragging down red lines across the pale expanse of his back. Your heels dig into his hips, and the way you’re desperately clinging onto him, makes him wonder if you want to fuse your body as one with his.

“Sy… Sylus…”

Fuck. He digs his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, strong hips snapping forward, giving you one powerful thrust after another. Your walls suck him so perfectly, like you were made for him.

He fills you up over and over again, until every load becomes more painful. But, you can't get enough. You keen, beg, and cry for more, milking his promise to make you a mama again for what it’s worth.

Hours seem to pass, ravaging passages of time that are marked by more cum filling you; his shuddering, animalistic groans for you take it darling, take it all, take all of me like music to your ears.

Sylus collapses on top of you, breathing hard and red in the face. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his hand coming to rest gently on your stomach, caressing the soft skin with shaky fingers.

“Mhm… you’ll be the death of me one day, you know that, sweetie?”

Giggling, you use what remains of your strength to twine your arms around his shoulders. The both of you stay like this for a while, slowly coming down from the high.

Briefly, your hand grazes your belly, and you wonder idly if what he promises has come true—if his seed has already taken.

Sylus, ever keen and observing, chuckles. It’s like he knows exactly what you're thinking. Planting a gentle kiss on top of your head, his voice is low and tender.

“I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, sweetie. I have a feeling you're already pregnant with my baby."

Your eyes widen, and you give him a shock look.

Stammering, you say, “How do you know?”

But, you should know this is Sylus you’re talking about. Mastermind of the N109 Zone. The leader of the most notorious organization alive.

He’s always two steps ahead of you, seeing what you can’t see, anticipating what you can’t expect.

Your husband’s palm drifts down to join yours on your stomach, his hand gently resting on yours.

“Call it a lucky guess… or, intuition. A few little signs here and there. Besides, I'm not letting you out of my sight until you confirm it."

His words make your head spin, and you give him a look of reproachful intrigue.

“A… few signs here and there? What are you talking about?”

Sylus nods, his touch reverent and tender.

Without caring for your astonishment, he lays down his observations like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Your scent has been different, sweeter, a little intoxicating. Your body is more sensitive, more responsive to my touch. And there's a glow about you, a soft flush on your cheeks, a sparkle in your eyes. It's subtle, but I notice when it comes to you, doll.”

You gape at him, and without thinking, tighten your grip on your belly.

As if he has a sensor on you, Sylus immediately notices the subconscious gesture.

“Mhm... You've been doing that a lot lately, doll. Touching your belly, caressing your stomach, as if you're already feeling the baby growing inside you. It's adorable, but it's also a bit of a giveaway.”

His tone turns teasing and you flush, flustered beyond measure.

“Wh-what are you? Some kind of werewolf?” You hiss, “How're you so attentive?!”

Your husband chuckles again, amusing himself by brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers gently tracing your jawline.

“It's not a matter of being a werewolf. It's just a matter of paying attention to the woman I love.” His grin turns soft, becoming tender at the edges. “I notice everything about you, doll. Every little detail, every change in your body, every little thing. I can't help it. I can't stop watching you. And you just happen to have a few tell-tale signs right now that are screaming 'pregnant'.”

Pouting, you glare at him churlishly, deciding to challenge him. But, underneath the pomp and bravado is an innate curiosity to see how far your husband’s perception can go.

“Tell me more then, since I myself don't seem to notice anything.”

Sylus grins at the sarcasm dripping from your tone, and decides to indulge you.

“Hmm, you really want to know? Well, here's another one... Your taste has changed, darling. A little sweeter, a little richer. Something I can't seem to get enough of, but it also seems to have gotten stronger lately.”

You blanch, warmth flushing your cheeks.

“You mean... whenever you eat me out... you noticed my taste? That's...”

Your speechlessness amuses him, and he chuckles, voice growing deeper, laced with hunger and heat.

“I notice everything about you, remember? Even the smallest changes in your body,” he drawls, glancing at the spot between your thighs. “Especially when it comes to the places I spend the most time on, tasting and exploring... Every. Single. Time.”

He punctuates his words with soft kisses to your neck, flustering you even more.

All you can mutter is a cute, little, “Hmph,” scowling and fanning your cheeks.

Sylus adores your reaction to his words, and leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, teasing your skin.

“Mhm... why are you scowling at me? Are you embarrassed? Are you... thinking about all the times I've tasted and explored you, doll? I can practically see the memories playing in your head… it's delicious.”

You squeak, slapping a palm to his mouth, feeling like your face is hot enough to explode.

“Sylus!”

He laughs, though the sound is muffled against your palm. His hand drifts down to your belly again, the gleam in his eyes possessive this time.

The white-haired devil pries your hand from his mouth, kissing your wrist and placing it back down onto the bed. “Oh, doll. You're just too cute when you're flustered. And it's even cuter when you try to shut me up. It just makes me want to tease you more, Y/N.”

Emboldened and somewhat foolish, you plaster on your faux confidence, egging him on.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I think you’re dead wrong.”

Sylus snorts, finding your foolish certainty endearing.

“Are you doubting my observation skills? Are you saying I haven't noticed a thing? That I'm not paying attention to the little changes in your body… that I haven't noticed how you're reacting?”

You smirk, nodding.

“Mhm hmm. I know my body better than you, Sy. You may be my husband, but I’ve been living in this meat suit for years. And I’ll know when I’m pregnant. Besides—” you giggle, enjoying the look of faint amusement spreading across his features. “—I bet you a hundred dollars that if I take a test right now, it’ll come back negative.”

Sylus cocks a brow, eyes glistening with the challenge.

You continue, oblivious to his smirk. “My period is due in a week, and I don’t have morning sickness, nor do I have any cravings. Besides, weren’t you the one who said we have to plan our family smarter? Why do you want to be right so badly?”

Your husband chuckles, enjoying your bold confidence. His grip on your hip tightens, and he kneads the flesh, shrugging.

“You’re so endlessly fascinating, doll. Yes, I do think we should space out conception times, but I never did say I wouldn't want more babies. Especially when they are living proof of our commitment and love for each other.”

Oh. You swallow hard. When he puts it that way…

But, you’re much too thick headed to give in.

You cup his cheek, gaze softening, though the spark of a challenge remains in your eyes.

“Fine. We’ll see who’s right tomorrow.”

Sylus grabs your hand, enjoying the warmth of your skin with a touch of feral amusement in his crimson eyes. “And if I’m right? What is my reward, doll?”

Grinning, you tease, “A hundred dollars.”

Your husband tilts his head to the side, as if considering your strange wager.

“... make that a hundred kisses and a dinner, doll. I don’t want your money.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. A hundred kisses and a dinner—that’s easy for you.

“Fine. We’ll see that I’m right tomorrow, then.”

Night fades and the next day dawns.

You wake up to an empty bed, sheets rumpled and still warm. Your eyes land upon an innocuous pregnancy kit on the side table, fresh from the store.

Sylus is nowhere to be seen, though you suspect he’s downstairs in the kitchen sipping on a cup of coffee. Not wanting to look like you were chickening out of this bet, you huff and go straight into the bathroom, putting the test to use.

You’re going to win this bet, and Sylus will have to eat his words. There is no way your husband would be correct. All he has is a hunch while you know your body inside and out.

No singular person in the world, not even the one you share a bed with every night, can claim to predict something as mercurial and unpredictable as a pregnancy which hasn’t happened yet—unless they were a prophet or someone from the world of Dune, you think with a scoff.

The timer goes off and you grasp the test, about to smirk and prance downstairs to show Sylus how far off his observation was, when you come to a hard pause.

“...”

You blink, checking the test and rechecking it again. You look at it closer to the light, scrutinizing the stupid white stick from front to back, wondering if it’s faulty or broken.

A languid knock on the door interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to find your husband leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and an infuriating smirk on his face.

“Go ahead, doll,” he gloats, noticing your reaction, the pallor of shock written all over your face. “Read the result out loud to me.”

You swallow hard, setting the test down in defeat.

“Impossible.”

But, knowing how competitive your husband can be, he’s not going down without a fight.

“And the result is…?”

Tossing him a scowl, you throw your hands up in the air, caving in so he can pipe down and just kiss you already.

“Positive,” you groan, wrapping your arms around him. Sylus responds without a shred of hesitation, grasping your smaller body and holding it tightly to his, secretly elated at this reveal. The ghost of his chuckle brushes your neck.

“Yeah, doll? Say it again. Tell me I’m right.”

You exhale a watery giggle, tears filling your eyes. The feeling of pure love fills your chest, and you look at him like he’s hung the moon up in your sky.

You’re going to be a mommy again; Sylus has made his promise come true.

Touching your forehead to his, you breathe in his comforting scent, feeling the softness of his sleeping robe underneath your palms on his chest.

“You’re right, darling. You’re always right,” you whisper, the love you feel for your husband overflowing from your eyes. “It’s positive.”

