#actor x reader

[blackynsupremacy]

NICHOLAS BEING

OBSESSED WITH YOUR

BOOBS HEADCANONS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: nicholas can’t enough of your boobs.

contains: sfw and nsfw (18+) so minors dni! established relationship, nicholas being a simp, nicholas being a pervert, making out, mention of smut, ambiguous unprotected/protected (it’s up to the reader), oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), riding, major love to your titties, nipple sucking/biting, food play, ice play, slight breeding kink, praise kink, mention of sending nudes, cuddling, aftercare.

taglist: @stereotypicalbarbie @sabrinasopposite @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @hnch33rios @tryingtograspctrl @gxuxhdjdu @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @ellethespaceunicorn @camiesully

• your boyfriend nicholas loves everything about you.

• your mind, your soul, your heart.

• and of course, your body.

• one of his favorite parts: your boobs.

• the biggest simp to them thangs.

• it all started when he came over to your place for a dinner and movie night.

• ya’ll were gonna cook together, eat, and watch a movie. just kicking with each other, basically.

•when you opened the door, he peeped your usual lounge wear consisted of sweats and a white, ribbed tank.

• what he also peeped was that you didn’t wear a bra. you were a little confused on why he was blushing when he stepped inside.

• “because well, you know, you’re not wearing a…yeah.” he awkwardly gestured towards your figure and tried his best to avert his eyes.

• of course he believed you were this breathtakingly stunning woman who was indeed sexy as hell, but he didn’t want you to see him as a creep by any means.

• he respects you—a lot!

• when he told you why, you couldn’t help but laugh.

• “wait. what am i not wear—oh. ooohh!”

•you weren’t thinking of it that much because this was your house and you felt that comfortable around nicholas to walk braless around him. you reassured him this was just how you relax at home.

•you’d sometimes walk around shirtless, but that’s a story for later.

• from that day on, nicholas gained a bit of confidence regarding his love for your chest.

• it started out with you guys cuddling on the couch. his big wholesome self was laying on top of you with arms wrapped around you like a koala. his head rested on your torso, just a little below your chest.

• you didn’t mind. that’s your lil’ bookie butt!

•you and nicholas were laying in a comfortable silence. one hand massaging his hair, while the other was scrolling through your tiktok.

• “hmm…y/n.” he murmurs, nuzzling his head up closer. you spaced out a little and he called your name again a little louder.

• “yeah, nicholas?” you respond still paying attention to your scrolling.

• “there’s something i wanna try. would you be okay with that?”

• “yeah, sure, go ‘head.”

• nicholas took that green light to slide his large hands up under your shirt to softly caress the skin of your stomach, just taking his time and easing his way in.

• he was gonna make sure you’d stop scrolling once and for all and give him some attention.

•you thought he was just giving you an innocent body massage as you felt him move your shirt up your stomach.

•you giggled a bit when he sprinkled some sweet kisses along your navel.

• now you were starting to get confused. was he about to go down on you, right now?

•it was the complete opposite, nicholas was lifting that little ass shirt of yours higher and higher until your breasts were fully exposed to him.

•the girls were sitting pretty and looked ready to be taken care of.

• with both hands, he grasps onto them. with a dark, focused vision, his fingers take time to knead, roll, and play around.

• “nick, baby, what are you—ah, shit.” your sentence was cut short when pressed his tongue flat against your nipple, giving it a deliberate lick before his lips surrounds it to give it a good sucking.

• nicholas felt smug as fuck when he heard the thud of your phone hit the floor. now both of your hands were caressing his head as you brought him in closer.

• he’s a cheeky little perv when it comes to your boobs.

• he sees your nipples as little hershey kisses.

• ya’ll could just be standing there and he’d just grab a titty with no logical reason.

•he likes to playfully bury his face in your chest.

• gives you a motorboat every once in a while.

• he loves when you cuddle right on top of him, so your chests would be pressed together.

• he’s a sucker for you when hug him from behind.

• bonus for when you hug him from behind and you’re both shirtless.

• your plush, soft chest pressing and rubbing against the hard, toned muscles of his back are an intoxicating sensation.

• besides those itty bitty tanks you wear, it drives him crazy when you wear bikinis, corset tops, and low cut dresses.

• girl, he’d be ready to give it to you if you wear any of that with one of his necklaces.

• especially his gold cross chain. he’d be ready to literally fold you.

• you’d sometimes send him pics of you covering bare chest with his necklace on to tease him.

• for your instagram post on halloween, you and him recreated the iconic, yet scandalous album cover from janet jackson’s 1993 self-titled album.

• it’s the one with your hands on your head and he’s concealed behind you with his hands covering your breasts.

• ya’ll went so viral that queen janet herself gave you a like, comment, and a follow.

•nicholas thought you were so cute while you were having a fan girling moment.

• ya’ll didn’t give two shits about whatever backlash ya’ll received.

• you just got followed by janet jackson, so nothing else mattered.

• he loves to see them thangs jump and jiggle.

• one time you jogged up to him to tell him something and this man kept staring at your chest like he’d been hypnotized after seeing them move like that.

• you’d have to be the one to bring him back down to earth.

• “nicholas, i’m trying to tell you something important. my eyes are up here, baby boy.”

• he’d nervously laugh and apologize, he felt so embarrassed. he swears up and down that he has better self-control.

• you reassured him that you were going to let him see them soon.

• when you guys work out together. he would notice the bounce of your boobs when you were running on the treadmill.

• or when you sweat, it leaves your brown skin glistening in that area.

• his nasty self don’t give a fuck, he wants to lick it.

• obviously gropes onto your breasts while you guys makeout.

• he loves when you whimper in his mouth as his grip gets more intense.

• you were playing him in pool. it was hot as hell, so of course you wore a fucking corset top.

• nicholas just watched attentively each time you bent over to hit the balls with your pool cue.

• his eyes couldn’t pull away as your breasts pressed flush against the table.

• you didn’t notice because of your competitiveness. you just wanted to kick nicholas’ ass in this game.

•well, you did.

• man was in such a titty tizzy, he fumbled the game.

• you couldn’t help, but to gloat and he was still happy for your win.

• plus, he got to see your boobs, so did he really lose?

• he sings your praises each time you expose yourself before sex.

• “fuck, my girl is so fucking beautiful.”

• “don’t you see what you do to me, y/n?”

• “please, let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

•when he goes down south, one hand is intertwined with yours while the other is playing around with your nipple as his tongue brings you to euphoria.

• they’re one his favorite places to release on after you’ve given him the world’s best head.

• he goes fucking crazy when he sees it dripping down your nipples.

• loves to alternate between each boob. he wants to make sure the girls get equal tlc.

• pull on his hair harder, his nibbles turn to bites.

• to spice things up, he’ll have you decorate your boobs with whip cream, chocolate sauce, or icing for him to lap it clean.

• his personal favorite is circling an ice cube around your nipples to get them cold and erected before placing his hot tongue on each.

• he’s mesmerized by the way the girls bounce whether you’re riding him or you’re beneath him in missionary.

• if it’s in reverse cowgirl, he’d hold on to your boobs for dear life.

• if he’s taking you from the side, one hand is on your leg to angle it up while the other gripping onto your chest.

• sometimes he’d just sit back and watch. he’d enjoy the show with his hands behind his head.

• or if he’s in a sentimental mood, he’d hold you by the waist and bring your chests as close as possible until you both become undone.

• afterwards, he’d run you both a bath to soothe your worn out bodies.

• he gently massages your boobs with soapy hands while whispering about how good you make him feel and not just in a sexual sense.

• he’d want to get you pregnant to see your boobs grow even bigger.

• he’d dress you in a sheer, satin nightgown that he bought you.

• he you got seven of them in different colors.

• when you cuddle in bed, he loves to be the big spoon, so that he can slide his hand under your top to caress your erect nipple.

• boobs aside, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “we could get a bit more risky if you’d like”

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!seunghyun x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! suggestive! perfect mix of heart warming, sweet, and spicy!

୨ৎ summary: seunghyun’s always been the type to tease, be affectionate, and act cute with you not caring who sees or hears. sometimes it becomes a bit too much and that’s when your shyness hits an all time high and your forced to playfully push him away but.. he never budges. this is seunghyun we’re talking about.

୨ৎ from myeong: hello!! so happy to be taking this request of course! anything for sweet seunghyun 🥹 I hope you enjoy this!! x

seunghyun stands in front of the crowd giving a small speech about how excited, delighted, and satisfied he is with all the squid game love. your glossed lips curl up into a gentle smile watching him turn into a man that you’ve always dreamed of seeing, a man that is much happier, confident, and comfortable being himself. it took many years of hardship and a tight bond you both had to get him to this point but it was well worth it. marriage wasn’t something that was constantly on your mind but the thought of marrying him and giving him a child sounded like a life you could definitely start living. as seunghyun finished up the speech he bowed and made his way over to you his arms immediately wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his chest like he loved doing so much. shocked? just a little bit. being on the much shyer side had always gotten in the way of his pda but he found it insanely adorable and that’s why he continued such pda just to see your cute expression every time he’d kiss, touch, or grab you.

“I’m so proud of you.” the whisper sweetly leaves your lips and you press a gentle but quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away completely—or at least tried too before his strong grip pulled you back into him, “where’s my girl goin’ hm? not leaving me so fast.” his deep voice always sent chills down your spine and thankfully the crowd around you weren’t too focused on the scene that played out in front of them. slipping your hand around his much warmer one and pulling him towards the table you both sat at before he was called up to speak, seunghyun stopped you before you could sit back down with a evident smirk across his thin lips. “what—” not being able to finish when he pulled you into his lap letting his hands find your waist rubbing at the thin fabric of your sundress he picked out for you to wear. “I think it’s only fair that everyone here knows we’re together.” a light chuckle left him and you playfully rolled your eyes, “don’t you agree? I mean.. we could get a bit more risky if you’d like.” and with that his lips found the back of your neck placing a few open mouthed kisses to the soft skin before pulling away and blowing on the area, “seunghyun! people can see us..” a giggle left your lips despite trying to sound irritated at his behavior, he knew that you loved it.

“this dress looks so good on you..” and just as you were about to reply to him lee jungjae walked up and took a seat in front of you both only causing warmth to rush through your entire body—just a bit embarrassed by how you had been sitting on your boyfriend’s lap at an event. slowly seunghyun started to speak with him about how difficult filming for this season was for the both of them, finding yourself playing with his long fingers that had been wrapped around your waist tapping in a gentle manner. although he had been doing so much better the anxiety still took over at times and with you here it was a way to calm himself down and know that things were perfectly safe and sound.

another man walked up and grabbed the attention of jungjae which meant seunghyun was no longer interested in their conversation and his head turned to you, leaning in to press his lips against your own. this had been the most affectionate he’s ever been in public and you couldn’t wrap your head around why. “is everything okay?” you asked quietly before his lips pressed against yours again in a almost possessive way. “mhm, always.” his reply was short and sweet because he wasn’t finished with you just yet large hands finding the top of your bare thighs and giving them each a squeeze. at this point it felt like it was just you two here until you heard the familiar voice of lee byunghun and immediately stood from his lap, bowing to the older man in front of you. “I see he can’t keep his hands off you.” byunghun chuckled enjoying how much in love seunghyun was with you and you turned to give him a playful glare before sitting down in your own seat although it didn’t take seunghyun long to take ahold of your hand and pull it towards his lips pressing a few kisses to each finger. “you’re being so affectionate, why? I’m not complaining but.. people have been looking at us for a few minutes now.” a deep chuckle left his chest and he took the time to look around at said people who were supposedly staring at you both.

“who cares, my love. can’t a man be in love with his gorgeous girl and show intimacy, hm? it’s not like we’re having sex on the table.” and you reached over to slap at his chest not believing the words that just came from his lips, especially with byunghun right in front of you two. seunghyun shrugged his broad shoulders before standing up and pulling you up along with him, “why don’t we go dance? or maybe we can take a short bathroom break? and no we won’t be using the bathroom.” an annoyed groan left your lips and he pulled your back towards his chest letting his arms wrap around your waist, “oh hush. I know you enjoy this too much.” his voice against your ear made your knees weak and you slowly nodded your head not wanting to nod at all and agree with him but that would be lying.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

adam designated driver

intoxicated!readerxcaretaker!adam

a/n: adam driver is maybe like the love of my life I hope he reads well. this is also an older fic but maybe 2020-ish?

wc: 2.3k

18+ MDNI | no smut but sexual themes

summary: Y/N went out and had a few too many, when trying to call a taxi driver, she taps her friend adam's contact instead.

"Can I get a whiskey sour?!"You managed to shout over the pulsating bass.

The bartender nodded, turning around to grab the bottles he needed. 

He was in his mid-twenties, sporting a thick beard and jewelry: trendy black stretchers, multiple rings on his fingers, and bead bracelets that swung from his wrists as he shook the shaker vigorously.

You observed his rings up close as slid your fifth drink of the night in front of you.  You shouted a 'thank you' and passed him the money. The chilled glass froze your palm as you grabbed it. You winced hissed.

You were already intoxicated, which resulted in you feeling warmer than usual. You began to drink your cocktail, wincing from the prominent bourbon taste hitting your tongue. 

Turning to the dance floor on your bar stool, you observed your friends dancing provocatively in front of the men.

They would grind on each other and kiss for the sake of attention as if their clothing alone wouldn't draw attention, and it would work every time. Men who were complete strangers would buy you and your friends multiple rounds throughout the night hoping to get lucky.

Tonight, you all wore matching tight-fitted black mini skirts and tops that barely covered your chest. Your outfit in question was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it was like wearing a costume. When you'd dress like that, it was as if you were a new person, for one night. You immediately gained a newfound confidence and your adventurous side would come out to play.

You grinned against your glass, chuckling to yourself.

How you loved being a woman.

You scootch off the seat, stumbling, trying to find your footing. Your sense of balance was terrible when you were drunk and your heels did not help with that at the moment. 

Eventually, you made your way to your friends on the dance floor, joining the small circle to include yourself again.

"Y/N! There you are, I missed you!" Your little blonde friend threw herself on you. You caught her in your arms, laughing. 

The six of you danced to the beat. Hips swaying, arms in the air, hair flying everywhere. You could feel the blood pumping through your veins, and sweat forming on your forehead, but you didn't care you were having so much fun.

our arms were raised in a state of intoxicated freedom as you tried to keep up with your friends, whose energy seemed endless.

Your fingertips tingled as you waved your hands to the rhythm, and your feet grew numb from the constant stomping.

Your head felt heavy on your neck, and your eyelids became harder to keep open. You were running out of breath.

Your movements turned sloppy as your body began to fatigue, even though your mind insisted you had more energy than you actually did. Your chest heaved, struggling to breathe in the tight top.

A couple hours went by and the club slowly began to empty out as people left in small crowds. The night was approaching its end. 

You were seated in a booth with fewer friends, all of you trying to call your drives home.

Your vision was blurry as you fiddled with your phone, trying to hold it properly.

The aggressive blue light blinded you. You squinted, opening your contacts app.

A few scrolls down and you found your usual Taxi Driver's phone number.

You pressed it, bringing your phone close to your ear. The ringing echoed loudly in your ears as you drunkenly awaited a response. He finally answered. 

"Ugh-mkay, uh I'm at thuh Sound Night Club.... on Las Palmas, can you cohme get me? I'm fuckhing drunhk." You slurred into the phone mic.

After a few exchanges, you hung up. "Welp ladies, my taxi issa comin soon so I gotta wait outside." You stood, steadying yourself on the table. You draped your jacket over your shoulders, clinging your wallet and phone to your chest. You gave them each a kiss on the cheek and said your goodbyes. 

Your heels padded on the tacky red carpet as you slowly made your way to the entrance. Before leaving you wished the bouncer a good night. "It's not my birthday, but thank you." He replied. You just smiled, confused. 

You pushed the heavy doors open, only to be greeted with a freezing gust of air. Your exposed legs were now covered in chills. The street lights illuminated your flushed cheeks; how nice. You leaned your back against the club's brick wall and waited for your Taxi. 

A shiny black Camaro pulled up to the curb, flashing its lights and honking its horn. You stayed put, wondering whose ride it was. It then honked again.

You just observed silently. 

The driver's door opened and a tall dark man rose from the car. "Y/N?" He shouted. You jumped slightly. This wasn't your taxi driver: You wondered who the man was, and how he knew your name.

Fucking trouble, that's who.

The unknown man was shouting your name. You looked around to see if anyone else was outside that you could ask for help; not one.

Fuck it, you thought.

You took a run for it, your cheap heels clicking on the cement sidewalks, and you gripped all of your belongings as if your life depended on it, and at that moment it did. 

The streets of Los Angeles were dangerous at this time of night, and you were the desired victim; a drunk, helpless, pretty girl in slutty clothing.

So much for being a woman!

The cold air breezed through your product-filled hair as you ran down an alley, only to be cornered by the car again.

You stopped in your tracks, shocked. Your heart pounded in your ears and your mouth was now dryer than a desert. You couldn't find your voice to yell for help.

The man got out again and started running after you, leaving his door open. The car lights blinded you, you could only see his tall shadow approaching you, quickly.

You once again tried to make a run for it but your heel fell through a manhole cover. You rolled your ankle and fell to your knees, your full weight hitting the solid pavement. You groaned in pain. The man rushed to your sides, as you cried on your hands and knees.

This was the end.

"Y/N! What were you thinking? You could've gotten seriously hurt! You could've gotten hit by a fucking car!!" The familiar voice gritted with rage. You lifted your head trying to identify this strange individual's face, only to reveal the face of your friend, Adam. 

"Adam? Why the fuhhck are yohu trying to kidhnap me for?" You slurred, trying to push away from his grip. "Kidnap? What? -Y/N, you called me from the club asking me to pick you up." He raised an angry eyebrow. 

You just broke down in tears, feeling lost and confused.

"You're too drunk." He grumbled, shaking his head.

"nO, I called, Denis. My usual taxi." You squinted, pulling out your phone to show him. Adam plucked the phone from your grasp and examined the phone.

"Y/N, it says Driver. Driver, Adam." He sighed impatiently.

"Oh, well, i swearr thaht I actually talked to hi-WOah!" Adam had cut you off by picking you up bridal style from the ground.

"Let me down!" You attempted to squirm but your lack of energy or control didn't allow you to do so.

