#and i knew he would miss wearing this sweater which is the one from his favorite picture of him and his mom together

[2024skin]

1 month ago today my exes mom died is it too soon to tell him I unfriended him and ignored his message because I kind of think he raped me

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x afab! reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

[bloodibambiidoll]

Cat and Mouse

(Perv!Eddie Munson x Perv!Fem Reader)

Summary: Eddie thinks you are innocent and oblivious to all the pervy things he does behind your back, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re fully aware. Not only that, but you like it, and you just might be a bit of a perv yourself. WK: 8k (idk what happened)

Warnings: Where do I even begin? This is filthy guys… Panty stealing, honestly just Eddie and Reader both taking things of each others without asking (and using them to pleasure themselves), Maybe a tiny bit of angst? Idk there’s like a second where they’re both doubting themselves but it’s solved quickly. SMUTTTT!!! Unprotected P in V, Oral (M and F receiving), overstimulation(on R), hair pulling, slightly sub!Eddie? Idk he’s just really down bad(but so is R), dirty talk but like dirty dirty. Idk what to tell y’all they’re pervs, they’re gross, this is feral. If I missed anything pls lmk!! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: Listen… idk what came over me with this one… a horny demon possessed me and wrote this.. It was fueled by my feral period brain and all the perv Eddie fics I’ve seen where Reader is innocent, which is still very hot and I love it but I’m a whore so I wanted to write something where maybe she wasn’t as innocent as Eddie thought. That’s it, that’s all I have to say, pls enjoy the filth. 😌 (also shout out to @take-everything-you-can for mentioning something about taking Eddie’s shirt, I kind of took that idea and ran a mile with it.) My Masterlist

You met Eddie a few months ago, you were working at your uncle’s comic book shop when he came in looking for some dice. He came in a few more times after that, always needing something for his campaign, or looking for a comic for one of his younger friends he told you about. He would always stay and talk to you for a while, telling you things about his life, asking about yours. Eventually he asked you if you wanted to come to one of his shows and the two of you had basically been inseparable since.

You hadn’t known him long but it didn’t take long for you to pick up on a few things. Like how his eyes would always linger on your thighs when you’d cross them on his bed in your little ruffly skirts, or how they looked like they were going to pop out of his head when he noticed you hardly ever wear a bra. You noticed he always talked to you in this way that made you seem so innocent and pure, untouched. You weren’t, but noticed he liked it, so you played into it.

You started to notice things going missing, a pair of underwear that didn’t quite make it in the dirty clothes basket, a tester vile of your perfume you had left over from before you decided it was worth buying the whole bottle, a picture of you from your stack of polaroids that was of you at the beach in your little red bikini.

So you started leaving things. Your dirty underwear on display, always at the very top of your laundry basket. A nearly empty bottle of your favorite lotion sitting next to the trash, ready to be thrown out. A picture of your tits with your forearm just barely covering your nipples at the top of the stack of Polaroids.

Each time they would be gone, and you weren’t sure at this point if he was just playing along or if he was the one that was really that naive.

•

The first time Eddie saw you he was convinced you were an angel. Standing behind the counter at the comic shop downtown in your little white sweater and pink skirt. When he walked up to look at the dice in the glass underneath the register he could see your white thigh high socks. You had this cute ribbon in your hair and when you spoke your voice sounded like sugarcane. You asked him if there where any sets that stood out to him, and then you surprised the hell out of him by asking if they were for D&D. You had never played, but your cousins and your uncle did, so you knew the basics.

He couldn’t stop himself from coming in after that, finding any excuse to make a trip to see his favorite girl. Maybe he would decide he needed a new mini for an NPC or offer to go get a new release of a comic for Dustin while he was at school. He always spent a while standing there talking to you, getting to know you, ogling you because he just couldn’t help himself. How could he? When you would lean over the counter giving him a perfect view of your tits through your thin shirts and hardly ever wore a bra? When you would ask him to hold the ladder steady so you could get something up high and he would get a perfect view up your skirt of whatever panties you wore that day? You were irresistible.

He learned that you weren’t only beautiful but actually really cool. You knew a lot about comics, you had read Tolkien, you loved horror movies possibly more than he did, and you were down to give any music a chance.

You also had this innocence about you, like you almost didn’t realize how much he wanted you. It just made him want you more. You’d look at him with those big round eyes and pouty lips whenever he would tease you about something. When he would compliment you outright you always made this little squeaky noise and he would notice you squirm or press your thighs together.

But once you started hanging out with him outside of work that’s when he really lost control. The first time he was at your house he saw a pair of your panties next to your laundry basket. Clearly dirty by the way he could see your juices left behind on the crotch of them. You were in the bathroom changing and he just couldn’t resist. He picked them up off the ground and held them up to his nose, inhaling your scent. He felt slightly sick but he had already gone this far so he figured he might as well just have a little taste. He licked the patch where your pussy was, and even though they had mostly dried you still tasted divine. His head spun and his cock hardened as he imagined what you would really taste like. He heard the bathroom door across the hall creak open so he quickly shoved the panties into his back pocket and sat down on your bed, one leg bent at the knee crossed over the other to try and hide the very prominent bulge in his pants.

Then there was the time you had to run down to the mailboxes to check your mail, he already had been subtly staring at the small vial of your perfume after you proudly announced to him that you decided it was your signature scent now, showing him the larger bottle. He figured you wouldn’t need the small one anymore, it was almost gone anyways. So he did what he’s been finding himself doing more and more often when he’s in your room, he pocketed it. That night he sprayed it on his pillow, holding it to his face while he had your panties wrapped around his cock. Bucking into his hand with reckless abandon, imaging what yours might feel like instead.

Then there was the day he was at your apartment before you were supposed to meet up with some of his friends for a movie night and you wanted to shower after work. He was bored, snooping around a little like he usually does when he gets a moment alone in your room, and he came across a stack of Polaroids. His heart warmed when the top one was a photo of you and him at a metal show you went to with him and the guys a few towns away.

You were always surprising him and that night was no exception, banging your head until your little ribbon was about to fall out of your hair. He fixed it for you, of course. He kept looking through the stack of photos, seeing images of you and your friends back home, some of you and your cousins, and tons of you here in Hawkins. Mostly of you and him, some with his friends that were now yours too. But when he got almost to the bottom of the stack he saw a photo of you and your friends at the beach, all smiling wide at the camera. He could only see your neck and shoulders but he could tell you were wearing a little red bikini of some kind. He eagerly flipped to the next photo, hoping there might be one that proved him right, and he was not disappointed.

This picture was just you, laying on the beach with your legs outstretched in front of you, your hands were buried in the sand and just like he thought you were wearing a bright red bikini.

The way you were leaning back on your hands was making your chest stick out and the way one of your legs was slightly bent made it so he could just see the curve of your ass from the side. Your skin glistened with what he assumed was a mixture of sunscreen and sweat and he wanted to lick it off. Your eyes were adorned with heart shaped sunglasses that matched the red of your swimsuit and if he looked close enough he could tell even your toes matched.

He felt his cock harden immediately, licking his lips at the sight. Without even really thinking he shoved the photo in the back pocket of his jeans, hoping you wouldn’t notice it missing.

You tempted him twice that day, it was just too easy when you threw your clothes on top of the basket after your shower and walked into the kitchen to get a snack. Your panties were directly on top, the crotch side up, and he could see a fresh wet patch there. He couldn’t help it, he pocketed them and excused himself to the bathroom, running his tongue along the cloth where your juices had collected. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he felt like he was going to pass out. It only took a few tugs of his cock before he was spilling cum all over his hand and exiting the bathroom with his pockets full of treasures like nothing ever happened.

•

About two weeks into this cat and mouse game you still weren’t sure you were just playing with yourself, you were alone in Eddie’s room. He ran out to his van to check for the tape he was looking for and you were sitting on his bed and one of his shirts was thrown haphazardly near his pillows like he had taken it off right before going to sleep. The thought came to you and before you could question it you were grabbing it and holding it up to your nose. It smelled good but not like you were expecting. You were expecting the scent of weed mixed with tobacco, apple shampoo and the aftershave you got for him after you told him the smell of the one he was using smelled like a 60 year old man’s wife picked it out for him.

It smelled like those things, but it also smelled like… you, your perfume. But there was something else. When you picked it up it felt slightly dry and maybe a little bit crunchy and upon closer inspection you noticed that it was dried cum. Did he spray your perfume onto his cum shirt? Was he smelling it while he stroked his cock? Thinking of you? The thought made your pussy pulse and your head spin, but it wasn’t what you wanted. Plus, he would definitely notice this missing. So when you heard the trailer door swing open you acted fast. Grabbing one of his discarded shirts that was on the ground near his bed and shoving it into your bag.

That night you did something you would’ve felt ashamed of if you weren’t positive Eddie’s done something similar, maybe even dirtier from the looks and smells of that shirt you found.

You wrapped Eddie’s shirt around your pillow and rode it until you came three times. As you drifted off to sleep still holding onto the pillow you wondered how much longer you could go without actually having the real thing.

•

Eddie was starting to wonder if you were doing this on purpose, his first indication of that being what he was currently holding in his hands. You were in the kitchen making lunch for the both of you and he was snooping around, as one does. But something caught his eye when he was walking by your shelf, something that wasn’t there before. Right on top of the stack of Polaroids he had found the bikini photo in was a picture of your tits. Your nipples were covered by your forearm, but your tits nonetheless. He was absolutely positive this hadn’t been there before, he definitely would have noticed.

Did you notice that he took the bikini photo and leave this here on purpose so he would see it? Did you take this for someone else? The thought of that made him sick to his stomach. His thoughts were bouncing around in his head like a ping pong ball trying to decide if he was reading into it, if he should take the photo or leave it. If he took it would you be mad? Would you be offended if he didn’t?

Before he could contemplate his decision further he heard your steps coming down the hall so he made a snap judgment and shoved it in his pocket. Practically launching himself onto your bed, he grabbed one of your cute frilly pillows, threw it on his lap and hoped it wouldn’t come off as suspicious.

You were walking down the hall with two bowls of Mac and cheese when you heard a shuffling sound and then the creaking of your mattress like someone just jumped on it. You smirk to yourself, wondering if Eddie saw the gift you left him.

When you open your bedroom door he’s sitting on your bed with a pillow in his lap, he flashes you a smile that is almost believable but you could see the slight flush in his cheeks. You set his bowl down on top of the pillow, and smile back.

“There you go Eds, one gourmet bowl of Kraft, as promised.” You mock curtsied, setting your own bowl down on your nightstand before walking over to your dresser under the guise of grabbing some socks. Making sure to glance as subtlety as possible at your shelf, and just as you thought, the photo was gone.

“Why thank you madam” Eddie held the spoon in his hand with his pinky out as he dramatically took a bite.

You giggled at his antics, as you grabbed the socks out of your top drawer you saw an opportunity to tease him further. You had already seen Eddie eyeing you in your little house shorts and your tank top so you pulled out your white thigh thighs, the soft fuzzy ones that you only really wore at home and made a show of putting them on.

You kept your back to him, bending over extra as you slid them slowly up your legs. You make sure to pull them up as high as they go. Leaving only a small section of skin between the top of the socks and the bottom of your shorts.

Eddie was pretty sure he was going to pass out and he thanked his past self for putting this pillow where it is right now. He watched as you pulled on your socks wondering how something as mundane as putting on fucking socks could be this sexy. When you snapped each one in place it made the meat of your thighs slightly giggle and the way they were sitting just under the curve of your ass was making it look extra juicy. He wanted to bite into it before he made his way between your thighs and spent the rest of his god damn life there.

“Fuck” He swore under his breath and hoped to god you didn’t hear him.