Nothing ever escapes Sylus' hawk-like attention, and for that, you love him a little more than you did before.

sydawn lore: we have twins together—a baby girl and a baby boy named sabrina and protus. initially, the scans and tests only picked up sabrina and it was literally on the surgical table when the doctors made a discovery that there was another whole ass baby inside of me (they called it a shadow pregnancy when one twin completely overshadows another) so long story short, we have two babies together with a third on the way :,) ok thx for reading bye !

— reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated !! thank you all for your support <3

#🦢 writes #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x you #sylus fluff #sylus smut #sylus l&ds #love and deepspace sylus #tw pregnancy

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riaki · 11 months ago

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ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

#here u go. yes!! u!!!!!! sorry it got long #thank you guys for the reception on the last part literally checking tumblr religiously the rbs and comments made me feel like floating #yea hes a hopeless loser srry i dont make the rules #ABND I TRIED TO HOLD HERRR but there was nothing i could do to stop her from cutting her beautiful blue hair off 🐐🐐#gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo jjk #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #did not proofread b i hope it’s good 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️#actually i j realized the coffee campus intro part is similar to another fic i’ve read sorry if u noticed that it was on my subconscious 😞#billet-doux

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houseofwolvess · 2 years ago

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im extremely stressed but in a passive way. like i can't seem to get myself to work on the things that are stressing me out so instead im curled up under a fuzzy blanket with an extremely soft and warm and cuddly cat, which is objectively really nice but the stress is making me feel sick even if this is a really nice situation in the moment

#sigh.#i think im gonna fail this year. im failing in all of my classes except for orchestra and food+nutrition.#i can probably pass science and english but i dont think i can pass algebra II or sociology or spanish #i might be able to make them up if i can manage to snag a spot in summer school but idk if ill be able to do that #this is kind of terrifying. i dont want to end up spending an extra damn year in high school. i really really don't.#if i cant get into summer school then i might be able to just retake algebra II next year since i only need 3 credits to graduate and i -#- already have 2. i might not even have to take a full year if i do alright next semester.#i dont know how it'll work for sociology and spanish because like... sociology is a social studies class and i think i need 4 credits for -#- that? but i dont know for sure. they dont make it very clear.#i also dont know what the deal is with extra language classes either. idk if i have to retake those or not.#this fucking sucks. my executive dysfunction is the worst it's ever been i think. i can't function normally anymore.#i can't do schoolwork. i can barely do chores. even doing fun stuff requires me to jump through hurdles to actually do it.#im stressed 24/7 bc of it and i can barely sleep anymore and my body is constantly hurting and i have stress headaches and just. agh.#i have a meeting with my school counselor tomorrow to talk about options for making up failed classes so. yeah. hopefully that'll help.#winter break is almost here which is both gonna be horribly stressful and wonderfully relaxing #hopefully they'll just cancel each other out and ill feel Fine. not good or bad. just Fine.

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reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

Text

Strawberry Lemonade

Summary: Spencer and you have a summer fling before you start your masters in theater, but you both fall in love. A chance encounter years later will give you the chance to reconnect.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Broadway fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: summer love, suggestive content (16+), happy ending

Word count: 6.7k

a/n: this is cuteee i imagine season 1 spencer at the beginning and season 7 spencer at the end but its up to you hehe

main masterlist

Six years ago…

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you heard the voice before you felt the cold liquid soaking through your shirt, chilling your skin. The sensation was sudden and startling, making you gasp and jump back instinctively.

“Ah!” you exclaimed, eyes wide as you looked down at the spreading stain on your clothes. It was a shock, but more amusing than upsetting.

“I—I didn’t see you, I am so, so sorry. Um, let me get you a napkin,” the man rushed out, his voice laced with genuine panic as he scrambled to make amends.

You finally looked up at him, and despite the situation, a smile tugged at your lips. “Whoa, wait, it’s okay!” you reassured him, waving your hands to calm him down. “What did you spill on me?” you asked, your tone light and humorous as you took in his flushed, slightly disheveled appearance.

“Strawberry lemonade…” he admitted, wincing as if expecting you to be upset.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I might be sticky, but at least I’ll smell good!” The sound of your laughter seemed to ease his anxiety, and for a moment, he looked relieved, albeit still a bit embarrassed.

“I’m really sorry again,” he said, his tone sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was so focused I just wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”

“Seriously, it’s okay!” you assured him, still smiling. “I can just head home and change. I didn’t have any big plans today anyway.”

“Still, it’s inconvenient,” he insisted, clearly feeling guilty.

“Oh well, you’re just keeping my day interesting. Do you want to do that all summer long?” you joked, the lighthearted comment slipping out before you could stop yourself.

“Huh?” He blinked, momentarily confused by your question.

You chuckled, shaking your head at your own boldness. “I’m watching my parents’ house for the summer. Not sure what I’m going to do… I probably shouldn’t have told you that, random male stranger.”

His expression shifted to one of concern. “Uh, no, you should not tell people that. But, I am in the FBI, actually. I catch the people you shouldn’t tell that you’re watching your parents’ house.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, curiosity and skepticism bubbling up inside you. “Wow! That’s cool, and I totally don’t believe you at all,” you laughed again, the sound warm and infectious. You noticed how his eyes seemed to light up at the sound of your laughter.

He fumbled for a moment, clearly eager to prove himself. After a brief struggle, he managed to retrieve his badge from his pocket. “Here,” he said, holding it out for you to see, the credentials gleaming under the light.

You leaned in slightly to inspect it, your eyes narrowing playfully. “Alright, I believe you, Spencer Reid,” you said, pronouncing his name with a teasing lilt.

The blush that spread across his cheeks was instant and endearing. “Thanks, um…” he trailed off, realizing he didn’t know your name.

“Y/N L/N,” you said, extending your hand toward him, your smile never wavering.

He glanced at your hand, then back up at you, a hint of nervousness still lingering in his eyes. “It’s actually safer for us to kiss with all of the germs that are passed through hands touching,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his sudden awkwardness. “Well, if you buy me a drink instead of spilling one on me, I’ll give you that kiss,” you teased, your voice carrying a playful challenge.

Spencer’s eyes widened, his blush deepening as he realized you were serious. For a moment, he was speechless, but then a shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Deal,” he said softly, his heart racing as he met your gaze.

—

You had gotten Spencer Reid’s number after your first encounter, agreeing to find a time to get that drink he owed you. The anticipation of seeing him again had you smiling as you got ready for your casual meetup. You wanted to see if he was just as endearing without the strawberry lemonade incident.

As you approached the café, you spotted Spencer sitting at a small table outside. His posture was slightly tense, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup as he scanned the surroundings nervously. When he saw you approaching, though, his face lit up with a shy but genuine smile, one that instantly warmed your heart.

“Spencer!” you called out, waving as you neared the table.

“Hi, Y/N,” he responded, his voice soft but filled with warmth.

When you reached the table, you noticed two drinks already waiting. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Did you order for me?” you asked, a hint of amusement in your tone.

Spencer nodded, looking bashful as he explained, “I did. You mentioned that you liked chai lattes, so I got you one.”

Your heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness, and you couldn’t help but smile even wider. “You are the sweetest! Thank you!” You took a seat across from him, picking up the warm cup and taking a sip. The spiced, creamy flavor was perfect, and you let out an appreciative hum. “It’s delicious, and look at that! It made it into my mouth and not on my clothes,” you teased, your eyes twinkling with humor.

Spencer chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah, I promise not to ruin your clothes this time,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a small smile.

You leaned in slightly, a mischievous glint in your eye. “What about next time?”

Spencer choked on his drink, caught off guard by your playful question. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, finding his awkwardness endearing. Once he recovered, he grinned sheepishly, his cheeks tinged with pink. “I’ll work on my coordination before then,” he replied, his voice laced with embarrassment and amusement.

You giggled, shaking your head. “I’m just messing with you, Spencer. But I’m glad you’re thinking ahead.”

He relaxed even more, clearly enjoying your company as much as you were enjoying his. The conversation flowed easily between you two, filled with light banter, shared stories, and plenty of laughter. It was clear that this was just the beginning of something special—something that neither of you could have predicted from a simple spilled drink.

—

As the summer days drifted by, Spencer had become a regular fixture in your life. He was your constant companion, always ready for an adventure whenever his demanding job allowed. Whether it was movie nights on the couch, intense games of chess in the park, or wandering through the quiet halls of a museum, every moment with him was something you cherished. But today, you were ready to take things to the next level, to let him know just how much you enjoyed his company in a way that left little room for misinterpretation.

Spencer was coming over again, this time for a swim in the lake behind your parents’ house. He’d been over many times before, but today was different. Today, you were determined to make your intentions clear.

The sound of his car pulling up the driveway sent a thrill of anticipation through you. You smoothed down your cover-up and opened the door just as he was about to knock. “Hey, babe,” you greeted him with a playful grin, the casual endearment slipping from your lips effortlessly.

