#and as I was thinking this I thought. 'Wait but I have a friend who is also like that!'

[norrisainz33]

the call || platonic grid & gr63

☆ summary: y/n y/l/n gets a call up to race for alpine with 6 races left in the 2024 season and she’s got something to prove.

☆ pairing: platonic!grid x crush!george russell x rookie!female!reader

☆ fc & warnings: no fc. some hate comments and poor grammar on my end

☆ a/n: i was inspired by franco and liam getting called up to race for the remainder of the season and here we are. no hate to este bestie, just pretending dw. this is not supposed to be accurate to exactly how things have been playing out. smau mixed with writing!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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f1: 🚨 breaking: y/n y/l/n will be racing under the number 95 for alpine for the remainder of the 2024 season alongside pierre gasly. y/n’s first race will be the united states grand prix. this is the first time since 1992 that a woman has raced in a grand prix format - this will be a historic weekend.

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user1: this is the best thing to ever happen to me you don’t understand

pierregasly: ready to attack the rest of the season with you ynuser!!

ynuser: here’s to a strong finish 💪🏻

alpinef1team: we can’t wait to have our girl on track!

user12: they really think a woman is going to be any better than what they had??? please….

user1: oh you are miserable. get out of here

georgerussell63: epic! ynuser i am so proud of you

ynuser: 🤍 see you in austin

user2: i can’t believe im witnessing a woman f1 driver in my life time. i am crying real tears of joy

landonorris: from our karting days to f1. you are amazing ynuser! looking forward to being on track with you

ynuser: so glad to be racing with you again lando 🤍

user3: this is monumental

user6: we got a woman in f1 before gta6

✿

you sat in silence staring down at the paperwork in front of you. everyone had long since left returning to their duties, allowing you to process what you had just been told. “it’s really happening,” you whispered feeling tears welling in your eyes. you were about to become an f1 driver - a real life f1 driver!! and no, not just a reserve driver who did nothing but the sim all day every day. your shoulders sagged as you blew out a sigh. “it was all worth it,” you thought back to the years of blood, sweat and tears put into racing — from leaving the comfort of your childhood home to go karting in europe, to watching your parents give up everything to make sure your dreams came true, to finding yourself in f1 academy where you won the championship, to fighting for a chance to race in f2 and becoming the only woman to finish in the points - you had given everything to this sport and you were finally getting your chance.

you picked up your phone and dialed your best friend. “y/n? hi! did you have your meeting yet?!”

“i’m going to drive the rest of the season,” you said softly.

“WHAT?!” your best friend practically screamed into the other end of the phone.

“i’m taking the second alpine seat!!! im going to be starting in austin.” the tears of happiness started falling now.

“oh my god y/n/n!!!! YOU DID IT BABY YOU DID IT!” you could hear your best friend jumping up and down in excitement.

“i did it.”

✿

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user1: i can't explain to you how excited i am to see you on track this weekend y/n

pierregasly: jealous you got the media duties with the horses and not the american football team like i did.....

ynuser: HAHA idk why they didnt send us together

pierregasly: they knew our joint slay would be too much to handle

user7: as a young woman in a male dominated field... thank you for representing us. i love you and i am so proud of you

yourbff: my flight lands in exactly 1 hour and i am shaking with excitement

ynuser: if you think you're shaking with excitement you should see me... just got word im in the pre race press conference with george and max v......... pray for me girl

yourbff: okok we knew this was going to happen. of course they'll want to talk to you!! you're the new face on the grid

ynuser: is it bad to admit im afraid?

yourbff: admitting you’re afraid just means you’re human y/n. you're allowed to feel

ynuser: idk what i'd do with out you

yourbff: you'll never have to know! now go get ready!! i'll be there just in enough time to make the conference start.

yourbff: p.s your media day fit absolutely ate that dress and the cowgirl hat was lethal. f1 should be thanking you for being such a baddie

georgerussell63: howdy ms y/n

ynuser: howdy georgie --- see you at the press conference 🙂‍↔️

georgerussell63: looking forward to it

landonorris: NEIGHHHH

ynuser: lando?

landonorris: sorry was pretending to be one of those horses so you'd pay attention to me

ynuser: hahahahaha you muppet. ive missed you

landonorris: i missed you too y/n/n! believe it or not i miss fighting it out on track with you too. ready to smoke ya just like i did in our karting days

ynuser: i mean you are in a mclaren and have a lot of practice so id certainly hope you were faster than me

landonorris: well when you put it like that its not as fun.......

user9: bought an alpine hat and am bedazzling a shirt with your name on it as we speak

✿

the alpine pr team had wasted no time sitting you down as soon as you got to austin. they ran through what to expect from your media duties, how to respond to any and all questions that might be thrown your way and how to save face if needed but somehow as you sat down on the iconic white couch and looked out at the crowd of reporters forming in front of you, you felt all of that training start to fail you. the nerves were taking over as george and max took their spots to your right. you were thankful when the british driver gave you a reassuring smile and a slight nod letting you know it was ok.

"good afternoon and welcome to the 2024 united states grand prix!" the interviewer beamed at the camera before turning his attention to the three of you. "today we are joined by max verstappen, george russell and formula 1's newest driver, y/n y/l/n."

the interviewer started by asking max about the championship and how he was feeling about lando continuing to close the gap. you used that time to steady your breathing, knowing a question was headed your way at any moment. "y/n, first of all, i want to say congratulations!" the interviewer grinned and you smiled back. "you are coming into this season with only 6 races left and a rather tall order to get up to speed quickly for some points and fight for a seat on the grid in 2025. how are you feeling about it all?"

you sighed, relieved at an easy first question, "thank you! i'm trying to take it all in stride. it's definitely a tall order because these guys have had 19 races to get a feel for their cars, work with their teams, and solidify their standings… i'm going to have exactly one free practice to learn everything before heading into sprint qualifying and i think that puts me a little bit on the back foot. though, i am more confident than ever that i can pull out some points and finish this season strong for alpine."

the interviewer nodded along intently as you spoke, "do you think being the first female in formula 1 since 1992 also puts you a bit on the back foot?"

this. this was the type of question you were dreading. you knew what it was like to be questioned about your skills purely because you were a woman, it had been happening throughout your entire life but that didn't mean it still didn't get to you. you picked your mic back up but before you could say anything into it, george was already speaking, "i don't think thats a fair question to ask. her being a woman has nothing to do with her racing, let us not forget that she is here for a reason. y/n has an incredibly impressive resume and i'd be happy to recite it for you if you need the reminder."

*george fcking russell. the man that you are* you thought as a smirk formed on your face. "thank you george," you said managing to keep your voice steady as you continued, "i don't think being a woman puts me on the back foot at all. it's 2024 - i think we're past the point of asking questions like this. I may be the first woman in way too long to race in a grand prix but i certainly will not be the last." you put the microphone down, daring the interviewer to say something in return but instead he turned his attention back to max and kept it there for the remainder of the session which you weren't mad about at all.

✿

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ynuser: p9 baby!!!!!! i scored two points!!!! cota - thank you for the love and for an incredible first weekend in formula 1. i will never forget you 🤍

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user9: best weekend of my life!!!! first gp i’ve ever been to and i got to meet you at the fan zone!! i couldn’t have asked for more

alpinef1team: try not to say goat challenge failed

ynuser: 🤍🩷

user10: i sobbed watching you cross the line

pierregasly: points points points points

ynuser: you next bestie!!

pierregasly: we’re going to both score big this triple header i just know it

user13: i love how these two have become instant friends. i hope alpine doesn’t split my family up in abu dhabi

user44: history - we’re watching you make history

francisca.cgomes: i don’t think you understand how attached i am to you now y/n

ynuser: and i don’t think you understand how much i love you kika. legally you have to come to all the rest of the races please and thank you

francisca.cgomes: for you? done!

pierregasly: um? hello?

ynuser: im sorry p.. look away

yourbff: i have no words. i love you more than life itself

ynuser: i love you - thank you for being there

landonorris: statement MADE

ynuser: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

georgerussell63: i’m so proud of you im about to openly weep

ynuser: we can openly weep together

carlossainz55: congrats y/n!

ynuser: thank you carlos 🤍

francolapinto: viva y/n!

ynuser: viva franco!

lewishamilton: 🤍🤍

ynuser: 🩷🩷

user15: noticing so many of the drivers here supporting her is everything

user4: and the fact that so many of them are praising her efforts and talking so highly of her in interviews 🥹

user15: everyone loves her (except for the rbr duo, did you see her and checo having words after that race?)

user4: omg yeah grandpa was pissed but honestly he’s probably just worried she’s going to take his seat

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user9: pretty, talented, smart … you’re the whole package

landonorris: hell yeah it does. the car will be here in about an hour! meet us in the lobby?

ynuser: yes!! assuming we shouldn’t come down too early since we run the risk of people being down there?

landonorris: yeah, no more than 5 mins before

user10: hottest person on the grid no doubt

georgerussell63: blimey i’m excited

ynuser: me too! i need a drink after this weekend

georgerussell63: you better get used to it y/n! this is your life now

ynuser: and i’m glad it is 🤍

user14: i think i have a crush on you

oscarpiastri: hi

ynuser: hi oscar!! did lando send you the details for tonight?

oscarpiastri: yes he did!

pierregasly: me and kika are ready to GO

ynuser: me and y/bff are too! let’s get this party started

user11: keep this momentum going into mexico y/n!!

user4: we needed a chronically online it girl in this sport so bad im so glad you’re here

✿

george poured you another glass of champagne as you giggled, "i should really be sick of champagne by now but i don't know that i ever will be."

"well thats good y/n/n! you're going to be drinking a lot more of it soon enough," george said loud enough that you could hear him over the music. the club was packed with more people than you would've expected for sunday evening especially a sunday evening in texas but here you were in a packed club chugging champagne with old and new friends. oscar, lily, carlos, rebecca, lando, george, pierre, kika, franco, charles and alex all came out with you and y/bff and you were honestly a bit shocked by the turn out. though you should've known that lando and george were not going to let you celebrate by yourself.

you had grown up with the two of them on the karting track and you even managed to be in f2 in the same year george won the championship. they meant a lot to you -- you looked up to them since the start so to have their unwavering support now that you made it to f1 meant more than you could express. none of this was going to be easy but being surrounded by a strong support system would make it a lot less painful.

you smiled up at george as he downed the last bit of his cocktail, intently watching as the last little bit dripped from the side of his mouth. you took a big gulp reminding yourself of the room of people around you. that was another thing that was around since your karting days... your massive crush on george. while you both had seen other people between now and then, there was no doubt that it was still alive and well. but as far as that was concerned, it was a bit of a one sided crush. it's not that george had ever told you outright that he wasn't interested, you just never had the guts to tell him and he only ever made one move and has been ignoring that it happened since. the closest you two ever got to something more than friends was the night after he won the f2 championship. you two were inseparable during that season so when he asked you to come with him back to his hotel room after his massive party, you didn't think twice about it. you two flopped down onto the bed with your takeaway meal fresh in front of you and the tv turned on to some animated movie you couldn't remember the name of. george was sitting close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his body from where he gently was resting against yours. "y/n/n," he whispered causing you to look up at him, "i love you." you smiled, having heard him say this many times.. he was your best friend after all. "I love you too!" you responded and before you could process what happened, his lips were on yours. and unfortunately for you, thats about where that ended. george realized what he was doing and absolutely panicked, begged you to forgive him and to not talk about it again so thats what you did. but on nights like this one, where he was looking fine as ever... it was hard not to long for him.

"helllooooooo earth to y/n!!!" lando almost shouted pulling you out of your thoughts.

"yes, yes! hi!" you rolled your eyes taking the drink out of his hand.

the rest of the night passed in a blur of celebrations, laughs and champagne. things were looking up and you couldn't be more excited for what the future held for you. you had done it. your dream had come true.

✿

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alpinef1team: 1 down. 2 to go. mexico city, here we come!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: omg if you made it this far... thank you for reading!!! likes and reblogs are massively appreciated. i'm thinking of making this a series with y/n racing in the last few races of the season. if you liked this, let me know so i can judge if this will get a part 2!! much love 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[verycrowindeed]

I was around 14 or maybe 15.

It was winter.

I had come into highschool an hour earlier, and I was wandering around the halls.

Suddenly, I see something fluffy and green on the ground, I bend down to take a closer look at it. It was a tiny humming bird, its eyes; closed, its little feet and beak; covered in what seemed to be cobweb. It wasn't moving. I thought it had already passed away, and I was just about to look for some toilet paper to at least give it a propel burial.

But then I saw it move.

It was small. I wouldn't have seen it if I wasn't kneeling right next to it. But it was a movement.

So I cupped it in my hands. It was so small.