“Hmm? Eddie, you okay?”

You turn around and look at him with that fucking look you always gave him, like you didn’t know how sexy you were, like you didn’t know you drive him fucking crazy.

“Uh - Yeah! I was just saying fuck this is really good, I forgot how much some good ol’ kraft hits the spot.” He smiled and hoped his excuse was convincing enough, taking a large bite for good measure.

“Right? It’ll always be my favorite no matter how many homemade or restaurant kinds I’ve eaten, nothing beats it.”

You crawl onto your bed, making sure he can see down your shirt and plop down next to him on the pillows, leaning over to grab your bowl off your nightstand. Eddie can see your ass even more when your shorts ride up and he suddenly feels like he’s got to get out of here before he says or does something totally humiliating.

“I - uh - I just remembered I have to help Wayne! I told him I’d help him move his stuff into my old room since he has been so tired and hasn’t done it! So I’m - I gotta go!” He stood up swiftly, turning away from you and throwing the pillow down behind him. He didn’t turn around, just kept marching towards your door with his bowl still in hand. Only when he was practically out of your bedroom door did he turn his head to the side and address you.

“Thank you for lunch! I’ll leave the bowl in the sink! I’ll um - I’ll see you later!”

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, ditching the bowl in the sink, grabbing his shoes not even bothering to put them on as he ran out the door to his van in only his socks.

You sat there with your mouth hanging open, eyes wide as you stared at your bedroom door wondering what the fuck just happened. Did you go too far? Were you making him uncomfortable? Maybe he changed his mind about you… Or maybe… maybe he ran home to jerk off… maybe you did go too far but not in a bad way. That’s what you hoped at least.

You bit your lip and clenched your thighs as you entertained that possibility. Was he going to go home and jerk off to your photo? Maybe with your panties held to his nose or wrapped around his cock? At least that’s what you liked to imagine he did with them, you could be wrong.

•

You were wrong, but not about that. Eddie normally used your panties exactly how you imagined. But not right now, no. He didn’t even make it home, hell, he barely made it out of your apartment building before he was pulling off into some trees and furiously tugging at his cock while he practically dripped drool on your photo. He made sure not to though, he couldn’t taint it like that. It had to remain in perfect condition in case this was his only chance to see your tits.

He grunted and whined, spitting down onto his cock and rubbing it around his tip with his thumb. His pace increased as he imagined it was your hand, or even better, your tits. He imagined sliding his spit slick cock between them while you sucked and licked at the head, he imagined covering your face and tits with his cum.

“FUCK!” He throws his head back against the seat, his eyes cross and he practically bites through his bottom lip as he cums all over his hand, his pants, even some on his shirt.

After he came down from his high, the reality of what he did hit him. He not only probably confused the hell out of you by running off like that without barely saying goodbye, he just jerked off in his fucking van to a photo he took from your bedroom. This was getting out of hand. He had to get himself under control, maybe some distance would help.

•

You hadn’t seen Eddie all week, ever since he ran out of your room like a bat out of hell and that was unusual. You guys usually saw each other a few times during the week, even if it was one of you bringing the other lunch while you were at work.

You called him a few times, either getting his voicemail or only having a brief conversation before he came up with an excuse to get off the phone. You started to wonder if you were reading things wrong after all. But that just didn’t make sense, why would he take all those things if he didn’t like you? If he didn’t want you in the desperate way you wanted him? You almost felt like you needed him.

So you decided to make a last ditch effort, no beating around the bush this time you were going to be straight forward. You grab Eddie’s shirt, your Polaroid, and your white lacy thigh highs with the little pink bows that he bashfully complimented one day.

You wrap the shirt around your pillow like you have done so many times now you’re almost ashamed. You take off your shirt and shorts before pulling on the thigh highs, leaving you in just your little white lace panties and socks.

The first photo you take is a shot from above of your tits, you can see your thong and the very top of your lace adorned thighs.

The second features your face, your eyes wide in that way you know he loves, your middle and pointer finger shoved down your throat with your lips wrapped around them. If you look close enough you can see a bit of drool dripping down between your boobs.

The third photo is a full nude, your legs spread and pussy on full display for him.

The next one is the one you’re most excited for, the one that sparked this entire plan. It’s an upshot of you from the neck down, you’re straddling the pillow that’s wrapped in Eddie’s shirt in just your socks, your free hand grabbing onto one of your tits.

The last photo is you in the same position but it’s from below, you have your fingers on your pussy, opening yourself up for him against the material of his shirt.

Satisfied with the spread, you gather them up, grab your discarded thong and remove the shirt from your pillow. You fold the panties and the photos into the shirt like they’re a gift to be unwrapped and put them in a little box. Then you write out a note.

Eddie,

if you wanted my panties… all you had to do was ask. You’ve taken all my cutest ones now. But that’s okay because I took something of yours too, I thought you might want it back.

Xoxo - Your angel.

You sign the note with the nickname he had awarded you and fold it in half, putting it on top of the shirt and then you put the lid on the box. Now all you had to do was give it to him, everyone had planned to meet at Gareth’s for a movie night tomorrow and he was supposed to pick you up. You could give it to him in the car before you get there and tell him not to open it until he gets home. It was the perfect plan. Hopefully.

•

Eddie was nervous on his way to pick you up for movie night, he had managed to avoid you the entire week, much to his dismay. He felt pathetic but he missed you, and even though he was still feeling guilty he was excited to see you.

He pulled into a guest parking spot in front of your building and was surprised to see you already standing there. He usually had to come in while you finished getting ready because you were perpetually running late. But you were standing there in a little white dress and a soft looking pink knit sweater, holding a little box in your arms. He figured it was some kind of baked goods, you pretty much always brought treats to every get together.

You saw him pull in and waved as you walked over, he jumped out of the car so he could come around and open the door for you.

“Hi Eddie, this is for you. But don’t open it now, open it when you get home. Okay? Promise me?”

You sounded nervous, hell, you looked nervous. What was in that box? He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the night not knowing.

“A gift? For me? Angel, you shouldn’t have.” He tried to play it cool, even though he was feeling anything but.

“I didn’t spend any money on it or anything… but I’m not giving it to you unless you promise you won’t open it until you get home later.”

“Yeah, I promise.” He smiled at you reassuringly.

You handed it to him nervously, and he took it with glee, immediately shaking it like a Christmas present.

“EDDIE!! Don’t do that, you’re never going to guess what it is so just wait, please!”

You were looking at him with this pouty look on your face and he literally would’ve said yes to murder at that moment so he agreed. You let out a breath of relief as you got into the car, now all you had to do is wait.

•

Movie night wasn’t awkward like you feared it might be. When Eddie picked you up he acted totally normal, like he hadn’t been ignoring you all week and you couldn’t tell if that annoyed you or not. Maybe a little. You wanted to ask him about it but you also didn’t want to make things awkward by bringing it up so you tried to act as normal as you could.

That little box in the back of Eddie’s van was in the back of your mind all night though, you couldn’t stop overthinking and second guessing your decision. You even almost went out to his van at one point to take everything out and shove it in your bag but you talked yourself out of it.

Eddie was in a similar boat, he was having fun, he was engaging and acting as normal as he could but all he could think about was what possibly could be in that box. He knows you made him promise but there are several times where he has to physically stop himself from just going out to his van to look in it.

When the last movie ends you and Eddie were both quick to gather your things and leave. Him wanting to get home as fast as possible to see what was in the box and you wanting the looming thoughts of how he might react to just be over with.

Your goodbyes were chaste, neither of you bringing up the gift you had given him. He walked you to the door like he always did but he didn’t ask to come inside and the hug he gave was much faster than the usual bear hugs he would normally give you.

•

Eddie sped home, he lived in a studio apartment a few miles from yours and the drive had never felt so long. He pulled into his parking spot with a screech, grabbed the box from the back and rushed inside.

He didn’t even bother to take his shoes off, throwing his jacket across the back of the couch before plopping down on one of the cushions with the box in his lap.

He took a deep breath before opening it. At the top was a note, he unfolded it and as he read it he swore all the blood from his body went directly to his cock.

Underneath the note was his shirt, his favorite Iron Maiden one he hadn’t been able to find for a few weeks.

It was folded neatly so he gently took it out of the box, it felt heavier than it should and when it was fully in his grasp he could feel that there was something inside it.

He sets it down in front of him on his coffee table so he can unfold it and his jaw drops when he sees what’s inside. A pair of your panties, a little white lace thong is sitting under a stack of Polaroids.

His hand shakes as he reaches for the photos, when he sees the first one he actually moans, and then they somehow just keep getting better. But he stops dead in his tracks when he sees the second to last one.

You have his shirt wrapped around your pillow and you’re straddling it in nothing but those fucking socks, and he’s seriously going to lose his mind, especially when he sees the last photo of you in the same position, spread open for him.

It took him a second to get past the fog of lust to realize what this means. You knew. You always knew what he was doing. It all makes sense now. The way your panties were always so easy to steal, how he always happened to have the perfect view of your tits and ass, the photo. Also you took his shirt, you didn’t just take it, you put it on your fucking pillow and humped it. He hopes you did it more than once. He picks up the shirt again and he really looks at it this time, there’s little white streaks all over it, from you. He brings it to his nose and it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. Both of your scents mixed together, topped off with the sweet smell of your pussy.

His initial thought was to rip his pants off and stroke his cock until it was raw but he realized he could do better than that. He could have the real thing. He needed to see you. Now.

He didn’t even think twice about shoving everything back in the box and walking back out the door to his van. Speeding off in the direction towards your house.

•

You were laying in your bed trying not to let your anxiety consume you when you heard banging on your door. Your heart pounded and your mouth went dry, you knew who it was, there was no way it could be anyone but him.

You opened the door and there he was, looking absolutely feral if you might add. His eyes were wide, pupils blown out, he was breathing like he ran a mile, and his hair was all over the place. You wanted to eat him alive.

“You knew?” He held up the box you had given him earlier the night, his hands shaking.

“Yeah…” You bit your lip as you nodded. “I knew the whole time… from when you took that first pair of panties, I knew.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” He looked at you, his eyes filled with lust and confusion.

You shake your head, a smirk forming across your lips.

“Why not?” He was still panting, hands grasped tightly on the box.

“It was fun, I thought for a while there that you knew I was doing it on purpose, and then when I realized you didn’t it was almost hotter to me for some reason… I’m sorry if that’s weird.” You suddenly felt super self conscious, was he mad you didn’t say anything?

“I stole your panties, multiple pairs might I add, and you’re asking me if it’s weird that you left them out for me?” He laughed, bringing his hand up to your cheek and rubbing his thumb across it.

“I could never think you were weird angel, do you know how sexy that is? And these photos…” He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Did you really…”

“Fuck my pillow with your shirt on it? Yeah.” You nodded, your face nuzzling into his palm.

“Jesus fucking christ… that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life, shit.”

He used the hand cradling your face to pull you closer, clashing your lips together in a hungry kiss. You immediately buried your fingers in his hair, like you did in all your fantasies. You wanted him closer but the box was still in between you so you broke the kiss long enough to pull him inside and discard it on your kitchen counter.

You pulled his mouth back down to yours by the collar of his shirt, running your tongue along his bottom lip and he immediately granted you access. Your hands made their way back into his hair and he gripped your hips pulling you tightly against him.

“God Eddie, I want you so fucking bad.” You moaned against his lips.

“Angel, I’ll give you anything you want after all these sweet gifts you’ve been leaving me without me even knowing… you really thought I knew?” He took your face in both your hands, running his hands down your neck and rubbing his thumbs along your jaw.