Spencer’s cheeks immediately flushed a light shade of pink, clearly caught off guard. He wasn’t used to pet names, especially not from someone like you—someone who had become increasingly important to him over these past few months. “Hi, Y/N,” he managed to reply, his voice soft and a little unsure.

“Are you ready to swim?” you asked, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you leaned against the doorframe.

“Mhm,” he nodded, lifting the small bag he brought with him. “I brought my swimsuit.”

“Awe, damn,” you pouted dramatically, teasing him with a sparkle in your eye. “I thought we were going skinny dipping.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “Y/N!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, biting your lip to suppress a grin. “I’m joking! Maybe…” you added with a wink before turning to lead him inside. You could feel his eyes on you, nervousness and curiosity radiating from him.

Once he changed, you led Spencer out to the dock that stretched over the lake. The sun was warm, the water inviting, and the setting was perfect. Spencer was busy setting up the beach chairs, focused on getting everything just right, when you called out to him.

“Hey, Spencer, can you help me out?” Your voice was light, almost innocent.

He turned to see what you needed, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he caught sight of you. There you stood, your cover-up discarded to reveal a tiny swimsuit that left very little to the imagination. The way the fabric clung to your curves, barely covering what it needed to, had Spencer’s mind spinning. He was completely unprepared for this.

“Su–sure,” he stammered, struggling to keep his gaze respectful even as his face turned a deep shade of crimson.

You smiled at his reaction, a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. You had his attention now, that much was clear. “Thanks,” you said, moving closer to him, letting your arm brush against his as you reached for the sunscreen. “Would you mind helping me with my back?”

Spencer swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting as he nodded. “Of course,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As he carefully applied the sunscreen, his fingers trembling slightly as they skimmed over your skin, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

“Mmm, your hands are so warm, Spencer. This feels nice,” you murmured, letting your eyes flutter closed as his hands worked gently across your back. You could feel the heat radiating from his palms, soothing against your skin.

Spencer made a small, high-pitched sound that was almost a squeak, clearly caught off guard by your comment. “I’m—uh, I’m glad,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

As his hands reached your shoulders, you rolled them, leaning back into his touch, allowing yourself to let out a soft, almost involuntary, sound of pleasure. It was subtle, but you knew it would have an effect on him. “Can you get my lower back too, please?” you asked, your voice laced with just enough sweetness to make him melt.

“Ok—okay,” Spencer managed to say, his breath hitching as he moved his hands lower. When his fingers finally reached your lower back, you couldn’t resist arching it just a bit, causing your hips to shift subtly, drawing his attention further down.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, turning your head slightly to glance back at him with a mischievous smile. “You’re good with your hands.”

Spencer’s face was bright red by now, and he cleared his throat, quickly pulling his hands away as if they’d been burned. “Um, you’re all done! Let’s, uh, let’s get in the water!” he blurted out, almost too fast for the words to be coherent.

You couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying the effect you had on him. “Don’t you need sunscreen?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you watched him turn his back to you, clearly flustered.

“Nope!” he shouted, his voice a bit higher than usual, before making a beeline for the edge of the dock. Without a second thought, he dove into the lake, the cold water a welcome relief from the heat you’d stirred up inside him.

You watched, amused, as Spencer resurfaced, his hair plastered to his forehead as he pushed it back with one hand. He looked at you with wide eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite place. You knew he was trying to compose himself, but you could tell you’d rattled him in the best way possible.

“Water’s great!” he called out, trying to sound casual, though his voice still carried a note of nervousness. “You should join me.”

You smirked, taking your time as you walked to the edge of the dock. “Oh, I plan to,” you said, your tone playful as you prepared to jump in after him, the summer day suddenly feeling a whole lot warmer.

You and Spencer splashed around in the cool water, laughing and enjoying the kind of carefree fun that usually only comes with childhood. The day was perfect, the sun shining down, the water glistening, and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth growing in your chest every time you looked at him. There was something so endearing about Spencer, especially now with his big, round eyes wide with wonder, his wet hair sticking to his forehead in messy strands. He was so pretty.

“Y/N?” Spencer called out suddenly, a hint of concern in his voice as he glanced around, squinting since he had left his glasses on the dock. You had slipped beneath the surface, and he couldn’t see where you had gone.

“Ahh!” he yelped when he felt hands on his waist, the surprise making him jump. But before he could fully process what was happening, you popped up right in front of him, grinning as you wiped the water and hair from your face.

“Hi,” you whispered softly, the playfulness in your eyes unmistakable.

“You scared me,” he admitted, still catching his breath from the sudden startle.

“Sorry, Spence,” you replied, your voice gentle, though there was a lingering note of amusement.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice softer now as he looked at you, his nerves easing but still very much present.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing closer. He stiffened slightly, but didn’t pull away. Feeling bold, you decided to make your next move, wrapping your legs around his torso as well, anchoring yourself to him in the water. His hands instinctively moved to support you, his fingers brushing your waist as he tried to steady himself.

“You’re like a koala,” Spencer observed, his voice a bit breathless, the situation clearly getting to him.

“Mmm, do koalas like wet nerds?” you teased, your lips just inches from his, your breath warm against his damp skin.

“What—” he began, but before he could finish, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, your heart racing as you made your intentions clear.

For a moment, Spencer froze, clearly caught off guard by the suddenness of your kiss. Panic started to bubble up inside you, and you quickly pulled back, searching his face for any sign that you’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry, was that not okay?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry as you began to second-guess yourself.

But before you could spiral too far, Spencer’s hand cupped your face, his touch gentle but firm. He didn’t say a word, just pulled you back toward him, his other hand sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the warmth of his lips on yours, the cool water lapping around you, and the undeniable chemistry that had been building between you all summer.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a passion that surprised you, his usual shyness nowhere to be found. You melted into him, feeling the last of your doubts wash away as you wrapped yourself even tighter around him, the world fading until it was just you and Spencer, lost in the moment, lost in each other.

—

The day at the lake marked the beginning of your official relationship with Spencer, and from then on, your summer together blossomed into the kind of romance you’d always dreamed of. There were countless moments that felt like they were straight out of a movie—bouquets of flowers delivered unexpectedly, rosy cheeks from laughter, bike rides on cobblestone streets, and endless time spent in each other’s company. Spencer was always so thoughtful, his gestures sweet and genuine, and you couldn’t help but fall deeper for him with every passing day.

But as the summer days dwindled, so did the time you had left before returning to school. One afternoon, Spencer walked into the living room of your parents’ house, his face bright with excitement. “Hey, love,” he said, his voice warm and affectionate as he approached you.

“Hmm?” you responded, glancing up from your computer where you were half-listening while reviewing your reading list for the fall term at Hunter College.

“There’s this annual FBI gala in September,” Spencer began, leaning down to place a tender kiss on the top of your head. “I was wondering if you’d like to be my date.”

You nodded absentmindedly, still focused on your work. “Uh, sure, babe. Sounds fun!”

Spencer smiled, pleased by your agreement. “Amazing, it’s the last Saturday of September.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned the date that realization hit you, and your heart sank. “Oh no… I’ll be back at school by then.”

“What?” Spencer’s smile faltered, confusion and disappointment flickering across his face as he looked at you.

“Well, I’m going back to school at the beginning of September… I’m only here for the summer, I told you that, baby.”

“I know you did,” Spencer sighed, the disappointment settling in as he plopped down on the couch. “I guess I didn’t think about how soon you were going back.”

Seeing him so crestfallen made your heart ache. You quickly set your computer aside and moved to climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. Spencer’s hands instinctively found your waist, holding you close as you nestled against him. “I’m sorry, Spence,” you said softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Maybe I can still come? If I’m not too busy with work and school?”

“Yeah,” he replied, though the frown on his face made it clear he wasn’t convinced. He avoided your gaze, his eyes focused on some distant point.

“Hey,” you whispered, tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to look at you. “We still have all of August, you still have me all to yourself for a whole month.”

“That’s true,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “Can you think of anything you want to do with me while I’m all yours?” you asked, your voice playful, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you smirked at him.

Spencer’s smile grew a little wider, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I can think of a few things,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze affectionate. “But we might need more than a month.”

“Well then, you better start planning,” you whispered against his lips, before closing the small distance between you in a tender kiss, hoping to chase away the cloud of impending separation with the warmth of your affection.

—

“I can’t believe you leave next week,” Spencer mumbled into your stomach, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into your skin, seeking comfort in the warmth of your body.

Spencer’s words hung in the air, the weight of them settling deep in your chest. You’d known this moment would come, the one where the reality of your impending departure would hit both of you with full force. But hearing him say it, feeling the emotion behind his words, made it all the more real.

You sighed softly, your fingers threading through his hair as you stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Spence… please stop mentioning it. I don’t want to cry again. Can’t we just enjoy this week?”