"No, Y/N. You hurt your ankle. Now stop whining and let me take care of you. It's late- It's 4 in the fucking morning and you're acting like a child." He knelt down to grab your jacket that was at his feet and proceeded to place you on the passenger side of his car.

He then resumed his place at the wheel and sped off to his apartment. His car hummed loudly down the silent streets.

During the drive, you were quiet, your scraped knees were pulled to your chest and you faced your window, observing the lights that flashed by as Adam sped through the neighbourhood. 

You began to feel your soberness again because all the adrenaline was gone and the pain was now settling in.

Adam pulled into the parking garage and stopped the car in his usual spot. He turned off his vehicle and picked you up once more, this time with less anger. You toyed with the collar of his shirt as he carried you to his door. He had so many birthmarks on his neck.

Arriving at 11B, he managed to unlock and kick his door open. He used his elbows to switch on the lights and laid you on the grey sofa. 

"Do you need anything? Some pants, another shirt? Socks?" He spoke on top of you, trying to keep you awake.

"This outfit is too tight, Adamhm, can I borrow some long socks and one of your T-shirts?" You breathed out, with your eyes closed. Your head felt heavy against the firm couch pillow, it's like you were sinking in quicksand.

"I'll be right back." He said. 

You peeked an eye open to observe his apartment decor. It was minimalistic, with tones of light greys, topes and whites. Indie artists covered his walls, and colourful woven rugs were sprawled across the floor. He had lots of books on his shelf in the corner, you propped yourself up and dragged your feet to the library dizzily.

Poetry.

 Adam had lots of notorious poets in his collection.

He returned shortly.

"Here you go. Are you sure you don't want some shorts or sweatpants? They have drawstrings, so you can tighten it as much as you want." He placed the clothing on the oak coffee table that you were now making your way to. 

"I'm sure... thank you, Adam." You smiled unzipping your painfully tight top, exposing your red push-up bra. Adam's eyes diverted to the floor, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs in my bedroom. It's the first door on your left." He turned to leave. 

"Wait, Adam!" You let the top fall to your feet.

"Yes?" He turned around, making only eye contact, trying to not observe your figure.

"You have poetry books in your library." You said, sliding your skirt off, leaving you in only your matching lace undergarments. 

Adam controlled his breathing. 

"I do, I do, uh, do you read lots of... poetry?" He asked leaning against his living room door frame.

"I actually used to write some and read them at open mic nights." You smiled, unclipping your bra swiftly, allowing your breasts to bounce out of your bra.

"Much better," You muttered.

"I-I uh, I didn't know that." He bit the inside of his cheek, face remaining unreadable. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest and fixed his posture. You could hear his foot tapping the floor, and you could sense uneasiness in him.

Oh?

Casually, you let the bra fall, like your top, and slid on his grey Star Wars t-shirt that he probably had received from a fan.

Adam was not one to watch let alone buy merchandise from his own projects. The Kylo graphic tee looked cute on you, it ended mid-thigh and wasn't too wide.

"I still write sometimes, but not as much as I'd like to, you know? What about you, do you write?" You sat on the low coffee table, knowing well, that Adam was struggling to keep his composure and slid on his long black socks that went up to your knees. 

"I do, but I don't think that it's good." He chuckled, trying to seem less awkward. You simply smiled at the statement and found your place on the couch. 

"um- you need some water and aspirin, I'll go get that for you." He said and walked out of the room, his heavy footsteps thumped on the creaky wooden floors. 

In one hand he had a big glass of iced water, and in the other, he had two tiny pills. "Thank you," you mumbled tiredly, washing down the medicine with water. "Need anything else?" He asked glancing at the time: 4:52 AM.

"No, I'll be fine, thank you, Adam. For everything. It's really appreciated. Also, I'm sorry for earlier, I thought you were trying to hurt me, it was dumb." You looked down at the glass that you held in your lap, in embarrassment. 

"You are...welcomed." He gave you a small close-mouthed smile before shutting off the lights and going upstairs to his own bed.

You tossed and turned on that shitty sofa. It was small compared to your bed at home and the throw blanket was too thin for your liking, you really wished you would've taken up that offer on the sweatpants. 

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, now fully sober and exhausted. 

You quietly got up and proceeded to make your way upstairs to the first bedroom on the left. You turned the doorknob slowly and pushed it even slower to avoid making any noise. You saw that his bedside light was on, and you could make out faint clicking noises. When you fully opened the door, you were happy to be greeted by Adam sitting shirtless in bed, typing on his computer. 

"Hi." You quietly spoke. 

He lifted his chin and met your eyes with his brown ones. "Hi." He gave you a toothy smile. 

"Can't sleep either?" You asked, padding towards his gigantic bed. "No, not really." He chuckled closing his laptop and placing it on his bedside table.

You sat on the foot of his bed, observing his thick chest and shoulders. He was a very attractive man, very large, he looked soft. You bit your lip at the thought.

"Come." He lifted the covers from the unoccupied side of the bed and tapped the mattress like when prompting a dog or cat to come sit next to you.

You obeyed and got under the covers next to him, already feeling his warmth.

You hummed in delight as he turned off the lamp. Adam laid on his side, facing you. You did the same, trying to focus your eyes on his face through the new darkness. 

He let out a tired sigh and without warning, he pulled your whole body forward. Your head was buried in his chest, his bicep supported your neck, and his other arm rubbed your back.

"Sleep, or you'll get sick tomorrow morning. "

You smiled and inhaled the scented body wash he used. You absent-mindedly pressed a kiss to his chest, making him hum lovingly.

A moment of thinking passed and he then tipped your head back, to place a long tender kiss on your lips. You returned the kiss, feeling his plump lips against yours in delight, sending butterflies in your stomach.

After, you returned to his chest and he placed another kiss on your forehead, drifting you slowly to sleep. 

oh adam, i'd die for you

[lowkeyrobin]

HEY HEY HEY HEY!! can i req something about walker with and s/o that does choir and/or theatre (if both isn’t too much) PLEASE PLEASE IT WOULD BE SO SILLY PLEASE 🙏

ooo okok I can definitely try! ; idk much ab theatre so I apologize if anythings wrong ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also sorry if this is so short I just didn't have any more ideas lol

WALKER SCOBELL ; theatre kid

summary ; theatre kid + cool weird kid = awesome sauce

warnings ; language

word count ; 226

masterlist

he's always sticking around for rehearsals

if he can't he'll be waiting in the parking lot with his mom or something 💀💀

and he will be attending every show

he finds them genuinely entertaining

and he will watch the original of whatever you're performing at least once so he knows what's going on

he buys you a little gift after the last show that pertains to said show

like a lion plushie for the lion king ykwim

he will be reading and responding to any/all backstage texts LMAO

"dude ___ is out sick and we don't know where the backup is kill me rn"

"HELP WHAT"

he secretly films and puts it on his tiktok/instagram

and he allows his fandom edit you LMAO

quietly sings along / lip syncs to the songs

he probably brought aryan and leah along for shits and giggles

and he sends you weird looks that you try your best to ignore 💀

he pounds through like 3 bags of popcorn no joke

he grabs you some cookies for after the show too

if you have to wear any makeup and you don't take it off after changing, he WILL be taking .5s of you

like a full face and you're wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweats 💀

he takes you to get dinner afterward and most likely some ice cream / milkshakes too

[insidekatmind]

Not just acting~Park Hae-soo

Wearning: +18,smut,age-gap

Request: yes!

The film set was lit by soft lights, a perfect contrast between the elegance of the club and the murky atmosphere that the scene was supposed to evoke. You were sitting in front of the dressing room mirror, while the makeup artist adjusted the last details: sinfully red lips, long and provocative eyelashes. You were wearing a black lace corset that enhanced your curves, transparent tights and vertiginous heels. On top of your head, a hair clip with rabbit ears completed the showgirl look.

It was the crucial scene of the film: you had to dance on him, provoke him, get close until you touched him, while he, the unscrupulous tycoon that Park Hae Soo played with mastery, had to remain impassive, in a game of seduction and power. You were 24 years old, young and hungry for success, while he, at 43, was an experienced actor, used to maintaining control in every situation. Or at least that's what you thought.

When the director called for action, music filled the club. Your body moved with confidence, sinuous, perfect for the role. Your hips swayed as you approached the couch where he sat with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His gaze was fixed on you, and even though you knew he was acting, there was something in his eyes that seemed real.

You sat astride his legs, your hands sliding up his silk jacket. He remained still, but his breathing grew ever so slightly heavier. You felt his tension beneath you, the way his body responded, barely perceptible, but there. Your movements grew bolder: a rotation of your hips, your lips close to his ear as you whispered the scripted line. And then you felt his hand, which should have remained limp, tighten momentarily on your thigh, a gesture imperceptible to the camera, but one you could feel distinctly.

Your heart pounded in your chest. Was it just acting? Or was the line between fiction and reality dissolving in that moment? You looked into his eyes, finding something deeper than a simple role. A hidden desire, perhaps, or just an illusion born from the fire of the scene.

You continued to grind against him, dancing sensually, just like the script said. He remained stoically in character, his piercing gaze fixed on you, his hand still on your thigh. However, his composure was faltering. The rhythm of his breathing was heavier, more erratic, betraying the growing tension within him. Every move you made, every whisper of your voice seemed to tighten a coil inside him, slowly unraveling the control he so carefully maintained. Your body heat against his was like an intoxicating fire, and he had to concentrate all his strength to keep his character from breaking.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Your hips rocked against him, and he could feel the fabric of his pants growing tighter with each movement. His grip on your thigh tightened further, his fingers digging into your flesh. He was struggling to maintain the act, to keep himself from giving in to the overwhelming sensations that coursed through him. But it was getting harder and harder with each second that passed.

Your fingers traced a path down his chest, finding the edge of his shirt. Despite the strict instructions to maintain the scripted gestures, the need to feel his skin grew stronger with each beat of the music. You wanted, no, needed, to test the limits of this role.

His gaze darkened and he leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek, his words low and urgent. "You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, trying to maintain the authority of his character, but the trembling of his voice betrayed his internal struggle.

His hand slid higher, his fingers tracing patterns along the edge of your corset, the touch almost searing against your bare skin. The fabric of his pants was strained tight now, the evidence of his desire for you unmistakably apparent.

"You shouldn't test me," he warned, his voice gravelly and low, the words torn from his throat.He could feel your skin against his fingers, the soft lace of your corset giving way to his touch. He wanted to push you back, to pin you against the couch and take what he needed, but he resisted, fighting against his own desires.

He looked into your eyes, seeing the desire mirrored there. It was a challenge, a test of his self-control. But he couldn't resist any longer. He moved his hand to the small of your back, pulling you closer, until your chests were pressed together.

His arm wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on the bare skin exposed by the corset, the touch electric. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart thudding against your chest, his breath ragged against your neck.

He leaned in, his lips mere inches from your ear, his voice a husky whisper filled with both command and need. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

You continued to grind against him, as write in the script, and kissed his jaw.

He swallowed back a moan, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of your hips, guiding your movements. The edge of his composure was unraveling, every touch of your lips and the rhythm of your body against his taking him to the brink.

He leaned his head back against the couch, exposing the column of his neck, an invitation and a surrender.

He was losing the battle, the feel of your body against his, the way you moved with such grace and sensuality was driving him wild. His eyes closed again, and he let out a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you even closer.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring the curves and valleys of your form, as if committing them to memory. He was desperate, his touch growing more and more unrestrained with every passing second.

His lips found yours again, claiming your mouth in a fierce, greedy kiss, his tongue demanding entrance and exploring the depths of your mouth with an intensity that bordered on possessive.

Your kisses were like a drug, and he was addicted. He moaned against your lips, his hands moving up to tangle in your hair, holding you close as he devoured you. His body was on fire, every nerve ending ablaze with desire.

He broke the kiss only to trail kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin, marking you as his. He wanted everyone to know that you were his, that you belonged to him.

You arched your back, a moan escaping your lips as his mouth traveled down your neck and to your collarbone, his teeth raking over your skin. He was marking you, claiming you in the most primal way possible, and you couldn't deny that it made you weak in the knees.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you.

The director yelled "Cut!", but it took a moment for both of you to move away from each other.

You pulled away from him, still panting, your body trembling from the intensity of the scene. The room was thick with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from both of your bodies.

He looked at you, his gaze still darkened with desire, but also with a hint of something else. A flicker of confusion, perhaps, or regret. He couldn't deny that the line between acting and reality had blurred in that moment.

He sat there, still breathing heavily, his eyes locked on yours. He knew what he had done, what he had let himself do. The way you looked at him, the way you felt against him, it was all too real. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the way your body had moved against his.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure. But it was no use. He knew that he couldn't go back to being just colleagues after this. Something had changed, and it was his own fault.

The crew were busy moving equipment around, discussing the next scene, oblivious to what had just played out.

You and him were left sitting there, both of you trying to collect yourselves.

His mind was in turmoil, the memory of your body pressed against his, the way you had moved, it was etched in his mind. He couldn't ignore the attraction, the spark that had ignited during the scene.

He glanced at you, noticing the way you avoided his gaze. He knew you were thinking about it too, the way your bodies had responded to each other, the intensity of the moment.

He leaned back against the couch, trying to steady his breathing, but it was no use. He could still feel your touch on his skin, your taste on his lips. It was driving him mad.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence between you. "We need to talk," he said, his voice rough and low.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, low and serious. You had been trying to avoid him, trying to ignore the way your body had responded to him, the way your mind kept replaying the scene over and over.

You looked at him, your own voice barely above a whisper. "What is there to talk about?"

He met your gaze, his eyes locking with yours. He could see the tension in your eyes, the same mix of desire and uncertainty that he was feeling.

"Everything," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "The scene, what happened between us, it's not just acting anymore."

He ran a hand through his hair again, frustration etched on his face. "We can't ignore it. We can't just go back to being colleagues."

You couldn't deny the truth in his words. The scene had been intense, the line between acting and reality had blurred in a way you never thought possible. You could still feel the heat of his touch, the way his body had responded to yours.

You sighed, looking away from him, avoiding his gaze. "What do you expect us to do about it?"

He watched you sigh, and his gaze darkened even more. The sight of you trying to avoid him was like a punch to the gut. He wanted to pull you closer, to make you look at him, to make you understand how he felt.

He shifted on the couch, moving closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face. "I want you," he admitted, his voice low and raw.

Your breath caught in your throat, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had been trying to deny it, to ignore the way his gaze made you feel, the way your body responded to him. But hearing him say it, admitting it out loud, it was like a spell had been broken.

You looked at him, your own desire mirrored in your eyes. "I want you too," you admitted, your voice soft but firm.

He felt a surge of satisfaction at your admission, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of desire. Hearing you say it, seeing the way your eyes darkened with desire, it was too much.

He moved closer still, his body now only inches away from yours. He reached out and cupped your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive.

Your eyes fluttered closed at his touch, the heat of his hand on your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your body moving instinctively closer to him.

You could feel his breath on your skin, ragged and uneven, the tension between you almost palpable. You wanted him, craved him in a way you had never experienced before.

He groaned as your lips meet his, the contact like a spark that ignites an explosion. His hands roaming over your body, his touch possessive.

You feel him kiss you hard, his body pressing against yours, his need for you obvious. His tongue slips between your lips, exploring your mouth with a hungry intensity that takes your breath away.

The kiss is like a floodgate opening, and he can't hold back any longer. He pins you against the couch, his body covering yours as he kisses you fiercely.

His hands roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of you, as if trying to map every curve and line. He breaks the kiss only to trail kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin, marking you as his.

"You so fucking hot" he mutters against your skin, his voice hoarse with desire.

You gasp as he pins you against the couch, your body arching against his. His touch feels like fire against your skin, and you can feel your body responding to him, heat pooling between your thighs.

You moan as he kisses your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin, leaving a trail of marks. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your own desire surging through you.

You manage to speak, your voice ragged with need, "I need you. Now."

He shivers at your words, the need in your voice like a punch to the gut. He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he says, his voice rough and ragged.

He lifts you effortlessly, his arms wrapped around your thighs as he lifts you up and carries you towards the dressing room. The door closes behind him with a click, and he sets you down on the table, standing between your legs.

His body is pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your thighs, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his hardness against you, and it's almost too much to bear.

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, needing to feel him against you, inside you. He leans in to kiss you again, his lips hot and desperate against yours.

"You're driving me insane," he mutters against your mouth, his hands sliding up under your skirt.

You shiver at the intensity of his gaze, his words like a caress against your skin. You reach for him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against you.

He lets you pull him closer, his body flush against yours. He captures your lips in another kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he presses you down onto the table.

His hands move up to your hips, holding you in place as he grinds against you, his hardness against your core sending waves of pleasure through you.

He breaks the kiss to trail kisses down your neck again, his lips moving lower, down to your collarbone.

"Fuck me, please" you whispered desperately. His eyes darken at your words, and he lets out a low growl. He lifts your hips up, and in one fluid motion, he pulls your skirt up, exposing you completely.

He leans in to kiss you again, his lips trailing down your chest, stopping at the swell of your breasts. He nips and sucks on the sensitive skin there, marking you even more.

"As you wish," he whispers against your skin.

He moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and bites in their wake. He reaches your hip, and he nips at the skin there, before sucking on it hard enough to leave a mark.

He moves lower still, his hands sliding up your thighs, parting them wider. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire and anticipation.

"You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

His words send a jolt of pleasure through you, your body arching involuntarily towards him. You feel him grinning against your skin, his satisfaction at your reaction obvious.

"You like that, don't you?" he says, his voice low and rough.

You're unable to respond, your mind and body consumed by the sensations he's stirring within you.

He chuckles at your inability to respond, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs.

"You're so responsive," he says, his voice a low rumble. "It's like you were made for me."

He moves closer, his breath hot against your core. He looks up at you again, his eyes full of desire and a hint of possessiveness.

"And you're all mine," he adds, before diving in, his tongue flicking out to taste you.

His words send a shiver through you, and you can't help but moan, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily.

As his tongue touches you, your body bucks beneath him, the sensation overwhelming. You'd never felt anything like it before, the hot, wet velvet of his tongue working magic on your body.

You reach down, your hands tangling in his hair, your fingers gripping it tightly. "Oh god, please," you beg.

He groans at the feel of your hands in his hair, and it only fuels his desire even more.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he continues to feast on you. His tongue explores every inch of you, learning your taste, memorizing the way you respond to him.

"You taste so good," he mutters between licks and kisses. "So sweet, so perfect."