I asked the confused kitchen lady for some water and sugar. But her look softened when she saw what I was holding in my hands

I got outside, where the light was brighter, and with much care I removed most of the cobweb from its beak. Its feet and wings were completely tangled too, it couldn't move.

A classmate of mine told me the bird was suffering and that we should not prolong it. That we should grab a rock and end it right there. But I refused to.

The bird was alive. It's heart was beating.

The hummingbird was scared. Its eyes were still closed.

But the moment I put the sugary water close to its beak... It started drinking!

And boy, was it hungry!

After a few moments it had already opened its eyes.

I texted a girl who lived nearby. We used to be friends, but we drifted apart with time. It was the first time in months I had texted her.

But she answered.

The bird was eating, but it still couldn't move and it was still covered in cobweb, so I got right back to workingm

With the help of a really small stick and much patience, I started untangling it's feet. It didn't look like it was hurt.

I thought that at the moment it was freed it would try to escape. But it didn't. It patiently waited until I finished removing all of it (it took a long time because I was also taking a lots of breaks as to make the situation of being handled by a giant stranger while you are completely defenseless less stressful).

Once it was free and it had drinked enough water... It stayed with me.

I had put it in one of the pockets of my jacket so it was warm, and it looked like it liked being there. It cuddled inside and got into my sleeves when I took it out.

The girl I texted before came to school with a box, a syringe, some fabric and more sugar.

We looked for sticks on the ground and put it inside the box, along with the fabric and we put the little guy in there.

We were about to enter to class and my classmates were worried for the bird. Would the teacher let it inside?

But she was a biology teacher, of course she would.

We put the box under her desk, to make him feel safer. Everyone remained quiet that class.

I had already texted my mom telling her about the bird and that I would take it home to take care of until it got better.

But it wasn't necessary.

In that same class we heard some sounds coming from the box, everyone went silent as the bird flew away.

It was a little confused for a moment, but it found the window right away. And just like that, Pou was free.

I think about it often. I later learnt that the night before two hummingbirds had gotten inside and were flying around. The teachers assumed it was a mother and it's kid. It seems like the smallest one had gotten stuck in the ceilings, tangled up in the cobwebs, fallen to the ground, and debilitated because of the cold.

Tell me a soft memory

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! I have a request for you!

So I was just thinking how if yuji maybe had a crush on someone and didn’t really know who to ask for advice since nobara would straight up laugh at him, and megumi wouldn’t really care. He knows the reader and Nanami are happily married so he decided to ask him for advice on how to ask the girl out!

This is the cutest thing ever, had to write that asap

Yuji asking Kento Nanami and his wife for relationship advice

Pairing: husband!Nanami x reader; Yuji x reader in a mother/son kinda way

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: If there's one couple that comes to his mind when he thinks about relationships, it has to be you and Nanami-sensei. Who else to ask for relationship advice if not you and him, then?

Warnings: this is pure fluff with a tint of comedy y'all, I'm in love with the Yuji and Nanami content, just a little happiness to brighten your day hehe

Yuji Itadori wanders the halls of Jujutsu High with a slight blush dusting his cheeks. He’s been doing everything he can to pretend everything is normal, but the fact is, he’s got something weighing on him - and it’s not cursed spirits for once. He’s been distracted during training, missing cues and slipping up in ways that aren’t like him. Megumi and Nobara have noticed, but his usual grin deflects their concern. What they don’t know is that there’s a girl he can’t stop thinking about, and Yuji doesn’t know a damn thing about what to do about it.

Which is how he finds himself searching for someone to give him advice - someone who’ll listen without teasing or judgment. He’s crossed Nobara off the list right away, imagining her hysterical laughter that would probably echo through the halls. Megumi was next, but he knew his friend would just shrug and say he didn’t know much about dating either. It isn’t until later that Yuji remembers someone he admires, someone who actually knows about relationships.

But how is he supposed to talk to you?

His footsteps quicken as he makes his way toward Nanami’s office. He knocks twice, then stands there awkwardly without waiting for a reply.

“Come in- Oh, there you are.”

Yuji pushes open the door to find not just Nanami sitting at his desk, but you, his wife, by his side. His heartbeat quickens in an instant. Normally, you don’t spend much time here at Jujutsu High – just like Nanami-sensei himself. It has to mean something that you’re here today when he was just thinking about you, right? Maybe this is the best chance he’ll get in his search for answers.

The two of you have become something of a constant for Yuji, the calm among the chaos that surrounds Jujutsu High. He’s seen the way Nanami looks at you, the subtle way his hand will brush against yours, or the soft look that crosses his face when you laugh. Yuji’s always admired it, but he’s never really thought about it being something he’d want too - until recently.

“Oh, Yuji,” you greet him warmly, your smile immediately easing some of the tension in his chest.

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh! Yeah!”

He shuffles from one foot to the other, trying to work out the right way to say this. Damn, this is even more awkward than he thought.

“I was, um, actually hoping to get some advice? Like… relationship advice?”

He glances at Nanami, who’s watching him with his usual steady gaze, then looks back at you, unsure how to continue.

You exchange a look with your husband before patting the chair next to you, gesturing for Yuji to take a seat with a bright smile and a slight blush creeping up your oh so gorgeous face. No wonder even Nanami-sensei fell head over heels for you.

“Of course, Yuji,” you reply, and there’s a softness in your voice that makes him feel like it’s okay to ask for help.

“What’s going on?”

Yuji sinks into the chair, cheeks still tinged pink as he starts to fidget with his fingers. There’s no turning back now.

“There’s this girl. She’s… she’s really nice and funny and strong, and she’s got this great smile and I, uh…”

He takes a breath, unsure how to continue without sounding like an idiot.

“I think I like her. I just don’t know how to… you know, tell her.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly listening but keeping quiet, letting you take the lead. He never thought that someone like Yuji would ask him for advice in something apart from sorcery. But on the other hand…

Nanami’s gaze drifts over you, your warm and welcoming features, how you take in every little thing Yuji says with those little reassuring nods. If there’s someone who’s able to help Yuji, it has to be you. After all, you were the first woman in his life that swept him off his feet.

You smile, leaning forward a little in order to make Yuji feel more comfortable.

“That’s exciting, Yuji. I’m glad you’re thinking about it, even if it feels a little intimidating. Do you know if she might feel the same way?”

Yuji shrugs, grinning sheepishly.

“I have no idea. I think we get along, but I don’t want to make things weird, you know?”

“Understandable,” Nanami throws in, voice calm and composed.

“Rushing into something like this can make things awkward, especially if you don’t fully understand how she feels. But it’s also not wrong to want to make your intentions clear if you truly like her.”

You nod in agreement, a little surprised by the way your usually so quiet husband now took the lead to give his student relationship advice.

“Exactly. Sometimes, a small step can give you some clarity on how she feels too. You don’t have to go all in at once.”

Yuji looks at you both thoughtfully, clearly absorbing every word.

“But how? Like, I don’t know what to say to her. Should I… compliment her or something?”

You chuckle softly, trying to keep your tone light so he doesn’t feel embarrassed.

“Well, a genuine compliment never hurts. But maybe instead of going straight for it, just try spending a little more time with her first. Get a sense of her interests, things she’s passionate about. You’re naturally friendly, Yuji, so use that to your advantage.”

Yuji’s eyes widen, like a lightbulb just went off in his head.

“That… actually makes sense! If I ask her about stuff she likes, then maybe she’ll see I’m interested, right?”

“Exactly,” you reply, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“And if she responds positively, you can build up to saying something more direct. Just be yourself - that’s probably what she likes about you anyway.”

He nods, almost bouncing with excitement, but then his face falls slightly, concern creeping back in.

“But what if she… doesn’t like me like that?”

Nanami speaks up again, his voice even but warm.

“Rejection is a part of life, Yuji. If it happens, it doesn’t weaken your worth. It just means she’s not ready or interested, and that’s okay. You’ll still be the same person with the same good qualities.”

You reach out, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, a sudden wave of pride rushing over you. When you first met Kento, everyone around you kept telling you that it’ll never work out, that he’ll never feel the same way about you, that he’s cold as ice. But especially moments like this show you more than urgently what a kind heart your husband truly has and why you fell in love with him straight away.  

“And remember, we’re here for you no matter what. But you might be surprised - she may already be hoping you’d say something.”

Yuji takes a deep breath, letting your words sink in. The blush on his cheeks deepens, but there’s a new determination in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, more to himself than to either of you.

“I think… I think I can do this. I’ll try to talk to her more, see what she likes, and maybe, if it feels right, I’ll tell her.”

Both you and Nanami nod, clearly proud of him.

“Good,” you response, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“And let us know how it goes.”

Yuji grins, his usual spark returning to his face as he stands up, looking more energized than he has in days.

“Thanks, you guys. Really. This… this means a lot to me.”

With that, he heads out of the office, leaving you and Nanami exchanging a fond look. There’s something special about watching Yuji grow, about seeing him cope with feelings as regular as a high school crush even amidst the chaos of jujutsu life.

After he leaves, you let out a soft sigh.

“It’s so nice to see him think about something other than fighting for a change.”

Nanami chuckles.

“Yes. Though, if he’s anything like you were when we met, I imagine he’ll be quite charming in his attempts.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder lightly.

“And if he’s anything like you, he’ll be both charming and a bit stubborn. But I think he’ll figure it out. He’s got a good heart.”

Bonus:

Days later, Yuji catches you in the hallway, an excited smile breaking across his face as he rushes over to you.

“Hey! I… I tried what you said,” he shouts, his eyes bright.

“Oh?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

“How did it go?”

“She actually seemed really interested! We talked about some of her favorite movies, and I told her about my favorite songs, and it just… it felt natural, you know?”

He rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

“And then, before I could overthink it, I just kind of… told her I liked her. And… she said she liked me too!”

Your face lights up with pride and warmth, feeling a surge of happiness for him.

“Yuji, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

He laughs, a sound full of relief.

“Thank you. I mean, I couldn’t have done it without your help. I was so nervous, but you guys helped me feel like it was okay to just go for it. Now… now I feel like I can face anything!”

“Not that you couldn’t already,” you reply with a grin, giving his shoulder a congratulatory squeeze.

“You’re braver than you think, Yuji. Just remember, relationships are like fighting in their own way. It takes work and patience, but it’s worth it.”

“I’ll remember that,” he promises, his gaze filled with determination.

And as he heads off down the hall, you’re left with a smile on your face, proud of the young man who continues to grow not just as a sorcerer, but as a person.

A voice brings you out of your thoughts - Nanami, who’s been standing nearby, watching the exchange with a slight smile.

“You have a way with these kids,” he says, his voice gentle.

You turn to him, warmth filling your chest as you take his hand.

“Only because I’ve had a good example to follow.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze softening as he looks down at you.

“I’d say you’re a natural. And who knows,” he adds with a rare hint of humor, “maybe Yuji’s just opened up the floodgates. We might find ourselves with more ‘romantic advice’ consultations soon.”

You chuckle, leaning into him.

“I think I’d be okay with that. These kids face so much danger. They deserve a little happiness too.”

With a fond smile, Nanami nods, and you both watch as Yuji disappears down the hall, excitement carrying him forward into this new chapter of his life. And for just a moment, everything feels peaceful, like you’re all part of something beautiful in the middle of the storm.

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[juyeoz]

BABY I — PARK JONGSEONG

Having a crush on Park Jay, your school’s student president, was quite hard. Especially when he was the centre of attention for many girls. However, who would’ve known he was pinning after you this whole time?

PAIRING — friend!jay x fem!reader (ft. sunoo from enhypen and hanni from newjeans)

CONTAINS — fluff, slight angst, somewhat crack, friends to lovers, mutual pinning to an extent, not proofread, mentions of being stood up, and y/n is kind of introverted.

WORDCOUNT — 3591 words

NOTE — first note on this account!!! just wanted to say baby i by ariana grande inspired this it’s SOOO good pls listen on repeat when reading!

Park Jay was the student president of your school. He was helpful, trustworthy, smart, athletic, and nice to everyone who came into his vicinity. 

Obviously, you weren’t the only one who loved these aspects of him. He was well known amongst the male population of your school, but that didn’t mean the girls weren’t head over heels for him too.

Which only meant more competition for you. 

In your eyes, Jay was out of your league. He was way more outgoing than you would ever be, keeping many friends at his side, whilst you kept a small group of friends throughout your four years of highschool. 

“Hello? (Name), what were you going to say?” A voice questioned, bringing you out of your cluttered thoughts.

Your eyebrows perked up in surprise, completely forgetting who you were currently standing before—Park Jay. 

He slightly shook his head as a sign for you to continue your sentence. 

“Uh…” You muttered with your eyes looking everywhere but him. 