“For a while there, yeah… That’s why I left you that first picture, but then when I came back in my room and you were acting all nervous I realized you definitely didn’t know. I thought for a second I might’ve made you uncomfortable but I took the chance with the photos anyway… looks like it paid off.” You looked him up and down, biting your lip.

“Fuck yeah it did.” He pulled you into another bruising kiss that you happily returned. You stood there in your kitchen making out for what could’ve been minutes or hours, tongues exploring every inch of each other's mouths and your hands mapping out each other's bodies.

You finally pulled away, breathless. You smirked at him, placing a kiss on his throat before turning around and walking towards your room. Eddie wanted to scream at the sight of your ass in your tiny little pink spandex shorts. He bit down on his fist instead, admiring you for a moment before practically running after you.

You were standing in the middle of the room with a smirk on your face that he’s never seen, one you must have been hiding from him this whole time. You looked like you wanted to eat him alive and he was going to let you.

“Tell me about your fantasies Eddie… tell me what you did with my panties, I wanna know so bad.” Your smirk turned into a little pout, giving him that fucking look. The one he knows now is all an act, but something about that just makes his dick even harder for you.

“Fuck, you really want to know? The first time I sucked on them while I jerked off and right when I was about to cum I wrapped them around my dick and came all over them.”

“Mmm… that’s what I hoped you’d do, tell me more…” You walk up to him and run your hands down his chest, hook your fingers in his front pockets and give him the look.

“I can’t believe this is happening, I - uh - I was so scared if you ever found out you’d hate me. But fuck, I never imagined you would be into it.” He put his hands on your hips and squeezed, almost like he was making sure this was real.

“Well, you better believe it honey, because I am so so into it.. please tell me more.” You lean up and press wet kisses along his neck.

“God damn.” He throws his head to the side more, granting you further access to his throat. “When I had a second pair I sucked on the newer ones and used that same pair to jerk off. Then when I got your perfume I sprayed it on my pillow so that I could smell you and taste you.”

“Mmm Eddie, that’s so hot.” You bite into his throat causing him to let out the cutest little yelp, sucking the skin into your mouth, wanting to mark him as your own.

“Then once I had the bikini photo I was able to see you too, so it was like I was surrounded by you in every way possible.”

His hands snake down your hips to grab onto your ass, the material of your shorts and the feeling of your soft skin contrasting with the calluses on his fingers.

“That day when I found that picture of your tits… and then you somehow found a way to make putting socks on one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen and you topped it off by bending over in those little shorts with your ass practically in my face? I barely made it out of your building before I pulled over and jerked off in my van like a depraved psycho.”

You moaned at that, pulling back from his neck to look him in the eyes.

“If you’re depraved… so am I.” You pull your tank top over your head and throw it on the ground behind you somewhere, followed by your shorts. Eddie seriously thinks he’s in love with you at this point because you’re not wearing a bra or panties but you are of course wearing white thigh highs. You’re standing there like every fantasy he’s ever had about you come true, but better.

“Angel, those pictures have nothing on the real thing” He grabbed onto your tits, twisting your nipples between his fingers. Using his nose to brush your hair away so he can whisper in your ear. “I need to taste you so bad, like, so bad. I need to know what the real thing tastes like.”

“Mmm fuck, yes, want that so bad.”

You lay back on your bed and spread your legs, showing him how wet you are for him. Eddie doesn’t think twice before dropping to his knees in front of your bed and throwing your legs over his shoulders. He wishes he had it in him to kiss every inch of you before tasting you but it was like someone offered him the nectar of the gods and he needed it now.

He parted your lips with his fingers before running his tongue along your slit, licking up and down with a flat tongue before shoving it as far as it could go inside you.

“Ho- holy shit! Eddie!! Fuck, your mouth is so good.” Your fingers found his hair again, tugging and the groan he lets out sends vibrations through your pussy.

“I thought your panties tasted sweet but nothing will ever taste sweeter than the real thing, oh my god baby.”

His tongue comes up to circle your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking. You feel his fingers circle your entrance before he’s inserting his pointer and middle finger deep inside you. He curls his fingers in just the right way, he’s still sucking your clit while he runs circles around it with his tongue and you feel yourself getting close.

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna - fuckinnng cum - I’m gonna cum.” You pull his hair again and start rocking your hips against his face. You watch his eyes roll back and feel him moan into you again, knowing he’s enjoying this as much as you is what sends you over the edge. Your hips rising off the bed and your hands falling from his hair to grasp the sheets. Eddie brings his free hand down on your abdomen to hold you down as he fucks you through your high.

You try to push him off once it becomes too much but you hear, or more so feel him let out an “Uh-Uh” into your pussy. His hand that’s pinning you down doesn’t move and his fingers stay buried inside you. He’s licking and sucking on your clit like a man starved and you immediately feel another orgasm crash over you. Your entire body shakes and you let out noises you didn’t even know you can make.

When he feels you push at his head this time he lets you, looking up at you with a grin on his face, his chin and mouth covered in your juices.

“Sorry… you just tasted so good and when you came it was so hot I didn’t want to stop.” He looked awfully bashful for someone who was just eating you out like it was his fucking job.

“You’re sorry? Holy shit Eddie, I’ve never cum that hard in my entire life.”

He smiled triumphantly, you’d think just told him he won the lottery. He came up and covered his body with yours, kissing you without wiping his face. The taste of you on his tongue was intoxicating so you pulled away from the kiss and licked his lips, then his chin, and down his neck.

“Fuck, we taste so good together.” You moan.

“Holy fucking shit, you’re my dream girl.”

“Let me return the favor, I wanna taste you too, also you are wearing way too many clothes right now.” You pull at the hem of his shirt and he puts his arm behind his head to pull it off.

You’ve never seen him shirtless before and you needed a better view. You push on his shoulders until he lifts himself off of you and lays back on the bed. You throw your leg over him to straddle him, looking down at him in awe.

“Wow Eddie… you’re beautiful.”

You smile at him with that devilish little smile he’s becoming addicted to as you run your soft hands along his chest before raking your nails down his torso, all the way to the waistband of his jeans. His back arches off the bed as he lets out this sound that you want to hear him make over and over again.

You grind your hips down on his, fiddling with his belt loop and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

“Please.” Now he’s the one giving you the look and you understand why he loves it much. Those big brown eyes are wide and glassy, there’s a slight pout on his lips and even though he just ate you out so good it makes you want to sit on his face.

But there’s something you want more, something you’ve been dreaming about. So you undo his belt and jeans with deft fingers, pulling on the waistband of both his pants and boxers. He lifts his hips so you can pull them down and when his cock pops out and hits his stomach your jaw actually drops.

You always figured Eddie was big. You caught small glimpses through his jeans when he thought he was hiding his boners better than he really was, so you had an idea. But it’s bigger than you imagined, and so so pretty. The tip red and leaking precum, each vein prominent because of how hard he was. You lick your lips and spit on your hand, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping it a few times. He makes that sound again and you know you’re addicted to it now.

“Your cock is huge baby, I can’t wait to feel it stretching me out.” You spit on the head of his cock, circling your thumb around it before you lean down and take it in your mouth.

“Holy - fuckING - sh - shit!” Eddie instinctually jerks forward, his cock hits the back of your throat and you gag.

He’s about to apologize but you don’t pull off, just push his cock further down your throat until your nose is snug against the hair at the base. There’s tears coming out of the sides of your eyes and drool dripping down your chin but you’re moaning and so he can tell you’re enjoying it. You circle your tongue around his shaft a few times before pulling off.

Not for long though, you take him as far as you can without gagging and start bobbing your head up and down, your hand moving in time with whatever your mouth can't reach. Eddie is a moaning mess, he’s babbling your name in between curse words, switching between grabbing onto your hair, the sheets, and his own hair.

When you pull off his dick and bring your mouth to his balls, swirling your tongue all around his sack before sucking one into your mouth he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. But he’s also positive that he wants to fuck you so he grabs you by your hair and pulls you off.

“Hey, I wasn’t done!” You look at him with a pout and you whine. Every time Eddie thinks he can’t possibly be anymore obsessed with you, you prove him wrong.

“Yeah but I was about to come and I want to fuck you so badly.” He’s the one whining now.

“Can I ride you?” You ask him like that’s even a question.

“Fuck yeah you can.”

You eagerly climb back up to straddle him, wasting no time lining him up with your entrance and sliding down on his cock. It’s still a stretch but you’re so wet it hardly hurts. You rock back and forth a few times once your hips are flush against yours and you moan in unison at the feeling.

“Oh sh- shit, your pussy is so fucking t- tight. Feels better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Yeah? Your cock is so fucking big, filling me up so good Eds.”

You start riding him hard and fast, your ass bouncing against his thighs, your tits on full display and you’re moaning his name over and over again like a prayer. He has one hand on your ass, grabbing it so hard you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise there tomorrow, and you honestly hope you do. He brings the thumb of his free hand up to your bottom lip and runs it across it.

“Suck.”

You do, happily, swirling your tongue around the digit and moaning at the feeling of having something in your mouth while your pussy is being filled too. He pulls it out and you’re about to mourn the loss but then he’s rubbing circles on your clit and fucking up into you to meet your thrusts.

He starts fucking you so fast that you can’t keep up, you put your hands on his chest, your nails digging into his flesh and just let him take you. He’s fucking you hard and fast, his cock hitting just the right spot while he continues to circle your clit.

“Eddie I’m c - close I-I’m close.” Your babbling and drooling, fucked out and on the brink of what you know is going to be a mind altering orgasm.

“Me too Angel, I need you to cum for me. Cum all over my cock just like you dreamed about when you were humping your little pillow.” His feet are flat on the mattress and he’s somehow fucking you harder than he was before. When you cum your vision goes white, pleasure jolts through your entire system and you aren’t even sure you’re on this planet anymore.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum, where do you?”

Eddie talking brings you back to earth just enough to respond, to tell him what you want.

“Inside! Eddie please inside! I want you to cum inside me so bad!” You start to meet his thrusts, he’s still rubbing your clit and you’re so sensitive you already feel another orgasm coming on.

“Oh fuck!!!” Eddie cries out as his thrusts slow down to pumps and his cum spills inside you. The feeling sends you over the edge, cumming right along with him. Your walls squeeze him for all he’s worth.

When you come down you let yourself fall onto his chest, both of you panting, your hearts pounding. You lay like that for a while, catching your breath and enjoying the feeling of each other. Eventually your knees start to cramp and you slide off of him, settling at his side with your head on his chest.

“I’m gonna fuckin marry you someday.”

You laugh, even though he doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

“Yeah? I think I’d like that. Then my underwear will stop going missing because we will live in the same house.”

You both started cracking up at that.

“I’m serious though, can I have some of them back? You really did steal all my best ones…” You looked up at him and pouted, giving him the look.

“That’s not gonna work the same now that I know you’re just using it against me…”

“You sure about that?” You stick your bottom lip out further and make your eyes even wider.

“Ugh, no. You’re still not getting them back though, I’ll buy you new ones.” He brings his hand up to push your hair out of your face and places a kiss on your temple.

“Why? So you can just take those ones too?” You tease.

“Nah, I have the real thing now. I’d rather take them off you.”

Tagging the bbs: @the-unforgivenn @lokis-army-77 @gravedigginbbydoll @bettyfrommars @eddiemunson95 @melodymunson @bangaveragewhitewine

[astrophileous]

Every Single Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: When his daughter demands him to tell the story of how the two of you met, Spencer can't help but oblige.