He lifted his head slightly, resting his chin on your soft tummy as he looked up at you, his eyes full of regret for bringing it up. “Yes, I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, his voice sincere.

For a moment, you just looked at him, taking in every detail of his face—the way his hair fell into his eyes, the softness of his expression, the beauty that radiated from him so clearly. “You’re so beautiful, Spencer Reid,” you mused, your heart squeezing in your chest at how deeply you felt for him.

Spencer’s eyes softened even more, and then, almost as if he couldn’t hold it back any longer, he said, “I love you.” It was the first time he’d said it, the words slipping out with such raw honesty that they made your breath hitch.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you laughed, even as tears welled up in your eyes, “I said not to make me cry.”

His expression shifted from worry to understanding in an instant, and he quickly sat up, pulling you into his arms, holding you close in the bed. “Why are you crying?” he asked, concern lacing his voice as he brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Because I love you too,” you whispered, your smile tinged with sadness as you looked up at him, the reality of your situation crashing down on you.

The look in Spencer’s eyes changed then, deepening into something more intense, more profound. He kissed you, but this time it was different—there was more emotion, more passion than either of you had ever felt before. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise, a declaration, a desperate attempt to hold onto this moment, this connection, for as long as possible.

Slowly, he guided you back down onto the pillows, his body moving between your legs, his hands caressing your sides with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His lips never left yours, the kiss deepening as he settled over you, his breath warm against your skin.

“Spencer?” you whispered hesitantly, your voice trembling slightly. You knew he wasn’t very experienced, and until now, the two of you hadn’t gone further than heavy makeouts. He’d only seen you topless once, and even then, he’d been adorably flustered.

“I’m sure, darling,” he breathed, his voice steady but filled with a nervous excitement that matched your own.

“Oh—okay,” you replied softly, your heart racing as you let yourself sink into the moment, trusting him, trusting this love.

That morning, as the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room, you lay tangled in the sheets with Spencer. Both of you basking in the intimacy you’d shared, it had been more than just a physical connection; it was a merging of hearts, a deepening of the bond that had grown between you over the summer.

In those moments, with the world outside fading away, you realized that Spencer had stolen your heart completely, just as you had become his first in so many ways. The warmth of the sun on your skin, the softness of the sheets, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath beside you—it all felt like a dream, a perfect culmination of the love that had blossomed between you.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what the future held, this moment would always be yours.

—

“Okay, so call me as soon as you make it to your apartment. And… text and email as much as you can,” Spencer said, his voice trembling as he fought to keep his composure.

The moment was heavy with emotion as you stood by your car, Spencer’s eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The weight of the impending separation hung between you, thick and tangible, making every word feel like it was being carved into your hearts.

“I will, Spence,” you nodded, your own voice barely steady as you bit your lip, trying desperately to hold back the sob that threatened to break free.

“I love you, please know that,” he whispered, the raw emotion in his words making your heart ache.

“I know, baby, I know,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that conveyed everything you couldn’t put into words. “I love you too, so much.”

As you pulled back slightly, Spencer’s voice cracked with a plea, “Please don’t forget me.”

You stared into his eyes, the depth of your feelings for him clear and unwavering. “Spencer Reid,” you said softly but firmly, “I will never forget you.”

With that, you kissed him one last time, the bittersweet farewell lingering in the air as you both held onto each other for as long as you could.

—

Despite all the promises and the heartfelt goodbyes, life had other plans. The demands of your master’s program and the grueling work on Broadway consumed your time and energy. Spencer, too, became increasingly busy with his responsibilities at the BAU and his guest lectures, often being called away for cases more frequently than before. The distance, both physical and emotional, began to take its toll.

Calls that used to bring comfort and connection started going to voicemail. Texts that once sparked joy and laughter were left unanswered. Emails that used to be filled with affection and updates were opened but never replied to. The busy lives you both led pulled you further apart, until one day, you realized that you hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, then months.

The connection that had once been so strong faded away, not with a dramatic end but with a quiet, painful drift. Despite the love you had for each other, you and Spencer never saw each other again. The summer you shared remained a beautiful, bittersweet memory, a chapter that closed far too soon.

—

Present

The present day found Rossi deep in the midst of orchestrating the final details for JJ and Will’s last-minute wedding. After wrapping up their latest case, he hadn’t expected to be planning a wedding, but he was more than happy to take on the challenge. With everything falling into place—JJ’s mom attending, the guests taken care of, food arranged, his beautiful backyard as the location, and even the rings sorted—the only thing left was the music. Rossi could have easily hired a band, a DJ, or even a string quartet, but he had someone specific in mind.

His thoughts drifted to a young woman he had met years ago, back when she was just starting out on Broadway as a background singer. Rossi had discovered her in a small, back-alley theater during an off-Broadway performance of Rent where she played Mimi. Her performance had been nothing short of phenomenal, and Rossi had made sure to keep in touch with her over the years. She was someone who had made an impression on him, and he liked to check in on those who left a mark.

Pulling out his phone, Rossi quickly typed out a message, hoping she was available.

Am I the luckiest man alive or can you not be in Virginia tomorrow evening for a wedding?

It didn’t take long for a response to come through.

A wedding? This is a strange proposal, but I can be there. Send me details!

Rossi smiled, relieved and excited. With her on board, he knew the night would be something truly special.

—

The air was filled with warmth and joy as JJ and Will’s wedding ceremony unfolded, a picture-perfect blend of love and simplicity. A band played soft, unobtrusive music in the background, setting the tone for the intimate occasion. As the ceremony transitioned to the reception, the band continued to provide a gentle soundtrack, allowing everyone to bask in the glow of the newlyweds’ happiness.

But as the moment for the first dance approached, Rossi knew it was time to unveil his final surprise. He made his way to the small makeshift stage, where a microphone stood unused, and with a confident smile, he took hold of it. “Alright everyone, may I have your attention, please?” His voice carried over the crowd, drawing all eyes to him.

The guests turned their attention to Rossi, their expressions warm and expectant. JJ and Will stood together, their hands intertwined, basking in the moment.

“JJ, Will,” Rossi began, his tone heartfelt, “I am so happy for you both. Thank you for allowing us to witness your union, and may you lead a beautiful life together.”

The group erupted into cheers, the love and support for the couple evident in every smiling face.

Rossi’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued, “Now, I do have one last surprise for you…”

JJ, ever the skeptic, raised a brow, her signature look of sass making a brief appearance as she wondered what Rossi had up his sleeve.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rossi announced, his voice brimming with excitement, “all the way from Broadway, please welcome, Y/N L/N…”

The crowd turned with curiosity as you stepped onto the stage, ready to add your own special touch to this unforgettable night.

As you stepped onto the stage, the evening air filled with a gentle buzz of excitement and warmth. “Hello, all! Thank you so much, David,” you began, your voice clear and bright. “I am deeply grateful to be here performing for such a special evening. Thank you for letting me share in the festivities.”

JJ and Will raised their glasses to you, smiles of appreciation on their faces, and the crowd erupted into cheers. But one person did not share in the cheers, silently staring from the back of the group, his expression frozen in shock—Spencer. He never forgot a face, and yours was etched into his memory, even if time had added a few years since your last encounter.

“I was informed this first song is to be the first dance,” you continued, your eyes scanning the crowd, oblivious to the familiar face among them. “So please make room for the lovely couple!” With a graceful flourish, you began your performance, your voice effortlessly filling the space with a soft, ethereal melody that perfectly suited the evening’s romantic atmosphere.

Spencer could hardly believe what he was seeing. You were here. You were real, and you were performing at this very wedding. For someone who lived his life by facts, figures, and logical conclusions, this moment felt almost like destiny. You had come back into his life in the most unexpected way, and it left him reeling.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, as he was hiding out towards the back, not wanting to draw attention to himself. But as the evening wore on, he found himself pulled to the dance floor by Penelope Garcia, her bright smile and colorful attire impossible to resist. It was only then, as you sang and your eyes swept across the guests, that you saw him. Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept singing, the professionalism in you pushing through even as your wide eyes tracked his every move.

He was dancing with a woman—tall, beautiful, blonde, and dressed in an outfit that could only be described as whimsical. They moved together easily, and you felt a pang of something you hadn’t expected to feel after all these years—jealousy. It wasn’t that you had any claim on him; so much time had passed, and life had moved on for both of you. But seeing him again, so unexpectedly, brought a rush of old emotions, and suddenly, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

You could feel your pulse quicken as the last notes of your performance faded into the night. The applause was warm and appreciative, but all you could think about was getting off that stage and finding Spencer. The need to talk to him, to see him up close after all these years, was almost overwhelming.