He looks up at you again, his eyes dark and hungry. "You're so close, aren't you?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

Your body is on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure, and you're finding it harder and harder to think coherently.

You nod, unable to form words, your body trembling with the effort to hold on. You're right on the edge, but you can't seem to push yourself over it.

You manage to gasp out a plea, your voice strained, "Please, I need...more."

He smirks at your desperation, his ego inflating at the sound of your plea.

"More, huh?" he says, his voice low and filled with amusement.

He continues to tease you, licking and sucking at your clit, before dipping his tongue inside you. He moves slowly, deliberately, drawing out your pleasure until you're on the verge of breaking.

He looks up at you again, his eyes dark with lust. "Beg for it," he commands. "Beg me to make you come."

You're a mess beneath him, your body writhing with need, and you know you'd do anything to find release.

You look down at him, your eyes dark with desire, and you manage to gasp out a desperate plea, "Please... please make me come. I need it, I need you."

You're practically begging him now, your body arching towards him, and you can feel him grinning against your skin. He knows he has you completely at his mercy.

He groans at your words, the sound almost feral. He loves seeing you like this, so desperate and needy for him.

He moves faster, his tongue and fingers working in perfect sync to bring you to the edge. He feels your body tensing, your thighs trembling around his head.

"Come for me," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you come on my tongue."

At his words you come screaming his name. He groans loudly as you come, your voice echoing in the small room.

He keeps working you through your orgasm, his tongue and fingers prolonging your pleasure. He feels you clenching around him, and it sends another wave of arousal through him.

When you finally come down from your high, he pulls back, his face and neck glistening with your juices. He looks up at you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"That's my girl," he says, his voice rough and satisfied.

You smiled and knelt down, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his boxers before kissing his cock. He lets out a guttural moan as you kiss him, his hands gripping your hair tightly.

"God, you're going to be the death of me," he says, his voice strained.

He watches you as you kiss and nuzzle his length, his eyes dark with desire. Hae-soo grip your hair tighter, urging you on.

You feel his hands tighten in your hair, and the sensation sends a thrill through you. You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and you can see the need and desire mirrored in his eyes.

You take him into your mouth, your lips sliding over him, and he moans, his head falling back.

"You're so good at this," he mutters, his voice ragged with pleasure.

He can't help but thrust into your mouth, his control slipping for a moment. He watches you, his eyes closed, lost in the sensations.

"Fuck," he mutters again, his grip on your hair tightening even more. "You're driving me insane."

He looks down at you, his eyes now open, watching you intently as you pleasure him.

His words drive you on, and you feel a sense of satisfaction at how undone he is. You tease him with your mouth, sucking and licking him in all the right spots, making him shiver and moan.

He can't seem to stay still, his hips shifting towards you, wanting more.

"You're going to finish me off," he groans, the words barely a whisper.

He can feel his control slipping further with each movement of your mouth. He tries to hold back, to savor the moment, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

He can feel the tension building in his body, the heat coiling low in his belly. He tries to hold on, to prolong the moment, but he knows it's a losing battle.

"I'm close," he manages to choke out, his voice strained. "So close."

You feel him shudder beneath you, and you know he's close to the edge. You want to give him more, to make him come undone completely.

You increase your pace, your lips and tongue working harder, wanting to push him over the edge. You can hear his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, his body trembling with need.

"Let go," you say, your voice low and ragged. "I want to feel you."

The words push him over the edge, and he comes with a roar, his body arching off the table.

He comes hard, filling your mouth with his release. He grips your hair so tightly that it almost hurts, but you don't care. You continue to suck and lick him through his orgasm, wanting to taste every drop of him.

He pants heavily, trying to catch his breath, his eyes closed as he rides out the waves of pleasure.

He finally comes down from his high, his body trembling and weak. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion.

He tugs gently on your hair, pulling you up to kiss him, tasting himself on your lips.

"You're a menace," he says, his voice hoarse. "And I love it."

[almostwisegalaxy]

Silent Hostility

Part 2

Part 3

Part4

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Reader has a shy character in this story

Age gaps : Spencer 37- 38 Reader : twenties

Post prison Reid. Season 13. But let's imagine that the team is Always the same as in the seasons marked, with : Derek Morgan, Aaron hotcher...

..................................................................................

The atmosphere in the BAU offices was the same as usual: agents moving back and forth, stacks of files piling up on desks, and the constant background noise of professional conversations. Spencer Reid usually kept his head down, absorbed in a scientific article or a pile of reports.

But today, something—someone—disrupted the ordinary flow of his day.

Y/N had just arrived.

A new recruit specializing in behavioral criminology. Young, far too young to be here in the eyes of some. And yet, her upright posture and sharp gaze spoke of a confidence far different from the polite smile she wore.

Spencer watched from the corner of his eye as she greeted Hotch and Prentiss with impeccable professionalism. She was elegant, composed, and he immediately noticed how some colleagues looked at her—with that mix of doubt and misplaced interest.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t look away for an entirely different reason.

Something was off.

Not with her directly, no. But in the way she carried herself, a subtlety almost imperceptible to an untrained eye. Her smile was perfectly controlled, her gestures measured, but there was tension in her fingers when she shook hands, a microsecond of hesitation before making eye contact.

A duality that captivated him.

He didn’t realize it at first, but he had stood up. He approached.

— Y/N, right?

She turned to him, and the moment their eyes met, Spencer felt a cold shiver creep into the air.

— Doctor Spencer Reid, he introduced himself, suddenly uncomfortable without knowing why.

She stared at him for a moment, her smile fading ever so slightly, as if something about him had just struck her straight in the heart. Then, she regained her composure and nodded.

— Nice to meet you, Doctor Reid.

A neutral response. Too neutral.

He felt a strange discomfort without being able to pinpoint its source. It was as if, in just a few seconds, she had erased him from her mind, like an annoying background noise.

— If you ever need help with—

— I can handle myself just fine, thanks.

The tone wasn’t overtly aggressive, but there was a sharp firmness, an invisible wall she had just put up between them.

Spencer froze. He didn’t understand.

The others had received smiles and polite exchanges. But with him, it was different.

It was cold.

And he had no idea why.

With time, Reid realized this wasn’t a passing awkwardness. It wasn’t just a misunderstanding.

Y/N hated him.

Oh, not openly. In front of the team, she was impeccable. Professional. But in the shadows, away from prying eyes, it was a different story.

Every time they were alone, the air grew heavier.

Once, as he was about to enter the break room, she walked out at the same moment. Their eyes met, and he immediately saw the change in her expression. A barely perceptible tension.

She walked past him without a word. As if he didn’t exist.

Another time, he tried to talk to her about a profile they were working on together.

— Y/N, I reviewed the latest data and—

— Look, Reid, she cut him off with a sigh, irritated. I know you love the sound of your own voice, but I’m not in the mood.

A knife to the chest would have hurt less.

He stood frozen, unable to respond.

She didn’t even look at him.

She despised him.

And he had no idea what he had done to deserve it.

Spencer Reid was a man of logic. He understood human behavior better than most. But this particular case eluded him.

Why?

Why her?

Why such visceral rejection?

He tried not to think about it. He tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. But the truth was, he had never been able to stand not understanding something.

So he watched her. Discreetly, of course. Just enough to catch those fleeting emotions she let slip when she thought no one was looking.

He saw the way her jaw tensed after a polite smile.

He noticed the stiffness in her shoulders when a man got too close.

He noted that, sometimes, she almost seemed… afraid.

But never around him.

No. She didn’t fear him.

She hated him.

And he would never know why.

---

Y/N knew Reid was watching her.

She could feel it before even seeing him. It wasn’t an intrusive gaze, nor was it ill-intentioned. But it was there. A persistent presence in her field of vision, an invisible weight on her skin.

She would have preferred if he despised her in return.

But no. He kept trying, clumsily, to break the barrier she had built between them.

And she kept reinforcing it.

That day, she was finalizing a report in an empty conference room when the door opened.

She didn’t need to look up to know it was him.

— Are you looking for someone? she asked bluntly, her tone sharp.

Reid hesitated for a second before stepping inside completely.

— No. I just wanted to… talk about the suspect’s profile.

She exhaled softly through her nose.

— We already discussed the profile with Hotch.

— Yes, but I noticed something that might be relevant.

She closed her laptop slowly and finally turned to him.

— Do you really want to do this now, Reid?

He blinked, visibly caught off guard.

— I… I don’t understand.

— Exactly. You don’t understand. So stop trying.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Spencer opened his mouth, closed it, then did what he always did when he was nervous—he started talking too fast.

— I’m sorry if I said or did something that offended you. That wasn’t my intention. Statistically speaking, first impressions can be biased by external factors—

— Reid.

She had just cut him off.

He stopped.

Her gaze was burning. Not with anger, but with something deeper. Something he couldn’t define.

She stood up slowly, took her file under her arm, and stepped closer to him.

— There’s nothing to understand, okay? Nothing to analyze, nothing to dissect.

She was so close now that he could see the faint tremble of her eyelashes, the barely perceptible tension in her fingers around the file.

— So stop.

She walked past him and left the room without another word.

Spencer remained still, his heart beating a little too fast, his thoughts in chaos.

He still didn’t understand.

But what he did know was that this woman was beginning to consume his mind.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Reid tried to ignore the effect Y/N had on him. But it wasn’t just a matter of attraction. It wasn’t her smile he wanted to understand. It was that silent pain hiding beneath the surface.

But she wouldn’t let him get close.

Worse, she seemed to close herself off even more when he was around.

Until that night.

They were returning from a grueling case in Dallas, one of those cases that leaves a mark on the soul.

On the plane ride back, the team was half-asleep. Y/N, however, sat with her arms crossed, staring into nothing.

Reid hesitated, then sat across from her.

She didn’t react immediately, but he saw her shoulders tense ever so slightly.

— Can I? he asked softly.

She raised an eyebrow.

— Since when do you ask permission to sit?

— Since I realized you’d probably prefer me on the other side of the plane.

She said nothing.

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, she sighed, exhausted.

— Why do you keep pushing, Reid?

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Because he didn’t know.

Because she fascinated him as much as she pushed him away.

Because he sensed, deep down, that beneath her disdain, there was something else.

— You’re a mystery, he finally admitted, honest.

She let out a bitter laugh.

— Do you think everyone is a puzzle to be solved?

— Not everyone.

Just her.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment. Then she stood up and went to sit elsewhere.

Spencer watched her empty seat, unable to understand why his chest felt so tight.

But he knew one thing.

He wouldn’t be able to ignore her.

And he wouldn’t be able to let her go.

---

Y/N knew how to adapt. It was a necessity, a survival instinct she had perfected over the years.

She knew when to smile. She knew how to joke, how to adjust her tone to seem warm without being too familiar, to keep her distance without appearing cold.

Within the team, she was well-liked.

Derek Morgan had immediately taken her under his wing. He liked ambitious young recruits, the ones with fire in their veins and iron willpower. With him, Y/N allowed herself to be a little lighter, to exchange playful banter and feigned arrogance.

— You really insist on running every morning before a field day? he asked one day, watching her tie her laces.

— I mostly insist on not running out of breath behind you, she replied, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed and patted her shoulder.

With Hotch, she was impeccable. Respectful, disciplined. She knew he was testing her, observing how she handled pressure, and she had no intention of giving him any reason to doubt her.

JJ, on the other hand, was gentle and maternal, which made Y/N uncomfortable for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. But she appreciated her, and they worked well together.

Emily Prentiss was perhaps the one she felt closest to. Not that they talked much, but there was a silent understanding between them, an unspoken recognition of wounds they never named.

And then there was Penelope Garcia.

Penelope was a whirlwind of bright colors and exuberant cheerfulness, everything Y/N was not. And yet, Garcia had immediately taken her under her wing, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

— My sweet star, you’re far too serious, she declared in the first week. We’re going to have to work on that.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

— I’m fine, Garcia.

— That’s what every little broken heart says before I save them with cookies and a personalized playlist.

Y/N had laughed despite herself.

Garcia had that gift, the ability to make the air feel lighter, to erase shadows without even realizing it.

So Y/N let her. She accepted the sudden hugs, the affectionate nicknames, the sincere gestures. Because, in some way, it was nice.

It was a friendship she had never known before.

But with Spencer, it was a completely different story.

Y/N always felt when he was there.

He didn’t talk much when they were in a group, but she felt his gaze.

It wasn’t oppressive. It wasn’t perverse or domineering like others had been before him.

No. His gaze was a suspended question.

And she refused to answer it.

One evening, as she was leaving the office late, she heard footsteps behind her in the hallway.

She tensed, breath short. But when she turned around, it was only Reid.

He stopped immediately when he saw her expression.

— Sorry, he murmured.

She looked away, jaw clenched.

— Don’t follow me.

— I’m not following you, he simply replied.

She laughed, a joyless laugh.

— Of course.

He remained still, and she felt her anger boil.

— Why do you do this, Reid? she whispered.

— Do what?

— Staring. Insisting.

He blinked, genuinely lost.

— Because you haunt me.

Silence fell like a heavy weight.

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest. A deep fear. A vertigo.

She took a step back.

— Stop this.

— Stop what?

— Trying to understand me.

He said nothing.

Because he couldn’t. Because he didn’t understand.

And she would never let him.

---

Months passed.

Y/N was integrating well into the team. She was no longer just the "new recruit"; she was a respected profiler whose intuition and keen observation made a difference in the field. Even Hotch, who was sparing with compliments, had implied that she belonged among them.

And yet, something in her remained on edge.

She laughed with Morgan, exchanged knowing looks with Prentiss, accepted Garcia’s suffocating hugs without flinching. But it was just a mask, a dance she had mastered to perfection.

There was only one person who refused to dance with her.

Spencer Reid.

He still watched her with that intensity, that silent obsession she hated as much as she feared. He didn’t understand her. He never would.

And yet, he remained.

Watching.

Searching.

Trying to uncover a secret she would never reveal.

But life at the BAU wasn’t just about the quiet tension between them. There were also moments of lightness, absurd instances that made their work bearable.

Like the day Rossi got locked in his own office.

Garcia had tampered with the lock to prove a security system could be bypassed, and she had accidentally trapped their veteran inside.

— Garcia, open this door immediately! Rossi thundered, furious.

— Oh my God, I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die! Garcia kept repeating, frantically tapping at her keyboard.

Y/N and Morgan were in tears from laughter.

Reid, on the other hand, leaned towards her, a smirk on his lips.

— Technically, he could survive for days with the snacks he hides in his bottom drawer.

She shot him a dark look, but deep down, she had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling.

Then there was the case of the kitten in the office.

Garcia had found a stray cat near the FBI building and had secretly brought it into her office.

— Just for one night! she pleaded.

Except the cat escaped and caused chaos throughout the floor.

Hotch caught Y/N and Garcia trying to lure the animal with a piece of turkey stolen from Reid’s sandwich.

— Don’t tell me there’s a cat in here…

— There’s a cat in here, Reid confirmed, turning a page in his book, unbothered.

— It has a white paw! Y/N added enthusiastically, earning an incredulous look from Hotch.

In the end, it was Prentiss who caught the creature with a dexterity that suggested past experience in animal rescue.

— I don’t even want to know, Hotch concluded before walking away.

Reid watched as Y/N gently stroked the cat’s head.

— You like it.

— Who wouldn’t?

— You don’t usually let yourself be swayed so easily.

She lifted her head towards him, her smile slowly fading.

— Maybe I’m more complicated than you think.

He said nothing.

Because he already knew.

That night, Reid couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind refusing to grant him rest.

Y/N.

She occupied his every thought.

He wanted to understand why. Why her, why this hostility that didn’t feel like simple dislike?

He could analyze a criminal in minutes, dissect a lie with clinical precision. But with her… he couldn’t.

She hated him. He felt it in her gaze, in the tension of her jaw when he spoke.

And yet, sometimes, there was something else. A crack.

One evening, as they were finishing a report late at a café near the FBI, she had slightly dozed off, resting her head on her hand.

Reid had wanted to wake her, but he stopped.

She looked… peaceful.

But also terribly fragile.

And something in him tightened.

He knew she was hiding something.

And he knew he would never find out what.

It was unbearable.

He ran a hand over his face and sat on the edge of his bed, his heart pounding too hard.

She haunted him.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Y/N felt that obsession too.

She saw it in the way Reid looked at her, in how he kept trying to talk to her despite her cold responses.

But what she couldn’t understand… was why she didn’t push him away more violently.

She was used to keeping men at a distance. To shutting them down with a sharp smile or a biting remark.

But with him, it was different.

He was patient. Too patient.

And that scared her.

One night, after a grueling mission, she found herself in Garcia’s office.

— You want to talk about it, my sweet star?

Y/N tensed.

— Talk about what?

— About whatever’s eating at you.

She wanted to lie. To say she was fine.

But Garcia was a magician, able to see beyond masks.

— It’s Reid, isn’t it?

Y/N’s head snapped up, shocked.

— What?

— You’re mad at him. But not for what he’s done. For what he is.

Silence fell, heavy.

Garcia took her hands, her gaze soft but piercing.

— I don’t know what you’ve been through, Y/N. But I do know you’re stronger than whatever haunts you.

Y/N felt something crack inside her.

But she said nothing.

Because she couldn’t.

Because some wounds weren’t meant to be shared.

A few days later, Reid tried to talk to her again.

And she snapped.

They were alone in a conference room when he said something. She didn’t even remember what.

But it was too much.

— What do you want, Reid?!

He stepped back, startled by the violence in her voice.

— I just want to understand…

— There’s nothing to understand!

Her heart was pounding. She hated him. She despised him.

Because he reminded her too much of…

No.

She wasn’t allowed to think about that.

She shot him one last glare before storming out.

But Reid remained frozen, a cold shiver running down his spine.

Because for the first time, he had seen something other than anger in her eyes.

He had seen fear.

And that changed everything.

---

Spencer Reid didn’t know what to do anymore. Y/N hated him, that was obvious. But that night, as he returned home, he realized it wasn’t the contempt that haunted him. It wasn’t even her anger. It was her fear. Because he had seen it. Just for a fraction of a second, before she slammed the door. And it had turned his stomach upside down. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how to recognize the signs of trauma. He carried the scars himself. Y/N was hiding something. Something enormous. Something that, in one way or another, was connected to him. But he didn’t know what. And he never would. Because if one thing was clear, it was that she would rather see him disappear than talk to him. So why couldn’t he stop holding on to her? Why did he feel this irrational, senseless need to understand her, to fix her? He sat on his couch, head in his hands. He felt... lost. And that was a sensation he hated.