“What is it? There’s a meeting soon. I can’t wait for long.” Jay spoke again. His words seemed harsh, but his voice was soft.

“Right, sorry. Nevermind what I was going to say, it’s okay.” You reassured him with an apologetic smile. 

Great, another moment added to your ‘Book of Failures’.

Jay was confused, yet he smiled back at you and left in silence. You hated how perfect his smile was. Everything was perfect about him. There wasn’t one thing you didn’t like about him, however, you were pretty sure that spoke for everyone as well.

He was a perfect guy and you were, well, ordinary. You preferred to keep to yourself and stay away from any judgement, with an exception, of course.

Your best friend, Pham Hanni. She was someone you met during elementary school and someone you would forever trust.

“Let me guess, you failed again?” Hanni questioned from the desk beside you. You sighed at her words as your head hit the surface of your desk.

“I very much did.” You groaned out while Hanni smiled. A hand gently made its way to the crown of your head, caressing the area softly. 

“It will be fine! Everyone gets flustered when doing something like this.” She reassured you, but it wasn’t of any help.

“Do you think I could ever confess? I mean, do you know how many people like him? There’s at least a 1 in 600 chance of him reciprocating whatever my heart feels when I’m around him.”

“Well, you guys are close, right?” Hanni asked, but only received silence in return. 

“Right…?” She said once more.

Silence. 

“(Name), don’t tell me you two barely know each other!”

“No, of course not! We are, well, I don’t know. Could you even call us friends?” You asked, a groan escaping your lips shortly after.

“I mean, what are some of your interactions with each other?” 

“After the project we did together in English class, he would say hi to me in the halls, ask me for help in class, and offer me snacks here and there. However, that is it.”

“I’d say that’s between acquaintances and friends? Right?” Hanni pulled the lollipop she snacked on out of her mouth and pointed it at you.

“That is still a lot though! Probably more than anyone has ever had. I think you might have a chance.”

“Or are you just saying that to make me feel satisfied?” You asked while looking over at her.

“No, seriously! But if your words keep getting tongue tied, I don’t think you’ll have a chance anytime soon.” 

Your brows furrowed at her words as you landed a soft hit to her shoulder.

“Careful, my lollipop! I don’t want to drop it.” She exclaimed, her eyes widening at the treat in her hold. You rolled your eyes at this reaction of hers, it was common from her. You were pretty much used to it.

Your eyes glanced over to the doorway as one of your classmates walked in. Hanni looked at your sudden flustered state in confusion and turned around. 

There was no other reason for you to react this way. Park Jay, the boy you had a crush on, was currently walking through the doorway with his younger friend, Kim Sunoo, beside him. 

“You’re so obvious about it.” Hanni said, turning around to face you again and placing the lollipop in her mouth once more.

“I am not! There’s no way he knows.” You said with your face toward Hanni but your eyes on Jay.

He looked over at your seat—a common routine of his—and waved towards you with his signature smile present on his face. After a brief moment of hesitation, you waved back at him as a small smile broke through your flustered condition.

Hanni looked at you, then at Jay as Sunoo did the same. The two boys made their way to their seats up front and began talking once again.

However, the conversation was completely different than the one they were previously having.

“Seriously, are you going to tell her how you feel?” Sunoo questioned as Jay shushed him. 

“Of course not. Do you think she would even like me back? You’re funny.” Jay said while taking his seat.

“Jay, so many people like you.”

“That’s the point. What if she thinks I’m a player?” The boy asked while reaching into his backpack to grab his notebook.

“I doubt she would. There are a ton of options for you at school, but you decided to pin after a girl who you worked on a project with for two weeks. Two weeks.” 

“And those were the best days of my life. Seriously, I didn’t know someone like her existed in our school until this year. I don’t know how I survived until senior year without her presence.”

“Gross! You sound so in love—”

“Shut up! You’re so loud.” Jay whisper-shouted while covering Sunoo’s lips with both of his hands. 

“I’m sorry. Anyway, please think about it. It hurts to see you interact with her continuously just to not confess whatever you’re feeling.” Sunoo said while removing Jay’s hands from his face. 

“Whatever.” Jay mumbled as their teacher walked in. He would be lying if he said he didn’t believe that Sunoo was right. However, he was too nervous to ruin what you two already had.

The keys jangled in the doorknob’s keyhole as you struggled to unlock the art classroom. It wasn’t normal for classrooms to be locked, not at all, but this one was abandoned. 

Nobody used it anymore except for you. It was your quiet place. A place you went to ease your mind and located on the second floor. So, there was quite a process getting there. 

Giving out keys to abandoned classrooms was forbidden at your school. It was an unspoken rule that all teachers followed. However, your homeroom teacher trusted you. You were an excellent student in her eyes and that was enough for her to make up her mind.

The door clicked shut behind you and you made your way to the isolated desk you always sat at. All you had to do was get some classwork done. It wasn’t anything major, but the library would have been too loud at this time.

After all, it was lunchtime.

The sun shone through the thin material curtains, making your figure cast a shadow over your work. Usually, you sat here because it was the closest desk to the window. You gained a great view at the soccer field.

The one Jay always played on. 

Every time you came here, you constantly had to fight the urge to glance over at them. A little glance always went a long way, leaving you distracted for the rest of the hour. 

Giving in, your pencil movement came to a stop as you looked out the window from your seat. As usual, there were boys playing soccer in the summer heat, however, Jay wasn’t there. 

For a moment, you thought you saw wrong and took a closer look. Yet, you still couldn’t find him. 

You were too distracted to even hear the click of the door opening. Too distracted to even hear the footsteps that made its way to you. But you weren’t distracted enough to miss the sound of a desk being placed beside you. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked in a somewhat low voice. 

It was Jay. The boy you were previously looking for.

“Resting. You?” He replied while laying his head on his arms all while facing you. You avoided eye contact with him as usual. His gaze was too flustering for you. You couldn’t handle it.

“I’m studying.” You said and looked at your blank notebook page. You could feel his gaze still on you. It felt like it could see through you at any given moment. Once again, it was too much for you to handle. 

You needed to get rid of him quickly.

“You can’t be in here. It’s off limits.” You said, still not looking at the poor boy.

“Then why are you here? It’s an abandoned classroom and yet you’re here.” Jay said back. He wasn’t wrong. To be honest, he never was.

“Our teacher gave me permission. I work here often.” You explained as your pencil began to move, writing absolutely nothing but scribbles.

“Me too.” He said, leaving you confused. You looked over at him with a puzzled expression which only left him with a smile. 

“Your eyes are pretty.” Jay said and left your unsaid question unanswered.

His words only made you look away once more as your puzzled expression was replaced with a flustered one.

“What did you mean by your previous words?” You asked, discarding his compliment. 

“Which one? Your eyes are pretty? I mean, they truly are—”

“The other ones.” You interrupted, cutting him off. 

“Oh, Mrs. Jang lets me use this classroom to cool off my head when I get overwhelmed. I was shocked that it was already unlocked when I came. I didn’t know you used it too.”

“We never run into each other.” 

“I see,” he sighed and nuzzled his face further into his arms. 

You could still feel his gaze on you as silence fell upon you both. You were confused. Why did he compliment you? Did he like you back or was he only teasing you? Did he do this with every girl he saw or were you his only exception? 

Which one was it?

“Why do you keep doing that?” Jay’s voice pushed through your thoughts, startling you.

“Doing what?” You asked, still avoiding eye contact with him.

“That,” he began. “You don’t look at me when you talk to me. Do you hate the sight of my face or something?” 

“Of course not!” You exclaimed, catching both of you off guard. 

“I mean, I’m just shy.” 

“For sure.” He teased you.

Silence filled the classroom once more as you tried to do your work. Heavy emphasis on the word tried. 

He was still looking at you. You knew he was and he knew you knew too. 

“(Name).” Jay called. 

The way your name rolled off of his tongue was too much for you. You hated the sound of it. It was a precise pronunciation with a slight ring to it.

You swallowed thickly and nodded at his call, giving him the signal to proceed.

“Do you like me?”

“And then what?!” Hanni exclaimed, waiting for the rest of the story to leave your lips.

“What do you mean?” You asked. Your words only left Hanni feeling dumb.

“Was that it?” She asked as part of her hoped you would say no. However, to her dismay, you nodded your head.

“(Name)? He literally asked if you liked him and you didn’t even reply?!” She said in a loud tone. Luckily, you two were at your house so it was fine for her to be this way. There was nobody to overhear your conversation anyway.

“You blew it. You blew it!” 

She was in distress. After waiting for this moment to happen, she felt like her world officially ended. 

“I freaked out, okay? The bell went right after that!” You said in an attempt to defend yourself. 

“Let me guess. You used the excuse of being late when returning the classroom key and ran out in a haste.” 

“Spot on.” You said with a groan.

“Did I really mess up?” You asked. 

“Is that even a question? Seriously, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” Her face went dull as she sighed. You were definitely a handful to take care of. 

“Wait, I have an idea.” She suddenly said and her face brightened up immediately. You looked over at her with a frown. 

“Do you have his number?” Hanni questioned. Hesitantly, you nodded at her words. You only got his number because of the English project you two had to do and would text occasionally, but out of the blue was not the best option.

“Absolutely not! That’s too far.” You said while shaking your head at the idea you had of her possible plan.

“Chillax, it’s not too far at all. It’s better than leaving his somewhat confession hanging in the air.” 

She had a point.

“Fine. What are you going to say?” You asked while giving her your phone. You were nervous for whatever tricks she was planning on pulling, but you handed her your phone regardless.

��You’ll see.” Hanni said and began typing away.

For a while your room went quiet. The only sounds heard were Hanni’s fingers tapping against your phone screen and the wind outside of your window.

“Here.” She said after three minutes and handed you your device. You looked at her, taking note of how she bit back her smile. 

You were scared to see what she did, but you weren’t even able to due to the sudden incoming call. 

“What the hell, Hanni?!” You exclaimed as she only smiled. She ushered for you to answer the call as you did exactly that—after leaving your room, of course.

“Hey.” His voice was soft as usual on the other line. It made your heart beat faster, making you feel stupid.

“Hello,” you greeted back, waiting for him to say whatever he called for.

“Is it true?” 

“Is what true?” You asked. 

What the hell did Hanni even text him for him to ask this?

“You liking me. Is it true?” He sounded desperate. He wanted to know immediately. 

You hesitated on replying. Would it mess everything up, or what? His question back in the art classroom wasn’t something that sounded like he was looking for reciprocating feelings. If you said yes, where would that response take you?

“Yes, it is.” You replied in a somewhat whisper. Jay exhaled harshly, leaving you confused. Did you mess up? Why did he sigh so harshly? What did Hanni put you through? 

You turned around in a rush to open the door. You were nervous. You didn’t want to hear what came after his sigh. Not at all.

You were about to hand the phone back to Hanni, but was brought to an abrupt stop.

“Good.” Jay said. 

“Let’s talk about this in person tomorrow. I don’t want things to escalate on call, okay?” 

You hesitated in replying to his suggestion. Was that a good okay or a bad okay? Was he planning to reject you harshly? Was your friendship over?

“Is that okay with you, (Name)?” His voice once again pierced through your thoughts, bringing you back to reality.

“Yes. That’s okay with me.” You replied and you two said your goodbye before hanging up.

“So?” Hanni asked, waiting for you to explain what happened.

“I don’t know.” Was all you could say before flopping forward onto your bed with a racing heart.

Jay, on the other hand, paced back and forth in his room. You liked him and that was great! However, he didn’t want to ask you out over the phone. That wasn’t romantic at all.

How should he go about this? Should he confess in the morning before class or at lunch in the art classroom again? Should he bring flowers? Of course he should. Many people loved them.

But wait, were you allergic to them? Maybe not if you helped out the garden club leader Yang Jungwon that one day, right? He remembered the moment vividly. 

It was the time he confirmed his feelings for you. The way you smiled at the boy and listened attentively when he explained things to you. Honestly, that should’ve been him, but he had his moments during the English project.

Part of him even thought you liked Jungwon and not him. That was the only reason why he asked you the question at lunch yesterday. Even if the garden club incident happened last month, it still managed to bug him everyday.

At this point, his frequent questions wouldn’t get answered. His best option was to sleep. He could think of everything tomorrow morning. Before heading to sleep he sent you a quick message, letting you know where to meet him the next day. 

Near the garden, fifteen minutes after eight a.m. Easy and possibly romantic.

However, when the next morning came, you stood alone near the garden, fifteen minutes after eight a.m. And Jay was nowhere in sight.

You checked your phone constantly, hoping he sent you a text, letting you know of the change of plans. To your dismay, there was nothing. It was absolutely a ghost town on your phone and also five minutes left until the bell went. 