Warning(s): dad spencer🥰, established relationship (eventually), parent-child relationships, alcohol consumption, brief interaction with a douchebag, made-up astronomy facts, made-up places, idk if there's any cursing but I'll throw it in here to be safe, implications of sex and nsfw themes (minors be advised), pregnancy, mentions of illness, mentions and/or implications of character death, topics of loss and grief, angst and fluff because I love the best of both worlds👍 (pls lmk if I missed anything)

Word Count: 7700-ish

Author's Note: hi 👋 I'm back again with another dad!spencer fic bc apparently I'm a sucker for him. I got a lil carried away with this one lol but anyways, I'm also writing this for the meet cute challenge hosted by the amazing and talented @imagining-in-the-margins so pls go head to her profile and show some love cause she's a peach ❤️ don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG

Criminal Minds Masterlist

The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Against the wind, shades of crimson and orange swayed on the trees. Fallen leaves crunched underneath his feet to the cadence of his leisured steps.

Two deep breaths, in and out. Spencer Reid greeted autumn with the deep longing of an old friend.

Next to him walked a source of light bigger than the sun, jumping and bouncing excitedly on the sidewalk. Her tiny fingers emitted warmth inside of his hand. There was a skip to her step that reminded him of the innocence he had long lost. The innocence she now possessed.

Spencer loved this little girl beyond everything he had ever known.

"Puddle, Dee."

The tiny bundle of joy jumped to escape the small pool of water, grinning up at her father, who then began ruffling her hair until she evaded his onslaught with a shriek.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"You never told me how you met Mommy."

Spencer glanced down at the 6-year-old, dressed gorgeously in her favorite floral dress, complete with a sweater that had entailed a hearty discussion about humans' perception of cold. It was only after he bribed her with the promise of a chocolate cupcake from Wakey Bakey did Spencer finally convince her to wear the woolen piece of clothing.

His daughter stared at him with a radiant smile peeking out behind a curtain of hair. A smile which Spencer always argued had belonged to you, even though the rest of Diana Aurora Reid was the splitting image of her beloved father.

"Surely I've told you before, Dee."

"Nuh-uh."

"Of course I have."

"No, Daddy. You haven't."

"Pumpkin, you know I don't forget stuff ever," Spencer said, looking at the little girl who was swaying along to the rhythm of her footsteps. "I used to tell you that story all the time. Back when you were still a baby."

Just as predicted, Diana let out a dramatic gasp as if Spencer had uttered the most offensive thing known to mankind; like claiming the earth was actually flat, for example. Spencer couldn't contain his grin upon seeing her reaction.

"But Daddy, that was so long ago!"

"Do you not remember, Dee?"

Diana shook her head.

"Fine. But Mommy must've told you the story already, right?"

"She has, but--"

"But?"

"But I wanna hear it from you."

Little Diana knew that her father could never resist her puppy dog eyes, especially garnished with that adorable pout on top. Once upon a time, you declared it sickeningly cute and annoying whenever Spencer would pull the same trick on you. When Dee started doing the same to him, you had simply laughed and kissed his cheek, letting him get a sweet taste of his own medicine.

Spencer smiled at the young girl next to him, squeezing her nose and relishing in the gleeful squeal that echoed from her chest.

"What do you wanna hear, Pumpkin?"

Diana held her chin, seemingly deep in contemplation before deciding, "Everything, Dad! I wanna hear it from the start."

"The start, huh?" Spencer hummed thoughtfully, his mind already reeling back to the first moment he ever laid eyes on you.

The story began on yet another ordinary Friday night.

Luck was on the BAU's side when the team managed to wrap the case they had been working all week just before Friday afternoon. By the time the sun was setting, their jet was already high up in the sky, en route from the state of Delaware to Quantico, Virginia. Spencer was looking forward to going home at a reasonable hour for once--maybe catching up on the four reading materials he had promptly pushed aside after his team was called to Delaware to work on the latest case--but that plan dissipated when Derek Morgan suddenly appeared by his side.

"Drinks. Tonight. Everyone's coming, and I'm not taking no for an answer," Derek said before dragging a reluctant Spencer away with him, ignoring the protests that the younger man kept grumbling under his breath all the way to the team's favorite bar.

Spencer just hadn't known it yet, but later down the road, he would spend the rest of eternity thanking Derek Morgan for dragging him along that night.

The Friday night crowd at Shaw's was borderline brutal, but fortunately for the team, a booth in the corner became vacant the moment they stepped into the threshold.

Two hours later, Spencer's fellow teammates weren't even close to calling it a night. The last chorus of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston had just finished blasting from the speakers when Derek sauntered back to the booth, twirling a flushed Penelope Garcia in front of him. Spencer slipped out of the booth to allow them in--preferring to stay on the most outer seat instead of crammed between his tipsy friends' bodies--before sitting down once more.

"Hey, Genius," Penelope called, waving her empty beer glass in front of Spencer's face. "Be a darling and get me a refill, will you?"

"Garcia--" Spencer quickly snatched the glass from her hand before she could send it smashing against someone's head, "--are you sure you want a refill?"

Penelope scrunched her nose. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I think you're plenty drunk already."

"I'm not that drunk," Penelope denied, giggling when an unexpected hiccup interrupted her slurred words. "Derek, tell the beautiful Doctor I'm not that drunk."

"She's not that drunk, Reid." Derek grinned. "While you're at it..."

Spencer could only sigh when Derek slid his own empty glass across the table.

It was past 10 o'clock at night, and the crowd of people in the establishment seemed to have doubled in the couple of hours that the team had been there. Spencer had to squeeze himself through the ocean of patrons flooding the bar, barely able to move his limbs without other people's arms or elbows bumping against his ribcage.

Spencer was waiting for the bartender to complete his order when he happened to glance towards his right, catching sight of the concealed panic that triggered every profiler bone in his body.

Any other person would have taken one look at your face and presumed that everything was alright, but Spencer knew better. He recognized the frantic movement of your eyes, the tight press of your lips, and the impatient knocking of your fingertips on the counter. He only caught the tail end of your voice before discreetly listening to what the man you were talking to had to say.

"--so, unfortunately, I can't."

"I told you, Baby. My Veyron runs at over 260 miles per hour. We can go to Red Clover Hill and get you back home safely by twelve. It's simple math," the guy slurred smugly.

"Actually, that's not true."

The drunken man turned around at Spencer's interruption.

"Excuse me?"

"The Red Clover Hill State Park is approximately 229 miles away from here. Though theoretically, you could drive your Veyron at its maximum velocity, which is around 268 miles per hour, it's very unlikely you'll be able to maintain that speed for the entirety of the ride, considering the terrain you would have to go through between here and there. The fastest you can probably get to the park is in 60 minutes, give or take, and that's being generous. You would have to drive back to D.C. as soon as you arrive at the park if you wish to be back by twelve. It's just realistically impossible."

The man in front of him couldn't be less impressed by Spencer's lengthy rant.

"And who the hell are you?" the drunken guy said, pinning Spencer with a stare that was clearly supposed to be intimidating.

Spencer didn't even flinch. "No one. Just a guy who happens to know a lot about... simple math."

Your loud cough tore Spencer's attention away from the drunk man and towards you, who looked ready to burst from the laughter you were holding underneath. Even under the terrible lighting of the bar, Spencer could still pinpoint the hint of unspoken amusement glimmering inside your eyes.

"Sorry, Bill," you said to the man. "I really do need to be back home by twelve tonight. Maybe some other time?"

Bill didn't need to be told twice. He received the message loud and clear.

Spencer watched the other man scurry away, tail between his legs, before your charming smile enraptured him once more.

"Thank you for that. I was beginning to think he might never leave."

"Happy to help." Spencer smiled thinly, scratching the back of his neck even though the spot wasn't itchy. "What did, uh, why did he want to take you to Red Clover Hill, of all places?"

"Oh. That was... partially my fault." You grinned innocently. "I didn't know he was gonna be an insufferable drunk when he came over, and I was in the middle of watching this."

You pulled out a silver tablet from your lap. Spencer took a peek at the screen, seeing what looked like a live feed of the night sky--over North Carolina, judging by the visible constellations on the vast scene--stamped with the day's date at the bottom of the footage.

"You're watching the Roux-Nell?" Spencer deduced after gathering the facts: the live feed of North Carolina sky, the mention of Red Clover Hill State Park that harbored one of the highest grounds in North Carolina, including a collection of some of the most sophisticated telescopes in the country; you must have been planning to view that night's sighting of the Roux-Nell comet, its first time since the last one in 1927, and only its third one in history.

"Yes! How did you... don't tell me. You're an avid astronomy fan, too?"

Spencer's responding smile only made you beam even brighter.

"Anyway, that guy earlier, Bill, he approached me and asked what I was watching. So, I started talking about the Roux-Nell and about how I wish I was at Red Clover Hill right now since everyone keeps saying it's one of the best spots to view tonight's sighting. I thought he was genuinely interested until he started talking about his Veyron this, his Veyron that. I didn't even realize until a whole five minutes later that he was talking about his car!"

When you finally finished explaining, your eyes locked with Spencer's hazel ones before you seemed to cower shyly.

"Sorry. I can get a little excited when I'm talking sometimes."

"No! Don't be, it was--" Spencer stopped himself before he could complete his sentence.

What was he about to say?

Insightful? Entertaining?

Endearing?

Eventually, Spencer opted to settle for something safe and simple. "I get that way too, sometimes. A lot of the times, actually. So you don't have to apologize."

The fire flickered back inside your gaze following Spencer's admission. It burned brilliantly beneath the kindness you radiated, forged by the sharp intelligence he could see shining out of your eyes.

"So--" Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to shift the conversation in order to distract his racing mind, "--why did you tell him you needed to be back home by twelve?"

"Oh, that? I told him I'm donating blood tomorrow morning, so I need to at least get seven hours of sleep for the night."

"That's a clever lie."

You tilted your head slightly at his statement. "What makes you think it's a lie?"

"Because you're here. Nobody drinks alcohol before they're supposed to donate blood."

Your eyes flashed with surprise. "Not bad, Mister. You're very perceptive."

Spencer shrugged, trying not to appear too flustered by your casual compliment. "It's what I do."

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his reply.

"I'm a profiler."

"Profiler?"

"With the FBI."

"FBI, huh?" You hummed, something akin to intrigue swirling in your eyes. "So, you study criminals? Trying to decipher their way of thinking, why they do what they do. Dissect their past history for any related trauma, maybe even pinpoint a psychological stressor that could trigger a criminal behavior, that kind of stuff?"

Upon hearing your response, it was Spencer's turn to be intrigued. "Exactly that kind of stuff. How did you...?"

Grinning sheepishly, you pulled a professional badge out of your pocket, holding it up in front of Spencer so he could see the emblem covering its surface.

"Edgewater Psychology Center," Spencer read the words aloud, understanding dawning on him as he found your eyes once more. "You're a psychologist."

"Guilty as charged."

Spencer couldn't fight off his amused smile. "That explains it, then."

"You know," you began, leaning further against the bar counter to shorten the distance between you and Spencer, "I've never met a profiler in person before. Most of my colleagues, they have consulted on a federal case at least once in the past few years, but the bureau hasn't yet contacted me so far."

"Really?" Spencer took a step forward, closing the distance by a mere inch. "Sounds like a big loss for us. We're idiots."

You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress a smile, your gaze flicking between Spencer's own lips and eyes. For the shortest of minutes, nothing else existed in Spencer's world but you; your smile, your scent, and your kind eyes. You were a magnet carved out of his wildest dreams, and Spencer, well, he might as well have been made out of the purest of irons.

But before Spencer could get lost deeper in your relentless gaze, a shout of his name slashed through the air from across the bar. Back at the booth, Derek was waving his hand frantically in the air, stopping only when Spencer signaled him to sit back down and that he was returning in a minute.

"I have to go." He smiled tentatively, apologetically.

"Oh?"