The next day, Y/N tried not to think about him. She buried herself in work, flipping through files, studying criminal profiles with an intensity bordering on obsession. But even there, in the relative calm of the BAU headquarters, she could feel him. Spencer Reid. Sitting at his desk, silent, but always present. Like a shadow behind her. Like a ghost she couldn’t exorcise. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Don’t think. Don’t feel. She could do it. She had to do it. She was going to make it. Until Garcia burst into the room like a colorful tornado.

"Okay, everyone, mandatory coffee break!"

Morgan looked up from his screen, amused.

"We’re in the middle of work, Garcia."

"Correction: you’re in the middle of work. I’m in the middle of an emotional disaster because my baby cat refused to eat his kibble this morning, and I need a pick-me-up."

Prentiss chuckled.

"Poor Garcia."

"You don’t understand, my children. This is an existential crisis."

Y/N smiled slightly, grabbing her coffee cup. But as she stood up to follow the others, her eyes met Reid’s. And there, just for a fraction of a second, she saw something in his eyes. Something sad. Something unbearable. She looked away, fists clenched. And left the room without a word.

The tension between them had become a problem. Y/N felt it. Reid knew it. And everyone could see it. It was Hotch who finally broke the silence. One evening, after a particularly exhausting day, he called Y/N into his office.

"Sit down."

She obeyed, sitting up straight. He studied her for a moment, fingers intertwined under his chin.

"I’ve noticed you have a problem with Reid."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"No, sir."

"Don’t lie."

She gritted her teeth. Hotch sighed, lowering his voice slightly.

"Listen, I’m not going to force you to talk about it. But let me be clear: we’re a team. And a team that doesn’t function well is a team that puts lives at risk."

Y/N lowered her gaze.

"I understand."

"Then find a way to fix it."

She nodded and left, her heart pounding.

She could have ignored Hotch’s warning. She could have kept pretending nothing was wrong. But that night, as she was leaving the office, she found Reid in the parking lot. Sitting on the hood of his car, staring into space. He looked... tired. Exhausted. As if this silent war between them had drained all his energy. She should have left. She should have pretended she didn’t see him. But her feet carried her toward him before she even realized it.

"Why are you still here?"

He lifted his head.

"I could ask you the same question."

She crossed her arms.

"Seriously, Reid. What do you want?"

He hesitated. Then sighed.

"I want you to stop hating me."

The shock was brutal. She took a step back, breath caught.

"I don’t..."

"Yes, you do. I know you do. But I don’t know why."

She closed her eyes, feeling panic rise. No. Not now. Not like this. She took a deep breath, trying to regain control. Then, slowly, she lifted her head.

"It’s better this way, Reid."

"Better for who?"

She didn’t answer. Because she couldn’t. She turned away, walking away quickly. But this time, Reid didn’t let her go.

"Wait."

She stopped.

"I don’t know what I did to deserve this."

His voice was shaky. Sincere.

"But if you think that will stop me from worrying about you... then you don’t know me as well as you think."

Y/N felt a burning in her throat. A dull pain in her chest. She said nothing. She didn’t turn around. She walked away into the night, knowing full well that this was a battle she wouldn’t be able to run from forever. Because Spencer Reid wouldn’t let go. And a part of her no longer knew if she wanted him to give up... or to keep fighting.

---

2:37 AM. Y/N’s phone vibrated insistently on her nightstand, pulling her from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes, still groggy, and reached for the device.

HOTCH: URGENT. EVERYONE TO HQ. IMMEDIATELY.

She groaned, sitting up, her vision still blurry.

“Shit…”

Without thinking, she threw on a large black coat over her silk pajamas and hastily tied her hair into a messy ponytail. She neither had the energy nor the patience to get properly dressed.

Arriving in front of the FBI building, she realized she wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Garcia was just stepping out of a taxi, her oversized orange coat poorly buttoned, revealing pink unicorn-patterned pajamas. Her glasses were askew, and she clutched a cup of coffee like her life depended on it.

When she spotted Y/N, she squinted behind her colorful lenses.

"You also decided fashion was overrated?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Garcia from head to toe.

"I think we just revolutionized the FBI’s dress code."

Garcia smirked and hooked her arm through Y/N’s as they entered the building.

"Remind me why we do this job again?"

"My memory fails me at this hour."

As they stepped into the briefing room, they found the rest of the team, all visibly exhausted. Morgan had his head resting on the table, Prentiss was yawning over her file, and even Rossi seemed to be battling sleep.

But it was Reid who caught Y/N’s attention.

Already awake. Already fully dressed. Already focused.

He sat upright, a coffee cup in hand, flipping through files as if he had never gone to bed. When he briefly looked up at her, she felt his gaze linger a second too long.

She frowned.

"What?" she snapped.

Reid blinked and immediately looked away, clearly caught in the act.

"Nothing."

She rolled her eyes and sat as far from him as possible.

That’s when Hotch entered the room.

The Ohio monster case was beginning.

Hotch turned on the main screen, and faces appeared. Women. Children. Broken families.

Y/N’s stomach twisted as she saw the photos of them before they vanished.

They were smiling. Laughing.

And now…

"Eight mothers. Eight children," Hotch began gravely. "All disappeared under similar circumstances."

He pointed to a series of images on the whiteboard.

"The MO is always the same. He takes the mother first. Leaves the children alone for two days, then comes back for them."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Y/N already felt nausea rising.

"Then he forces them to make a choice."

Morgan leaned on the table, jaw clenched.

"What kind of choice?"

JJ briefly closed her eyes before answering.

"Either the mother kills her own children… or he rapes her in front of them."

The silence was deafening.

Garcia immediately looked away, gripping her coffee cup until her fingers turned white. Prentiss closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Rossi let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

But it was Y/N’s expression that caught Reid’s attention.

She didn’t react.

She remained still, eyes locked on the screen, her face eerily blank.

Too blank.

Reid furrowed his brows slightly.

He knew that kind of silence.

He knew that kind of look.

It was the look of someone trying to lock everything deep inside.

Hotch shattered the frozen atmosphere with a firm tone.

"He films everything and sends the videos to the fathers."

Y/N finally looked away, clenching her fists under the table.

This man…

This monster…

She wanted to destroy him.

"We leave for Ohio immediately," Hotch announced.

No one objected.

They all knew every minute counted.

And that the horror was only beginning.

They arrived in Ohio at dawn, greeted by a sheriff with exhausted eyes.

"Agent Hotchner."

Hotch shook his hand.

"Tell me what we know."

The sheriff gestured for them to follow him to his office, where an entire wall was covered with photos and reports.

Y/N felt an invisible weight pressing on her shoulders as she looked at the images of the missing mothers.

These women.

These children.

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the cold rage building inside her.

Then she felt a gaze.

She turned slightly.

Reid.

Again.

He was watching her, brows slightly furrowed, as if trying to figure something out.

She clenched her jaw.

"Got a problem, Reid?" she murmured coldly.

He hesitated.

Then, softly:

"This is affecting you more than other cases."

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

She hated this.

She hated how observant he was.

"You think you know everything, huh?" she snapped. "Well, let me tell you something: you don’t know shit about me. So stop looking at me like you’ve cracked my damn secret."

She shot him one last dark look before walking away.

Reid remained still, troubled.

He didn’t understand why, but he knew one thing:

This case was awakening something in her.

Something she didn’t want to face.

And that, more than anything else, deeply worried him.

---

The team settled into the conference room of the local police station, their files scattered across the large wooden table. The sheriff had provided all available information, but the case was a nightmare. Eight mothers. Eight children. Eight broken families. And no trace of the killer.

Hotch stood up and studied the photos pinned to the whiteboard.

"We know he targets single mothers. All between 28 and 35 years old, all with one or two young children. He watches them for a while before attacking."

"How does he choose his victims?" Prentiss asked, arms crossed.

Rossi tapped on the report in front of him.

"They all have jobs that require a lot of public interaction. Teachers, waitresses, nurses, social workers…" He paused. "He wants women who seem approachable. Easy to engage with."

Y/N spoke for the first time.

"Which means he inserts himself into their lives long before taking them."

All eyes turned to her.

She pointed at the photos.

"Look at these women. They’re all smiling in these pictures. They look happy, social. This guy doesn’t go after isolated or vulnerable women. He wants the strong ones."

Morgan slowly nodded.

"Because he wants to break them."

Silence.

Reid was watching Y/N closely.

His gaze was cold, analytical, but filled with something else.

He knew that tone. He could tell when someone was speaking from their heart.

She wasn’t just profiling the killer.

She understood him.

And that unsettled him.

Hotch brought the discussion back on track.

"Garcia, check if any of the victims reported a suspicious individual in their surroundings before the abduction."

"Already digging, boss."

She typed furiously on her keyboard, her glasses slipping down her nose.

"But so far, nothing."

Y/N ran a hand over her face, frustrated.

"We’re missing something…"

Reid, who had remained silent until now, murmured,

"There has to be a connection."

He stood up, walked to the board, and stared at the victims' photos.

A detail. A clue.

And suddenly, something clicked.

"The schools."

Everyone turned to him.

"Look." He pointed at the children. "They all attended local public schools."

Prentiss frowned.

"You think he’s scouting them there?"

Reid nodded.

"It’s an easy way to observe them without drawing attention. He could be posing as a parent, a school employee, a delivery worker…"

Hotch processed the information quickly.

"We’ll start there. Garcia, get us a list of staff and frequent visitors at the schools these kids attended."

"Consider it done."

The investigation had taken a new turn.

And for the first time in hours…

They had a lead.

A few hours later, Garcia called them back.

"I might have something."

Her voice was tense.

"All these schools have one thing in common."

"What is it?" Hotch asked.

"A man."

She pulled up a photo on the screen.

A plain, forgettable face. A man in his forties, short brown hair, discreet glasses.

"His name is William Harrow," Garcia explained. "Maintenance worker. He does repairs in several schools in the area."

Y/N stared at the photo, a cold shiver running down her spine.

"Does he have a record?" Morgan asked.

"Nothing major. Just an old harassment complaint, dismissed."

Reid frowned.

"It’s too perfect. A job that gives him access to school buildings, an unremarkable appearance…"

Y/N murmured almost to herself,

"And the ability to disappear under the radar."

Hotch made an immediate decision.

"We’re paying him a visit."

The team arrived at Harrow’s listed address. A small house on the outskirts of town, with an unkempt yard and closed shutters.

Morgan and Prentiss positioned themselves at the back while Hotch, Y/N, and Reid knocked on the door.

Silence.

Then…

Footsteps.

The door opened slightly.

A man appeared in the doorway, eyes tired, wary.

"Yes?"

Hotch showed his badge.

"FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions."

William Harrow didn’t flinch.

"About what?"

Y/N studied him carefully.

His posture. His gaze. Every micro-expression.

And something in his eyes unsettled her.

Reid, beside her, noticed her shift in demeanor.

"It’s about the schools where you work. The missing children."

Harrow raised an eyebrow.

"I don’t see how that concerns me."

His tone was calm. Too calm.

Y/N clenched her fists slightly.

"Can we come in?" Hotch asked.

A long silence.

Then Harrow opened the door wider.

"Be my guest."

Y/N’s instincts screamed.

Something was off.

And she knew this was just the beginning.

---

The inside of William Harrow’s house was clean. Too clean. Not a single personal photo. No children’s toys. Nothing that showed a trace of life. Y/N let her gaze sweep across the main room while Hotch and Reid asked the usual questions.

"You work at several schools, correct?" Hotch asked.

"Yes," Harrow replied, sitting calmly on his couch.

Reid observed his body language with an almost unsettling intensity.

"Have you ever had any contact with the children’s mothers?"

A slight smile appeared on Harrow’s face.

"I exchange polite words, like everyone does."

Y/N said nothing.

She studied.

Every blink. Every hand movement.

And her instincts screamed that he was lying.

But she couldn’t prove it.

Hotch continued, "Where were you during the last disappearances?"

"At home."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"No one."

Harrow was still smiling.

Reid and Y/N exchanged a glance.

No alarm. No involuntary slip.

He wasn’t playing the outraged suspect.

He wasn’t trying to appear innocent either.

He was waiting.

As if he knew they wouldn’t find anything.

And he was right.

After an hour of questioning and a legal search of the house, the team had no choice but to leave.

Nothing.

No physical evidence. No misstep in his answers.

Just an intuition that wasn’t enough to arrest him.

Morgan, who had been waiting outside, whistled when he saw their expressions.

"So?"

Hotch shook his head.

"Nothing useful."

Morgan grumbled.

"This guy is guilty. I can feel it."

Y/N, arms crossed, was still staring at the house behind them.

"So can I."

But it wasn’t enough.

They needed proof.

In the car, silence stretched.

Then Reid murmured, almost pensively, "He wants to frustrate us."

Y/N turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

Reid tapped his fingers against his thigh, thinking out loud.

"He was perfectly calm. He didn’t try to deny anything outright. He let us do our job… Because he knew we had nothing on him."

Y/N clenched her fists.

"That means he’s going to do it again."

Hotch took a deep breath.

"Yes. And the next victim may already be chosen."

The silence that followed was heavier than ever.

They had to stop him.

Before it was too late.

---

The sun was beginning to set over the small town in Ohio as Morgan and Y/N made their way to a run-down garage on the outskirts. It was where William Harrow had applied for a second job a few months earlier before mysteriously disappearing off the radar.

"You think we’ll find anything here?" Y/N asked as she stepped out of the car.

Morgan shrugged, eyes fixed on the building’s entrance.

"Anything he doesn’t want us to find."

They ducked under the partially open metal shutter and stepped into the dusty workshop. Cars in various states of repair, scattered tools, the smell of oil and metal…

A man in his fifties, wearing grease-stained overalls, looked up at them.

"Need a hand?"

Morgan stepped forward and flashed his badge.

"FBI. We’re investigating a suspect who may have worked here. William Harrow."

The man frowned.

"Harrow? Yeah, he applied a few months back. But he never showed up for work."

Y/N exchanged a look with Morgan.

"Why not?"

"No idea," the man replied, wiping his hands on a rag. "Seemed serious at first, then he just… vanished. No call, no excuse. Never heard from him again."

Morgan nodded, but before he could ask another question…

A voice interrupted them.

"You’re looking for Harrow?"

A chill ran down Y/N’s spine.

She knew that voice.

Slowly, she turned.

And she saw William Harrow.

Standing near the exit, dressed in jeans and a light shirt, as if he had been expecting them.

"You and your team sure are persistent," he said with a polite smile.

Y/N immediately felt his gaze on her.

Too intense. Too deliberate.

Morgan crossed his arms, ready to step in at the first sign of trouble.

"What are you doing here, Harrow?"

The man shrugged.

"I applied for a job here. Wanted to see if it was still available. But it seems like you’re more interested in me than the position."

His tone was light, but Y/N sensed the darkness beneath his words.

Harrow turned his gaze to her.

And he stared.

For too long.

As if he recognized her.

As if he knew something she didn’t.

"You, on the other hand…" he murmured.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

She forced herself not to look away.

"What about me?"

Harrow tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

"We’ve met before, haven’t we?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

No.

That was impossible.

She had never seen this man before.

Never.

And yet…

Why did his words feel like they carried a hidden truth?

Morgan, sensing the tension, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We should go."

Y/N didn’t respond immediately.

She stood there, facing Harrow, trying to read in his eyes what he was insinuating.

Then, slowly, she stepped back.

"Yeah. Let’s go."

But as she walked out of the garage, she still felt the weight of Harrow’s gaze on her.

And for the first time since this case began…

She felt afraid.

They had barely returned to the police station when the phone rang.

Hotch answered immediately.

"Hotchner."

Y/N and Morgan, still shaken from their encounter with Harrow, exchanged a glance.

But as they saw Hotch’s expression harden, Y/N knew before he even spoke.

Another woman had disappeared.

"He just took another mother," Hotch said as he hung up.

A cold silence fell over the room.

"When?" Rossi asked, already on his feet.

"About three hours ago," Hotch replied. "A neighbor noticed the front door was open, the lights were on, but no one was answering."

JJ rubbed her forehead.

"Which means we have…"

"Two days before he takes the children," Reid finished.

Y/N tensed.

Two days.

The countdown had begun.

They rushed to the scene immediately.

The victim’s home—Sarah Mitchell—was exactly as they had imagined.

A broken home in the dead of night.

The door slightly open.

No signs of struggle.

And a six-year-old boy curled up on his bed, too young to understand that his mother might never come back.

Y/N felt anger boil inside her.

She stared at the scattered toys on the floor, the school bag still sitting by the door.

A child waiting for his mother to wake him up in the morning.

But tomorrow morning, she wouldn’t be there.

Morgan clenched his jaw beside her.

"We have to find him."

"Yeah."

Reid, meanwhile, was staring at the floor.

Then he murmured, "He’s accelerating his cycle."

Y/N turned to him.

"What?"

Reid looked up, his mind racing.

"He’s been waiting weeks between abductions," he explained. "But now… he just took a woman while we were on his trail."

"He feels threatened," Hotch added.

"Or he wants to provoke us," Rossi said.

Y/N felt an invisible weight press down on her chest.

Two days.

They only had two days to stop the inevitable.

So she turned to Hotch.

"We don’t have time to wait. We need to take Harrow down now."

Hotch slowly nodded.

"Then let’s do it."

And they set off.

Towards the man who was already waiting for them.

---

The local precinct was heavy with tension that night. Fatigue and urgency made the air nearly unbreathable. Every officer on-site knew they were racing against time. With JJ absent, Y/N had been sent to speak with Matthew Mitchell, the ex-husband of the missing woman.

He sat in a small interrogation room, hands trembling, eyes bloodshot. The moment Y/N entered, he shot to his feet, desperate.

"Did you find her?!"

Y/N briefly closed her eyes before answering.

"Not yet."

He collapsed back onto the chair.

"Oh my God…" he murmured.

His entire body looked on the verge of breaking. He rubbed his face with shaking hands, as if trying to erase reality. Then, in a broken, desperate voice, he began to ramble.

"I’m nothing without her… Nothing."

Y/N remained still. She knew this pain. That abyss. That gaping void that swallowed everything.

He shook his head, eyes wet with tears.

"I heard what that psycho does to women… I don’t want her to go through that. I’d rather she be…"

He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Y/N swallowed.