Were you just stood up by your crush? Most likely. You felt embarrassed. You were completely right about Jay not liking you back, nevertheless, you let Hanni’s words get to your head. Was it her fault? Absolutely not, but you wondered. What if you never gave her your phone at that time? Would you and Jay still be just friends?

A hand grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. You didn’t even get far from the spot you stood at. It was so sudden and scary and their grip never faltered.

You turned around and were, luckily, met with an out of breath Jay. The boy who you had a crush on and who you thought stood you up.

“I’m sorry.” He said while letting go of your wrist and standing up.

“I woke up late, I didn’t mean to leave you standing there alone. I swear of it.” He explained as you listened, avoiding eye contact. 

“It’s fine. What did you want to say?” You asked.

“First off, please look at me when I say all of this.” He pleaded, causing you to slowly look over at him.

“Okay. I really didn’t mean to leave you waiting. I had my alarm set and everything, yet I still slept past it. I couldn’t sleep all night because of this. I was nervous.” 

You remained silent, in which he took as a sign to continue.

“When I saw you text me the other day, I was thrilled. I thought I ruined everything by asking you if you liked me during lunch. Seriously, the way you ran out so suddenly left me worried.” 

“I’m sorry. I was flustered.” You apologised and he shook his head.

“It’s okay. I’m glad I found out you truly did like me though.” He said as a slight smile made its way to his face.

“Do you like me back?” You asked, genuinely. He didn’t say he did. You weren’t sure if he did either.

“What?” He questioned back.

“Do you like me back?” You repeated, hoping it would get through him this time.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” He was dumbfounded that you even asked him that. Was it not obvious by his many interactions with you compared to others? 

“Please, don’t say it like that.” You muttered and avoided eye contact with him again. 

“Why not? Does it make you flustered?” 

“Yes, it does.” Your voice was quiet and made Jay’s smile grow bigger.

“I’ve liked you for a while now, (Name). Ever since the English project actually. Those were the best days of my life.” 

“Not even being promoted to student president?” You questioned as your heart beat increased drastically. 

“Not even close.” He said back.

You remained silent at his confession and played with the dirt below your shoes. 

“So, what do you say?” He asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He asked again.

“Enough of that!” You exclaimed, softly hitting his shoulder.

“What am I doing wrong?” He was confused. He didn’t even do anything this time. It was a genuine question. 

“Can I, (Name)?” 

He did it again. The way he said your name only left you even more flustered as you let out a mumbled ‘yes.’ 

He could barely hear what you said and only picked up the ‘s’ sound at the end of your word. The boy before you smiled. 

He was glad you said yes. 

“I’m glad.” He voiced out and engulfed you into a hug which you reciprocated. 

The bell finally went once you two began to hug. Those were the longest five minutes in your life, but they were definitely worth it. Hanni and Sunoo were most likely going to have a field day with this new information. 

You could say, they were the ones who made this all happen with their constant pushing, right?

Yeah, most definitely.

© JUYEOZ

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @kxppachu

[magickizu]

"Interesting, really." The red headed man put his hand up to his chin, thoughtful. His looks are quite well kept, as expected from a scholar. A little peach fuzz donned his face on the chin and sides, proper shoes and pants held up by a belt with an orderly ruffle shirt in ivory and vest in chestnut. As he could never without his ruffles, as impractical in the lab as they were. But he could simply tie them up, for his new experimental form of alchemistry.

"Yes, I know. Although; due to recent discoveries a few researchers and scientists, me included, are now speculating about the possibility that this predatory adaptation also resulted from our interference with humans- may I elaborate?" The merman flicked his shimmering tail in excitement, his scales have often been compared to labradorite, as been his eyes. His light, wavey hair, tied up in a messy bun with some strands hanging in his face, as the merman fixed his glasses as best they'd hold up, eagerly holding on to the boards of the dock. Grinning star-eyed up at the human, almost like a sea-puppy.

"Sure, darling. I am intrigued, do tell." He smiled softly at his lover as he began a tangent about his latest theories, based on his newest bioarcheological findings.

It's been a few years since Darryl moved to this little island, originally to indulge in his experiments and get away from his pressuring parents, who set up marriage proposals left and right. Luckily he got out of it by claiming to already be married to his work.

Never in a hundred years, would he have thought to encounter someone this engaged in scienc- just as engaged as he was! But there he was, at shore one night. Observing and noting constellations. He originally didn't want to scare off the stranger, but the sudden leap in his chest left no room for air, for his mind to think. But instead of scaring him off, the mysterious stranger seemingly found enjoyment in the conversation. His name was Whylt and he'd been around for quite sometime, apparently he'd heard of Darryl and was eager to meet him.

The two soon became friends. Close friends. And soon after that, even close to the point that one felt confident enough to steal a kiss in the secure darkness of the night, near the water and their now shared home. It felt like a dream come true, to Darryl. Even more so as Whylt opend up, told there was more to him and for the first time in their lives, they felt the sweet embrace of love in the soft sea breeze warm from the summer air, under the bright full moon. At first the redhead was worried. Worried he might just wake up in a shared bed with a poor lass, that he knew could never be loved by him as she deserved. Back with his parents, who know nothing but of a "good friend and colleague" of his. Worried that one day he might just wake up without this beautifully kind and smart being next to him, that the merman would flee and take his heart with him. But after one night as Whylt confessed similar thoughts and worries, they'd promised to vow to stay, until death do them part. And it's been quite a few years, a bit more than half a decade, since then.

"And have you made the effort to start writing yet? The papers for your theories?" The redhead grined smug, knowing full well his partner rather enjoys the practical part much more. As he earned a drawn out, dramatically bored sigh from the merman, his grin grew wider.

"Not yet, of course! I... Must find more evidence to prove or counter it. After all, I must consider all sides!" He breathed a laugh, trying his best to get around the mountain of paperwork waiting for him at his desk. Darryl let out a hearty laugh, bellowing into dusk and after a short moment, Whylt joined in. The merman lifts himself up onto the dock, temporarily exchanging his fins for legs.

"The food's ready too, if you'd like." The now two men help eachother stand up, the human getting kiss from his love, as they do.

"Thank you, dear. I love you, my little squirrel." He said laying is lips on the other's again, gaining the same form of affection back.

"I love you too, my little otter." He grabs the pale hand of the merfolk, to hold it up gently and adore it with another kiss. "Let's go, then." They smile at eachother smitten and content. In this moment and for many, many years to come.

“So mermaids and sirens are two different species?” “Just so. My people, what you call mermaids or merfolk, share a common ancestor to you humans, making us distant cousins. What you call sirens, however, are fish that evolved to look and sound like humans to attract their favorite prey.”

[fandoms-x-reader]

Defense System

Requested By: @space-dragon-ace

Oneshot

Summary: MC loses everyone in a crowd. To find the others quickly, they yell, "MC is a good for nothing human!" and wait to see what happens. OM! Cast x Reader Word Count: 851

You were apprehensive about going to this event in the first place.

You had just gotten back to the Devildom after being away for some time and you were still readjusting to the way things were down there.

But, your friends had all insisted on taking you to an event that occurred in the streets of the Devildom.

There were going to be tons of food trucks, vendors, shows and so much more.

They promised you that you would have a ton of fun ~ so who were you to refuse to go?

It was only after you got to the event that you began to regret your decision to go.

You had all shown up in a large group, but it seemed that everyone had their own things that they wanted you to experience.

All fifteen of your friends almost immediately went their own way, wanting to get something from a specific vendor to bring back to you or wanting to get you tickets to a show.

They were in competition mode and whenever that happened, you knew that it was hard to get them back on track.

There were tons of people surrounding you; and, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t see a single one of your friends.

You were a bit frustrated at this point, mostly because you had only agreed to go for them.

And, now you were standing in the middle of a crowd of demons, by yourself, unsure where to go or what to do.

You wanted to call someone on your D.D.D. but with how busy it was around you, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hear anyone even if they did pick up the phone.

You thought about using your pact to summon one of the brothers; but, you didn’t think you were at the stage where that was exactly necessary.

Especially since summoning could cause the brothers pain if it isn’t done properly and it had been a while since you tried to do it.

Unsure of what else to do, you decided to be a little mischievous and test your bond with the others a bit.

You took a deep breath before shouting into the crowd, “Y/N is a good-for-nothing human!”

You paused for a moment, looking around once again, but when you still couldn’t find anyone, you let out a small sigh.

I guess that didn’t work…

“Alright, who said that?!” Mammon shouted, suddenly barreling through people to reach you.

“Oh, there you are!” you said, relieved at the sight of a familiar face and completely forgetting about your little joke.

But, there were fifteen people suddenly rushing to your side who did not forget about what was said.

They each came to you, one by one, hot and heavy and ready to throw punches.

You listened as they each began to throw insults toward this imaginary person as they searched the crowd for who could possibly be the culprit.

You tried to interject a few times, wanting to tell them the truth, but every time you opened your mouth, you were interrupted by another angry person.

“Y/N, did you see who said those words about you so we could find them?” Diavolo asked you, concern in his eyes as everyone turned their attention to you.

You were holding back a laugh as your cheeks dusted pink from all of the attention.

“Sure ~ it was me,” you admitted and their faces turned from ones of anger to confusion.

“Why would you say that stuff about yourself?” Beel asked as innocently as ever.

“Geez, Levi, you’re rubbin’ off on ‘em,” Mammon pouted, causing Levi to look extremely guilty.

“Relax, everyone,” you replied, stifling another laugh.

“I lost you in the crowd and I thought it would catch your attention enough that you would come find me. Looks like I was right,” you explained.

“Well that was risky,” Belphie stated. “Satan nearly lost his mind,” Solomon agreed quietly.

You couldn’t help but notice how adorable they all looked, pouting at the prank you managed to pull off. 

“I’m sorry, really. But, I thought the purpose of bringing me to this event was so that I could experience everything with all of you. Not for me to stand alone in the crowd,” you added.

You could feel the tension in the air shift as they realized that they had left you alone and understood where you were coming from.

They completely abandoned you in the middle of this large event. No wonder you pulled that stunt.

They promised not to leave you alone again and they each took you to their favorite parts of the event, making sure that at least one person was with you at all times.

They made you promise that you would never try something like that again.

You had fifteen people who were ready to fight for you at the drop of a dime, and saying something like that, even if you were joking, would always set them off.

Because they cared about you far too much to let something like that slide.

[aperrywilliams]

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

---------------

The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

-

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

-

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

-

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

---------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[rowdyluv]

WHAT’S MINE IS MINE jh⁸⁶

disclaimer: you are responsible for your own interactions with posts on the internet. the text of this post is not intended for anyone under the age of 18. if you are a minor and choose to ignore the disclaimer, other warnings, and continue to read you, yourself, are at fault.

summary: in which y/n has wondering eyes while in a relationship with jack, jack gets fed up and reminds her who she’s with.

word count: 3.08k

warnings: porn with a lot of plot, protected p in v, degradation, praise if you squint, sad jack if you squint, spit kink, nicknames (baby, babygirl, etc) to cover: downright filth

notes: hi there request finished for @sweetestdesire after rewriting five times? i think? her and basically wrote it together in our texts so I scratched that one and we ended up here 🥲

The fire crackled and spit, throwing shadows across the faces of the small group huddled around the makeshift pit. The scent of roasting marshmallows filled the night air, mingling with the faint whispers of the surrounding forest. Y/n, caught in the warm embrace of Jack, leaned back into his broad chest, her heart racing in a way it hadn't in months.

The friends surrounding them were all familiar faces, all people she was comfortable with. There’s one. Just one she was particularly a little too comfortable with.

At least in her desire for him. Which she knew was wrong. She knew she shouldn’t have some silly crush on her long term boyfriend’s best friend. But she did.

Trevor.

Tonight, Trevor sat across from her and Jack, the flickering firelight playing across his jawline and the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His eyes met hers every so often, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down her spine. Y/n felt Jack's arms tighten around her waist as if he could sense her wandering thoughts about Trevor, and she forced a smile engaging in a conversation with someone on the opposite side of his direction, pretending she hadn't noticed the way Trevor's eyes lingered on her.

Jack’s body tensed. He was looking at his supposed best friend, watching him practically eye fuck his girlfriend right in front of him. He’d had enough of this shit. This summer was supposed to be a time for all of them to kick back, relax, and enjoy the lake house. But every time Trevor was around, Jack felt like he was fighting for Y/n’s attention.

The one person he shouldn’t have to fight for.

The tension grew thicker than the smoke rising from the pit, and the conversation around them grew quieter between some of the non-regular Hughes guests. Y/n felt it too, her heart fluttering as she tried to ignore the dance of the shadows on Trevor’s face. The way his teeth glinted as he took a sip of his beer. The way the flames reflected in his eyes, making them look like molten gold. How his eyes squinted when he laughed at a “joke” Quinn told, that wasn’t really a joke, so the rest of us would laugh at Trevor for laughing so hard.