Spencer tried not to revel too much over the small dip of disappointment at the edge of your voice.

"My friends. They, uh--"

"Oh, no, it's alright. You don't have to explain," you told him gently. "See you around, Mr. Profiler. Hope you have a great night."

With that said, you went back to watching the live feed on your tablet while Spencer, begrudgingly, trudged across the room with two refilled beer glasses in his hands, back to where his friends--minus Rossi and Hotch who were conversing among themselves at one of the standing tables--were waiting.

"Finally," Derek groaned once Spencer slammed the glasses down on the table.

"Who was that?" Emily asked as he slipped into the booth.

"Huh?" Spencer followed Emily's gaze, finding you perched up at the very end of it. "No one."

"No one?" Emily's eyebrows rose. "She didn't seem like no one from where I was sitting."

Spencer took an insanely large sip of his leftover beer.

"Holy shit, you like her, " Derek muttered. "He likes her. Pretty boy's got a crush."

"No, I don't."

"Yeah? Tell that to those red cheeks of yours." JJ chuckled.

Instinctively, Spencer touched his own cheeks as if he could physically feel the change of colors on his skin.

"I'm just tipsy," he tried to reason.

A collective scoff reverberated through the entire booth.

"What's her name, Spence?" JJ asked.

When a full minute ticked by without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment from Spencer, Penelope reached out and slapped the man right across his shoulder.

"Ow!"

"You didn't ask for her name?!" Penelope exclaimed.

"It didn't come up!"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, Reid," Emily noted before sipping her margarita.

"Nope. I'm not having this. Not tonight. Look at me, Sunshine." Penelope grabbed Spencer's face in her hands, forcing him to stare directly into her glasses-rimmed eyes. "I'm not letting you spend the rest of the night like this. You will get your cute little tushy out there and talk to that girl. You will get her name and also her number, maybe even ask the nice pretty lady out while you're at it. Now, have I made myself clear?"

Spencer barely managed to swallow his nerves before he offered Penelope two tiny nods.

"Good. I don't wanna see your face back here if you're not at least pocketing her phone number. Now shoo."

Penelope sent Spencer flying across the bar with a dramatic stumble. By the time he reached your side, Spencer was nothing less than a stuttering mess and a thundering heart.

"Hi," Spencer breathed out once he found your welcoming eyes.

"Um, hi?"

"I'm Spencer."

"Okay... Spencer?"

"Reid. Spencer Reid." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, it's just... I realized while I was sitting over there--well, my friends actually made me realize--that I, uh, never got your name. Which, you know, of course I never got it because I didn't ask. So, I was coming here, wondering if maybe you'd like to give it... to me?"

You blinked once. Twice.

By the third blink, Spencer wished the earth would open up and devour him whole.

"You want my name?"

Spencer nodded.

"What are you planning to do with it?"

"Call you?" At your bemused expression, Spencer quickly elaborated, "Not call like call. I meant referring. Yep. That's it. Although, maybe if you want to, I would love to call you as well. Sometime. And perhaps, you know, ask you out... on a date?"

Spencer swallowed the lump of nervousness in his throat. In front of him, you were pretty, even with the conspicuous scrutiny in your eyes as they assessed Spencer as if he was some sort of an enigma. Embarrassment burned hotter through his veins with every second that passed by. He was merely two exhales of breath away from dashing out of the door when you finally spoke up.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Smiling, you produced an old receipt seemingly out of thin air and asked the bartender to lend you a pen, scribbling something down as soon as you had it between your fingers. When the tiny piece of paper emigrated to Spencer's hand, the Cheshire cat in him jumped out once he noticed the ten digit numbers written neatly underneath a name he could only assume as yours.

"Will that be enough, Spencer Reid?"

"For now," Spencer replied before grabbing his wallet and shoving the paper containing your name inside. "I'll call you."

"You better."

After Spencer's departure, you returned your attention back to the tablet in front of you. Barely five minutes later, though, your serene watching session was once again interrupted. Only this time, it was by the ringing of your phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Spencer."*

Surprised, you swiveled your head left and right, stopping once you spotted Spencer standing on the other side of the room. His eyes were trained towards you, and behind him, a booth of four people seemed to have directed their attention at you as well.

"Spencer?"

"I know this is very untoward," he began, "but would you like to go out with me?"

"Boy, you certainly don't waste any time at all, do you?"

"I believe it's called being efficient," he countered, making you laugh. "So, what do you say?"

"Sure," you answered, enjoying the way Spencer beam at you from across the room. "I would love to, Spencer."

A breeze blew gently against Spencer's face, caressing the tendrils of curly hair that had fallen over his forehead. Diana's little fingers started to grip his tighter as the wind strengthened.

"Did you take Mommy on that date, Daddy?"

"Of course," Spencer replied, reminiscing the exact day when he had picked you up in your apartment, sweat glistening on his palm as he clutched the bouquet of flowers in his right hand. "We went to see a Mark Rothko exhibition at the National Gallery of Art, and before I took her home, we stopped by Wakey Bakey to buy some lemon tarts."

Diana gasped. "Wakey Bakey?!"

The little girl's reaction compelled a chuckle from Spencer's chest. "Yes, Pumpkin. Wakey Bakey."

"What happened after that, Daddy?"

"What do you think happened after that, Dee?"

"Um--" Diana pursed her lips, deeply lost in thought, "--did you become girlfriend and boyfriend?"

"Yes, we did."

"And you got married?!"

Spencer laughed at Diana's apparent excitement over the prospect of her parents getting married. "We did, yeah, eventually. After I proposed to her."

"Oh! Oh! The proposal!" Diana exclaimed, jumping up and down in the middle of the sidewalk without a care in the world. Spencer had to tug her back towards him before she could harm herself or the other pedestrians. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me about the proposal, Daddy!"

"You wanna hear the story about how I proposed to your mother?"

"Yes, please!"

Chuckling to himself, Spencer mumbled a quick fine before his gears had started turning towards a specific memory in his mind. Spencer was sure, even without his eidetic ability, there was no way he could have ever forgotten about the day in question.

The day you agreed to have him as your forever.

Spencer had fallen in love with you during the first date, right around the time of yet another one of his animated ramblings, where instead of shaming him to shut the hell up, you had simply stared at him in awe and said, "You're pretty when you talk."

The young agent was sure he couldn't get rid of the blush adorning his cheeks for at least an entire week.

By the time the fifth date rolled around, Spencer was absolutely certain that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It wasn't a surprise, then, that a few weeks before your first anniversary came up, Spencer had pocketed a diamond ring with a promise of forever on the tip of his tongue.

Combing the courage to take this historical leap was easy. Difficult was trying to conjure up the perfect proposal plan that he would deem worthy enough for someone like you. There were no rooms for mistakes. Spencer wanted everything to be perfect because he believed you deserved nothing less.

Which was why, in moments of desperation, Spencer ended up turning to his fellow teammates in the FBI for help.

"I don't know if I'm the right person to ask about this, Spence. Will only ever proposed to me after finding out about Henry, and we only got married after I thought he was gonna die on the field," JJ explained. "It was never the most ideal of situations, but I would never change a thing even if I could."

Unsatisfied with JJ's answer, Spencer proceeded to find the BAU's tech genius in her bat cave.

"Go big or go home, my friend," Penelope said following a 10-minute hysteria she erupted into upon learning about Spencer's intent to propose. "Splash out on the bottle. Don't hold back on the grandeur. Spend all of your savings if you have to."

"Garcia--"

"Fine, maybe not all of your savings. You should leave some for the wedding."

Spencer spent weeks mulling over Penelope's advice.

Working as an FBI agent didn't pay as well as most people thought it would, and Spencer's tendency to collect first edition books wasn't exactly an affordable hobby. It meant that as much as Spencer wanted a proposal filled with the greatest grandeur--just as Penelope had suggested--he didn't have a fat enough balance in his bank account to make his ideal proposal concept a reality.

And Spencer probably would have spent the limited fund in his savings down to its very last cent, had it not been for Derek catching him browsing through the internet for the cost of a hot air balloon ride.

"I just want to give her the perfect proposal," Spencer admitted after he finished revealing everything.

"Kid, it doesn't matter," Derek said. "Don't you see? She doesn't care about hot air balloons or any kind of grandeur. She only cares about you. There's no such thing as a perfect proposal. You're just using it as an excuse to put off asking her 'cause you're scared of what she's gonna say. But you don't need to. You two are so devastatingly in love, it's disgusting."

In the end, grandeur wasn't even present in the room when Spencer decided to pop the question.

On that particular night, Spencer arrived in his apartment just a few minutes before midnight. His aching muscles were calling for sleep as he toed his shoes off, but his footsteps soon ceased when he caught sight of his dimly lit living room.

You were fast asleep on the couch, face illuminated by the television light. Spencer's movements were careful as he knelt in front of you, studying the soft and hard edges of your features like historians would an ancient scripture. He couldn't help it when his fingers reached out on their own accord, brushing the softest of touches against the high point of your cheekbone. Inside its cage, Spencer's heart started to stir.

You were so beautiful.

Even after one year of being together, Spencer was often still taken back by how lovely you were. He adored every detail of your being, most fervently the scars that littered your skin in a constellation of stars. All of the places in your body where your scrutiny had wandered in a fleet of insecurity were the same places that Spencer wanted to worship for the rest of his life. In his eyes, you were eternally magnificent, and this thought clouded Spencer's mind as he went to shake your shoulder gently.

"Spencer?" Your groggy voice sounded meek in the comfort of Spencer's apartment, the same one he had been sharing with you since you moved in three months prior. Your lips tilted with the tiniest hint of a smile at the sight of him, and Spencer thought he would melt when your fingers instinctively reached for his face. "You're back."

"I'm back," he confirmed, leaving a trail of kisses on your palm. "Why aren't you in bed, my love?"

"I was waiting for you," you admitted. "I have something to say."

"Really? Me too."

"Hm?" Curiosity flared in the center of your eyes. "You first."

Smiling, Spencer leaned down to steal a quick kiss before saying, "Marry me."

Your breath hitched.

After a few seconds of silence, your nervous laughter filled his ears. "Right. That's a nice one, Spencer. Very funny."

"I'm not joking, sweetheart."

Spencer reached into the inside pocket of his satchel, pulling out the velvet box that had weighed down his bag by several grams for the past few weeks. Any remnant of sleep you still had in your eyes was instantly washed away the moment he opened the box to reveal a pretty ring sitting inside.

"I've had this for a while now," Spencer admitted. "I kept putting off asking you because I believed I wanted everything to be perfect, until Derek knocked some sense into my head and made me realize that I was just afraid of taking the leap. He's right, as always, but don't tell him I said that."

Spencer paused at your teary laugh, relishing in the melodic sound that made his heart nearly burst in two. "My love, I don't need the perfect proposal when you're the promise of a perfect life. Any life with you is the one I want to live for the rest of my time, and I want to start living that life from this point onward. What do you say, sweetheart? Will you marry me?"

Spencer never thought the word yes could sound so incredibly spectacular.

The celebration had started right away, commemorated by the shedding of clothes from each other's bodies, finalized by panting breaths and entangled limbs beneath rumpled sheets. You lay on the bed with your palm on Spencer's chest, his own hand tracing invisible patterns on the vast canvass of your skin.

Spencer watched as you stared at the ring circling your finger. "Do you like it? We can exchange it for a new one if--"

"Spencer Reid, don't you dare."

"Apologies, ma'am." He grinned, continuing the random patterns he was drawing on your skin before he spoke again, "By the way, you said you also have something to tell me."

You looked up at him with a blinding smile before scooting out of Spencer's arm and reaching for the nightstand. When Spencer saw what you had rummaged out of the bedside drawer, Spencer thought his heart had forgotten how to beat.