He meant, I’d rather she be dead than suffer that.

She couldn’t blame him.

"She’s strong," she said softly.

"But not strong enough." He met her eyes. "No one is."

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine.

He was right.

No one could ever be prepared to face what Harrow did to his victims.

And she had to stop him.

After the interview with Matthew, Y/N returned to the briefing room where the team was combing through every detail of the case.

Something nagged at her.

A feeling, a blurry thought lodged in the back of her mind.

Then, suddenly, it clicked.

"He has a daughter," she blurted out.

All eyes turned to her.

"What?" Rossi asked.

"Harrow. He has a daughter."

Spencer Reid frowned.

"But… we’ve investigated his family. He has no known children."

Y/N shook her head.

"Not officially. But look at the pattern." She scrolled through the case files on the computer. "He manages to lure children without a single direct witness. No signs of forced entry, no apparent threats."

Morgan caught on immediately.

"He doesn’t need to force them… He’s using someone they trust."

Y/N nodded.

"A teenage girl. She wouldn’t raise suspicion."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Then Hotch said the words they were all dreading.

"Where is young Mitchell?"

A chill ran through Y/N.

He was under supervision. Here, at the station.

But…

Why did she suddenly have a terrible feeling?

Then, she heard it.

A barely audible sound.

A muffled "Mommy."

She didn’t think.

She ran.

She tore down the hallway, the others right behind her.

She slammed open the door to the room where the little boy was supposed to be.

But he was gone.

Only an open window let in the cold night air.

Y/N felt her world tilt.

"NO."

She looked everywhere, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs.

His small backpack was still there.

His stuffed animal lay on the floor.

But he… he was missing.

"Shit…" Morgan muttered as he reached her.

Y/N froze, her breath caught in her throat.

She was the one who had heard the cry.

She should have run faster.

Reid stepped inside, his horrified gaze fixed on the window.

He knew what this meant.

They had just lost their only hope of finding Sarah Mitchell alive.

Y/N pressed against the wall, fingers trembling.

She had failed.

She felt anger, frustration, and most of all…

Fear.

Reid slowly approached her.

He wasn’t good at comforting people.

But he understood what she was feeling.

Softly, he murmured,

"This isn’t your fault."

But Y/N didn’t look at him.

Because deep down…

She wasn’t sure he was right.

Next part...

..................................................................................

[satubby]

◇Yandere Concept◇

•○ 《Ryu Shi-Oh》 ○•

『This is just my own concept but not the general and true view of the character as a yandere, although canonically he may or may not present these... behaviors』

〔Warning ⚠️: This may or may not contain Spoilers for the show in question, please do not read it if you have not yet seen the mentioned K-Drama. In addition, somewhat sensitive topics such as child abuse, drugs, mentions of sex and among others will be included.〕 Postscript: There may or may not be spelling errors, misplaced character pronouns (I'm dyslexic) so I'm sorry for the inconvenience because this was written at night and I was sleepy, and I'm not a fan of English, so this might be bad.

A puppet of the Russian mafia, Ryu Shi-oh is ruthless and unscrupulous. Depending on how you have met him, he will treat you differently. He would most like a Darling who is as lively, positive and almost like the protagonist of the K-drama where he comes from.

》☆ Obsession:

Ryu Shi-oh will take quite a while to trust you, since he has the police and other enemies after his head. However, if you're the gentle type (if you go all in with this yandere, it would be best for both of you), he'll see you as his emotional refuge, the only source of light in his dark life, though that doesn't mean it won't take a little effort for him to be open to you. Despite his yandere tendencies, he feels a desperate need to protect that vulnerable part of himself by sometimes seeming distant (or perhaps he is at first).

Once he is aware of his feelings for you, then things will change (not much but at least he won't always be on guard with you). You will see him as shy, loving (in his own strange way). Of course, he will be somewhat slow in his feelings but VERY loyal once he is sure of them.

》☆ Obsessive Control:

Russian mafia upbringing has instilled in him either consciously or unconsciously, a need for absolute control and even to the point of violence. Ryu Shi-o monitors every move you make (that's only in his facet of having just met you), from his daily interactions to his friendships. Since if it's at the beginning of getting to know you, he wants to make sure there are no betrayals or double-crosses on your part.

On the other hand, if you've known each other for a while, then his vigilance will be more about getting to know you in depth since he is somewhat clumsy in interactions (other than about his work or murder). He will know everything about you, even things you may not even remember. What kind of flowers you like, X item you've been lusting after and so on.

》☆ Dark Gifts:

To express his love, Ryu Shi-oh tends to give you expensive and luxurious things (When he is getting to know you they are more like decoys) But then he gives you things that you might like, as I mentioned in the previous post, but often these carry a hint of double interactions (He stressed, Ryu Shi-oh doesn't trust people much, he has traumas.... Someone get this man some therapy for god's sake!!!).

》☆ Intense Jealousy:

The thought of losing you arouses a fierce rage in Ryu Shi-o. He can become possessive and jealous, going to extreme lengths to keep you tied to his side. His traumatic past contributes to his constant fear of being abandoned or betrayed, he horribly hates lies (This is Canon by the way, he said so himself).

Since he grew up in a precarious and horrible environment, his concepts of love are null to say the least.... he doesn't know anything about the real meaning beyond what is written in books or Google. So when his jealousy is present, he usually lashes out in anger because he doesn't understand or know how to handle his emotions well, that's why he is always stoic and avoids emotional contact with others.

He thinks at the beginning that these emotions are a weakness (because of his upbringing obviously) so you will understand his attitudes and actions at the beginning.

Back to the scenario (depending on whether you work for him or otherwise were Nam Soon's sister, so to speak). However it was, before and after he met you until he gained your trust, his jealousy is powerful and terrifying.

For example, if you deny him or are somewhat alien to his feelings (ahem! Nam soon) then Ryu Shi-oh may or may not threaten those you hold dear or end up killing the subject of his jealousy if provoked enough.

He may or may not send you videos of it, who knows, he's a fucking mafia-bred man.

》☆ Demonstrations of Power:

As CEO of Doogu, Ryu Shi-oh uses his influence and resources to protect you from his enemies, though also to investigate you, but often does so ruthlessly. He uses his position to eliminate any perceived threat (whether real or not, as in the case of being jealous), regardless of the consequences.

When it comes to, for example, demonstrating how happy you could be (excluding that he is a mobster and has a front business for the real thing, drugs) he can afford a whole restaurant for just the two of you or go on trips when he is not busy.

Also when it comes to dealing with you, depending on whether or not you agree to go out with him, he will use his resources. Either way you will end up with him (if you don't want innocent people hurt).

》☆ Hidden Insecurities:

Despite his confident facade, Ryu Shi-o harbors deep insecurities. Fearful that the reader will discover his dark side, he struggles not to show his vulnerability. This can manifest in moments of emotional self-isolation. More common when they are getting to know each other, refusing to accept their emotions more as a passing interest.

When he already falls for you, he refuses to see you leave him for someone else (Or when you don't want more than a friendship) He clings to the feeling you give him or your kindness/courtesy. He has never felt the comfort you give him, you treat him as human and not the tool the Russians used.

》☆ Future plans:

Although his methods are questionable, Ryu Shi-oh looks for love in you. He sees in that relationship an opportunity to find peace and redemption for the sins of his past, even if his actions may be morally ambiguous. He really is a yandere who would give everything for you, though of course after fulfilling his goals.

Since he has experimented on himself, his strength is inhuman and that may or may not lead to use on special occasions... special occasions. Going back to his plans with you,if you behave just by staying out of it, you will have a dream life.... On the other hand, if you are a treacherous liar like Nam Soon (Ryu's own words) Even if he loves and cherishes you, he won't go easy on you.

He will first take it out on your loved ones, then ruining your life until everyone forgets you even exist.... Only then he can stop being angry with you, he is cynical about it.

He will tell you: "But Honey! You did that to yourself... You shouldn't have betrayed me, I gave you everything, I trusted you with my secrets and you were a spoiled whore..... Accept the consequences, only then can we forgive each other."

》☆ Violence as a last resort:

Although he doesn't hesitate to resort to violence towards his subordinates (regarding the real drug business) He never uses it with you as he doesn't want you to see him as someone bad, he tries to keep it as a last resort (We already gave vast examples of which situations can lead him to that) The contradiction between his desire to protect and his ability to be brutal reflects the complexity of his character.

You will always see him as the suave and polite gentleman although distant in his interactions, but as you get to know him better he is just someone traumatized and hurt by his past (He doesn't justify his current actions but he explains why) He never touches a hair on your head if you treat him well (Ryu Shi-oh has the philosophy that his enemies he treats harshly and his allies worse or something similar, what do I know I am just a brat of 18 years old).

》☆ NSFW

》☆ This will be short, but having sex with Ryu Shi-oh is the most sensual thing you could imagine. I won't add much because I need to learn more about the character, well he likes to bite and scratch. He will be slow and very gentle with you when starting this, but when he gets excited like every man he loses his mind and you may or may not end up with whippings or broken bones given his superior strength (literally).

》☆ Ryu loves when you suck his cock or his neck, his favorite parts of your body are those where he can squeeze (female breasts or buttocks). He likes to suck your breasts and play with your neck. His cock is introduced slowly so when you are ready, he gives you everything he has.

》☆ In the end, you will end up tired but satisfied (Unless you have done wrong and Ryu is angry when making love, there it is not smooth and he could even take it out on you due to his jealousy) Afterwards, the care he gives you is soft and sensual, always apologizing for breaking some bones.

In general, having a yandere like him can be a double-edged sword. Ryu Shi-oh can be so kind or cruel depending on your reactions and treatment towards him. It's like swimming on nails, you have to watch where you're going or you'll end up getting hurt.

This is all independent of the K-drama "Nam soon Super Strong Girl" since it is merely my interpretation of this beautiful villain who, from my perspective, didn't deserve so much pain even though he brought it on himself in the end.

[For those anons who asked me for something, I promise that as soon as I get my ideas together I will start writing because I am a mess at this. I could barely do anything right with this yandere concept.]

[boiohboii]

The people's sweethearts

Ch II

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

ch.I

Faceclaim: kiki hertz

Tom prided himself in never exposing his soulmark, he let a lot of things out that shouldn't be and his soulmark not being one of those is such an achievement. Mostly because from a very young age, when he started acting, his mother would make sure he covered it up with makeup so that no one, not even those behind the scenes would see it.

"So, you're invited to watch cars drive in circles?"

Meeting Zendaya had been a dream, they both felt the need to be closer to each other whenever possible even before they discovered their identical soulmarks. Both of them working and hanging around each other made it so much difficult to conceal their newfound relationship and eventually the whole world knew that both of them were soulmates, and not just that, everyone was now aware that Tom Holland and Zendaya Coleman were fated to have a third lover, a third soul with them to keep them sane from all the chaos their lives bring in the form of fans and crazy paparazzi.

"How can you say that?" Tom looked back at his girlfriend as he poured himself some tea "you literally met Lewis Hamilton not that long ago!"

Tom was painfully aware of the fact that Zendaya isn't that interested in either of the sports he enjoys: formula 1 and golf.

"Oh yeah, at a fashion show," Zendaya recalls as she moves over to hug tom from behind, resting her chin on his head. "He was nice."

"Do you think we'll meet our darling soon?" Zendaya asked, making Tom leave his drink to hold her hand in reassurance.

"I think so," turning around he let go of one of zendaya's hands to let his palm rest on her cheek "I know that I met you when I kept thinking about my soulmate, so I have a feeling that we'll meet darling soon."

The couple had taken to calling their third soulmate Darling, a nickname that they both agreed to reserve for their missing soul.

"Yeah, I feel so too."

Liked by maxverstappen1, F1wags&faves, verstappentruther and 683,519 others

Kellypiquet: a weekend with her was truly missed.

maxverstappen1: ♥️♥️

username: God, yn verstappen is so pretty

username: I wanna be her soulmate so bad

username: LOOK AT HER CHEEKS! I WANNA BITE THEM!

With his work schedule Tom wasn't able to attend much f1 races, but when he could he did, and most of them were the infamous English track, Silverstone.

But here in Monaco, the races were something else, Tom can feel how the people in this country were raised watching these cars from their homes, cheering for their favorite driver and the preparations for the race throughout the entire country are just mind blowing (he promised himself that he would bring Zendaya here for a vacation, this place is amazing).

"Is something wrong?" The voice of Christian Horner stopped Tom dead in his tracks, the team principle of the red bull formula 1 team making him feel like a little child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"Oh, um, yeah, yes-" clearing his throat Tom couldn't help still looking around, wanting to see the reason of the all too familiar tugging his heart "just looking around, the race is very different from Silverstone, the atmosphere is just so..."

And there it was, the reason his heart is pulling, the person he hoped he would meet as soon as he felt their presence in this specific garage, his darling; their darling.

"Well, Monaco is the heart of motorsport, especially formula 1, you can't live here without being a fan really."

Christian wasn't an idiot, he had eyes and his observational skills were too good. It wouldn't be the first time he witnessed a celebrity looking at yn verstappen, the girl hooking everyone in with her innocent face and charming smile. It would, however, be the first time he saw someone loose their breath over her and he knew what that meant, he knew that expression; he had went through it when he met his wife, he saw it on Max when he met Kelly and now he is going to see it on yn.

He thought he met an angel when he saw Zendaya, he thought that the feeling he would get when meeting their darling wouldn't be as strong, as intense, but seeing her there, standing next to Adrian Newey with a notebook and a pen in her hands, discussing something that seemed so important, made him unaware of anything else. She was all he could see, hear and feel. She was who they had been missing, and god did she make him want to scream at the top of his lungs.

He felt his chest swell up with emotions as he quickly reached for his phone, calling the one person he knew would calm him down.

"Hey baby, how's the race going?"

"Z, she's here," Tom rushed out as he maneuvered between the never ending sea of people to a quite place- well as quite as it can get in Monaco during a formula 1 race.

"What? Who's here?"

"Darling! She's here!"

"Darling is a she?"

Gathering her thoughts Zendaya left the lounge area of her hotel suite, dismissing the makeup artists and stylists with a smile and wave of her hand before entering the bedroom within the suite.

"Okay, okay, calm down baby," Zendaya spoke as she ran her hand through her hair "how about you go talk to her, yeah?"

"I can't, oh my god, what if she doesn't even feel the same pull- it's a stupid way to describe it but you know that's how I felt when I met you and it's the same but so much worse cause you're not here with me and I can't do this-"

"Honey, calm down, it's okay, let's take it step by step, did you check her wrist?" Being met with silence worried the tall girl, she knew how it might come off to him when she was basically asking him to check actual evidence and not take his feelings too seriously "I know your feelings, I get that, I felt the same with you, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," shuffling was heard before Tom apologies for, what zendaya assumed, pumping into someone "no, yeah, you're right, stay with me on the line, I'm going to try and see. She's wearing a sleeveless dress so that will make it easier."

Even though she didn't want to spoil it for herself, she wanted to get 100% of the awe and the fondness for herself, Zendaya couldn't help but ask "what does she look like?"

"So beautiful, Z" the way Tom spoke, the breathlessness and amazement in his voice made her want to cry, she wanted to be there, she wanted to be with him when they first saw her, that's how they always envisioned it.

"Okay, so I checked, and oh my god it's there, it's the same Z, what am I supposed to do, oh my god"

"Here's what you're going to do, you're going to tell her right now!"

"There are like 100 people around, how am I supposed to do that!"

"I don't know tom, tell her you wanna speak to her or something, make it up!"

"I can't do this, I can't, I am freaking out!"

"Oh my god, you're an actor, pretend it's a scene"

"Will you be able to pretend?"

"Well no, but I'm not the one that can see her, am I!"

"Okay, okay, deep breaths, I am going to tell her with you on the phone, alright?" Tom said as he started moving towards the blonde, his confidence building up with his taller soulmate cheering him on through the phone

"Holy shit" and there goes the little confidence he had

"What? Tom! Answer me! Is she dating someone, I swear to god if she is-"

"No, no, she's not," looking back at his soulmate "at least I don't think she is. God, there's no way I am telling her shit now."

"Why not?"

"Her brother can literally run me over with his small rocketship of a car! I am not doing anything when he is literally two centimetres away from her!"

What Tom failed to realise was how Christian Horner had joined the pair of siblings, telling Max and Yn of his earlier observations, which made all three of them look at the young brit in sync.

"Um, Z, I think we won't have to worry about me telling her."

CH.III

{taglist: @celesteblack08 @minkyungseokie @woozarts @keii134 @celesteblack08 @sainzluvrr @fangirl125reader}

[f1daydreamer]

By the Glow of the Marquee

Actor: Andrew Garfield

Genre: Fluff, Meet-Cute,

Warnings: None (just heartwarming fluff)

Plot: A chance encounter with Andrew Garfield outside a small theater in London leads to a night filled with unexpected conversations, laughter, and the beginnings of something more.

---

The neon marquee cast a warm glow over the quiet London street, illuminating the drizzle that fell in soft, rhythmic drops. You pulled your coat tighter around you, standing under the theater’s awning as you checked your phone for the next bus. The play you’d just seen had left you smiling, but you couldn’t shake the disappointment of missing your ride home.

“Hell of a show, wasn’t it?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to find Andrew Garfield leaning casually against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. You blinked, certain your eyes were playing tricks on you.

“It was,” you managed to say, trying not to stare too obviously. “Really powerful.”

Andrew nodded, his face lighting up with a smile. “That ending, though. Gutted me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Me too. I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about it.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the sound of rain filling the silence. Then, as if realizing the oddness of the situation, Andrew straightened and extended a hand. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Andrew.”

You took his hand, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “I know. I mean, I’ve seen your movies. I’m [Y/N].”

“Nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he said warmly. “Waiting for someone?”

“No, just a bus,” you admitted with a shrug. “Missed the last one by about thirty seconds.”

“Well, that’s tragic,” he said, his tone playful. “Want some company while you wait? Unless, of course, you find random actors lurking outside theaters a bit unsettling.”

You laughed again, his charm disarming you completely. “I think I can manage.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. You talked about the play, about the quirky little theater where it was performed, and eventually about life in general. Andrew was funny, self-deprecating, and so down-to-earth that you almost forgot he was a Hollywood star.

Time slipped by unnoticed, and when your bus finally arrived, you hesitated.

“I should probably…” You gestured toward the bus, reluctant to leave.