Jack's grip grew firmer over time, his thumb idly stroking her side. It was a gentle touch, but one that sent a possessive message that wasn’t lost on her. She took a deep breath and turned her gaze back to the fire, focusing on the hypnotic dance of the flames. She knew Jack was watching her, waiting for her to acknowledge the tension. But she couldn’t. It would only make things awkward the next three months.

Her eyes flicked back over once more, shocked to see Trevor’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed. Jack’s hand slid to her thigh and gripped slightly. Just enough to make her jump.

“Up. Let’s go.” he murmured in her ear, his voice a dark rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Wha— What?” Y/n stumbled over her words, standing up as Jack started standing before she was ready.

“You heard me. Let’s. Go.” He repeated through gritted teeth and grabbing ahold of her hand. “G’night everyone.” He muttered before pulling her inside.

Once they were out of earshot and inside the dimly lit cabin, Jack pushed her up against the first blank wall he could find. The suddenness of his movement made her gasp, but she didn’t resist.

“Did you just forget that I existed out there? I’d say not fucking likely since you were on my lap.” He huffed. “What the fuck was that huh?”

He didn’t give her time to answer before taking ahold of her hand again and continuing on to their bedroom.

Y/n's breathing grew heavier with each step, her heart racing as Jack's hand remained a firm presence around her wrist, almost as if he was afraid she'd bolt. The room was dark when they entered, the only light coming from the crack under the door from the hallway, but it was enough to illuminate the anger on Jack’s face. He pushed her down onto the bed, his eyes blazing with a mix of jealousy and desire.

"What is it about him?" Jack’s voice was low and gruff, so different from his casual softness that always fills the air around him. Y/n felt the heat rise in her cheeks, her body betraying her with the way it flushed in desire.

"I... I don't know," she stumbled over her words, trying to pull her hand away. But Jack's grip was like iron, unyielding as he leaned into her. She could feel the heat of his breath on her face, the scent of his minty gum and the woodsmoke clinging to him. "He just... I don't know, babe."

Jack's eyes searched hers, his jaw clenched tightly. "Is it because you think he can give you something I can't?" His voice was a dangerously low whisper, the kind that promised both passion and pain if she didn't give him the answer he wanted.

Y/n felt her stomach tighten at the accusation, but she couldn't deny that the thought hadn't crossed her mind. Trevor was... well different. There was something about his filthy stories that made her curious, lustful. Something raw and primal. But she didn't dare voice it. Instead, she tried to play it cool, her voice a shaky whisper. "It's not like that, Jack."

“Bullshit. I bet if I touched you right now you’d be dripping.” Jack dropped his hold on her wrists and moved to her thighs. “Would I win that bet?”

Y/n swallowed hard, trying to keep her cool. But the way his eyes bore into her, the way his hands ghosted over her skin, it was hard to resist the heat that was already building in her core. He was going to prove to her that she didn’t need Trevor. That she only needed him.

"Jack, it's... it's all for you always for you," she blurted out, her voice trembling. "I swear, it's just... I don't know, curiosity."

He stepped away from her. “Curious? You’re curious about if he can fuck you better than me?” There’s a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“Oh sweet, sweet pathetic baby girl, there’s no one else that will ever be able to make you cum like I can. Especially not Trevor Zegras” He took a hold of her by the side of the neck, the tips of his calloused fingers gripping the back.

“Do you understand that, or do I need to fuck your tight little cunt to remind you?” Jack says confidently, pushing her back against the bed and kneeling over her.

Y/n bit her lip, the heat of embarrassment and arousal mixing in her cheeks. She couldn’t resist the urge to look back up at him, his eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and desire.

Jack smirks and without saying another word, he tugged at the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down in one swift motion along with her underwear, leaving her bare and exposed. A cool breeze kissed her skin, making her shiver. He spread her legs wide, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her.

He placed a single finger at the apex of her thighs and dragged it along her slit, parting her folds. Y/n's breath hitched as the sensation sent a jolt through her body. The warmth from his touch was a shock compared to the chilly air of the cabin, causing her to jolt her body up to meet his hand.

Jack's smirk grew into a full smile at her reaction. He knew she was sensitive there. He knew how she liked it. "Mhmm, looks like I won that bet," he said, his voice filled with a smug satisfaction. He pushed a finger inside of her, a silent burning challenge in his eyes as he waited for her to react.

“So wet, just like the little slut that you are.”

He quickly added two more fingers, and they delved inside her, working deeper into her each pump in, his digits coated with her slick arousal. His other hand worked in tandem with his fingers, his knuckles grazed her clit with every stroke. Y/n’s eyes rolled back in her head, a soft moan escaping her lips followed by whimpers.

She couldn’t believe she was letting him do this out of sheer jealousy, but the way he touched her, the way he claimed her, it was all of the intense emotions she’d been wanting from Trevor. All of the stories she’d heard them share where he was such an intense partner in bed, she wanted that, craved it truthfully.

Yet her body responded to her boyfriend with such an urgency that surprised even her. Her hips bucked, pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy. His fingers were relentless, a constant rhythm that seemed to sync with the beat of the music now playing in the distance outside. The all familiar warmth spread through her, her pussy clenching around him as she grew closer to her orgasm with every second that passed.

“Jack.” His name left her lips in the softest breathless whisper one could ever share. “More please.”

Jack leaned in closer, with a menacing chuckle as he studied her already fucked out features.

“You’re such a needy whore, aren’t you?” He murmured against her ear, his teeth nipping at her lobe. He watched her face contort with pleasure, her eyes roll back slightly, and before her back could arch he removed his fingers abruptly.

“Not so fast.” He tsked. His slick coated fingers grazed her bottom lip, which she took in her mouth without hesitation. “You’ll cum when I cum. If I decide we’re going that far.”

Y/n whimpered, unable to form coherent words as she nodded frantically. She could feel her wetness seeping from between her thighs and onto the bed beneath her, she was aching, begging for more of his rough touch.

“Jack.” His name drawn out the only thing she could manage to string together.

Jack chuckled darkly.

He grabbed her hips and yanked her to the edge of the bed. His mouth claimed hers in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading her mouth. His hands were everywhere, running up her thighs, grabbing her ass, moving to cradle her head. His hands moved down her arms, rough palms grazing her skin, sending goosebumps in their wake, until he reached the hem of her shirt.

“Take it off.” He demands of her, and with a swift upward motion, y/n lifted it over her head. She had made the decision to go braless a simple tease to both boys, yet a fact she hadn’t even noticed herself in the heat of the moment.

But now, her nipples were peaked and begging for attention, standing tall against her pale skin.

“You wanted him to look at you. You wanted him to think about what these,” Jack pinched her nipples at the same time “felt like in his mouth, how you reacted when they were played with. Didn’t you?” He accused her. She avoided looking up at him, until he grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him.

“I asked you a fucking question.”

“I did it for both of you. I wanted you both to look at me.”

Jack shook his head in disbelief, his eyes smoldering with a new intensity.

“Listen to me y/n. Trevor,” he growled, his voice low and dominant. “Is not your boyfriend, he’s not to look at you the way I do. He’s not the one who is supposed to lean into you when you talk, throw his head back laughing at your silly jokes.” There was a small growl in his words. “Most of all he shouldn’t be looking at your tits like I get to.”

Y/n nods and her eyes fall from holding eye contact with him.

“Because you’re mine. All fucking mine.” He huffs before spitting on one nipple and gliding his fingers across it while pinching the other, earning him a delighted gasp and her eyes jerking back up.

"Is that what you want me to do?" He asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You want me to spit on you, claiming you this way?"

Y/n's cheeks burned with a mix of shame and arousal, the words hitting her like a slap across the face. She nodded, unable to speak, her heart racing as Jack leaned closer to her body and spat in the middle of her chest, the saliva landing on her cleavage, his finger spreading it down her stomach, and teasingly slipping down and over her clit.

His hot breath ghosted against her ear as he whispered, “If you’re good and do as I say the rest of the time, I may just reward you and spit in your mouth like I know you’re really wanting.”

They shared a heated kiss, his hands on her chest working their way down to her thighs spreading them wide. “Bend your knees and put your feet on the edge of the bed.” His tone back to demanding.

Jack's hand smacked down onto her pussy, his fingers plunging back into her without warning for a teasing few thrusts. His thumb and forefinger pinched her clit roughly, then rubbing it in a way that made her back arch off the bed. The sting of his touch mixed with the pleasure, a delicious cocktail that made her head spin.

After snagging a condom from the drawer and rolling it on, he spat once more aiming for and perfectly hitting her clit. Taking his painfully hard cock he rubbed the spit across her pussy.

“Jack. Please just,” Y/n whimpered.

He kept teasing her. Sliding the head of cock just barely in and right back out, the back up over her clit.

“Are you sure you deserve it,?” He teased.

She eagerly nodded and at that he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt in one swift movement.

She cried out his name, her nails digging into the bed sheets as he filled her completely. He didn't pause, didn't give her time to adjust. He just started moving, his hips pistoning into her with a brutal rhythm that had her seeing stars. Each thrust was punctuated with a grunt, his breath hot on her neck as he claimed her over and over again.

Y/n's body was on fire, each stroke of his cock sending waves of pleasure crashing over her. She could feel herself getting wetter, her walls tightening around him as she neared climax. Jack's hands roamed over her body, his rough calloused touch a drastic difference to the smoothness of her skin. He pinched her nipples, rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, drawing out her moans.

He knew her body like he knew hockey, knew every button to push, every spot that made her whimper and writhe with pleasure.

The room was filled with the maxed out sound of their heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin. The headboard banging against the wall was a steady metronome to their passionate symphony.

Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as Jack's thumb found her clit again, rubbing it in tight, fast circles that had her teetering on the edge of release. She could feel the tension coiling in her stomach, the heat building between her legs.

"Jack," she screeched. "I'm going to come."

He smirked, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Come for me, baby. Show me how much you're mine."

The words pushed her over the edge, and she shattered around him, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado. She clung to him, her nails leaving half-moons in his back as she rode the waves of pleasure. He didn't slow, didn't stop, his rhythm relentless as he pushed her through the aftershocks of her climax.

Her legs were trembling when he finally pulled out, his cock slick with their combined juices. He flipped her onto her stomach, his hand pressing into her back as he re-entered her from behind. The angle was deeper, more intense, and she moaned into the pillow, her body still sensitive from the first orgasm. He meant what he said earlier, she would cum, when he came and he was keeping that word.

Jack sat them up, still fucking her from behind, hitting all new areas, and all new angles. An entirely new position for them.

“Baby, I’m so.” She couldn’t finish her sentence as her body shuttered.

“Let go, pretty girl.” His voice was at its most normal all night at that moment. His resolve breaking.

As she came again, her pussy spasming around him, had Jack letting out a something like a roar. He pulled out, his cock pulsing with his own release into the condom. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back giving him access to suck on her collarbone, marking her, not caring who will see for the days to come. The act was a reminder of his earlier promise, he grabbed her by the hips, flipping her over so he could see her face.

“Open baby girl. You were so good for me.” He said tapping her lower lip and leaned over, spit pooling in his mouth, and without a moment of hesitation, he leaned in and spit into her mouth. She swallowed, her eyes locked on his watching, waiting.

He kissed her hard then, his tongue pushing into her mouth, tasting himself on her. It was a claiming, it was desperate and a branding of her as his own. And as he pulled away, the hard tough man look from before was gone. It was replaced with a look of insecurity and worry.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get you a towel and start you a bath.” His voice soft as if he was concerned now that someone may hear him.

He grabbed his underwear and was pulling them on when Y/n reached for him.

“Jack, I think you should say what’s on your mind.” Her voice just as soft as his seconds ago.

Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands that he was fidgeting with.

"Please… Please tell me that you're only mine. Just mine," he pleaded his back to her, his voice thick with need. If his words had been drawn out heartache would be circling every letter of every word.

"Of course I am," she whimpered, her voice muffled by the lump in her throat. "Always yours, only yours.”

Jack turned and looked at her, “Always?”

“Always.”