"Is that--"

"Surprise," you murmured giddily, handing over the object in your hand into Spencer's awaiting palm. "I found out yesterday, but I wanted to tell you in person."

Spencer sat up on the bed, staring with disbelief at the small item in his hand. He only realized he had started to cry when a drop of tears fell down, blurring the two tiny pink lines in his vision.

"This is... you're..."

"I'm pregnant, Spencer," you professed.

Just an hour earlier, Spencer thought the word yes was the best thing he could ever hear falling from your mouth. But as he held you in his arms, his lips catching yours once more in a heated kiss, Spencer realized that you had many more surprising admissions waiting to be said out loud.

And Spencer couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life listening to every single one of them.

"Daddy, are you saying I was already in Mommy's belly when you proposed to her?"

"Yes, you were, Pumpkin," Spencer said, smiling at the blatant curiosity in Little Dee's eyes. "You were a surprise we didn't see coming."

Diana's responding smile was a picture of satisfaction. The father-daughter pair continued to walk down the street until Dee's voice tore through the silence once again, "Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"I thought you said a man and a woman can only make babies after they're married."

Spencer's footsteps halted on the pavement.

The silence must have stretched for only a partial of a minute, but the expectant stare Dee was nailing against his face, along with the internal panic that had short-circuited Spencer's brain made it seem as if the world had skidded into a standstill. Frantic eyes darted everywhere for a chance at rectification, and Spencer couldn't stop the words from tumbling off his lips when he saw the worn-down sign of a florist up ahead.

"Dee, would you like to buy some flowers for Mommy?"

The little girl squealed an excited yes before skipping the few steps left towards the flower shop. Spencer let out a relieved breath at having narrowly escaped such a harrowing crisis.

Once Spencer stepped into the shop, a multitude of fragrances immediately enveloped his surroundings. Diana was lingering back and forth around the vibrant displays when Spencer approached, her tiny eyebrows frowning in the most adorable way as she assessed the rows of flowers in front of her.

"Have you decided yet, Pumpkin?"

"Can we get some of Mommy's favorites, Dad?" Diana requested, pointing her tiny finger at the display of flowers she knew to be your favorites. "And then we can add some of these daisies, too!"

Spencer couldn't fight the smile blossoming on his face as he asked the florist to assemble a bouquet made out of daisies--Dee's favorite type of flowers, the same one printed all over the dress she was wearing--along with your favorite flowers in the center. Diana stared in awe at the deft work administered by the florist, her mouth forming an "O" once the bouquet was wrapped and ready to go.

"Do you think Mommy will like them, Daddy?"

"I know she will, Pumpkin," Spencer answered earnestly, his memory replaying that first time he had come home bringing the same arrangement of flowers in his hand.

Spencer came home to the apartment in utter disarray, and yet, it still was the best view that he had ever witnessed in his entire life.

Ever since his office was transformed into a nursery, the books he previously kept in there had to be relocated to the living area. Most of them had gone by now--some donated, and some others sold at second-hand bookstores--but piles of them still littered in various corners of the room.

Apart from his mountainous collection of books, small trinkets also covered every available surface of the place. From the empty nursing bottles in the kitchen sink to the breast pump on the counter, and the tiny socks on the coffee table to the pacifier jammed between the sofa cushions; every single one of them contributed to the mess that his apartment had become. Yet as he paused to inspect every inch of the place, Spencer couldn't find any other emotion besides warmth flooding his chest.

Muffled footsteps padded towards the living room before you appeared from the hallway with a freshly bathed Diana in your arms. As soon as your eyes locked with his, the crease between your eyebrows automatically vanished.

"You're home."

"I'm home." Spencer grinned before welcoming you into his embrace.

He stole a quick kiss from your lips before bending down to smother a 7-month-old Diana who yelped in glee when Spencer began attacking her with kisses all over her face.

"She's been fussy since yesterday," you told him. "I think she missed you."

"Did you, baby? Did you miss Daddy?" Spencer cooed. "I can take her for a few while you rest. You look tired. Are you feeling okay?"

"Gee, Spence. What a way to a girl's heart."

"You know what I meant, sweetheart."

"It's fine, Spencer. I just got a headache, but it's all better now that you're here."

Spencer smiled as he kissed your free knuckles. "If it's any consolation, you're still the most heavenly creature that I've ever laid eyes upon."

A sneaky laughter rumbled past your chest. "Fine. I'll let you go just this once," you said before letting Spencer take a yawning Diana into his arms.

As Spencer carried Dee towards the couch, you noticed a bouquet of flowers lying next to the kitchen sink in the corner of your eye. You glanced at the young genius with a discreet smile before aptly transferring the flowers into a vase.

"These are pretty," you commented, joining your family in the living room. You put the vase in the middle of the coffee table amidst the books and various baby clutters before dropping yourself against Spencer's side.

"They're your favorites."

"I know. As usual." You smiled affectionately. "And daisies. You've never bought me daisies before."

Spencer's eyes gleamed. "I bought the daisies for Dee."

"Oh?"

"I think daisies are gonna be her favorite."

"You do, huh?"

"One hundred percent."

Spencer's eyes looked up from Diana to you then, whose own gaze had been kept intently on your husband and daughter. Darkness embellished the area underneath your eyes, and Spencer couldn't help but count the lines of fatigue that seemed to have multiplied on the contours of your face. Even then, Spencer thought you had never looked more stunning than you did at that moment; as his wife, the mother of his child, and the woman who owned the sole reign of his heart.

Confusion wandered into your eyes when you noticed Spencer's stubborn stare. A surprised squawk escaped your lips as Spencer unexpectedly captured them in a rather long kiss. When he pulled back, Spencer looked the very image of a man who was drunk on love.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Spencer confessed as he squeezed your hand twice in his palm.

"Spencer, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I just--" he paused for a chuckle, seemingly trying to find the right words to say before he could continue, "--I owe my life to you, sweetheart. For all of the times you have pulled me out of the darkness, to the light you've brought into my life. You and Dee are the reason I keep on breathing. Without the two of you, I'm nothing."

"Spencer," you breathed out. "Where did all of this come from?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I just wanted you to know how grateful I am to have you in my life and that you've brought Dee into ours. Everything worth fighting for about me is because of you."

The telltale signs of tears began to cast a shadow over your eyes. You pressed your hand to Spencer's cheek, feeling the rugged sensation of his newly shaved stubble stroking your skin. Spencer melted into the warmth of your touch.

"You're giving me far too much credit here, Spencer," you whispered. "Everything you are has always been your own doing rather than mine. All I ever did was cheer you on from the sideline. You would still have become the person that you are today even if I weren't in your life."

Spencer physically shuddered at your last statement. "Don't say that. I can't even begin to imagine a life without you in it."

"Well, even if such day does come, when I won't be a part of your life anymore, I know you're gonna be just fine. Because you'll have Dee with you--" you stroked Diana's head lovingly, "--and I know that the two of you will give each other enough love and strength that you won't even notice I'm not around anymore."

The frown on Spencer's face deepened.

"You're not allowed to leave me. Ever," Spencer decided childishly.

"Fine. I won't. But you have to remember--" you brought your palm towards Spencer's chest, feeling each rhythmic thrum of his heart which seemed to flutter ever so slightly underneath your fingers, "--I'll be right here if you need me. Always."

Spencer's own hand landed on top of your hand, entwining your fingers together without ever tearing his fierce gaze away from yours.

"Always."

The sun was shining down in flimsy rays when Spencer and Dee finally walked past the familiar gate. Glimmers of gold sneaked past the reddish leaves on branches before falling upon the ground.

Next to him, Diana was humming a melody that Spencer recognized from one of your specially curated playlists. Her little hands struggled to carry the gigantic bouquet that she couldn't wait to present to you. It didn't matter that the bouquet itself was nearly as tall as she was, Diana still refused to let Spencer assist her.

"I wanna give Mommy the flowers myself," she had told Spencer in a manner that reminded him too much of your own stubbornness.

After a couple more minutes of walking, Spencer's reverie was soon broken by the excited squeal coming from the little girl beside him.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

Diana dashed into a sprint before words of warning could fall from Spencer's lips. He watched intensely as Diana's little feet moved upon the ocean of fallen leaves on the ground. Her tight grip around the bouquet never wavered even when she ran up the grassed hill, all the way towards the destination in her mind.

All the way towards the headstone with your name written on it.

When Spencer finally got there, Diana was kneeling next to your grave with panting breaths, but the smile stretched on her lips was the biggest one that Spencer had ever seen.

"Hi, Mommy. I'm back with Daddy," Diana announced. "Daddy, go say hi to Mommy."

"Hello, my love." Spencer smiled before taking a seat next to his daughter.

"We brought flowers, Mommy! They're your favorites. I added daisies to make them prettier." Diana beamed before putting the bouquet against your headstone. "You're not gonna believe what happened in class yesterday!"

As Diana animatedly began to recount the funny incident in her classroom--somehow involving a boy named Patrick and a cup of slushie--Spencer watched over her with a permanent smile on his lips. The little girl loved to talk--a trait she obviously acquired from both of her parents--and Spencer knew just how much you used to adore listening to Dee's rambling at any time of day.

It must have been at least ten minutes later when Diana's story eventually whirled to an end. Her attention instantly shifted to the family who was paying their own respect just two headstones over, a small squeak of puppy tumbled from Dee's lips before she dashed towards the boy with a golden retriever pup beside his legs.

Spencer shook his head affectionately at his daughter's antics.

"I know we were just here a couple of weeks ago, but Dee wanted to tell you about the slushie incident herself," he said. "And, well, I can never deny the chance to visit you, love."

A loud laughter boomed a few feet away. Spencer watched as Diana ran around jubilantly with the little boy and his dog. The boy's father waved at Spencer from the distance, which he replied with an acknowledging nod.

"She's getting so big, sweetheart. Sometimes, I just wanna stop time and keep her as my little girl forever. I wish you were around to see how much she's grown." Spencer smiled ruefully. "I can't believe that it's been more than a year since you were gone."

Spencer thought back to the last few moments you spent on this earth. How just a few months prior, the doctor had advised you to stop the treatment and take a rest at home instead.

The chemo isn't working, was what the doctor was really saying. You should be spending as much time as you can with your family.

So, that was exactly what you ended up doing.

Spencer had quit his job at the FBI shortly after you were diagnosed, opting to take a full-time job of teaching where the hours were more humane and reasonable. The day you were discharged from the hospital, Spencer made a vow to himself to make every day as memorable as he could, and he was keeping true to it. Those last few months were filled with countless road trips, an unforgettable weekend at Disneyland, and visits to various museums across the states. Spencer made sure that each day was charged with love and laughter, a perfect day culminated by an equally perfect night, with you falling asleep in the safety of his arms.

Until one morning, when Spencer woke up to your cold and lifeless body lying by his side.

"Do you remember what you told me once? About how Dee and I would never notice you were gone because we would have each other?" Spencer recalled. "You were wrong about that, sweetheart. Your absence is the first thing I notice every time I start my day. The moment I open my eyes, I notice that you aren't lying next to me on the bed like you're supposed to be. I notice the cold imprints on the sheets where your warmth used to linger. I notice you in every corner of our home, but most importantly, I notice you in Dee."

Spencer glanced at his little girl, playing and running around a pile of fallen leaves with her newfound friend and his pet dog. His heart floundered at the scene.

"Everyone keeps saying that she's an exact copy of me, but I see glimpses of you in her more and more every single day," Spencer admitted. "She's the only anchor I have left now, my love. Without her, I'm lost. I try constantly, with whatever strength still resides in me, to give her everything she would ever need. Shower her with every ounce of love I have left in my heart."