Andrew glanced at the bus, then back at you. “Or,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye, “you could let me buy you a coffee. There’s a great little café just down the street, and I think we’ve only scratched the surface of your opinions on theater.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back a smile. “Bold of you to assume I’d say yes.”

He grinned. “I’m an optimist.”

Against all logic, you found yourself nodding. “Alright, Garfield. Lead the way.”

The night unfolded like something out of a movie. Over coffee and pastries, you and Andrew shared stories, laughter, and dreams. By the time you parted ways under the dim light of a streetlamp, he slipped a piece of paper into your hand.

“In case you ever want to talk theater again,” he said with a smile before walking away.

You unfolded the paper to find his number scrawled across it, along with a note: “Thanks for making tonight unforgettable.”

---

A/N

Life has a funny way of surprising us when we least expect it. Sometimes, a missed bus or a chance encounter can lead to a moment you’ll never forget. Stay open to the unexpected—you never know when your story might take a magical turn.

[blackynsupremacy]

TWO IN THE MORN

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you complain to your stepbrother about your insomnia. fortunately, he has the solution for this issue.

contains: smut, 18+ content mdni, stepcest, stepbro!nicholas, sort of romantic/fluffy, slight age gap (reader is 19, nick is 22), reader is lowkey gullible, pwnp, fingering, finger riding, clit play, under the clothes, squirting, cum eating, risk kink, praise kink, aftercare.

a/n: whew this had me tingling! hope it’s the same for ya’ll 😫 sometimes foreplay can be lowkey sexier than actual intercourse. it’s the ✨tension✨ for me, that’s jmo. anyways, thank you all for the support! i’ll get on those requests.

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @v3n1ce-bxtch @iamsebastiansstan @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy

“shh, you don’t wanna wake up mommy and daddy do you, princess?”

your stepbrother, nicholas, lowly whispered as his hand was buried deep within your silk black pajama pants patterned with white hearts, his ring and middle fingers moving like clockwork in the depths of your clenching walls. you tried to keep yourself quiet as possible, but due to nicholas’ skill, it was damn near impossible.

“mm. mm-mhm.” you manage to whimper, feeling so bashful under his searing, ebony gaze. your chest heaved deliberately as the spaghetti straps of your top started to droop down the skin of your shoulders. your leaned back with your hands placed firmly flat on his mattress, your fingers practically clawed at his plaid sheets. instinctively, you bucked your hips in tandem to the motion of his fingers, softly hissing through your teeth when nicholas brought his thumb to swipe against your sensitive button. a strained whine escaped from you when he pinched it between his thumb and index.

“shh, easy, princess. i’ll give you what you need.” he seductively reassured, pushing his fingers further within your wet heat. what you really needed was some sleep.

ever since your mom married his dad, things have been interesting concerning your relationship with nicholas. he wasn’t a bad stepbrother. he was chill, protective, charming, funny, and an all around good “brotherly” figure to have around. if by brotherly, you mean coming to him with a request for advice on your boy issues, then hell yes. you’ve already talked it out with girls, but who understood guys better than—a guy? nicholas always knew what to say and you would easily follow his advice because it actually got you asked out by your crush! you were grateful to him and you’d never dare to say it out loud to a living soul, but you thought he was—hot. even if it weren’t for the circumstances of being bound by your parent’s marriage, you wouldn’t lie that you had a tiny crush on your stepbrother. it kind of made you jealous how your friends could easily fawn over him and rave about how handsome he is while you couldn’t even courtly agree, so that you wouldn’t come off as a perverted creep.

besides, he was just easy to talk to and hang out with.

this night in particular would completely shift your whole family dynamic. it was two in the morning and you couldn’t sleep, no matter how long you closed your eyes, you weren’t lulled into slumber like you should. that’s when you got up from the comfort of your bed, walked quietly passed your parent’s bedroom down the hall, and found yourself right in front of nicholas’ bedroom door that was slightly cracked open. you peeped through the small opening to see that he was still awake himself, scrolling and typing away on his phone while laying on his bed. respecting his privacy, you lift your knuckles to knock the “secret code” you two created to signal to each other when you wanted access to each other’s rooms. within seconds, you heard the springs of the mattress creak as your stepbrother received the signal and his footsteps quietly, yet deliberately reached the door before he opened it wider to reveal his six foot figure leaning against the doorframe. it was dark, but you could still see that he was wearing a black ribbed tank top that showed off his large biceps with grey sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, his signature gold cross chain around his neck twinkled in the darkness. fuck, no matter what he wore, he always managed to look amazingly hot.

you try not to gawk too long before he’d start to notice. you swallowed quickly before uttering an awkward greeting in a low, breathy voice.

“hey.” you say, hiding your hands behind your back. it was something you did when you were nervous.

nicholas raised a brow, tilting his head in concern before running a hand through his already messy, brown hair.

“hey.” he reciprocated, his voice raspy, but low enough so only both of you could hear. “are you okay, y/n?”

at his inquiry, you shake your head.

“i can’t sleep. can—can i hang out in here with you? i hope i’m not intruding.” you ask, your doe eyes meeting his what was once a sleepy gaze, instantly lit up at your request.

“uh, yeah—sure. make yourself comfortable.”

nicholas nods before giving a once over to his bed and steps aside to allow you inside of his bedroom. as you take your spot at the foot of the bed, he slowly closes the door, careful not to make a sound that could wake your sleeping parents. after switching on the lamp, he steps over to the bed and comfortably takes a seat a mere foot away from you because he respects your space as you do his. nicholas leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as his eyes meet with yours.

“so what’s keeping you awake tonight, hm? is everything okay with you?”

you shift, clasping your hands on your laps and shrugging your shoulders.

“i don’t know—maybe it’s stress. i’ve tried everything to get relaxed enough. a hot shower, chamomile tea. hell, i even put on one of those sleep hypnosis videos and it still didn’t work, nicholas.” you explain, counting on your fingers as he takes in every word and giving an attentive nod. with a hum from his chest, nicholas straightens up his posture before giving your figure a quick examination, raking his eyes up and down. now, you were starting to feel like an idiot at his silence, but you weren’t expecting what was going to come out his mouth next.

“i don’t think you’ve tried everything.” he states, casually leaning back on the bed, his hands giving him leverage. you shoot him a puzzled look and turn your body to completely face him with a furrowed gaze.

“well—what do you mean? what do you think can put me to sleep and keep me asleep this late, nicholas?” you question, unconsciously leaning forward as you were itching to find the solution. nicholas’ guidance has never really failed you, so you were eager for his opinion on the matter. he didn’t move an inch as you came closer, there was something different that twitched inside of him. at the sight of your scantily clad upper body in that black and white polka-hearted top with the lace hugging the melanated mounds of your breasts that was merely a few inches from his chest, he couldn’t resist throwing a quick glance to the display before meeting your soft, pleading gaze.

“here’s my solution— an orgasm.” he blatantly suggests, his eyes flickering to a certain suggestive light. you were bit inexperienced in that area, so it was only natural that the heat of embarrassment scorched your skin, your mouth agape as nicholas struck you speechless.

“a what?” you ask, registering what you just heard.

nicholas could only chuckle at your reaction which he found to be absolutely adorable. he loved that your unique beauty and your trusting nature painted an image of naivety that just turned him on. he couldn’t deny that when you came to him for almost everything under the sun, it made him feel a sense of purpose, power, and control. a lazy smile painted on his chiseled face paired with those half-lidded bedroom eyes of his that always put you in a tizzy.

“c’mon, we’re both adults here. i know you heard me, but i’ll say it again: an orgasm can help get you to sleep.”

“how do you know?” you question with a tilt of your head, but then all the dots start to connect, realization painted on your already heated face.

“that means you’ve done it before.”

“atta girl!”

with a snicker, he pats the top of your head in which you shake him off.

“so—sex can wear you out like that?”

he nods before giving you a further explanation.

“well, all aspects of sex can do that. from fucking to masturbation. even oral, depending on how intense it is.”

at the mention of masturbation, it was now your turn to deliberately nod.

“i guess that makes sense. god, i sound so sexually uneducated and i’m almost twenty for fuck’s sakes.” you exasperatedly sigh, nicholas chuckled and scooted closer towards you making his leg brush against yours.

“it’s no big deal, it’s all about knowing your body in your time. you’ll get there, y/n.” he reassures you with a sincere gaze.

“see, that’s the problem, nicholas.”

“what is?”

“i can’t get there. like—when i, y’know.” you pause, gesturing towards your lower region. “i’m relaxed, but i can’t finish. i want to go back to my room and take your advice, but i don’t think i can do it. i feel like there’s something wrong me—”

“stop.” nicholas immediately cuts you off, placing his index finger on your lips. who knew that a touch so small could send such a surge of electricity through your entire body? your silence was his cue for him to continue.

“listen to me, okay? there’s nothing wrong with you and anyone who’s made you feel otherwise, can fuck themselves.”

your stepbrother pauses to carefully examine your natural features. he found you, his stepsister, to be absolutely breathtaking. nicholas absolutely loathed the circumstances of this situation as his feelings for you never changed from the very moment he and his father had dinner with you and your mother. you were his everything and you didn’t know it all. you didn’t know of all his yearning for your voice, your touch, your laughter, and your body. your presence had him fucked up in a million different ways and in this clandestine moment between you, he couldn’t hide it any longer.

“i believe—you’re absolutely perfect.”

your heart skipped a beat at your stepbrother’s confession, did he just—confess his feelings? for you? had you been blind that he saw you the way you saw him? one part of you was elated while the other pondered on the possible consequences if anyone figured out the bond between you was more than platonic, especially your parents.

“nicholas, i—” you start, but he interrupts you again, his face inching closer to yours as the tip of your noses brush against each other.

“if you feel like you can’t do it, then i can help you.”

your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes searching his for clarity on his statement as his lips ghosted over yours.

“you’d do that? but, i’ve never had—”

nicholas’ large hand came up to rest on your cheek, his thumb swiping across your flaming skin in reassurance.

“we’re not going that far, babe. especially not with mom and dad in the house, but we can unpack that later—what i need to know is do you want me to help you go to sleep tonight?”

your mind was already made up, there was no way you could pass up an opportunity like this. all the cares and worries of getting caught now gave you the craving of the thrill that you’d be been waiting for and your stepbrother was the right person to do so.

“mm-hm.” you murmur, nodding your head as your heart rate increased in tempo within your chest. the familiar tingly sensation pools in between your legs.

“that won’t work for me, sweetheart, use your words.” he softly demands, his hand sliding from your face down to your waist to shorten the distance between you.

“yes, nicholas, yes! please—” at your desperate pleas, your stepbrother closes the gap between you by smashing his lips on yours, a line that both of you have been dying to cross for months. your hesitant at first, but once you get the feeling of his intoxicating touch, you fall right into his rhythm as his tongue skillfully wraps around yours, causing you to hum in satisfaction deep into his mouth. he pulls away after a few seconds, you pout as worry creeps in.

“did i do something wrong? was i bad?” you frantically questioned in a whisper, feeling self-conscience about the act you were committing. nicholas calmed the fret in your voice by placing another kiss to your lips, a deep hum of satisfaction erupts from his chest as you relax in his arms and return the affection. he pulls back again.

“no, no, sweetheart. you’re doing just fine. just wanna let you know m’bout to touch you. you okay with that, baby?”

you were about to nod, but then remembered that nicholas needed your verbal consent, so you quickly changed your tune.

“y-yes, go ahead.” your voice shaky, but affirmative enough for him to continue by snaking his hand under your tank top to cop a feel of one of your breasts. you shiver when his rough palm meets the plush skin, rewarding it with a squeeze. you want to cry out when he brings his other hand in and starts to knead your chest beneath your shirt, but you bite down on your lip to not a make sound.

“fuck, your tits feel so perfect. i’ve always thought they were—it’s like they were made just f’me.” he whispered before gazing up to see your strained, but blissful face. with a quiet chuckle, he makes things worse when he starts to spread wet, open mouth kisses along your neck and collarbone. your grip on his sheets tighten when he moves from your breasts down the trail of your stomach and navel until he made it right above the waistline of your matching pants. before he could even ask, it was now your turn to make a demand. it was getting late, you just wanted to sleep.

“i want you to touch me, nicholas.” you pause by holding onto his wrist to inch his hand deeper into your pants, “please.”

“eager, aren’t we? be a good girl and spread those legs f’me.”

you do as you’re told and your breath hitches when his fingers slide beneath your clothing. nicholas chuckles as he figures out that you’re completely bare, giving him easy access to your throbbing, wet core.

“no underwear? guess you’re not as innocent as i thought.” he slyly comments, not wasting time for his fingers to graze along your slit. when the pads of his middle and ring make light, pressured circles around your clit, you whimper before you hastily cover your mouth before you take it away once you have control of sounds—or so you thought when one finger eased its way inside, stretching your walls as they clench around him.

“you’re so tight, sweetheart. m’gonna put another finger in, ‘kay?”

with that, his ring joins in with his middle, both working in tandem as they push in and pull out so fluidly it makes your leg spread and head spin. when his fingertips hit that one spot, you gasped, holding onto his wrist to signal for him to hit it right there. nicholas wasn’t playing around as he instantly picked up on your cue, pumping his fingers faster against the erogenous area of your walls.

“s-shit, nicholas that feels s-so—” you try to stammer out, but he interrupts you by placing his free finger on your lips.

“shh. try not to make a sound. you don’t wanna get caught do you?”

you shake your head, stifling your mewls by swallowing.

“that’s my good girl. m’gonna make you feel so fucking good, beautiful.” he boasts by pressing his thumb over your clit again, rapidly jutting it up and down in which your hips instinctively buck into his fingers. the only sounds you could hear in the room is the light squelching of your sex combined with the muffled “hm, hm, hm” buried in your mouth as the familiar heat deep in the pit of you began to burn.

“c-close.” you murmur loud enough for only him to hear, you lean back as your hips were squirming against his gliding digits.

“i know, baby, i know. do something f’me okay? c’mere.” he beckoned you closer in which you did before his free arm guides one of yours to grasp onto his shoulder, you follow suit by taking your other and placing it on the respective shoulder, so that you could hold onto him with a firm grip.

“move with me, baby. ride my fingers.” he moved his fingers steadily as you begin to grind your hips in the perfect rhythm, his thumb never ceasing its affection on your sensitive, puffy button. it was all driving you so crazy, that your nails dug into the skin of his muscular shoulders before you practically bounced yourself at a rapid speed on his fingertips, your breath now labored with each thrust.

“oh, fuck. oh, fuck, nick! m’gonna cum!” you softly bellowed, the pitch of your voice getting higher.

“fuck, go ahead, gorgeous. make a mess all over of me. i got you.”

before you could utter another sound, nicholas grabbed you by the neck to pull you into a passionate kiss, where you poured every single lewd sound you had pent up melt into his mouth as your tongues reunite in a sensual dance. there were so many sensations going on at once from above to below, that the slow simmer of the heat that coiled inside of you grew hotter until it finally exploded. as it occurred, you pulled back from him, tightly grasping his wrist as intense tidal waves of pleasure surged through you, causing you to weakly double over into his chest. your mouth was wide open, but not a sound came out as your juices flowed onto his fingers and poured down your thighs. after you rode out your high, nicholas slide his fingers out to take a taste of the glistening substance that poured on his hand. a hum mixed with some soft profanity left his lips at the new taste—his next idea brewing in his filthy mind.

“you did so well, angel.” he wrapped his burly arms around your shaky, fucked out form, resting a kiss to your forehead. he noticed that you were quiet, his brown eyes descended towards you to see that you were knocked out cold in a sweet slumber after such an encounter. if he could, he’d sit here all night watching you peacefully sleep in his arms, but he had to put you back in bed before sunrise, so that your parents wouldn’t be suspicious. ever so stealthy, he picked you up bridal style and walked quietly to your open bedroom before gingerly placing you in the sheets, pulling them over to conceal you from the chest down. he was even kind enough to find your protective satin bonnet, gently lifting your head to securely place it over one of the many hairstyles that he always found to be stunning on you. nicholas’ soft, coffee gaze lingered on your peaceful, sleeping figure before he leaned forward to lay one last kiss on your head.

“sweet dreams, princess.”

after he bid you a tender goodnight, he gazed down at the stiff arousal within his sweats. nicholas concluded that he had to take his own advice of putting himself to sleep within the privacy of his bedroom only with the thoughts of you on his mind.

[the-offside-rule]

Jensen Ackles - exile

Requested: yes

Prompt: "Can you write a fic related to that last story you did with Y/n being a singer? Maybe like Jensen helping her write a song or something cute??"

Warnings: not really, no

The gentle rustle of sheets and the soft hum of a distant piano woke Y/n from her sleep. Blinking groggily, she reached over to Jensen's side of the bed, only to find it empty. Confused, she sat up, listening intently. The soothing sound of the piano playing drifted through the house, luring her out of the warm embrace of their bed. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, wrapping a robe around herself as she padded towards the source of the music. Peering over the banister, she saw Jensen seated at the piano, his fingers moving gracefully over the keys as he hummed a tune softly to himself.

With a soft smile, Y/n made her way downstairs, the wooden steps creaking slightly under her weight. Jensen seemed lost in his music, his brow furrowed in concentration. She approached him gently, not wanting to startle him. "Hey." She whispered, sitting down beside him and placing a kiss on his shoulder. He jumped slightly at her voice. "Couldn't sleep?" Jensen looked up, his green eyes meeting hers with a sheepish smile. "Yup." He admitted. "Started messing around with this tune. Not sure if it's any good, though. Probably going to scrap it." Y/n frowned, sitting down beside him on the piano bench. "Let me hear it." She insisted. "Play it for me." Jensen hesitated for a moment before nodding. He began to play, his voice low and melodic as he sang the words he had been working on. "I can see you standing, honey. With his arms around your body. You're laughing but the jokes not funny at all."

He turns his head slightly, glancing over at Y/n's focused face as she listened to the words. "And it took you five whole minutes. To pack us up and leave me with it. Holding all this love out here in the hall." Y/n shifted in the seat. This almost sounded like a breakup song, but as far as she was concerned, they hadn't been anywhere near a breakup stage for years. "You're not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile seeing you out. I think I've seen this film before." When he finished, she turned to him with a soft smile. "Whats it about?" She asked. "Well, I wrote the first part when we nearly broke up at that party like ten years ago." He chuckled. "The other bit just happened." Y/n let out a chuckle. "That's beautiful, babe." She said softly. "You can't scrap that. It's too good." He chuckled, a hint of relief in his eyes. "You really think so?"