“That concludes my contribution to the gorgeous evening David planned. Thank you all again for allowing me to sing for you,” you said, giving the crowd a gracious smile as you left the stage. As you descended, Rossi was there to escort you, his arm linked with yours as he guided you toward the refreshments. You wasted no time in grabbing a glass of champagne, hoping the bubbles might help settle your nerves.

“That was phenomenal, Y/N. You never disappoint. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” Rossi said, his voice full of genuine gratitude.

“It was my pleasure, David. Thank you for always thinking of me,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside you.

Before Rossi could say more, a voice you knew all too well sounded from behind you. “Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Spencer Reid, standing just a few feet away, looking even more handsome than you remembered. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat as all the emotions you’d been trying to keep at bay came rushing back with full force.

“Hi, Spence,” you managed to say, your voice soft but warm, betraying the flood of feelings coursing through you.

Rossi, ever perceptive, noticed the unspoken tension and slowly began to excuse himself, moving away with the intention of questioning you both later.

Spencer seemed flustered, his mind racing as he tried to process everything. “Wh—what are you doing here? I mean, I know what you’re doing here, but how do you know Rossi?”

You swallowed, trying to keep your emotions in check. “He, uh, he came to one of my shows when I first started performing,” you explained, though your voice was a little choked up, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Spencer’s eyes widened with surprise. “You perform? Where?”

“Broadway…” you said, a small, almost self-conscious laugh escaping your lips as you watched his reaction.

Spencer’s eyes softened, a mix of pride and awe flickering across his face. “Wow,” he breathed, clearly impressed. “I didn’t know he really meant–that’s… amazing, Y/N.”

For a moment, neither of you knew what to say, the years that had passed between you suddenly feeling both like a lifetime and like no time at all.

Spencer’s voice was soft, almost reverent as he asked, “Do you… want to dance?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of nostalgia and hope. “I’d love to.” You let him take your hand and lead you to the dance floor, feeling a lump form in your throat as you realized just how much you had missed him. As his back turned to you, you quickly dabbed at your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears threatening to spill over.

The team, scattered around the reception, couldn’t help but glance over at the two of you, curiosity piqued. They exchanged looks, silently wondering how their usually women-avoidant genius had managed to snag the singer for a dance.

With Spencer’s hands resting gently on your hips and your arms draped over his shoulders, you felt both light as a feather and heavy as a ton of bricks, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. His touch was gentle, reassuring, but there was an underlying tension—years of separation and longing bubbling just beneath the surface.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you right now,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “Are you sure you’re real?”

Spencer, always quick with a quip, responded with a small smile. “Do you often see people that aren’t real?”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping despite the lump in your throat. “No… I just can’t get my mind around it.”

“Me neither,” he admitted, his thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles on your waist.

You looked up at him, your eyes tracing the familiar features of his face, now slightly more mature but just as handsome. “You look so handsome, Spence. You’ve aged like fine wine.”

His blush was immediate, endearing in its sincerity. “Thank you,” he mumbled, clearly flustered. “You look gorgeous. You haven’t aged a bit.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not a profiler, but even I know that’s a lie. Look at these bags!” You pointed to the faint circles under your eyes, a result of late nights and hard work.

Spencer’s gaze softened, and he smiled tenderly. “You’re perfect, maybe I’m just blind to your flaws.”

“Wow, Agent,” you mused, a teasing note in your voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

“Is that okay?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. “Figured I could make up for lost time.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to steady your breathing. “Spencer…”

He noticed the shift in your expression, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. “I remember that face. What’s wrong? Do you have a partner?”

“No,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Should we keep it friendly? Not much has changed…”

“A lot has changed,” Spencer countered, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Like… I happen to know that if you work on Broadway, you get downtime between shows. You’re here right now, aren’t you?”

“That’s true… but I still have to rehearse, practice, and prepare. And I have an audition next week.”

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes filled with admiration. “And you will do amazing at that audition. Do you want to get dinner after?”

“In New York?” you asked, a bit taken aback by his boldness.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “I’ll take the train, meet you after you blow the casting directors away.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart was pounding. “You’re insane. What if we don’t get along anymore?”

“That would be really unfortunate, and I’d just take the train back,” he snorted, the sound making you laugh despite yourself.

“What if you find out that you only liked me because you didn’t really know me?” you asked, the question heavier than you intended.

“I loved you, think I still do,” Spencer corrected, his voice soft but firm, taking your breath away.

“Right,” you murmured, the gravity of his words settling over you. “So… you just want to date me? After six years?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Even though it’s going to be hard?”

“Absolutely.”

“And we’ll have to do long distance more often than not?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, his resolve unwavering.

“And—” you began, but your words were cut off as Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and intense, filled with all the emotion and love that had been building up between you for years.

—

“Hey, babe, how was the train?” you asked as Spencer walked up to you, his familiar, comforting presence immediately easing some of your post-audition nerves.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You just auditioned for Hairspray and you’re asking me how my train ride was??” His tone was incredulous, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m anxious and don’t want to think about it, so tell me about your train ride… or kiss me.”

Spencer’s smile softened as he leaned in closer. “I’ll do both,” he said, his voice tender as he bent down to kiss you. But in his eagerness, he completely forgot about the coffee cup in his hand. As he leaned in, the warm drink spilled, splashing down the front of your shirt.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, jumping back as the coffee soaked through the fabric, surprise and exasperation coloring your voice.

Spencer’s eyes widened in horror, his face turning a deep shade of red. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—let me—” He fumbled, his usual calm demeanor thrown off by the sudden mishap.

Despite the mess, you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the audition melting away. “It’s okay, Spence,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to blot the coffee stain. “I guess some things never change.”

Spencer, still flustered but smiling, handed you a handkerchief, grateful that you were taking it in stride. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, and you knew he meant it.

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fangswbenefits · 1 year ago

Text

Family

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel is a natural when it comes to being a father.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Pure fluff! Dad Miguel.

A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree and the ruffling of the leaves was a clear indication that there was an intruder nearby.

Your moment of peace and quiet was short-lived, but you remained still, folding under your head as both you an Miguel soaked up the Summer sun.

"Pa~pá!" sang a small voice from inside the canopy.

"Ye~ah?" Miguel said, focused on his dimensional travel watch.

"Look at me~e!"

"I'm looking."

"You're not looking!"

You wrinkled your nose at him behind a faint smile, “Miguel O’Hara, I will smash that watch into a million pieces if you don’t focus on your daughter.”

He glanced up at you. “The multiverse—”

“—can wait,” you reassured him, nudging his arm with an elbow. “Jessica is more than capable of taking over for a couple of days.”

He nodded, but only half convinced, which was good enough, considering this was the first time Miguel was taking a few days off from the never-ending stressful work of keeping the canon intact.

It was pleasant enough to be able to go to earth-616B on a little family trip and enjoy the countryside with the guidance of Peter, MJ and little Mayday.

But Miguel was… well, Miguel. A natural worrier who disliked handing over his responsibilities to others.

“Hey, you have something on your face,” he suddenly said in a low voice.

“What is it?” you immediately brought both hands to tap along your skin, searching for anything unusual.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, which sent your heart into overdrive.

“Nice one, O’Hara…”

He replied with a teasing smile that you were so used to loving.

“EEEEW!” your daughter’s voice tore through the empty field, effectively distressing the surrounding fauna.

You watched as Miguel turned off the bleeping device on his wrist and rose from the meadow to his full height, headed toward the tree.

“Alright, little spider, come down.”

You spotted child of five descending upside down from a branch by her web, two front teeth missing, face covered in smudges of dirt, but beaming brightly at the signt of her dad.

“Papá!”

He helped her reach the ground safely and ruffled her unruly hair. “You need to be careful.”

Even from a distance, your heightened senses allowed you to feel the adoration in his voice.

The girl was wiggling now with barely suppressed excitement. "Hey, papá?"

Well, if that wasn't the most mischievous tone of voice you’d ever heard. "Hmm?”

"Do that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing!"

"What thing?" he asked again, feigning confusion.

"THAT thing!" she cheered. "Where you go bzzzz and vssssssh and then BAM!”

"Oh," said Miguel. “That thing."

"Yep!”

"Maybe not," he sighed, but when her uplifted face began to wobble, you knew he had little choice. "Well, don’t tell mommy.”

"Yeeeaah!"

He brought a finger to his lips that she promptly mimicked. “Shhhhhh,” she then giggled.

“I can hear you!” you shouted, sitting on the grass to offer your seal of approval that came in the form of a wide smile.

You trusted her with Miguel, because Miguel trusted her with no one else but you. He would never consciously endanger his child, so you grew to accept that some of their playtime might involve something a bit riskier — as long as no loss of limbs was on the table.

She looked so tiny next to his impressive height, but was definitely a miniature copy of her father.

“We carry them inside us for months only for them to come out looking exactly like their father,” Jessica had once said and you wholeheartedly agreed.

He was wearing casuals, but his suit quickly began to engulf his entire body, leaving him only unmasked. Your daughter was bobbing happily along beside him.