A lone tear cascaded down Spencer's cheek. He quickly erased it away with a wry chuckle.

"What I would do to have a minute with you again, my love. I hope you know I'd give my heart and soul to have those extra sixty seconds just to stare at your beautiful face. To hold you in my arms one last time. I try my best to fill the void that you left for Dee's sake. Some days are difficult, and I keep thinking about how much better it would be--how much better off she would be--if it were you here with her instead of me. I'd trade places with you if I could. I fear that all of me would never be enough for her, because she needs you. We both do."

Spencer inhaled a breath, forcing the imminent wave of tears from breaking the dam he had masterfully crafted since the moment you were gone. He promised a long time ago never to allow the grief to consume him.

He still had his daughter to think about.

"I'm beginning to think people are wrong when they say time makes everything better. The pain never lessens. It just becomes bearable with time. Dee makes it bearable," Spencer confessed. "I can only hope I'm doing the same for her."

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Spencer hurriedly wiped away any sign of tears from his face before he caught Diana in his arms. Her innocent laughter was a balm to the gaping wound in his chest, and Spencer allowed himself to bask in the bliss that his little girl brought to his life.

"What is it, Pumpkin?"

"Look what Brian's mom gave me!"

Spencer looked at her tiny hand to see a plastic daisy ring gracing one of her fingers. He looked up towards the family in the distance, mouthing a thank you to the mother who waved him off with a smile.

"It's very pretty, Dee."

"Like me?"

The young dad chuckled. "Yes, very much like you."

"Like Mommy, too?"

Spencer's smile softened. "Very much like Mommy, too. Yes."

The exhilarated smile Diana rewarded him could probably light up the entire state of Virginia at night.

Five minutes later, Spencer found himself bidding you a goodbye, with Diana promising to visit again very soon to give you an update over the slushie incident that supposedly got Patrick in a lot of trouble at school. The air was getting even chillier as the two walked the path they had taken after arriving at the cemetery. Spencer tugged Diana closer to his side once he saw the familiar gate lurking a few feet ahead, keeping her safe while simultaneously seeking her warmth.

"Daddy?" Dee's voice arose shyly once the pair had reached the main street.

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"I miss Mommy," she admitted quietly.

Spencer's fingers instinctively tightened for a split second around his daughter's hand. "I know you do, Pumpkin. You just need to remember, even if she's not physically with us anymore, that she's always watching over you and keeping you safe."

Diana nodded her head understandingly. "Do you miss her, too, Daddy?"

"Every day, Dee." Spencer smiled, glancing back towards the gate of the cemetery behind him. "Every single day."

[junipers-archive]

Sweater

Word Count: 600

Includes: fluff! the team finds out about reader x Spencers relationship when you show up to work wearing one of his sweaters

"Y/n." It was Penelope, she was whispering conspicuously as you entered the office heading for the conference room.

"Goodmorning!" You answer quickly as you were already running late due to your much needed coffee run this morning.

She begins to trail after you. "Y/n."

You stop, now wondering what's wrong, especially as all the heads in the room begin looking towards you as you walk in. But it isn't until Derek speaks up that you're hinted as to why,

"So you and pretty boy finally did it?" Oh no.

You mind races trying to figure out how he knew. Did Spencer tell him? You'd agreed not to tell anyone at first so you wouldn't cause absolute chaos. But it's been sixth months you guess it's be perfectly reasonable if-

"Your-your Sweater...its Spencers." Penelope elaborates, calming you rampant mind, all at the same time making it spasm.

You look down silently at what you're wearing, its almost identical as your regular getup, but because you were really running late this morning you'd grabbed a sweater from the couch in your shared apartment on your way out.

Completely missing the fact it was Spencers. It had been a soft cobalt blue color crew neck, one of his favorites with little designs lining it in navy...and also one he wore quite often.

You stared in both disbelief from how you'd manage to grab the one he used most consistently and also at your own stupidity and how you'd failed to notice the whole car ride here.

You look up bewilderedly, to find your colleagues staring at you all in varying ways, Derek was grinning, Rossi was smirking, Penelope had taken to a worried/excited look, Emily was respectfully trying to hide her smile and even Hotch was pretending to read the papers in front of him to avoid eye contact.

You attempt a reply calmly but stammer despite yourself,

"I-I-we-um"

closing your eyes to focus your thoughts and breathe, you open them to find Spencer your lovely boyfriend entering or rather staggering into the room.

He had taken the long route so you'd show up at different times,

"Hi! Sorry I'm late-I just-I-What-why's everybody looking at me like that?"

Everyone shaking their heads and smiling to themselves ignored his question as Penelope began to brief all of you on the case.

You hope the subject will be forgotten.

But of course it won't be, and surprisingly its Hotch that asks once the case had been explained and he'd called wheels up,

"Are you two dating?"

Everyone was still seated, waiting for something to be said, and you could see the pleasure in all their faces as he uttered the question.

Spencer swallowed though, not having become aware of the situation even after you'd tried to pass him a note like some third grader.

It had read: I'm wearing your sweater!

To which he'd simply responded with, I'm sure no one's noticed.

Having of course not been aware of your previous interaction with the team.

"We-uh-well-" he tried to begin

"Yes. We are dating." You had to confirm it, knowing if you didn't it would only make matters worse in the long run.

To that Hotch gave his lopsided smirk, "I'm Happy for you, but I'm not thrilled to do the paperwork."

The team of course having heard, errupted in giggles, reminiscent of child like giddy as they finally took it as their cue to leave.

And as they filed out Spencer received several pats on the backs and "good going reid" from Rossi and Derek as you yourself had been berated with questions from Emily and Penelope and "I swear to god if he hurts you-"'.

But as you both shyly retreat, gather your things and exit you agree that the best reaction had been from Hotch as he whispered quietly before he left,

"Well I guess I have to let you room together now."

[viperify]

Oneshots | ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Next Saturday, same time.

Short summary: Your Defence Against Dark Arts professor, Tom Riddle, was less than pleased with your academic performance. When he then called you in to discuss your grade, his true intentions came to light.

Warnings: 18+ only! Sir kink, praise kink, degradation kink, orgasm denial, rough sex, manipulation, impact play

All characters in this story are adults.

A/N: So sorry for not posting in over a week, school’s been keeping me busyyy. While I am fighting for my life with no escape pt 2 y’all can have this. ;)

wordcount: 3,7k

“Good evening, miss. Please, take a seat.”

Cautiously you entered the tiny office and sat down on the chair, opposite of him, resting your hands on the smooth surface of your professor’s wooden work desk. He studied you intently, lowering his gaze to watch how your fingers fidgeted with a loose thread of the grey sweater you were wearing. One of your favourites, not revealing too much, yet showing the perfect amount of cleavage to be okay to wear around school. His eyes wandered, quickly stopping at the exposed skin of your chest, until his eyes finally met yours.

“Do you know why I called you here today?” he questioned, voice just as strict and controlled as you were used to.

You shook your head, innocent eyes staring back at his strict expression, your lips turning into a slight pout. He huffed, the corner of his lips twitching slightly, carefully laying the quill he had been holding in his right hand onto the desk. Your eyes followed his long, slender fingers, admiring the veins decorating his pale skin. He was wearing his signature Gaunt family ring, an heirloom, which had been intriguing you ever since the first time you saw it. The brunette clearing his throat tore you out of your thoughts.

Right, he probably expected a vocal answer.

Of course, you knew why he had called you in. Your grades had been miserable, failing all three exams you’d had. Now, you weren’t necessarily a bad student, however Professor Riddle was the strictest and most unforgiving teacher at Hogwarts. One single word he didn’t deem as fitting and your whole answer was wrong. On top of that, just to pass most people studied for hours on end, starting two weeks before the exam. You did too, yet it had never been quite enough. 

That’s how you ended up getting an owl from your professor, telling you to meet him after dinner in his office that day. Obviously, you didn’t think much of it, except being humiliated once more for your grades. Professor Riddle was notorious for hating bad students after all.

“No, Sir. I don’t know.” 

“You haven’t noticed your horrific grades? I must say, I expected better of you, miss.” the brunette replied, his disappointment sounding authentic, though you knew for certain it wasn’t. He didn’t care whether someone passed or not, for him it was the pleas to not let them fail that spurred him on.

It was sick, really.

Though, nobody ever had been called into his office solely for that reason. And you knew just how many girls would have loved to switch places with you. He was the youngest and most handsome professor at Hogwarts, there was no denying that. In fact, many girls stayed behind after class to ask completely unrelated questions to his lessons, just to have his attention for themselves for a minute.

His answers though were mostly simple and straight to the point, his cold exterior void of any emotion. Most of the girls were disappointed, but that didn’t keep them from trying again next lesson. You never asked anything, not wanting to give him the satisfaction you knew he felt deep down at his admirers, even if he didn’t show it.

“I have noticed that. However, I don’t think that is entirely my fault, Sir.” You started, carefully at that. What you didn’t want is to insult his ego. Somehow you would have to convince him you are worthy of passing the subject after all.

His answer wasn’t what you had expected. A slight grin forming on his face, eyes flickering to what seemed like your exam papers in front of him. “And why is that, if I may ask?”

You were certain you had never in your life seen that man smile, Merlin forbid grin. Either he was in a very good mood that evening, which you heavily doubted, or he was already envisioning your tear-stained face after he would have you fail.

Yeah, that pretty much summed up what kind of professor he was. You had thoroughly messed this up already.

“No- please don’t understand this wrong, Sir. I- I just thought your exams in comparison with other subjects were quite high effort, making it harder to study and pass.” You stuttered, trying to find the right words to get you out of trouble.

“Well, miss, what can I say?” he leaned over the desk slightly, his eyes meeting yours again, “I am unlike other professors. My lessons are demanding. If students wish to pass, they will have to set their priorities straight. Which clearly isn’t the case for you.”

You cursed yourself. There it was, exactly what you thought was going to happen. He would let you fail if you tried making your case.

“No, Sir, please. I will do more for your lessons from now on. I can’t afford to fail your subject.” You cringed at how pathetic your begging sounded. So desperate. Especially to a professor who was known for finding joy in their students’ pleas, but you had no other choice. You had to at least try.

He nodded slightly, the corner of his lips perking up. “I fear it is too late to make promises for the future now. Though, what are you prepared to do to fix your past mistakes?” The brunette asked you, his eyes hinting at your exam papers in front of him.

“Anything, Sir.”

The energy shifted at your words, tension lingering thick in the air. He exhaled sharply, getting up from his seat. “Anything, hm?” You managed a shy nod as he walked around the desk to lean against it besides you.

His head sank, adjusting a button of his black suit as he nodded. After what felt like an eternity, his hot gaze met yours, and you felt as though his eyes were burning right through you. Finally, he spoke. “You know just how long I have wanted you in this position? Eager to do anything to fix your grade? It’s been miserable, really.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion, staring back at him. “Sorry, Sir, I don’t think I understand?” He surely didn’t intend to say what you thought he did.

Again, he nodded, a sly smirk forming on his full lips. “Oh I think you do, darling.”

He inched closer to you, dangerously close for your liking. In fact, you had never seen him that close before. Every single detail about his exterior was neat, suit fitting him like it was hand-tailored just for him. Knowing how highly he valued his appearance, it probably was too. His brunette curls perfectly styled, falling beautifully onto his forehead like they always did.