"I know so." Y/n replied firmly. "Let's get to work." He arched a brow. "Right now?" She nodded. "Come on, what's the worst that could happen? If it turns out bad, we could always just keep the song secret." Jensen smiled, handing her his notebook and going back to playing the piano. They spent the rest of the night huddled together at the piano, adding lyrics and refining the melody. The hours passed quickly, filled with laughter and whispered words of encouragement. As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, they finally finished the song.

Y/n stood and stretched, her stomach grumbling softly. "I think it's time for breakfast." she said with a grin. "I'll make us something to eat." She smiled, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. Jensen stood staring at the words scribbled on his notebook. The song was finished, and it's honestly one of the most beautiful things he had ever written; not only that, but he managed to write it with his wife. Jensen then stopd up, walking towards the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her hum a tune and fuddle with the pan on the stove, the delicious smell filling the room as the sunlight poured in the window. He finally pushed himself off the frame and walked up being her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she cooked. He nuzzled her neck, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin, whilst one of her hand reached up behind Jensen's head, moving his messy locks around. "I love you, Y/n." He murmured.

She leaned back into his embrace, smiling contentedly. "I love you too, Jensen." Just as Jensen was about to whisper something else in Y/n's ear, the patter of small feet echoed through the hallway. "Well, they're up." Y/n joked. "I liked the peace we had a few minutes ago." Jensen sighed. Their children, drawn by the enticing aroma of breakfast, burst into the kitchen with bright, eager eyes. "Mommy! Daddy! What's for breakfast?" Their eldest, a little girl with Jensen's green eyes, asked as she ran up to them. Y/n chuckled, turning in Jensen's embrace to greet their children. "Good morning, loves. I'm making pancakes." She said, bending down to scoop their youngest into her arms.

Jensen smiled warmly at their children, ruffling their son's hair. "Did the smell wake you guys up?" The eldest grabbed her youngest sister and brought her towards the kitchen table. "Yeah! Pancakes!" Their son cheered, jumping up and down with excitement. Y/n glanced at Jensen, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Looks like we'll have to finish our moment later." She winked, patting his chest gently. " Jensen shrugged. "If we open the back door they'll be outside for at least a half an hour." Y/n laughed at the suggestion that didn't seem all too bad an idea. "Fine, later." He agreed with a smile, then turning to their children. "Who wants to help Daddy set the table?"

The children eagerly volunteered, their excitement palpable as they scrambled to grab plates and utensils. "Hey! Wash, your hands first!" Jensen guided them, his laughter filling the kitchen as they worked together. Y/n watched them, her heart full of love and gratitude. Despite the interruption, she wouldn't trade this chaotic, joy-filled moment for anything. As she flipped the pancakes, she hummed the tune of their new song, feeling content and blessed by the life they had built together. Jensen caught her eye from across the kitchen and mouthed a simple "I love you".

Y/n smiled back, mouthing the words in return before turning her attention back to the pancakes.

[misswynters]

Lure in the Deep

Ewan Mitchel x reader

[SYNOPSIS: You both are actors starring in a movie where he plays a sailor and you play a siren.

[note | it’s a bit cheesy and short, but i just had to write something!, will probably fix later

Massive blue screens surrounded a large water tank, the waves created by hidden machinery that mimicked the gentle rise and fall of the ocean. The ship, a meticulously crafted replica of an old sailing vessel, bobbed in the artificial water, its sails catching the wind from strategically placed fans. It was a perfect illusion, transporting anyone who stepped onto the set to another world.

You stood just off to the side, dressed in a shimmering costume that clung to your form, reflecting the light like scales. Your role in the film was one that had drawn you in the moment you read the script—a siren, the embodiment of the sea's allure, cursed to sing men to their doom. The role required a delicate balance of ethereal beauty and an underlying darkness, a challenge you relished.

Across the set, Ewan Mitchell was getting into character. His transformation into the role of the sailor, a man hardened by years at sea yet still capable of wonder, was nothing short of remarkable. Ewan had an intensity about him that made every role he took on feel deeply personal, and this one was no exception. His sailor was a man haunted by the sea’s beauty and danger, drawn to it despite the peril it posed.

The scene you were about to shoot was a pivotal one, where your characters would meet for the first time—a moment of tension, temptation, and mystery. It was one of the most crucial parts of the film, the moment where the sailor’s fate would be sealed by the siren’s song.

The director, a meticulous man with a passion for detail, called for quiet on the set. The crew hushed, the sound of the waves and the creaking of the ship filling the silence. The cameras were ready, focused on the ship as it drifted through the water.

You took a deep breath, letting yourself sink into the character of the siren. You were no longer yourself—you were an ancient being, bound to the sea, cursed to live beneath its surface, and doomed to lure sailors to their doom with your voice. The script had described the siren as both haunting and irresistible, a creature of beauty and danger in equal measure.

“Action!” the director called.

The cameras began to roll, and the scene came to life. Ewan’s sailor stood at the bow of the ship, his hands gripping the railing as he stared out over the dark water. The wind whipped through his hair, and his eyes were distant, lost in thought. He was the perfect picture of a man who had seen too much yet still found himself entranced by the mysteries of the sea.

As per the script, you began to sing, your voice soft and melodic, carrying across the water like a whisper on the wind. The song was one of longing and loss, a siren’s call designed to draw the sailor in, to make him forget everything but the voice that beckoned him closer. Your character’s voice was meant to be her most powerful weapon, a lure that no mortal man could resist.

Ewan’s sailor stiffened as the sound reached his ears. His eyes searched the water, trying to locate the source of the song. The camera captured the moment perfectly—his confusion, his curiosity, and the growing pull of the siren’s voice. You could see the internal struggle playing out in his expression, a man torn between his instincts and the overwhelming urge to follow the sound.

Following the director's cues, you slowly emerged from the water, just enough for the sailor to catch a glimpse of your character. Your costume shimmered in the moonlight, your eyes meeting his with a gaze that was both inviting and foreboding.

Ewan’s performance was captivating. His character’s eyes widened slightly as they locked onto yours, a mix of fear and fascination crossing his face. The camera lingered on this moment—the siren and the sailor, their fates intertwined by the pull of the ocean and the curse that bound you.

The scene was supposed to be tense, filled with the unspoken promise of danger and the inevitability of the sailor’s doom. You could feel the energy between you and Ewan, a silent understanding that made the scene feel real, almost too real. It was as if the set had vanished, leaving only the two of you, the sea, and the siren’s song.

As you continued to sing, Ewan’s character slowly stepped closer to the edge of the ship, his movements almost trance-like. The script had called for him to be drawn in, compelled to move closer despite knowing the danger. Ewan’s portrayal was spot-on—his body language conveying both the struggle to resist and the growing compulsion to surrender.

The director had planned for this moment to be one of slow, deliberate tension, but there was an electricity in the air that neither of you could ignore. The scene was taking on a life of its own, evolving beyond the words on the page.

Suddenly, the director called for a cut, his voice breaking through the spell. The crew erupted into motion, the illusion shattered as people rushed to reset for the next take.

You and Ewan stayed in place, both of you still caught in the intensity of the moment. His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, you wondered if he had been as deeply affected by the scene as you had. There was something in his gaze—a lingering connection, perhaps, or just the residue of a powerful performance.

“That was… something,” Ewan said quietly, breaking the silence between you. His voice was still tinged with the emotion of the scene, a testament to how deeply he had immersed himself in the role.

You nodded, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the scene. “Yeah. It felt… different.”

He gave a small, almost shy smile. “You make it easy to get lost in the moment.”

The compliment caught you off guard, but you managed a smile in return. “Likewise. Your performance was incredible.

Ewan shrugged, his modesty a sharp contrast to the intensity he brought to his characters. “Just trying to keep up with you.”

Before you could respond, the director approached, a wide grin on his face. “That was fantastic, you two. Absolutely perfect. Let’s get one more take, just for safety, but I think we’ve got it.”

The crew reset the scene, and you took your place in the water once more, waiting for the cameras to roll. As the lights dimmed and the ship was once again bathed in moonlight, you felt that familiar pull, the transformation back into the siren who haunted the deep.

“Action!” the director called, and the scene began anew.

Once more, the song rose from your throat, the melody haunting and beautiful. Ewan’s sailor reacted just as before, his body drawn to the edge of the ship by the irresistible pull of the siren’s call. But this time, something was different—there was a depth to the connection between your characters that hadn’t been there in the previous take. It was subtle, but it was enough to change the tone of the scene, adding layers of emotion that made it even more compelling.

As the scene played out, you found yourself lost in the moment, the line between reality and fiction blurring once more. There was a raw intensity to Ewan’s performance that drew you in, making it feel as if you were truly the siren and he the doomed sailor.

When the director finally called “Cut!” you both stayed in character for a beat longer than necessary, the weight of the scene lingering in the air. It wasn’t until the crew began to move around you that you snapped out of it, the spell broken.

“That was… wow,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ewan nodded, his expression still distant, as if he hadn’t fully come back to reality yet. “Yeah. That felt… real.”

You smiled, the tension between you easing as you both returned to yourselves. “You really brought the character to life. It was incredible to watch.”

He returned the smile, this time with a hint of his usual charm. “I could say the same about you. I think we make a pretty good team.”

As the crew began to dismantle the set, you and Ewan lingered for a moment, the connection between you still humming in the air. It was a connection born from your characters, from the intensity of the scene you had just shared, but there was something else too—a spark that made you wonder if it was only acting or if there was something more.

“Maybe we’ll get to work together again,” Ewan said, his voice laced with a hint of hope.

“I’d like that,” you replied, your smile widening. “I’d like that a lot.”

And as the lights dimmed on the set of “Lure of the Deep”, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to the story yet to be written.

taglist: @spn-obession @soulsbrne @beebeechaos @mymoonempress @demigoddessqueens

banner: @cafekitsune

[lowkeyrobin]

Walker Scobell & Reader who got sick ? ( can be either platonic or romantic , idm which !! )

- 🗡️

okay yeah I can try!! ; this is very ambiguous to romantic / platonic so yeah lol ; thanks for requesting! hope you enjoy 🫶

WALKER SCOBELL ; sick

summary ; you get sick and walkers here to help

warnings ; language

word count ; 204

masterlist

he feels bad that you're sick for like 5 mins

5 minutes later and he's joking about it and making fun of you (a friends way of making fun of you)

"lol how are you sick"

"idfk can you please just go get me some medicine"

"ughhhh fine. don't get ur disease on me when I come over"

"blocked"

he's super sweet tho

if you need something he's on it

he gives you movie recommendations and stuff cause he knows ur just gonna be laying around all day

he looks up a soup recipe and surprisingly makes some good ass soup for you

he's setting alarms to make sure you keep up on medicine too LMAO

he runs you a nice bath as well

brother got you bubbles too 💀

he got a makeshift setup with some bath salts, a bath bomb if you like those, some water and other fun stuff

fun stuff as some cut up fruit in little bowls

he wanted to give you a little time to relax alone plus he wanted some time alone too

#healthyfriendship/relationship

he's always checking up on you when he isn't around as well

"hey hru feeling"

sends you dumb tiktoks and memes all through the day too

[insidekatmind]

Secret~ Choi Do-Il

Request: yes!

The Wonryong Group headquarters is a cold and austere place. Gray concrete walls and dark glass stand imposingly, hiding secrets and dangerous ambitions behind them. You walk confidently along the corridors, trying to keep your face impassive as you were taught. You are a recruit, but also something more. Your training has been rigorous and ruthless, but you have always shown a strength that few possess.

Next to you, Choi Do-il maintains his usual calm and calculating attitude. His eyes observe everything carefully, his mind always one step ahead of the others. He is one of the group's leading elements, respected and feared by many.

What no one knows is that, beyond being colleagues, you are something more. A secret relationship that you have carefully cultivated, protected by the shadows and by your own cunning. No one suspects that behind your cold and professional exchanges there are deeper glances and stolen touches at the most unexpected moments.

"Are you ready for today's training?" Do-il asks, his voice as emotionless as ever.

"Always ready," you reply with a small smile, which he catches even though his eyes betray nothing.

You find yourself in the training room, a huge, bare room, furnished only with tools and combat weapons. For an entire hour you train relentlessly, quick and precise strikes, fluid and lethal moves. Neither of you hold back, it's a constant test of your limits and your endurance.

When training ends, you are alone. The other members have already left or are busy elsewhere. Heavy breathing fills the silent room as you stop, both sweaty and tired, but with the adrenaline still alive in your veins.

"You've improved," he comments, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I have to keep up with you, don't I?" you respond by taking a few steps closer, your eyes shining with an intensity that only he can unleash.

Without another word, he closes the distance between you. His hands grip your hips with a firmness that is never violent, but decisive. His mouth finds yours and all the control you show in front of others dissolves in that private moment.

The kisses are quick and greedy, as if every stolen second is precious. His fingers tangle in your hair as his body presses against yours, pushing you towards the cold wall.

"We don't have much time," he murmurs, but his tone betrays his desire to ignore that reality.

"I know," you reply breathlessly, but your gaze promises him that every moment together is worth the risk.

Maybe it's crazy. Maybe it's dangerous. But in that world of deception and power struggles, he's the only thing that can make you feel alive.

Do-il kisses you again and you cling to him.

His lips move hungrily against yours, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume all rational thought. Your hands roam his muscular chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. He presses you harder against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm that makes your breath hitch.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and husky. "How badly I want to take you right here, right now?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you arch into him, craving more of his touch. But just as quickly as it began, the moment is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.

Doil pulls away abruptly, his expression instantly switching back to one of cold indifference. He straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair, composing himself with practiced ease.

"Remember,"he says quietly, his eyes flicking to the door, "we can't let anyone suspect anything. Not until I've secured my position."

He takes a step back, putting some distance between you. "I'll see you later. Don't forget our meeting with the investors tonight."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone in the training room, your heart racing and your lips swollen from his kisses. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and regain your composure. You know he's right you can't afford to let anyone find out about your relationship. Not yet.

As you leave the room, you can't help but think about the danger and excitement of your secret affair. It's a thrill unlike anything you've ever experienced, and you know that you would do anything to protect it.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of meetings and training sessions. But as the evening approaches, your thoughts keep drifting back to Doil and the investors' meeting. You know that he'll be on his best behavior, charming and ruthless in equal measure.

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “DANCE WITH ME IN THE RAIN”

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!jung haein x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! the most fluffiest possible!

୨ৎ summary: your boyfriend finally had an entire week off instead of just a day or so here and there. spending the whole week with you was most important to him so he decided that a picnic would be the best way to start off the week! but.. he didn’t check the weather forecast.

୨ৎ from myeong: hi!! hello!! as you can see I’m so excited to take this request as a haein lover myself! he’s a precious soul and I hope you can enjoy this!! x

“be careful.” the sound of your boyfriends stern voice made you roll your eyes but in a loving and playful way of course. allowing half of your body to hang out of the open window his large hand gripped your thigh while the other kept tight on the steering wheel driving you both to the secret location he was excited to show you. free was the most perfect word for this moment. you’ve never felt so free and happy like this in your entire life so far. “come back in princess we’re just about there.”

opening the passenger door for you like the perfect gentleman that he was, a shocked gasp left your glossed over lips. being in the city was something you were used too and had grown tired of after so many years—seeing mountains, trees, never before seen flowers and plants was enough to make you emotional and the moment was going to be shared with your boyfriend jung haein. the most perfect man in your eyes. your arms wrapped around his body and you squeezed as tight as you could wanting him to feel the excitement running through your body. “thank you!” is all you said before reaching up on your tippy toes to place a few gentle kisses to his soft cheeks and lips. the sound of his light chuckles made your heart swell loving the sound each time you were able to hear them. you swung one of the bags that was packed and brought for this exciting adventure over your shoulder and ran towards the water, eyes widening when seeing your own reflection. “look at this!! I can see my own reflection isn’t that so cool? come here old man! hurry” you pointed like a child would and looked up at haein once he finally made it over to you. his lips curled up into a sweet smile—the smile that made you fall for him. the smile that made you feel like a teenager in love. the smile that made you want a future with him.

“let’s take a picture, hm?” you nodded your head quickly and stood close to him while he brought out his phone and zoomed in just a little to get the perfect picture of you both. strong arm wrapping around your waist keeping you close to him while he took a few photos—changing the pose each time. “look at me.” and just as you turned your head to look up at him he pressed his soft lips against your own and took the photo. you’d been with him for only two years now but it felt like an eternity. an eternity of happiness and gentle love that you had prayed for over and over again.

“look at all these snacks we have! I waited hours for this.. because a certain meanie wouldn’t let me have any on the way here or sneak a peek!” a cute but fake pout formed on your lips while you crossed your arms against your chest. haein could only laugh at how ridiculous but cute you looked and he reached over to grab ahold of your waist pulling you closer to him, sitting you on his lap while he reached for a chocolate covered strawberry. “say ahhh.” and you instantly parted your lips so he could feed you the strawberry. taking a decent bite before he pulled the rest away and popped it in his mouth. quietly chewing and looking out towards the beautiful view of the large mountains this was one of the most romantic things you’ve done with him in the two years of your relationship.

“remember when we first met at the cafè near the park in seoul and you tripped and fell right in front of me? your pretty face went right into the cupcake I was so excited to eat. that was a cheat day as well! you ruined it.” haein teased you which made you turn in his lap to playfully slap at his chest. “I apologized and offered to buy you a new one but you declined! such a loser..” a groan left your lips as your back fell against his broad chest, a deep breath leaving you while your eyes shut trying to enjoy the sound of his light breathing, the fresh crisp and clean air that made you feel so alive, and sound of the birds chirping. “this is all so perfect. thank you so much for taking me here. I.. I love you hae. I can’t wait to experience much more with you in this lifetime.” it was the first time you had said anything so affectionate to him and it felt genuine. the time was right and you had hoped he felt the same but nerves started to form in your stomach when he remained silent and as you turned to look at him—he was already looking at you with a sweet smile on his lips.

“you should already knew how much I love you, angel. it’s been that way for a while now. the moment we met i felt something so strong for you that I’ve never felt before. sure I was.. hesitant about those feelings but I’m so happy I acted on them when I did.” haein’s large hand reached up to pinch at your cheek in a playful manner before letting his thumb slide across your bottom lip pulling at it. “you’re perfect.” he whispered before kissing you. instantly kissing him back and bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks when a warm and wet drop to the top of your head startled you, pulling away from him. his eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t help but to giggle from how cute he looked, “umm..” is all you said before looking up seeing the dark clouds surrounding you both. “oh shit.” he cursed before hurrying to cover the snacks he packed for the picnic. a few more warm drops hit your skin before the downpour began which left the both of your screaming and running to the nearest shop that was thankfully near the river where you both were having the picnic.