"Stay back," he warned her lightly before sendind two laser-like red strings to coil around a thick branch, and effortlessly bending it into an arch until the tip hit the ground.

"Yey!" she yelped in excitement, toddling off toward the branch.

"Alright. Now, be careful.”

She met this warning with as much enthusiasm as she had for being offered an unlimited supply of candy of her choice. It didn't take much to excite her and you couldn't help but smile and follow as she began climbing up the branch with steady steps.

As she reached the middle, her knees bent as a way to maintain balance. “Do it, do iiiit!”

Miguel chuckled and the twin strings loosened ever so slightly in order to have it wobble up and down, sending the young child into a spiral of pure bliss.

“Faster! Faster!”

“Steady yourself,” he advised instead and she did as she was told, lowering herself and extending both arms as if riding a wave.

To a young spider, this was the closest thing they could get to a bouncing castle, so you didn’t mind this at all.

And neither did Miguel, because he instructed for her to climb onto his shoulders and offered the sweetest and most genuine smile ever.

He let go of the tree branch slowly, and his suit retracted at once, the little girl sliding both arms down his face for support and planting a kiss on top of his head.

“Did you have fun?”

"Yes!" she immediately said with a screech.

"And you’re strong and brave?”

"Yes!"

"And you know I love you, don't you?” he said as he paced toward you with her bouncing on his shoulders. “And mamá too, right? We'll always love you."

She was, delightfully, still very much of fan of such cheesy displays of affection. "Yes," she chirped happily.

You rose to your feet, feeling warmth spread throughout your body at the wonderful sight in front of you.

Miguel, for all his stubbornness and grumpiness, was a marvelous father. It was second nature to him.

"Another kiss?”

She leaned over and planted a noisy kiss on Miguel’s temple and giggled when he did his best to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

You welcomed them with a tight embrace and the feeling of a soft caress along your face as your daughter gave you a toothless smile.

"Let’s head out to uncle Peter’s house for a bath,” you said, pecking the palm of her hand.

“Don’t need one!”

Miguel squeezed her tiny calfs lightly. “Young lady, you do as your mother says.”

“But—”

Another squeeze and she bared her teeth, two tiny fangs emerging.

“Miguel, she’s showing off her fangs,” you said, feigning terror.

“Fangs away!” he said with a smile, bouncing her up and down his shoulders, which had her explode into a laughter.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara drabble

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queen-of-the-avengers · 3 months ago

Text

Mr. Right Now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, past trauma of not feeling good enough, it's better off being alone angst, minor fluff at the end

Summary: As a divorcee with three kids, it’s hard to open up to men and allow them into your children’s lives. You’re a single mother who is just trying to get through each day until you meet Bucky. He might be the one you’ve been searching for all this time. Can you put aside your fears enough to let him in?

Squares Filled: band (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

The only time you’re able to go to the grocery store in the summertime is when you don’t have your kids hanging off your every limb. Your oldest daughter and son are at a summer camp you were able to get them into while your youngest daughter is being watched by your mother who had some time for you to get errands done.

Whoever said parenting was the best thing in the world was lying because you want to cry most days. It’s not that you don’t love your children, you absolutely love them with all your heart. You want nothing more in the world than to be their mom but it’s hard some days. You’re a single mom to three kids which takes a lot out of you. You have no time to do anything for yourself. Whenever they’re at school, you spend your days taking care of your baby girl and cleaning the house only for them to return and mess it up all over again.

Being a mom is one of the hardest jobs in the world and it’s not for everyone. However, when you had your kids, you weren't alone. You had a husband who you thought would be with you forever. Then, you caught him with a twenty-year-old in your bed and that set you back decades. It took you a long time to find someone else after him, which you did, and you thought you had gotten your second chance at love.

He was a breath of fresh air after struggling for years. You only had two kids at the time but it was still a handful since they were both so young. You and your second husband had a daughter together, and you thought this was it. This is your family.

Then, he left without warning. He told you that he didn’t love you anymore and wanted nothing to do with you or your kids. He threatened to take Abby but you fought him through a lawsuit. He was bouncing between homes and didn’t have a steady income, all of which you had. If you thought your first husband was bad, your second husband broke you completely.

You swore off men after that. All you want to do is take care of your kids and live life on your own. It’s hard but you know you can do it. Your mother has been very supportive of you and helps out when she can but she’s much older and can’t do stuff like she normally could. Your father passed a decade ago so neither of you have him to fall back on. Your brother and sister moved out of the country when they turned eighteen and haven’t looked back since.

You’re truly on your own which you never minded until now.

You fill your shopping cart as you go down the list you made before leaving the house, and you look at the next item on your list. You’re not looking where you’re going and almost run into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp and look up.

You gasp again but it’s not from the shock of running into him. This man is… You don’t think you ever saw a more handsome man in your life. He’s tall, like a whole foot taller than you, and has dark hair that is not too long. His eyes are bright blue oceans and he is very muscular.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry,” you mutter.

You’re about to move around him to continue your shopping when he stops you.

“I haven’t seen you around here and I come here every week.”

“Oh, yeah. I usually get my groceries delivered but I had some time today to do it myself.”

“I’m Bucky,” he smiles.

Damn, he has such a great smile, too.

“Y/N.”

“Do you care for some company while you finish?”

“Sure,” you smile. “So, Bucky, have you lived in Washington D.C. for long?”

“On and off. I used to live here years ago. I just recently came back and am now living with my two best friends. You?”

“I just moved here a year ago. I had to get away from… stuff… I used to live in Nevada and thought a change would do me good.”

“Lucky me that you did,” he flirts.

You can’t help the blush that forms on your face. You’re not used to compliments. You finish the rest of your shopping quickly but you don’t want to stop talking to Bucky. He’s the first man you have had such an easy conversation with in a long time. Your mom wants you to put yourself out there again and try dating but you can’t think of anything worse than that. Dating means bringing a new man into your kids’ lives who will probably leave you. You’re not going to do that to them again so you’ll settle for stolen conversations in the grocery store.

Still, you find yourself not wanting to leave the store because then you’ll have to stop talking to Bucky. However, when your mom calls about Abby crying because she’s hungry and you haven’t pumped a bottle for her. She can eat solid food but she loves your milk more. You’re trying to transition her into solid foods but it’s a work in progress.

“Sorry. I have to get back home.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It was really nice to talk to you, though. Maybe I’ll see you back here again.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nods.

You’re gone before he can ask you for your number. You can’t stop thinking about Bucky. You never met a man who could invade all your senses. Your mother left after you got back and you spent the next hour feeding your daughter and putting the groceries away. You put your daughter down for a nap when your phone rings. You take the call when you get to the kitchen to finish with the groceries.

“Hey, Emma.”

“Y/N! You know that band that Leslie goes on and on about?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re playing a gig at The Twisted Bar this weekend. You gotta come with us!”

“I don’t know. I have Abby and I don’t have a sitter.”

“Bring her here. My husband would love to watch her. He’s been so tied with the boys that it’d be nice to watch a girl.”

“Are you sure? What if she gets hungry? She only seems to want my milk.”

“Then pump before coming here. It’s been such a long time since we all went out. Just once stop worrying about your kids. Jace and Lizzy are at camp and it’s likely Abby will sleep the whole night.”

You’re still not sure. Going out with your friends usually ends in one of two ways: either you end up going home early because your kids need you or you end up going home early because all the girls want to do is flirt with men. They’d never cheat on their husbands and they never take it past the occasional flirty comment. When they get like this, guys love to flirt with you and that’s when you call it a night.

You’re not some horny teenager looking for a fun time. You have kids and if these men knew about it, they’d never flirt with you. It’s tiring to go to bars and reject every man because you know what it’s going to lead to.

Still, it’d be nice to go out with your friends since it’s been so long.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but I’m not going there to take some man home.”

“Got it. This is going to be so much fun! Want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll meet you there. What time?”

“Six.”

“I’ll bring Abby over at five, then. We can leave together but I’ll need my car just in case.”

You and Emma talk for a little while longer until you hang up. Friday comes quicker than you’d like, and you had just dropped Abby off at Emma’s house. You’re nervous to leave her alone but you’ve been friends with Emma and Robert for decades so you figure you’d trust them with your kids sooner or later.

You and Emma arrive at The Twisted Bar right after Leslie, Jackie, and April get there. It’s a reunion of the decade since you haven’t seen April in years and Jackie for longer. It’s been hard finding time away from your kids.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you finally made it!” Leslie squeals and pulls you into a hug.

“Eh, I figure it’s time to see my girls.”

“It has been a long time,” April comments.

Leslie grabs drinks while you sit at a table that’s near the band that’s setting up. Leslie has been in love with them ever since she saw them opening for Bon Jovi a few years ago. They’ve been slowly rising to fame but they love playing in small bars to stay connected to their fans. Leslie comes back with the drinks and you sip yours leisurely while your friends down theirs quickly. It’s dangerous when you don’t taste the alcohol; that’s how you get drunk quickly.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some water.”