© property of rowdyluv ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

[lonesome-pear]

Ok but like. This post got me thinking. I think life’s purpose is both something we will never know and something we can create for ourselves. What if my purpose was purely to bring joy? What if I made the universe empty and uncaring for the sake of longevity, which was not just not my purpose, but the complete opposite? What if life really is just about those little fleeting moments of whimsy? I think it is. I truly believe my one purpose here is to bring joy to other people. Not in a “I’m gonna be a doormat who does nothing but people please” kind of way, but in a “life is hard enough, let’s make it easier for each other” kind of way

The thought of going against that for the sake of. What. Not being forgotten? Not dying? What does that do? Does it prove something? Does it fulfill me? Why would I do it if there’s no reason. Out of curiosity? I don’t think I could justify that, and I do many things just for the sake of “what would it be like?” So idk. Maybe I’ll go laminate a paper towel. Because the universe imploding and leaving only me feels like a very specific kind of hell

I live not for the sake of living, but for the things that happen in life. I decide to get up in the morning not because it extends my life, but because maybe I’ll get to see my friends that day. Hell, maybe I’ll even make them laugh. Maybe they’ll see me and immediately run over to me just to talk for a few minutes while they wait for a ride home. Maybe I’ll bring them a small moment of joy. Maybe that little moment of joy came at a time where they didn’t know those happen anymore. And maybe they’ll do the same for me, because we love each other and we want to make our lives easier for each other

Maybe my friends will make me laugh. Maybe I’ll see them and immediately run up to them just to talk for a few minutes before I go home. Who knows. Maybe the universe continues to exist because I decided to get up and go have moments of genuine connection. Even if they don’t last. Even if they are fleeting. It still mattered. I had a purpose. I might come to end, but the impact those small moments had won’t

Because then my friends will keep going. They’ll get up in the morning and decide to go spread joy to their other friends. And those people will bring happiness to their other friends. And it just keeps going. And some of them will have kids and teach them to do the same. And it just keeps going

So maybe the universe isn’t cold and uncaring. Because how could a universe so uncaring have people in it that are so loving. How could a universe so cold have moments and smiles so warm. How could choosing to be immortal preserve your longevity any more than being remembered for the comfort you brought to others. If you were left alone in the universe, all that would be left is you and it would be a self fulfilling prophecy of having no impact on anything, at least not anymore. But if you choose to live life. Then you could have such a great impact that changes the course of everything forever for the better, even if it’s only a little bit better

Anyway I don’t really have a point here, it’s late at night and I’ve been feeling very existential lately

Or maybe it’s just a laminated paper towel

I laminated a paper towel

[saphiccarma]

Can you make a plot where Agatha actually dies and goes to meet Nicky along with Rio, but that way you know when she takes the souls, she doesn't stay with them, the souls stay with another entity that has been keeping Nicholas company until his mothers come to the afterlife, and she is like a third mother to him? All very comfort and fluff?

- I've never felt so loved

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - You had been caring for Nicholas since he died, a steady grounding prescence that changed form a friend to a mom. When Agatha dies, she's at first a bit jealous of it, but soon realizes how much she cares for the both of you.

Warnings: tiniest bit of angst but not really

A/N: I rewrote this several times, and still don't feel like it's good enough. Regardless, this was the version I was most happy with Hope y'all enjoy.

The last thing Agatha remembers is crashing her lips onto Rio's, siphoning her power as it slowly killed her. When she woke up, she felt...lighter. Her eyes scanned her backyard, slowly landing on her grave, a blossoming patch of flowers. A small smile flicked across her lips.

A teasing voice whispered in her ear, "Boo."

Agatha whipped around, a snarl on her face as her eyes met Rio's. The woman was in her typical death form, a bony jaw and ribs revealed. She had confident smirk, and if Agatha didn't know better, she would've thought Rio was happy with her death. But the faint watery shimmer in the woman's eyes said otherwise.

"We had a deal," Agatha hissed, taking a large step away from Death.

"That was if you brought me the boy," Rio argued, "He's still alive. Besides, you have someone waiting for you." Her voice softened at the end, her finger pointing towards two gates, illuminated by green mist. Freezing, Agatha's breath caught. She couldn't face him, she wasn't ready. Rio's hand cupped her ghostly face, her fingers delicate and gentle. "He misses you."

Agatha's voice stuttered, "I can't."

The other witch shrugged, poking her tongue into the side of her cheek.

"Not much I can do about that," Rio said nonchalantly. Her fingers danced towards Agatha's hand, and even when she tried to pull away, Rio held firm. She tugged Agatha towards the gates, towards the afterlife. Even if Agatha tried to tear her hand out of Rio's the green witch held stubbornly on.

When she passed through the gates, a bright light greeted her, but when it slowly faded, Agatha was met with the most beautiful sight of her life. It looked nothing like what she thought the underworld would. A green field, one that spanned for miles until it met a tree line, with flower patched dotting it. There were purple flowers, blue flowers, yellow flowers, just about every color you could think of.

The field was surrounded by a line of trees, one that Agatha guessed went on for miles. But the most surprising part was the house in the middle. It was a small cottage, one with vines that were wrapped around the slanted roof, and flower beds decorating the front. A white door, pure and shining, sat in the front, it's handle a bright gold that was visible from afar. Rio guided her towards it, her grip firm and unyielding.

Agatha had a creeping suspicion of who was in the house.

A rustle startled her. She spun around, her hair flying, and all her breath left her when she met eyes with who was there. Her heart picked up pace at the small figure that stood in the grass, just a few feet away from her.

Nicky looked the same as the day she lost him. His brown hair, the same color as her own, was halfway tied back - the rest falling wildly around his face that framed his lips. He stared at her with a parted mouth, hands clenched at his side. A basket rested in one of them, filled to the brim with eggs.

Agatha hardly had time to process the sight of him before he was sprinting at her. Opening her arms, she braced for a hug, ready to embrace her boy. Her anticipation vanished when Nicky stumbled straight through her, crashing into Rio. The Green Witch righted him with a pat on the back and he turned to face Agatha.

"Mama?" his voice was so soft, as he asked the question. Agatha tried to scoop him up, tears brimming in her eyes, but her arms swiped right through him. She let out a frustrated growl, Rio had been able to grab her fine. Nicky's figure was like her own, pale and nearly see-through - a ghost. The boy frowned, "Come on."

He tried to reach for her hand, pulling back just in time before he attempted to touch her. Nicholas ran through the fields, ignoring Agatha's call when he went too fast, and made his way towards the house. Rio and Agatha followed at a quick walk, the latter desperate to catch up with her son. The boy burst through the door, leaving it open for the other witches, but it wasn't long before he came straight back out.

Behind him, he was dragging along a woman, one with a ghostly form like her own, and a fond smile on her face. A pang of jealousy hit Agatha at the smile you directed at her son. That was her boy, and she had no idea who this woman was.

"This is my mama!" Nicholas introduced you to Agatha, his smile bright, "Mama, this is mom."

Agatha froze in her movements, nearly recoiling. Her mind spun with a thousand thoughts at those words. This is mom. She barely registered your mouth moving, introducing yourself with a kind smile. Anger and jealousy reared their ugly heads, boiling her stomach like a fierce fire. Jealous at the fact that this woman got to spend time with her son, and she didn't. Angry at the fact that Rio handed off Nicky.

She had hardly noticed when you took a step closer, your hands gently grabbing her wrists. She jolted at the touch, staring at you in surprise, and pulled back. You let her.

"Do you want to hug him?" you asked quietly, your voice a soft whisper on her ears. Agatha nodded faintly and eyed you suspiciously as you placed your hands above hers. "Focus," you whispered, "It takes concentration at first, but you'll get it. Imagine that holding my hands is the thing you want most in the world, focus on only that. When you can do that, hold my hand."

The thing Agatha wanted most was to hug her son, but he stood patiently behind you, bouncing on his toes. With a small, disgruntled frown, Agatha concentrated. She imagined that your hands were the key to her son, the one thing standing in her way. All she had to do was hold them. Her fingers twitched as she reached up, and an annoyed yell escaped her when she phased right through.

"Focus," you chided softly, "You can do it."

Taking a deep breath, Agatha tried again, elation soaring through her when she didn't phase right through. Your fingers gripped hers with pride as you smiled brightly. Swiftly, Agatha pulled away, bolting towards Nicky and scooping him up. He was in her arms with a giggle. Agatha laughed a watery laugh as she spun him around, burrowing her head in his shoulder. As always, he was warm against her, his body perfectly molding into her as he squeezed her tight.

"I missed you," he pressed a kiss to her cheek, the gesture familiar.

A tear ran down her face, "I missed you too baby."

^____________^

Agatha thinks it's been about a year since she died. Time was complicated in the afterlife. Turns out you were in a relationship with Rio, both becoming like mothers to Nicholas. At first, it had stung, pain cutting deep into her heart. She had been harsh and cruel to the two of you in the beginning, her words like knives that threatened to cut if you got too close. Somehow, although she wasn't sure, you pushed through that cruelty with a kind smile and warm heart. That was probably what drew Agatha in the most.

The first time she realized she might like you was when you found her crying on the porch. You had sat next to her silently, your presence quiet yet grounding. When Agatha had finally stopped crying, you listened to her vent about everything, taking it all in quietly and only offering support when she had finished.

After that her relationship with you had changed. She tried to be nicer, even if her words still came out clipped and short at times, she tried not to shut you out so much. It made her bond with Nicholas and Rio grow as well, the four of you becoming a small little family. A boy and his three moms. That was also when Rio and you accepted her into a romantic relationship. She had been dating the two of you for a couple months now.

Currently, she sat on the porch, a beer in her hand. She wasn't sure how you had beers, a part of her suspected Rio brought them to you, but she had no idea how this all worked despite her attempts to. The front door creaked softly, and she heard your footsteps behind her. Your ghostly figure sat next to her, a wine glass in your hand instead of beer, and you took a delicate sip.

"Nice night," you muttered, your eyes cast towards the sky. Agatha scoffed. The moon was a pale red, a blood moon, meaning that Rio was out doing who knows what. She had learned better than to ask these days, even though she really wanted to. The stars glimmered around the red hue; a stark contrast that made the sky light up.

Agatha swished her beer around in her hand, contemplating her next words.

"How did you come to live here?"

It had always been a mystery to her. Whenever the topic came up, you avoided it like the plague, making up some sort of excuse to leave and do something else. She had tried a couple times and was persistent in her attempts to get you to spill. There was a tense silence from your side as you took a deep breath.

"You're not gonna stop until you know, are you?" your words were teasing as you offered her a defeated smile, not waiting for an answer, "I died. Plain and simple, but Rio never came to collect my body. Apparently, for some odd reason, she was unable to. She found me right after Nicky," Agatha flinched a bit at your words, Nicholas' death still a sensitive topic, "Asked me to look after him, said it was for a friend. I agreed."

Humming softly in acknowledgement, Agatha took a swig of her drink, letting the taste spill down her throat. The familiar, soft, burn of alcohol soothed her nerves. It wasn't often the two of you had alone time, most often interrupted by Nicky.

"How'd you die?" she asked, her question making you freeze again.

You shrugged a big, "Like most witches. Witch hunters." You pulled down your shirt slightly to reveal your shoulder. A large gash spread across it, the lines jagged and rough. She reached out, her fingers gently tracing your soft skin. "They kept me around for a while before killing me."

Her mouth parted slightly at the various lines that crisscrossed across your shoulder, just barely visible beneath the large one. She met your eyes, seeing so much pain in them. Ever so carefully, she leaned forward, pressing her lips onto yours. You tasted like the pecan pie they ate that evening and like the wine you were drinking and smelled like the strawberry shampoo that you owned. Your lips melted into hers as you let out a quiet moan, your hands finding her shoulders.

You pulled her in eagerly, your tongue poking at her mouth. The kiss quickly turned into more than that, Agatha pulled away, panting slightly, before her lips began to trail down your neck, hot and wet. You tasted divine as always between her teeth as she bit and licked, relishing in the soft sounds you made. Then you were shoving her away, fixing her hair and grabbing a hold of your wine. Just before she could ask, the door was opened, Nicky standing there. He peeked out, his hand rubbing at his eye sleepily.

"Mother said that you two were out here," he whispered quietly, "I want cuddles."

You laughed, a sound that was music to Agatha's ears, and glanced at the purple witch.

"Alright, I'm coming," you stood, offering a hand to Agatha who took it and stood. Your drinks left to be taken care of in the morning.

The three of you made your way through the house, towards the giant bed that sat in the bedroom. It was hardly big enough to fit the four of you when Rio was home, but it worked. Nicky dragged both you into bed, curling between the two of you with a content smile.

"I love you," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to Agatha's cheek. Her heart warmed at the gesture, and she smiled softly at you. You offered a smile of your own in return, reaching across Nicky and planting a soft kiss on Agatha's lips.

She had never felt so loved.

Just when the welcoming embrace had begun to come, she felt the bed dip behind her, Rio's weight pressing into her back. The Green Witch placed a kiss on her temple, whispering a soft greeting as she settled into the bed.

She had never felt so loved.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

something something dark!logan who puts reader in dangerous situations so he can save her and then convince her that no one is safe and he’s the only one she can trust. is it bad that i find the thought of logan baby trapping me hot?