“why didn’t you check the weather! our picnic..” although it was upsetting the smell of rain filled your nostrils and it was one of the best smells to ever exist. “It looks like a pop up storm. nothing too serious and it should last long.” he started but looked your way with another smile on his lips, “dance with me in the rain.”

your eyes widened as you turned to look at him. dance? in the rain?! what couples always did in movies?! no way he asked such a thing but you found yourself slowly nodding your head words unable to form at this point. his hand grabbed ahold of your own and pulled you away from the shop and into the pouring rain. it left your breathless and after a few gasps you looked up at him, “are we really doing this?!” you yelled and he nodded letting his arm wrap around your waist while the other grabbed ahold of your hand—moving his body with your own in a very arrhythmic manner. were people watching? did you both look like idiots? those questions left your mind and all you could see and think about is the man in front of you who was drenched from the rain and still looked so incredibly handsome.

haein twirled you a few times pulling you right back into his chest and pressing a few kisses to your face and lips loving the way you would giggle or try to cover your flustered face. “stop doing that, yeah? let me see how cute you are just like this..” and his forehead was placed against your own wet one. his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss which only made you feel more flustered, these types of things was only in movies!! not in real life yet here you were with him doing all the things you thought were impossible.

[almostwisegalaxy]

Silent Hostility_4

Part1

Part2

Part3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Reader has a shy character in this story

Age gaps: Spencer 37-38 Reader: twenties

Post prison Reid. Season 13. But let's imagine that the team is Always the same as in the seasons marked, with: Derek Morgan, Aaron hotcher...

..................................................................................

But life...

Life gave them no respite.

No time to hesitate, to fumble through uncertainty.

Their story would be nothing soft.

Nothing gradual.

They were going to love each other instantly.

Brutally.

Irrevocably.

With no way to turn back.

The adrenaline hadn’t faded.

The case was closed.

The victims were safe.

But Y/N was at her limit.

Too many emotions.

Too much built-up tension.

She walked through the halls of HQ, her gaze empty, her jaw clenched.

She just wanted to forget.

Bury this day under layers of indifference.

But him…

He was there.

Always there.

In her field of vision.

In her mind.

Under her skin.

He had been watching her from the beginning.

He knew.

He saw right through her.

And that…

That was unbearable.

So when he caught up to her in the break room, she knew something was about to explode.

"Y/N."

She froze.

Closed her eyes.

Don’t answer.

Don’t react.

But he stepped closer.

Too close.

His scent, his warmth…

She felt her muscles tighten.

And when he murmured, his voice rough:

"Look at me."

She lost control.

Everything detonated.

Without thinking, she shoved him violently.

Her breath was ragged, her heart pounding.

"Stop!" she snapped.

Reid didn’t move.

His gaze was unreadable, intense.

"Why?" he asked calmly.

She clenched her fists.

"Because…"

But no words came out.

No excuse made sense.

Because he was right.

Because she had no more barriers.

Because the fire he ignited in her was consuming everything.

Then, he stepped forward.

Slowly.

Determined.

Each step echoed like a threat.

Like a promise.

His eyes never left hers.

And then…

He reached out.

A shiver ran through her.

She could have stepped back.

She should have.

But she stayed frozen.

And he brushed against her wrist.

It was enough.

Everything tipped over.

She grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Fiercely.

With all the rage, fear, and desire she had suppressed for too long.

Reid didn’t think.

He responded.

His hands found her waist, her back, her neck.

His entire body craved hers.

There were no more questions.

No more doubts.

Just them.

Just this visceral need.

The kiss was desperate.

Brutal.

As if they had waited too long.

As if they knew that if they stopped…

They would never recover.

The door behind them slammed from the impact of their bodies.

His fingers in her hair.

Her sighs against his skin.

The urgency of their movements.

There was no turning back.

They had always been heading toward this.

Toward this chaos.

Toward this madness.

Toward this inevitability.

---

The silence after the storm.

Shallow breaths.

Racing hearts.

Y/N abruptly stepped back, as if the wall Reid had pressed her against was burning.

What had she just done?

She ran a trembling hand over her lips.

They were swollen. Sensitive.

Marked by him.

By what they had done.

Her gaze met Reid’s.

Still as intense.

Still too much.

His chest was still rising and falling from exertion. He seemed lost in a thousand thoughts, but one thing was clear:

He didn’t regret anything.

"Y/N…"

His voice.

Deep. Rough.

Too dangerous.

She shook her head, stepped back again.

"No."

Reid frowned.

"No?"

"This can’t happen."

His gaze hardened.

"It just did."

She clenched her fists.

"It was a mistake."

Reid closed his eyes briefly, taking a shaky breath.

Then he looked at her, with that analytical expression she hated.

The one that dug under her skin.

That searched for truths she refused to face.

"Can you really say that?"

She looked away.

She wanted to say yes.

But her entire body screamed otherwise.

Reid took a step toward her.

She shivered.

Not from fear.

From anticipation.

From that damn thrill that ran down her spine every time he got too close.

"Look at me and say it."

She opened her mouth.

But nothing came out.

Because he was right.

Because it was impossible to lie now.

Because that kiss…

That kiss had changed everything.

It had destroyed her.

Or maybe repaired her.

She wasn’t sure.

But one thing was certain:

She was screwed.

Y/N left the room like a shadow.

Without a word.

Without looking back.

Reid didn’t follow her.

He knew she needed space.

But he also knew this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

And he was right.

Because that night, as he buried himself in books, trying to forget the feel of her lips on his…

There was a knock at his door.

His heart skipped a beat.

He knew it would be her.

He opened it.

She was there.

Her hair still damp from the rain.

Her gaze shattered.

Her breath unsteady.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t move.

But everything in her screamed that she couldn’t take it anymore.

So Reid did what he knew best.

He pulled her into him.

Closed his eyes as he felt her body against his.

And when she whispered, in a trembling breath:

"Help me."

He understood.

They were lost.

And this time…

They wouldn’t fight it.

---

The rain still pounded against Reid’s apartment windows.

In the darkness, Y/N stood before him. Soaked, shivering, eyes locked onto his.

She didn’t need to speak.

Everything in her screamed what she couldn’t say out loud.

Help me.

Reid felt something break inside him. A barrier he had fought to keep in place for months.

Without a word, he took her freezing hand and gently pulled her inside.

She didn’t resist.

She wasn’t running anymore.

She was letting him be there.

He closed the door behind her and stood still, uncertain.

“You’re freezing. Come…”

He led her to the couch and disappeared for a moment before returning with a towel. He placed it over her shoulders with a gentleness that made Y/N tremble.

Because there was no pressure.

No demands.

Just his presence, which she was beginning to accept.

She grabbed the towel and slowly rubbed her arms, trying to warm her numb body.

“Do you want something hot?” Reid asked softly.

She shook her head.

She didn’t want tea.

Or hot chocolate.

She wanted him.

But how could she say that?

How could she explain the storm inside her, the chaos he ignited with every glance, every whisper?

She had never been allowed to feel this.

She had never dared.

And yet, tonight, she had come to him.

So she made a decision.

She set the towel on the couch. Stood up slowly.

Reid’s eyes followed her, his expression unreadable.

Y/N took a step.

Then another.

Until she was right in front of him.

Close enough to hear his breath catch.

To hear his heart pounding.

She lifted a hesitant hand.

Rested it against his cheek.

He flinched at the contact but didn’t move.

He let her.

He waited.

Her thumb brushed over his lightly stubbled jaw.

A shiver ran down her spine.

This was crazy.

This was reckless.

This was inevitable.

She looked up at him, searching for a reason to stop.

There wasn’t one.

So, slowly, hesitantly, she closed the last inch between them.

And kissed him.

Reid didn’t move at first.

As if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

Then, gently, he responded.

His lips moved against hers with an almost painful tenderness.

Y/N felt a tremor in her chest.

This wasn’t like the first time.

This wasn’t stolen in the heat of desire.

This was a choice.

Her choice.

She deepened the kiss, her fingers sliding into his damp hair.

Reid let out a breath against her mouth, as if he had been holding it for months.

As if he had been waiting for exactly this.

His hands hesitated at her waist.

Almost cautious.

But when she pressed her body against his, he gave in.

His arms wrapped around her completely, holding her like he was afraid she would disappear.

She didn’t want to leave.

Not this time.

They kissed again and again, as if it was the only thing that mattered.

As if it was inevitable.

Until their breath ran out.

Until Y/N felt panic creeping in.

She wasn’t ready for more.

Reid noticed immediately.

He froze.

Pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

She waited for him to ask a question.

To try to understand.

But he didn’t.

He simply ran a reassuring hand through her wet hair and murmured,

“Stay.”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Stay.

With him.

Here, in this space where she didn’t feel unsafe.

She slowly nodded.

And that night, for the first time in years…

Y/N slept without nightmares.

---

Days passed, then weeks.

And something had changed.

It was subtle, imperceptible to others, but for them, it was a shift.

They had never spoken about that night.

About that kiss.

About the way Y/N had woken up, wrapped in Reid’s sheets, her body pressed against his.

About how he had simply smiled and whispered, “Good morning,” without forcing anything.

About how she had stayed.

Not because she felt obligated.

But because she wanted to.

They didn’t hold hands in public.

They didn’t whisper sweet words in front of the team.

But everything was different.

Y/N found herself searching for Reid more often.

Wanting to sit beside him during briefings.

Accepting his gestures, his touches, those small, almost imperceptible moments that once would have made her recoil.

Reid didn’t rush anything.

He let her come to him at her own pace.

But he no longer hesitated to touch her.

To place a hand on her back when they walked side by side.

To brush his fingers against hers when they exchanged files.

To run his hand through her hair under some flimsy excuse.

And Y/N didn’t push him away.

She let him.

Because, for the first time, she wasn’t afraid.

Only warm.

A feeling she never thought possible.

The Team Starts to Notice

Of course, they weren’t the only ones to notice the change.

Morgan was the first to comment.

“Reid, is it just me, or have you been glued to Y/N lately?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Reid flushed slightly and shrugged.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you serious, man?” Morgan laughed.

Emily, watching the scene, crossed her arms with a teasing smile.

“I think it’s cute.”

Y/N shot her a glare.

But the team wasn’t fooled.

Even Hotch had raised an eyebrow when he saw Y/N and Reid leaving the office together one night, their personal space almost nonexistent.

Garcia, of course, was thrilled.

“I knew it! I knew it!” she had squealed one day after seeing Reid place a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, gently pulling her closer.

Y/N had glared at her, but Reid had only smiled.

He wasn’t ashamed.

He wasn’t afraid.

With Kali, Everything Was Different

The strangest part was seeing Reid and Kali’s bond.

The little girl adored him.

Maybe even more than Y/N had thought possible.

She ran to him the moment he arrived at the office.

She laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones.

She loved when he clumsily signed words in ASL, her tiny fingers sometimes correcting him with serious concentration.

Y/N watched these moments with a mix of warmth and fear.

Because Reid wasn’t just playing a temporary role.

He was there.

Really there.

And for Kali, that was already a fact.

“You know she adores you,” Y/N murmured one evening as Reid sat on the couch, Kali asleep against him.

He looked down at the little girl, a soft smile on his lips.

“I think she trusts me a little, yeah.”

Y/N’s chest tightened.

She bit her lip, then whispered,

“She’s not the only one.”

Reid turned to her.

His gaze was filled with nothing but tenderness and emotion.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just reached out his hand.

Y/N hesitated for only a second before taking it.

And that night, she knew.

She knew she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

Because, for the first time in a long time…

She had found home.

And home was him.

---

The days passed, and with them, Y/N realized her life was no longer the same. Everything felt… lighter. It wasn’t a fairy tale. She hadn’t miraculously forgotten her wounds. But she was moving forward. And Reid was there, every day, never rushing her. Never demanding anything. Never asking for more than she could give.

But Y/N knew. She saw what he felt in every look he gave her. In every quiet smile. In every intentional touch. And she saw how she had changed too. Because sometimes, it was her searching for him. Her letting her fingers brush his without pulling away. Her finding an excuse to stay by his side just a little longer. Maybe that was her way of saying, "I love you too."

One night, after an exhausting case, they stayed late at the office. Morgan, Garcia, and Emily had already left. Hotch and Rossi had been gone for a while. Only Y/N, Reid, and JJ remained, with JJ finishing a call with Will before giving them a tired smile.

"I'm heading out. You two should go home too."

Y/N glanced at Reid. He was still deep in a file, his fingers tapping absently on the table. JJ raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Or… are you staying because you want to?"

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Goodnight, JJ."

The agent laughed before leaving, letting her alone with Reid. Silence settled between them. Reid turned slightly toward her.

"You can leave, you know. I’ll finish this tomorrow."

Y/N hesitated for a moment. She wanted to stay. So instead of answering, she sat down across from him and crossed her arms.

"What if I have something to finish too?"

A small, amused smile tugged at his lips. He didn’t say anything, but she saw his gaze soften. They stayed there, working in silence but aware of each other every second. And when they left together that night, it was hand in hand.

Reid and Kali’s relationship had become something special. Y/N hadn’t realized how much until that evening when she overheard their conversation.

Reid was sitting on the couch, his expression focused as he clumsily signed a phrase.

Kali giggled softly, then corrected his gesture.

Not like that, Spencer! she signed excitedly.

Reid squinted.

Like this?

The little girl nodded with a big smile.

Y/N froze in the doorway.

Because it was the first time her daughter had called someone by their first name. Not Mister, not Doctor—just… Spencer. A name spoken with sincere affection.

Reid looked up at Y/N in that moment.

And she saw.

She saw how much he cared for Kali.

How much he cared for them.

And her heart skipped a beat.

But with this warmth, with this new normal, came something Y/N hadn’t anticipated: fear.

The fear that all of this was just an illusion.

The fear of getting too attached, too deeply, too fast.

Because love, for her, had never been safe.

Love, in her past, had meant control, pain, manipulation.

But with Reid…

With him, it was different.

It was calm.

It was patient.

It was… real.

And that was terrifying.

One night, as they left a crime scene, rain poured down in heavy sheets. They walked in silence toward the FBI car when Y/N suddenly stopped.

Reid, surprised, did the same.

"Y/N?"

She lowered her head, watching the raindrops run down her shoes. Then, she took a deep breath and said,

"I… I’m scared."

He didn’t ask unnecessary questions. He didn’t push her to explain. He just waited, standing there in the rain, his eyes locked on hers.

Y/N finally looked up, her jaw tight.

"I don’t know how… how to love someone normally."

Reid was quiet for a moment. Then, gently, he raised a hand and rested it against her cheek.

"You don’t have to know."

His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"I don’t want you to be anyone else."

Her eyes burned.

"But what if I hurt you without meaning to?"

Reid gave her a sad smile.

"Then we’ll learn together."

And in that moment, standing in the pouring rain, she understood.

It wasn’t an illusion.

It wasn’t a trap.

It was him.

And he was real.

So, for the first time, Y/N did something she had never dared to do.

She took a step forward.

Then another.

Then, without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Reid and buried her face against his chest.

He stood still, surprised… then he hugged her back, his hold firm and reassuring.

They stayed there, under the rain, without a word.

Just them.

And it was enough.

---

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. And against all odds, Y/N learned. She learned not to run. Not to see the face of her tormentor every time she looked at Reid. Not to tremble at the thought of being loved. She learned to live. And living, for her, meant loving him.

It was a quiet morning, one of those where time seemed to stand still. The golden sunlight brushed against the curtains, painting the room in a soft, comforting glow. Y/N slowly opened her eyes. And the first thing she saw was him. Reid slept beside her, peaceful, a hand resting on her waist as if afraid she would disappear in the night. Y/N watched him for a moment, savoring this simple moment of calm. He was so beautiful. So vulnerable, with his messy brown locks and long lashes resting against his pale skin. So different from the image she had first seen in him. So different from Him. She took a deep breath, letting the peace of the moment wrap around her. Then, gently, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Reid stirred slightly, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

— Hmm… kissing me in my sleep now? he murmured, his morning voice husky.

Y/N rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips.

— You’re dreaming, Spencer.

He cracked an eye open, hazel gaze twinkling with mischief.

— Oh no, I’m very much awake.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair. Y/N closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace. It was real. This was their reality. And it was perfect.

Kali and Her "Spencer"

Reid and Kali’s bond had become undeniable. Y/N had grown used to her daughter’s laughter when they played together. To seeing her climb onto his lap without hesitation. To watching her sign phrases with him that Y/N herself didn’t even understand yet. And to the way Reid responded with infinite patience.

One evening, as Y/N tucked Kali into bed, the little girl signed something that left her speechless.

Spencer is in love with you, Mommy

Y/N froze, surprised by her daughter's bluntness.

— Who told you that? she asked, laughing softly.

Kali shrugged before signing,

I just know.

Then she tilted her head and added, eyes shining with innocence,

You love him too, don’t you?

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Kali smiled, then burrowed under her blanket.

Goodnight, Mom.

Y/N sat there long after her daughter had fallen asleep, realizing a truth she had perhaps never dared to admit to herself.

A few months later, Y/N and Reid stood hand in hand before the ocean. They were on vacation, far from BAU cases, far from the weight of the past. Reid turned to her, a tender smile on his lips.

— You know, if someone had told me a year ago that I’d be here, with you…

Y/N raised an amused eyebrow.

— You would have run a statistical analysis to prove it was impossible?

He chuckled softly, nodding.

— Probably.

Then, more seriously, he added,

— But I’m glad I was wrong.

Y/N took a deep breath, letting the salty wind caress her skin. She turned to him and cupped his face in her hands.

— Me too.

Then, for the first time—without hesitation, without fear, without holding back—she kissed him. A deep, sincere kiss. A kiss that said everything she had never known how to put into words.

And when they pulled apart, Reid rested his forehead against hers, a radiant smile on his lips.

— I love you, Y/N.

She didn’t hesitate this time. She wasn’t running anymore.

— I love you too, Spencer.

This was their story. Imperfect, marked by pain, by the past…

But also by love, resilience, and hope.

And that was perfect just as it was.

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