Your friends wave you off, too invested in the music to listen. You shake your head with a smile and make your way to the bar counter. You look away for a second and run into someone seconds later.

“Hey, Y/N!” You look at the person and see Bucky standing there. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You pause after hearing how that sounds. “Sorry, that sounds weird. I mean, hi.”

“Hi,” he laughs. “I’m with my roommates. They’re here to see the band. They wanted me to come out.”

“Same.”

“I was hoping to see you. I really liked talking to you the other day.”

“Same here.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.”

Bucky gets you and himself a drink before escorting you to one of the back tables. Most everyone is up front listening to the band so the back is clear of crowds. It’s easier to hear him, too.

“So, I know I’ve said this but you… Okay, I’m not very good at this. My friend, Steve, says I need to get out more but I actually like staying in and being alone. I don’t normally do this but I really enjoyed talking to you. Can I have your number?”

Just like that, your entire world shatters. You like Bucky but now that he wants to take the next step, he’s becoming a real person instead. A real person who you might have to take home to your kids. A real person who will just leave you like everyone else. You don’t want to do this to Bucky but you scoff in annoyance.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, Bucky. Look, I gotta get back to my friends.”

“Wait, is it something I said? You don’t have to give me your number if you don’t want to. I just… You’re beautiful and funny. I had a great time with you at the grocery store.”

You don’t mean to be rude or snappy with Bucky but you’re sick and tired of men feigning interest in you only to leave you and your kids. You’re not going to put them through all that trouble if the man isn’t going to stay. If you don’t give men the light of day, then they can’t leave you.

“You want my number?”

“I do.”

“Which number do you want, Bucky?”

“Uh, well, how many numbers do you have?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, I have numbers coming out of my ears. For instance, ten.”

“Ten?”

“Yeah. That’s how many months old my baby girl is.”

Bucky’s face doesn’t fall in disgust but he’s not jumping for joy either. Tears prick your eyes but you won’t let them fall.

“You have a baby girl?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sexy, huh? How about this for a number? Six. That’s how old my other daughter is. Eight is the age of my son. Two is how many times I’ve been married and divorced. Sixteen is the number of dollars I have in my bank account. 480-555-0199. That’s my phone number, and with all the numbers I just gave you, I’m guessing zero is the number of times you’re gonna call it. You’re nice, Bucky, but I’ve been down this road too many times. I will not allow my children to meet a man I know won’t stay in my life. Really, it was nice talking to you but no man wants a woman with three children.”

You grab your drink and leave the table but stop when you hear your phone ringing. You take out your phone and notice a number you don’t recognize. Knowing your daughter is with someone else who’s not your mother, you answer it thinking Leslie’s kids are using their phones to call you.

“Hello?”

“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why anyone would leave you. I understand the walls you’ve put up. I understand why you don’t date or don’t trust men, especially around your kids. I understand that you had to put yourself back together multiple times. I’m not dismissing that, but I can promise you that I am not like other men. I don’t abandon people and I happen to love kids. If you give me a chance, I would love to show you that you’re not a piece of ass. You’re not a notch on someone’s belt. You’re a woman who I would love to get to know.”

You turn to face Bucky who has his phone to his ear. The tears are already coming down whether you want them to or not.

“All I ask for is a chance.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Maybe it’s you who needs to give him a chance. Then maybe, you’ll finally find the one person you’ve been looking for.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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buddierecs · 3 months ago

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fake dating buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

to build a home we deconstruct our rituals by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "after the shooting, eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. like who will get his assets if he dies. who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. what might happen if his family contests buck's guardianship. luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: marry buck." word count: 44k important tags: fake marriage, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut meet me in the middle (underneath a little bit of mistletoe) by: princessfbi "buck and eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays!" word count: 40k important tags: mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, fluff, protective!buddie, jealous!evan buckley, slow burn, smut what do i say (to make me exist?) by: cuddlyobrien "buck gets hurt at chim & maddie’s wedding, earning some temporary amnesia and thinks he was marrying eddie. the doctor advises they let him believe it. eddie is stressed from day one" word count: 27k important tags: temporary amnesia, mutual pining, season 6, anal sex, blow jobs, riding you became my world by: monstrous_moonshine "buck needs help; to get his inheritance money he has to be married. eddie offers to help, because that’s what best friends do, right? he can pretend he’s not woefully in love with buck, surely?" word count: 30k important tags: boys in love, kissing, oblivious!buddie, hurt!evan buckley, first time, hand jobs, anal sex, rimming, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz breathe out now and we fall back in by: withoutthetiger "set during the summer after 5b, buck and eddie are complete idiots (affectionate) while they pretend to be in love and then realize they haven't been pretending at all. It's just a lot of fake dating, written for the prompt "you could never hurt me." word count: 32k important tags: friends to lovers, soft!buddie, first dates, sexual tension, light angst, mutual pining, anal sex, blow jobs, hand jobs raise her with me by: jayjay__884 "buck realizes that it takes a village to raise a child when a baby girl is left on his doorstep. left with a note that tells him she's his, buck tries to do the right thing and step up to the role that was given to him, finding himself responsible for taking care of an entire human being who is depending on him. and with eddie's help, who is on his own journey of healing and self-acceptance, they both learn about the readymade family they've always had as they end up co-parenting their children together and becoming something more." word count: 222k important tags: kid fic, relationship of convenience, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, co-parenting, eventual smut i can see it in your eyes (do you mean it?) by: smilingbuckley "eddie hears that his cousin is getting engaged. not wanting to get set up by multiple family members on awkward dates so he can bring someone to the wedding, he and buck plan to fake date. they put a lot of thought into it, getting comfortable with pda, going on fake dates, even practicing kissing once... and then it's finally time to travel to el paso. but faking it is hard when he's not really faking it at all." word count: 29k important tags: idiots in love, weddings, pre-relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, sharing a bed, eventual smut, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz a thousand words (and then some) by: tawaifeddiediaz when buck and eddie get roped into a photoshoot for the friend of a friend, neither of them expect what they'll have to do. or what it'll cost for their relationship. or, the photoshoot fic that got a little angsty, then a little sexy. word count: 25k important tags: pre-relationship, photoshoots, idiots in love, light angst, soft!buddie, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, explicit sexual content

#i hate the word count on posts omg so it's so short #buck x eddie fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fics #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 show #911 fandom #buddie 911 #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie fanfics #buck x eddie smut #buddie recommendations #buddie recs

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clockwayswrites · 2 months ago

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A Hill to Die On

cw: gender identity issues, overall identity issues

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he’s started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The new year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting too muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough TIm could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason around. It was a good time of the year.

It really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands just brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs. He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting— Replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim refused just to fill in the space that was left for him anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the Replacement.

The problem is, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

---

AN: Look, look, I'm not officially starting this but I had the idea for this scene in my head and had to get it down. (Now I should sleep cause it's past 2 in the morning.)

Anyways, I love me a gnc Tim.

#dp x dc #dead tired ship #brain dead ship #Danny/tim #a hill to die on

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 3 months ago

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TF141 taking you on a picnic date 💐

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

They're a little very all over the place because I wrote all of them on different days lol

I hope you'll enjoy it anyway <3

Some NSFW for all of them, but it's just a little bit at the very end, the rest is sweet fluff!!

Lmk who you would go on a picnic date with!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

John is such a romantic.

Maybe not the flashy kind, but in subtle and sincere ways. He would absolutely love to take you on a picnic date, he might even be more excited about it than you are.

You know how girls have those dreams of specific dates or scenarios??? Well, boys have that too, and this is John's. He finds the perfect spot, a secluded park with a field of wildflowers that bloom beautifully in the summer.

As ready as he was to organize the whole thing himself in the matter of a day, he'd adore to organize it with you. Write a grocery list, make some homemade goods, pack up the car. The domesticity makes his heart do flips.

"Do you reckon champagne would be too over the top?"

"John, honey, we're going on a picnic."

"Touchè."

And it's 100% fool proof.

This man has something planned for every single scenario because nothing will ruin this for him. He'll hold your umbrella while he gets soaked if he has to.

He hasn't asked you to marry him yet, but this seals the deal for him. He's already imagining going on a picnic like this on every single anniversary until you're physically unable to.

Did he overdo it a bit with the outfit? Maybe, but he couldn't care less about potential grass stains when his white button-down shirt and his beige slacks basically make you drool.

John insisted on a classic picnic basket, but he'll accept input regarding the pattern of the blanket. He's so utterly in love with you it's ridiculous. And when you come down the stairs in a flowy and floral sundress the blood in his body doesn't know where to rush first, his heart or his cock.

"Fucking hell, dove. You look divine."

He makes heart eyes at you but also has a raging hard on. What can he say? You keep him balanced.