(this is not proofread, i wrote this in like 30 minutes)

-

the first time he sees you, something primal unlocks in him. you’re suddenly the only thing he can think about, your sweet smile taking over his dreams. he wants you in a way he’s never wanted anything before, willing to do anything you ask of him, willing to kill anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way.

every time he sees your smile drop he’s filled with a murderous rage. 

but when he’s around you, the world slows down. there’s only you and him and the tension between you. your friends tell you that he’s dangerous, he’s angry and drunk all the time, but you just stare at them in confusion because he’s never so much as raised his voice at you.

so you wave off your friends worries, telling them that he’s an absolute sweetheart and maybe he just has a bad reputation, but you know him.

he invites you to go to a bar with him and you agree enthusiastically. you love spending time with him, and this is sounding almost like a date. you get all dolled-up for him, hopeful that something in your relationship will shift tonight. 

you agreed to meet at the bar, so you wait outside the building for logan, bouncing on the balls of your feet. that’s when a man approaches you, big and burly and asking what you’re doing all dressed up and alone. he drags you into the alley beside the bar, but before anything can happen, the man is being thrown into the wall.

logan stabs the guy in the chest with his claws, letting the blood run down his hand. because while he was the one who paid the guy to do this to you, he still couldn’t stand the sight of another man’s hands on you. so he brings his fist down again, claws puncturing the man’s lungs. and again and again and again, until you have to pull him off the bloody corpse.

the minute his eyes meet yours, it's like he becomes a completely new person. he drives you home, a hand on your thigh. he holds you close when you cry in his arms, whispering that he’s so sorry he wasn’t there to protect you, that he should have offered to drive you, that he should have known someone would try to hurt you, because you’re beautiful and pure and the world is a wretched place that wants to destroy souls like yours.

you start dating and logan becomes even more protective and jealous. now that he knows what it's like to have you, he’ll do anything to keep you.

so he stages dangerous situations, manipulates you into falling right into the traps he’s laid out, and every time he comes to rescue you. he’s the hero of your story, and you tell him that, laying with your head on his chest one night.

but he still doesn’t feel like it's enough. the animal in him longs to call you his, to claim you permanently. to mate with you, to breed you. 

so he convinces you to move in with him, something that’s pretty easy after he hires someone to break into your apartment. he observes your routines, memorises your little daily schedules, and when you’re in the shower he switches out your birth control pills for placebo ones.

when he fucks you it’s hard and rough. it’s the only time he lets himself be something other than gentle with you, because he knows how much you love it, can smell your arousal growing with every thrust, can feel how wet you are around him. you cry out his name, grasping desperately at his arms, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach really, for some sort of support.

you’re so out of it that you don’t notice when he cums deep inside you instead of pulling out like you’d asked. he keeps fucking his cum into you, pushing it deeper. when the afterglow of your orgasm fades and you feel his cum leaking out of you, you freak out, pushing him off you.

but he asks, “aren’t you on birth control?” and after a long conversation he convinces you that it’ll be fine, that’s what birth control is for, and besides, doesn’t it feel better raw? don’t you love the feeling of his thick cum shooting inside you, coating your insides, claiming you?

you’re terrified when you find out you're pregnant, and logan acts just as shocked, as if he couldn’t smell when you were ovulating and hadn’t planned to breed you as many times as he could during that period to make sure it stuck. 

he tells you that no matter what he’ll be by your side, that he’s never really thought about settling down and being a family man but that he’s never felt for anyone what he feels for you, and the thought of having a child with you, someone that’s half your dna and half his, your love for each other in a physical form, sounds wonderful.

and then one day, after your daughter is born, as you’re watching logan holding her in his large arms, you admit that you knew he was borderline stalking you before you two started dating, and you knew after the third time that the men attacking you were being hired to do so, and you knew when he switched out your birth control.

and you confess to him that no one’s ever really loved you the way logan does, completely and unconditionally, and even if logan’s a little unhinged and obsessive about making sure you won’t leave him, you appreciate that quality. because he wouldn’t go through all that effort and all that trouble if he didn’t care about you.

logan, who thought it was impossible to love you any more than he already did, feels himself fall in love all over again at that confession.

[minaharkerdailymirror]

Mina stroked his face gently, "Yes Armand, I know you completely."

She wrestled with a few things in her mind, and it was time to tell him her story, "You already know the early times for me. You know about the anger I felt for what he did. No one is born into this world with an easy birth. And when I came into it, I was very angry."

A tear slipped out, she wiped it way, "You already know about the dark hunters who tortured the vampire to tell me the Great Laws just because they could. It was such a shriveled weak thing from the years they starved it, kept it filled with dead man's blood...chained down in a basement. You remember how I told you I killed the vampire and their leader? They tracked me down soon after, beat be bloody. I have....whip marks on my back still from one holding a belt. Called me a traitor to my kind. I faked being dead, never saw them again. I don't even know what happened to them. Probably died on some random hunt somewhere. Most hunters don't have a good shelf life."

"And you know about the kids, those two things took most of my sanity, I think. Or what was left of it. I've made a lot of bad decisions Armand. People died because of decisions I made, or didn't make."

It would just be easier to show him. She pulled off her shirt and left it beside her.

"I was a nurse during world war 1 and world war 2," she told him and took his hand, "Monsters were attacking to those sorts of feeding grounds, so I'd hunt at night." She pressed a scar on her hip, "That was from a grenade." Another on her shoulder, "This one from a nazi I killed. He thought he would surrender to America, he thought he had the knowledge that would get him a pardon. But as I looked at him in my company all I could think was 'how the hell could you do that to another human being and expect to get away with it?' So he didn't. She showed him the map of her body, explained each scar and where it came from. It wasn't the playful flirting that was last night. Her story was drenched in blood, so much death. While he'd tucked away from the world, Mina had been integrated in it, watched it change around her.

Not every story was as noble as killing the nazi. There were a lot of cases where it was no good decisions. She made the best one she could at the time only to find out it wasn't. Naiveté, anger, pride, arrogance, it all factored in.

Hell, sometimes she made the wrong decision because she was just so despondent and depressed that she just thought she was waiting to die.

The history she stood on the corners of; Getting the right to vote, and The Great War, and then World War 2 and Korea, and Vietnam....watching countries separate and form and dissolve. Watching her friends and loved ones born, grow, die, or were wiped out in epidemic such as the Spanish Flu and AIDS

SO many that wanted to be old taken away young....and she was still here. Maybe for him and it was fate. maybe she was just stupidly lucky.

"No one knows these stories," she told him, "No one, except you."

The men she was often with would ask, and they may know some. But she never told anyone every single scar.

"I'm so tired of fighting," she told him quietly, "I want to grow a garden with my husband and run a gallery by the water. And if that's all we do for an eternity, I would be so happy that it would be with you."

The guilt weighed in her gut as she processed what he told her. She hugged him tightly. A breakup after 77 years, Mina couldn't imagine 77 years.

When he told her she was his choice and he wanted to be her husband, Mina felt the tears well up again and she kissed him lovingly, "I want to be your wife more than anything. I love you. You deserve to be loved. Frankly by someone far better than me but I love you with everything. I want to be your comfort. I'm so sorry I pulled you back there to that place."

[sorcerousundries]

I’m dreaming of all the possibilities

A Valyrian wedding with Aemond

Warnings: Valyrian!reader, typical targcest, reader is Aemonds niece, mentions of rape(not by Aemond), readers hair is long enough to be braided, a lot of blood, I think dragon metaphors are romantic leave me alone, reader is described as beautiful, minimal dialogue, nicer!Aemond, shit pacing, Valyrian might not accurate

NSFW warnings: thigh grinding, marking, slight power imbalances, virgin!reader, Aemond dirty talks in Valyrian, no protection, vaginal penetration, slight voyuerism.

Translations: Issa ābrazȳrys, nyke kivio naejot ao naejot sagon aōha mīsio, aōha egros, aōha sumby, nykeā raqiros ao kostagon confide isse, aōha jorrāelagon skori ao dijāves issa, nyke kivio naejot ūbremagon naejot ao rūsīr undying devotion hae nykeā zaldrīzes would tend naejot pōja drōma, nyke krimvo aōha prūmia syt choosing issa, kostagon ao feel hae dāez rūsīr issa hae ao gaomagon va zaldrīzes arlī - my wife, I promise to be your protector, your blade, your shield, your friend you can confide in, your lover when you desire me, I promise to tend to you with undying devotion as a dragon would tend to their eggs, I thank your heart for choosing me, I pray you can you feel as free as you do on dragon back || Valzȳrys, kostagon aōha jēda rūsīr issa sagon lēdan rūsīr passion se perzys, kostagon īlva jorrāelagon zālagon hotter than vhagars perzys, nyke kivio naejot sagon pazavor, naejot sagon compassionate, naejot shifang se trūmāje parts hen ao rūsīr devotion se pāsagon, nykeā zaldrīzes emagon daor limits se neither shall īlva jorrāelagon. Ziry jāhor sagon remembered daor sepār hae union hen gaomilaksir se sacrifice yn hae mēre hen jorrāelagon - Husband, may our marriage be filled passion and fire, may our love burn hotter than vhagars fire, I promise to be loyal, to be compassionate, to understand the deepest parts of you with devotion and love, a dragon does not have limits and neither shall our love. May our marriage be remembered not just as a union of duty and sacrifice but as one of love. || Sīr vok syt issa, issa dōna ābrazȳrys - so perfect for me, my sweet wife || kotlu - please

NSFW content under the cut

When you first heard about Aemond it was from your mother, she had talked to you about betrothal before but for the most part the topic remained untrodden territory.

She understandably wanted to wait until you had came of age, remembering the unbearable pressure of being constantly presented with suitors who wanted her blood for their offspring or her place on the throne.

But when the greens offered to form an alliance on one condition. She betrothed her daughter to queen Alicents youngest son.

When your mother sat you down and told you the news you cried and screamed, even as your sobs died down your mind raced with images of what he might be like.

Would he be fat and greedy to consumed with his own need to tend to his wife preferring the company of common whores or would he be thin and unnerving with a wiry smile who would bring you to dungeons and molest you til your hole bled and throat was sore from screaming?.

You felt your stomach churn at the thoughts but they continued to race through your mind each one more grotesque than the last.

When the day finally came for you to meet your eyes stung with panicked tears, you looked at yourself in the mirror a thousand times. your white hair braided in intricate braids you couldn’t even remember the names of, a green gown with an embroidered neckline and golden details that shimmered with the flicker of candles.

You had hoped the Hightower green would please him, you felt wearing traditional Targaryen red and black would send the wrong message.

As much as you hated the situation, you couldn’t help but want to pacify it in every way you could.

———

The gathering took place in the council room, the orange light reflecting around the room making it feel dreamy.

From the moment your eyes locked with his blue ones your heart jumped, you couldn’t pull your eyes from him if you wanted to, it appeared he felt the same from the way his eyebrows rose ever so slightly, his eyes trailing up and down your figure returning to your face as if he wanted to memorise every small detail of your face, wether it be the curve of your bow or the slope of your cupids bow.

He sneered when his mother called his name, prompting him to tear his gaze from you.

You couldn’t even focus on the chatter of your mother and the greens, your gaze felt stuck on his handsome face.

It was only when he stepped forward and took your hand in his calloused one pressing the back of it to his lips you were able to focus on his words “princess, it is an honour to be named your betrothed” he spoke, his voice was velvety smooth as it reached your ears.

You were snapped out of your daydream when you felt everyone’s eyes looking upon you, awaiting your response “the honour is all mine” he smirked at this.

You can’t remember much of the meeting only that as you watched the greens sail away your mother smiled knowingly at you, kissing your forehead “it pleases me that you do not have the same reservations that I did” she comments before walking back up the pathway to the castle, leaving you standing with your dress blowing in the wind, thinking more positively about your betrothal than before.

———

Your relationship with aemond was fast paced but not unwelcome, you often sat together in the library discussing whatever topic came to mind or even sitting in silence wanting nothing more than to enjoy each others company.

You stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself similar to how did approximately nine moons ago, this time instead of green you were dressed in a white robe dipped in redm a golden headpiece said upon your head with tassels dangling by your ears.

“Princess, it’s time” one of your handmaidens called, you thanked her taking a deep breathe before starting the walk to the altar, you’d practiced it before, you counted exactly six hundred and forty eight steps, that’s six hundred and forty eight steps until you’d be married to Aemond.

The steps seemed to fly by, as your feet subconsciously sped up as if you blinked and there was aemond stood in front of you, dressed in a similar garment, his hair braided to match yours.