John has to try so hard not to drop to his knees in front of you and beg. For what? He doesn't even know. It just feels like the right thing to do with you looking like a goddess. He loves it when he can press his nose against your soft mound all while his forehead rests on your pudgy tummy and your fingers card through his hair.

The drive there is lovely. The sun is out, it's a comfortable temperature, and the mood is high. The windows are rolled down, and you both sing along to music while his hand is planted firmly in yours. The location is even more beautiful than you thought. There's willow trees and all kinds of sweet smelling flowers accompanied by the symphony of busy bees and chirping birds.

After everything is set up, it's the best day of your life, probably. It's so so so nice.

And yes, he did bring the champagne.

Your head is in his lap while he strokes your hair and feeds you bits of cake. It's so romantic that it's sickening. SICKENING, I say. He's just so perfect. You talk and laugh, and it's so fun. T

he day goes by in the blink of an eye, and suddenly, it's golden hour, and John swears you're heaven on earth. You're so pretty, and he wants nothing more than to kiss you silly, frankly.

So he does.

Just bristly and sloppy kisses wherever he can reach, your cheeks, jaw, neck. You shift your position, you're now lying down on the blanket, facing each other. The tips of your noses touch, and you're a tangled mess of limbs.

John wants to fuck you more than he ever wanted anything in his life, but he's a man of style, so rubbing you through your panties until your hips buck away from his hand will have to do until you get home and he can take care of you properly <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Johnny only wants to spend time with you. He doesn't care how.

He'll do anything to be by your side. Such a clingy bastard but we all love him for that. He loves being outside, and now he gets to let out his romantic side, too???? He's sold.

I'm also firmly convinced that he listened in on what his sisters gushed about in books or movies, and he uses that as his guideline for dates.

He makes sure there's a variety of different foods. Let's be honest he probably packed way too much, but he just wants to have options! Frankly, Johnny's is positively buzzing with excitement to get to spend such a lovely day with you.

As much as he loves to laze around with you on the couch, he needs air to breathe. So anything that's outside is an immediate yes from him. He's so so so excited that he doesn't shut up about it for days before the actual date.

Johnny is 100% one to overpack. He takes absolutely EVERYTHING, and you end up not even using half of it.

"I- Johnny??"

"Yeah, bonnie?"

"Why, for the love of God, did you bring a hazmat suit???"

"Ya never know!"

He will pack so many outdoor activities, like frisbee, badminton, a football, literally so much but you don't end up using any of it because he'll doze off as the sun shines down on the both of you.

He just can't help it! Your pudgy tummy is such a nice pillow, and the way your fingers rake through his mohawk and over his scalp nearly make his eyes roll into the back of his head.

He doesn't notice the smiles and nice looks the pair of you get from bypassers, but you can't help but giggle. It makes your belly jiggle, which in turn makes Johnny smile, still face down in your soft fat.

After he wakes up, though, there's a lot of talking that you'll happily listen to.

Corny jokes, overexaggerated stories from missions or his family, and from time to time, he'll get distracted by your pretty face with all its soft edges and kiss you.

Constant snacking. I mean, we all know the boys can EAT, but Johnny is such a foodie. Will eat everything and anything.

He also LOVES Irn Bru. It's definitely more of an... acquired taste, shall we say, but I think it's also very nostalgic for him.

He doesn't care what you wear. However, there are some things that get him feral. Sundresses are obviously on the list, but he adores long skirts. He likes how they flow when there's a nice breeze, and he thinks they make you look very elegant.

He will play into the whole Princess charade with long skirts or dresses.

"There's ma princess. Are ya ready to depart, m'lady?"

He will also bow very dramatically.

Undoubtedly, his favorite part of those skirts is when he gets to push them up your plush thighs and bury is face in your sweet cunt while the fabric is bunched up around your wide hips and fiddles with the hem because his goal is to bring you to bliss with his tongue only <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Kyle loves the water.

I don't know why, but I feel it in my bones. From streams and lakes all the way to the great big ocean. His casual style in the summer would definitely be coastal grandson, too.

So your picnic date would obviously take place in the vinicty of water. It's somewhere in a small park that has a nice big lake with lilypads and ducks swimming across it.

You'd be right by the shore, feet in the shallow water while you enjoy your lunch. Kyle is so sweet and considerate!

He'd bring you a bouquet of daisies and lovingly hold your hand in his. If it gets a little too breezy, he'll tuck you into his side and stretch his jacket over the both of you as much as he can.

He always brings you a new rock from that lake when he comes home from his morning run, and when you two are at the beach, he'll collect seashells with you.

It's all about balance and teamwork with Kyle. He makes the sandwiches while you whip up a quick sweet treat. You carry the basket while he has the blanket slung over his shoulder and your drinks in the other hand!

I feel like he'd really enjoy picnics, but they're not his favorite activity. He likes to explore a bit, just sitting around isn't quite his style. But it's nice to just sit and breathe sometimes.

For dates, he prefers the classic going out to dinner. Getting to see you all dressed up in the gentle atmosphere of a cozy restaurant makes his heart swell. But he won't ever deny you anything. Definitely not something as simple as a picnic.

A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he sees a little duck family waddling along the shore before they glide into the water.

"You think we'll have little ducklings of our own one day?"

You can only match his smile as you follow his line of sight.

"Who knows, maybe."

He pulls you close and presses a kiss to your temple. The picnic is starting to grow on him.

"... did you mean actual ducklings, or was it a metaphor for kids?"

"Both?"

As badly as you want to call him ridiculous, the mental image of Kyle with a duckling or a baby makes your heart beat with affection.

Also does not care what you wear, but he, too, has a weakness for sundresses as all men do. The way it hugs your ass, your tummy, and your supple tits makes him want to sink his teeth into your soft flesh.

An absolute sucker for a square neckline. No, I can not elaborate. You'll just have to take my word for it.

You watch the sunset together, the park becoming emptier as the light fades. He loves how you look during the golden hour and will gently hold your face to admire all your pretty features. Kyle likes that the park now only has the both of you and a pair of swans that swim over the lake like lovers.

What he loves even more is making you ride his slender fingers while the only sounds that fill the air is the chirping of cicadas and your heavenly moans while the remnants of the golden sun shine down on you making you look like a dream come true <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Simon isn't thrilled, let's say.

When he thinks of picnics he thinks of big open spaces, obnoxious people with annoying kids and uncomfortable wooden benches. Of which none are his cup of tea.

So you make compromises. Talk about it and ask what he would be okay with. He isn't the biggest fan of PDA, he's stuck between wanting to show off his love for you to the whole world and keeping it close to his heart like the sacred thing that it is.

But Simon perks up when you mention something about a lovely forest that's pretty secluded. Now that he can work with. Even though he's a born city boy, he'd much rather take a walk in a forest or on a little trail than on the busy streets of Manchester or London.

So he agrees, deciding that your excited reaction and thank you kisses were already worth it. He watches as you prepare the lunch you're taking with you, answering all your questions on what he'd prefer.

The truth, he'd eat rocks if your lovely hands prepared them.

He packs up the car and drives to the car park nearby, grumbling over the fee before it all melts away when he sees your smile.

The walk there on its own is nice. Holding your hand and listening to the birdsong that echoes along the tall trees. Of course, he's carrying everything.

You will never ever have to carry anything with him around, not on his watch. It's his way of repaying you for taking care of him and loving him. He would've carried you as well if you weren't so fussy about it.

When you set up the blanket and just lay down, it's the first time you think you've ever seen his shoulders untense on their own.

Simon's eyes even flutter shut, and his breath evens out.

It's just the two of you in a little glade with the vast green of the woods making your own little sanctuary.

Your head is on his shoulder, and his nose is buried in your hair.

"This.. this is nice."

He speaks so softly as if not to disturb the peace of nature. You can't help but smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad you think so. It is really nice."

It's mostly pleasant silence after that with the occasional short conversation, but that's how you like it best.

When you hand him his lovingly prepared sandwich, he catches your chin between his fingers and kisses you so softly that you melt right into his touch.

"You're so patient with me, love. I appreciate it."

"Of course. A few compromises aren't the end of the world if it means you're happy."

He's a fucking goner, okay.

He loves it when you wear one of his sweat jackets or flannels over a nice dress. It's so obviously not yours which signals to other people that you're taken.

And considering the size and color of the thing, it's safe to assume it belongs to that hunk of a man always by your side.

He lays back onto the soft blanket and pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you. There are a few sun spots shining through the thick canopy of leaves, warming your skin.

You're half asleep, dozing off, ignoring the way he fiddles with his trousers until he pushes your panties to the side and sinks his thick cock into your pussy, having you warm his length. It makes him feel so impossibly close to you and his brain melts and before you know it, he's snoring beneath you, his dick buried inside of you <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you liked it! <3

More CoD and other works -> 💫

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