The officiant stood between you both first handing aemond the dragon glass shard, he brings it your lips and slices downwards, the sting painful but soothed by the cool wind blowing on your face. then your turn, bringing the shard to his heart shaped lips and sliding it down, the blood starting to drip.

His hand cups your jaw as your lips crash together, a mix of the metallic tang and expensive westerosi wine is all you taste, it makes you moan quietly into his mouth before you pull back hesitantly, a stupid grin on your face that he returns.

The taste returns to your mouth as you both drink from the same cup of blood, watered down with wine to make it go down easier. The amount of blood on your lips causing the red liquid to drip onto your dress and down your neck.

“Today we bear witness to the union of the prince and princess of house Targaryen, may their marriage be long and prosperous, filled with devotion and everlasting love to each other as their two souls bind into one, they may now recite they’re vows as oaths and promises to each other and their marriage” the officiant steps down from the altar and you join hands with him.

“Issa ābrazȳrys, nyke kivio naejot ao naejot sagon aōha mīsio, aōha egros, aōha sumby, nykeā raqiros ao kostagon confide isse, aōha jorrāelagon skori ao dijāves issa, nyke kivio naejot ūbremagon naejot ao rūsīr undying devotion hae nykeā zaldrīzes would tend naejot pōja drōma, nyke krimvo aōha prūmia syt choosing issa, kostagon ao feel hae dāez rūsīr issa hae ao gaomagon va zaldrīzes arlī” the words rolled from his tongue as if he didnt have to think to say them.

You take a deep breathe running quickly through your vows in your head before speaking “Valzȳrys, kostagon aōha jēda rūsīr issa sagon lēdan rūsīr passion se perzys, kostagon īlva jorrāelagon zālagon hotter than vhagars perzys, nyke kivio naejot sagon pazavor, naejot sagon compassionate, naejot shifang se trūmāje parts hen ao rūsīr devotion se pāsagon, nykeā zaldrīzes emagon daor limits se neither shall īlva jorrāelagon. Ziry jāhor sagon remembered daor sepār hae union hen gaomilaksir se sacrifice yn hae mēre hen jorrāelagon” you smiled, your joined hands causing the cuts on both to mix blood, feeling the bond between you both seal.

You keep your fingers intertwined as you both walk down the stone steps of dragonstone, towards the castle

———

Your dress fell from your shoulder, your breasts bouncing as the dress fell to the floor, leaving you completely naked.

Aemond sat on the foot of the bed, still in his wedding robes though he’d discarded his eyepatch, Leaving the gleaming saphire embedded in his eye socket on display, he sighs in content as his eyes rake your figure before he pats his thigh in invitation.

You straddle his thigh, your bare cunt pressed against the mix of linen and the firm muscle of his thigh. you lean forward smashing your lips onto his, the sudden change in position causing your clit to catch on the fabric, tearing a gasp from you.

The searing heat of need pulsates through your cunt as you start to grind against his thigh, you bite your lip and throw your head back.

He takes the initiative to start sucking and biting your neck, claiming you as his by marking you.

Your thighs tense and your abdomen pools with molten heat as you feel the knot in your stomach start to coil, “A-Aemond!” You moan, he licks a stripe up to your ear “cum for me, hm?” He encourages.

Fire rushes through your body as the coil snaps and wetness soaks Aemonds robes.

Your chest heaves as you pant for breath, trying to come down from your high.

Suddenly the room spins around you, you realise Aemond has flipped you onto the bed underneath him. His eyes are hungry as he gazes upon your face, a beauty only heard of in history books of old Valyria, he could scarcely believe such a beautiful woman was underneath him and all his.

He spread your legs with his lean one, slotting his pelvis flush against yours, gripping your hips as he presses his lips to yours, a sloppy clash of tongue, teeth and blood, fighting for dominance.

Your nails drag down his back, no doubtably leaving red stripes in their wake under his blood stained robe.

“Sīr vok syt issa, issa dōna ābrazȳrys” he moans into your mouth, the words slurred and murmured in need. The rolls of his tongue as he spoke the words making your cunt pulse as you imagine his tongue on your clit.

“Kotlu, I want your cock” you practically drool, bucking your hips up against the prominent bulge in his trousers.

He unlaces the front of his trousers, dipping his hand into waistband before pulling out his cock, the sight makes you moan.

It wasn’t exceptionally girthy but it was long, he laid it across your stomach and it almost reached your belly button, it curved slightly to the left. It would hit your gspot deliciously you thought, the prospect making your eyes roll back in your head.

But the thought of it was nothing compared to how it felt pushing inside your tight walls, it burned slightly, your hole never being penetrated before but his comforting grip on both your hands made it bearable as you tried to focus on the mouthwatering drag of his cock on your walls instead of the burning sensation.

It felt like an eternity before you finally felt his hips against your ass, all of his cock sheathed inside your cunt, the tip pressed against your spot, nudging it every time he shifted slightly.

“Move” you whined, his hips reeled back before he pushed in again over and over, the rhythm slow at first but he quickened as your moans grew louder, the wet squelch of skin slapping filling your eardrums along with his light groans.

You swear you could even hear maids giggling outside, at the sound of your moans they could tell aemond was practically in your guts. The image of them sneaking around corners, cunts dripping with need knowing they could never have the gorgeous Valyrian statue of a man behind you, taking you like an animal in heat made you smirk. Despite your head being stuffed into the silk pillows, moans muffled as Aemond had you on all fours, your moans could be heard two corridors down, the sounds echoing off the stone walls.

Your legs started to shake as you felt the rush of heat in your stomach again, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth “fuck, m’gonna cum!” you cried, he said something that you couldn’t hear as ringing sounded in your eardrums, your legs shook violently as you soaked aemond and the bedsheets underneath you.

He rubbed your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, hips grinding and rolling in circles as he shot ropes of cum into your cunt, filling you up with his warm seed.

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Prologue

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

Cheers to the new longer fic series starring Toby! Hope you enjoy this brief little intro to get a taste of what's to come~

Commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Divider by @plum98

Work.

That’s what Toby’s life revolves around. Day in, day out. He doesn’t have hobbies, doesn’t have friends to hang out with—and he certainly doesn’t have a family to go back home to, either. He has work.

It consumes him.

He’s thankful for it, though. It’s pathetic to say, but at least he has something. At least he’s still good for one thing. At least he’s not completely fucking useless.

So it doesn’t bother him when Slender sends him out on a mission not even a full 24 hours after the last one. It's just another distraction, another way to kill some time and keep his darker thoughts at bay. It's another way to feel useful, to feel needed.

He notices, as he's preparing his things, that his partners in crime aren't the happiest about getting thrown into another job. But then again, when are they ever happy?

Toby sits on the couch in their dingy cabin when he finishes prepping. Hoodie joins him not too long after, leaning against the side of the couch with his arms folded over his chest, and both wait in silence for the following orders.

When Masky has most of his things ready, he stands in front of them and addresses them for a debrief. It's a fairly standard mission, as far as jobs go. Something about someone with the Sickness who's trying to find the cure and needs to be intercepted—same old, same old. There's a strange kind of comfort in the regularity of the work.

Ever since the incident, Toby's life stopped making sense. But at least there's still some semblance of routine within the insanity of it all. At least he could still cling to these fleeting threads of normalcy.

"Toby."

Snap.

Masky snaps his fingers in front of Toby's face.

"You're zoning out. I need you focused."

"I am focused," Toby retorts.

"No, you're not. You're not taking this seriously."

With a roll of his eyes, Toby looks up at the ceiling.

"That's because we've done this exact same job hundreds of-of times by now. I don't need to listen to the same fu-fucking debriefing every s-single time."

Masky pinches the bridge of his nose, furrows his brows, and exhales deeply through his tired frustration.

"It's not the same every time. I'm giving you important information that you need to know and you need to remember. I don't do this shit for fun, Toby; it's not a fucking game."

"I'm not saying it's a fucking game," Toby stands abruptly as a jolt of anger snaps through his body. It takes everything in his power to stop himself from grabbing Masky's collar and shaking him. "I'm saying I'm sick of hearing you spew out the same crap time and time again when you—when you could just s-summarize it or something!"

"I am summarizing it—you fucking dipshit. You'd know that if you fucking listened for once in your life."

Toby's about to lose whatever meager ounce of self-control he has, when Hoodie steps in between them and separates them.

"Alright, that's enough. No injuries before we're on site. I don't wanna have to work more to compensate for dead weight."

"Just—focus, alright?" Masky insists, and all Toby can think about is how satisfying it would be to throw his fist into his dumb fucking face.

"I am focused," the youngest of the three seethes the words out.

"Alright, can you repeat the plan to me, then?"

"We're finding our target, going in, seeing what edge we can find. They have some—some notebook or wh-whatever and Slender wants it back. We kill if we need to."

Masky groans, as if the recap isn't good enough, but Hoodie shakes his head, as if to dissuade his partner from arguing any further.

"It'll do," Hoodie states, "C'mon, it shouldn't be a long one. The sooner we're in, the sooner we're out."

And just like that, the three separate to start loading up the car and heading out.

Masky drives, as usual, and Hoodie takes shotgun, leaving Toby in the back, as usual. He doesn't mind it too much, though; anything is better than sitting next to Masky for an extended amount of time. Plus, not having to worry about the road gives him plenty of time to look out the window and daydream. It's one of the few times he can escape, and his mind won't take him anywhere unpleasant.

Well, most of the time it won't, anyway. Which is about as good as it can get.

They sleep at a hotel after driving non-stop for the rest of the day, and they're on the road for the following two days after that. It's only on the fourth day that they finally crash at a hotel that Masky announces will be their "home, sweet home" until the end of the job.

He recaps the mission, again, but Toby, admittedly, only really pays attention to their target's description. He hears Masky explain that they’ll start working at dusk, but Toby’s already too busy testing out the mattresses and pillows to bother listening.

Thankfully, Masky ignores him instead of bitching at him, and the two other proxies talk about more shit Toby doesn't care about.

At least this won't be a long one, Toby thinks, his eyes already growing heavy as the comfort of the cheap hotel bed encourages him to relax. The last coherent thought he has is the feeling of relief that at least this mission’s bound to be over before he knows it.

And then his thoughts are lost to his dreams.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[tryan-a-bex]

I didn’t want to go. There had to be another way, and I was spending all my free time in the library trying to find it, but then they ran out of hero-types and figured, since I’d been working on the problem, they should send me.

They put a gun in my hand, taught me the basics about how to aim and fire (they didn’t think I’d need to deal with reloading), and sent me out. Honestly, I was quaking in my boots. How much was it going to hurt to be destroyed with extreme prejudice by a reality-bending god? I wasn’t brave, I just wanted to go home to a peaceful city instead of one that was being controlled by men fear-mongering about a vengeful god. I don’t really have any pain tolerance to speak of, that’s why I went into scribing instead of child-bearing, those mothers are way more badass than anyone gives them credit for.

Anyway, I found the god, it wasn’t hiding. It didn’t attack me, but I had a job and I wasn’t allowed to come home without doing it, so I reached around a tree, tried to stop my hand from shaking too badly, fired off a shot, and then closed my eyes and waited for the worst.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just shot me! Oh my god, it hurts! It hurts so much!”

What the actual hell? I peeked out from behind my tree. The god was sitting there crying, holding into its arm and trying to wipe tears away at the same time. Poor thing.

“It’s not that bad,” I said, coming out from behind the tree. “There’s no blood coming out from under your hand, so it must just be a scratch.”

“Do you think so? Could you take a look at it for me?” I swear, the god sounded like my friend Matt who’s as much of a wuss as I am. I went up to it and held out my hand.

It put its hand trustingly in mind and I took a look at the tear in its sleeve just above the elbow. Just a scratch, not even a bead of blood. I’ve had worse papercuts. Good thing I have such bad aim.

“It stings, doesn’t it?” I said sympathetically. The god nodded and covered it again with its other hand.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine again soon. And I promise not to hurt you anymore.”

“Really?” The poor thing sounded so plaintive.

“Were all those heroes really scary for you?” I asked.

“Oh, no, not really,” the god admitted, eyes downcast.

“But?” How could I be scary, and not those powerful heroes who were instantly destroyed? Wait, why was I still alive? “Why haven’t you destroyed me?”

The god looked up at me with pleading eyes. “I reflect those near me. I used to have devoted priests who I cared for, and they kept me kind. Then the vizier sent men to kill them all, but when I’m surrounded by evil men intent on killing, well. Let’s just say they didn’t last long. Nor did the heroes, with their thoughts of destruction. You were afraid of pain, and then filled with compassion, so I am too. I like myself much better this way. Thank you.”

I sat down. “Let’s talk.”

You've been sent out to defeat a powerful, reality bending god. All have died horrifically trying. And here you are in front of the crying god as they complain about how you just shot them.