“I am sorry, Sir but I really-“

“Always running that pretty mouth of yours.” He mumbled, interrupting you, as he ran his thumb over your soft lips. You breath hitched at the sudden contact, yet you didn’t stop him. Never would you have expected this to happen, but here you were. Sat in front of your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor as he caressed you. He stopped at the center, gently pressing down, urging you to part them for him. Naturally you obliged, pushing his finger into your warm mouth, instinctively starting to suck on it. As you looked up to him through your lashes, you saw a small crease forming between his eyebrows, a small groan slipping from his slightly parted lips. “Such a dirty girl. I knew you had it in you.”

You didn’t know why you even gave in to him. Shame rushed through you, your cheeks heating up. You really shouldn’t be doing this with your professor. However, you needed to fix your grade. And maybe, just maybe… you started to see his appeal. Which didn’t change the fact that it was wrong. So wrong.

“Come on, get up now.” He demanded as he withdrew his thumb from your mouth, pulling you up by your arm in a quick motion so you were stood up in front of him. His gaze wandered up and down your body, taking in your curves he had yearned to touch ever since the first time he had noticed you. Again, his eyes locked onto the exposed skin of your cleavage, hand travelling from your waist your shoulder, running his finger along your clavicle.

“Wearing such a short skirt in combination with that sweater when expected by your professor, should have let you fail merely because of that.” He muttered, taunting you. His hand guided yours towards the dent in his trousers, letting it brush against it slightly. The brunette’s breath was hot on the side of your face as he leaned in, causing you to shiver. “You feel this, doll? That is what you do to me.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” You stammered, unsure of what to say. Were you really going to do this?

He didn’t leave you any time to think about it.

“It’s time to punish you for all these indecent thoughts you have been causing me.”

“Tell me,” he started, grabbing your chin to make you look him in the eyes while he spoke to you. “How is it that I can’t resist you?” The tone of his voice was softer than you were used to, yet the strictness remained.

“I could have any girl at my feet with a simple snap of my fingers. Yet I yearn for no one more deeply than I do for you.”

You were lost for words, staring back at his unreadable expression. If you had to describe it, it would have been a mix of pain, anger and desire – positively too many emotions at once for someone like him.

“I-“ You tried, though immediately cut off by him. His hand softly wrapped around your throat, slightly furrowing his eyebrows as his darkened eyes warned you. “No more talking. You have done enough damage. Making me feel all these things I was certain I would never get to experience.”

With that, he pushed you backwards until you hit the rough edge of his desk, trapped between his body and the wooden furniture. His palm slowly travelled up your thigh, halting when he reached the hem of your skirt. He leaned down, his lips just barely hovering over the crook of your neck as you could almost feel the conflict in his mind. “Tell me you want this too. Say it.” His breath shallow against your skin, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Your mind was reeling. You shouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t get flustered from your professor’s touch. You should have never even allowed him to get you into this position. Yet, you couldn’t deny the excitement rushing through your veins at the thought of what he was going to do with you. What he would ask of you to fix your grades.

“I want it too. P-Please, Sir” you whispered, exhaling sharply as he planted a soft kiss on your skin, goosebumps rising on your skin at the contact.

Unsure of what to do, you reached out to hold onto his arms, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. The brunette lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours. Clearly, you must have read his expression wrong, because when you drew closer to kiss him he stopped you, tightly squeezing both of your arms.

“No kissing. Don’t you-“, his fingers roughly lifted your chin, making you meet his stern expression. “Listen to me. Don’t you dare try doing that ever again.”

At first, his words stung, causing tears to well up in your eyes. You quickly blinked them away. His voice, which he had intended to come off as rough, told you there was more behind what he was ready to admit.

You knew he wanted the kiss too.

And you were right.

The look of his eyes betrayed him, his usual controlled demeanor threatening to shatter. It took him everything there and then to make it sound like he despised the idea of kissing you. After all, kissing meant love. Love meant vulnerability. And Tom hated vulnerability.

Early on in his life, when he was residing in the orphanage, people around him used vulnerability to hurt others. The intelligent boy he was, he caught onto that quickly. Shutting down emotions had always worked well for him. He was quite certain that by doing so for years he had lost the ability to feel entirely.

Until you entered his life.

Completely wrecking the idea of what person he was, of what he wanted to become.

It only played into his cards when you then started failing exam after exam. It was like a gift from Merlin himself. He would finally have an excuse to meet you privately, to manipulate you into thinking you were doing this for a grade. When all he wanted was to finally let out all that pent-up frustration and anger on your poor body.

And there was part of him who wanted to love you. To hold you, tenderly care for you. But that part was somewhere so deeply hidden in his soul, he didn’t even acknowledge its existence. All he wanted to do was make you pay for the turmoil of emotions he was feeling. How could you do something no one else was capable of, not even himself?

Make him feel. Like a human.

Kissing you wouldn’t fix anything, but rather make his suffering worse. He wouldn’t kiss you. Never. Today, you would pay.

His hands reached out to tug on your sweater, pulling it over your head, before cursing something under his breath, unzipping the back of your skirt, letting it drop to the floor next to your sweater. His hungry eyes roamed over your body, your silk underwear hugging your curves perfectly. You suddenly felt exposed at the way he was leering at you and attempted to cover your bare skin. “Sir, I don’t know if it’s a good idea, I mean-“

Tom snatched your wrists. “You want to fix your grade, don’t you?” He growled, the muscles in his jaw stiffening. You nodded quickly, disregarding your doubt.

“That’s right. Stay all nice and quiet for me now.”

With a quick motion he flipped you around, palm pressing down between your shoulder blades to have you bend over his desk as he was standing right behind you. A yelp was all you managed, surprised by his sudden roughness and the cold material beneath you.

“This is for failing your exams.”

Smack

“This is for wearing these disgraceful outfits around school.”

Smack

“And this is for messing with my head.”

Smack

He let his palm repeatedly come down on your barely covered ass, the intense sting of the impacts having tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, small gasps escaping your lips.

“W-what do you mean, Sir?” You croaked, lifting your head to search for an answer.

Smack

“I told you to keep your mouth shut. Do you ever fucking listen?” He growled, delivering another harsh smack to your already reddened skin. If he wasn’t angry before, he was now. Making quick work of your panties, he let them pool around your ankles, pressing his erect length against your now bare skin, making you inhale sharply. Even clothed, he felt big.

He undid his belt and instructed you to put your hands behind your back, to which you obliged. “Going to make sure you aren’t going anywhere, darling.” The brunette mumbled as he wrapped the leather around your wrists, securing them tightly.

You lay there, so beautifully exposed and helpless in front of him, just like he wanted you. Looking so innocent. His hand reached out to caress your back, though he stopped himself in time.

No affection.

He would only check whether you were ready for him, nothing more. This wasn’t for your pleasure after all, it should be a punishment. Really, nothing more than that.

Yet, when he heard your soft moans as his hand rested on the curve of your behind, thumb lazily playing with your puffy clit, he almost changed his mind. Your sweet voice, the one he was used to hearing only when you were laughing and giggling with your friends during his lessons, aroused him even more than he already had been, almost painfully so. His finger swiped through your folds, gathering your wetness just to push it back inside of your dripping hole. He exhaled sharply at the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him, slowly opening up for him.

“Want more please, Si- T-Tom” you mewled, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate to feel him inside of you. Knowing you couldn’t see him, he grinned. He got what he wanted, having you bent over his desk, all needy and desperate for him and only him.

Smack

“We will keep the formalities, hm?” He taunted, withdrawing his thumb from your aching cunt just to replace it with his tip, not yet entering you. He was savouring every second of this, the first time he got to be inside of you, have you under his complete control.

“Please, Sir.” You whined, and though you still weren’t 100% convinced this was the right thing to do, you wanted him so badly. Your professor, who just mere seconds ago almost made you come only by the touch of his fingertip.

Tom couldn’t take it anymore. You shouldn’t want this so badly, you shouldn’t want him. His palm landed one more hard smack on your soft skin before he steadily pushed into your warm core, which was sucking him right in.

“You are so-“ you whined, body tensing at the intrusion, “so- big, Sir” The stretch radiating a painful sting from your core. “I know. Can barely fit inside of this tight cunt of yours.” The brunette growled, not letting you adjust to him as he mercilessly snapped his hips into yours, the sound filling his tiny office room.

You cried out in pleasure as the pain faded, disregarding his orders to stay silent. The way his veiny cock dragged against your sensitive walls made your mind go blank, making you a moaning mess under him. His hand wrapped around your throat as a warning, shushing you.

“Going to ruin you for everyone else. This pussy is mine, isn’t it, darling? He spat, holding onto your tied wrists for leverage as he hit your cervix with particularly deep thrusts. “Sir, please- Merlin-“ you moaned, your hip bones repeatedly hitting the edge of his desk, sure to leave bruises that would still remind you of him for days.

“Keep quiet- fuck- can’t you ever just-“ he groaned, his eyes darting around the place looking for something, anything. He clutched the nearest object he could find – which happened to be one your exam papers – and shoved it into your mouth, hand covering it to make you keep the provisional gag in, muffling your voice. “That’s  better.”

He felt his orgasm approaching in big steps, the feeling of how your warm, wet walls so perfectly gripped his length having him on the edge of sanity. He longed to have you clench around him, milking him. That’s when his hand snaked down your thighs, though before they reached your clit, he remembered what this was about. Even when you weren’t able to speak you drove him crazy, and he despised you for it. So, instead of rubbing your clit, he added another smack to your sore ass.

“So-“ thrust “fucking-“ thrust “tight.” thrust

You whined and as his hand finally left your mouth, you spit out the now damp paper, coughing. The way he was mercilessly pounding into your aching cunt had you see stars, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “S‘ too much- please-“ you managed to croak out, trying to wriggle away from him, his fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back and steady you.

“No, you better stop squirming. Fuck- I am going to break you just like you broke me.” He hissed, slightly bending over your form, making you take him to the hilt. You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut, yet you had no other choice than to take what he was giving you.

Just a few thrusts later he felt himself desperate for release, though he wouldn’t grant you the honor of coming inside you. He pulled out of you right as he was about to finish, spilling his seed on your lower back instead with a low grunt. A small whine escaped your lips at the feeling of his cum on your skin.

Both of you stayed like this for a while. Your mind was still fuzzy from his rough handling, barely able to form a coherent thought. You wondered what he was thinking about. Did he regret it? Although it was a dangerous game you two were playing, you loved it. More than you had thought you would.

And him? He got what he wanted after all. Taking out his anger on you. But now it wasn’t any better. Tom sought after more. If he could, he would have you bend over that damn desk every single day. However, he would have to let you go. For now, at least.

The brunette freed your wrists, helping you stand up straight. With a wide smirk on his face, he wiped his release off your back with your panties. “What the-?” You asked, snatching it out of his hands. “Filthy girl, filthy panties.” He shrugged. “Put them on, get dressed and go back to your dorm. If you speak to anyone about this, consider yourself expelled. No one will believe you.”

There was something you still wanted. Something he denied you.

“What about my turn to finish?”

Sitting back down behind his desk, hair damp with sweat, he stared at you as though you had just said something outrageous. “Girls like you don’t get to come. This was for fixing your grade, not for your pleasure.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What about my grade then?”

“Come back next Saturday to find out.”

You scoffed. “I am not going to.”

He knew you would.

And he was right.

feedback is as always appreciated <3

[teamatsumu]

how GoM react to you wearing their jersey to a game

-> AOMINE DAIKI:

You knew he wouldn't show up to the game, as per usual. But this time would be different.

This time, while you stood over his lazy, napping form on the school roof, you had promised him that if he showed up, there would be a surprise waiting for him.

That caught his attention, as you knew it would. He was skeptical on the inside though. What could possibly be good enough to make him stay for a whole game, start to finish?

He did not expect to hear you scream his name from the stands during warm ups, breath hitching when he caught sight of you in his jersey.

You had put it on over your sweater, grinning wide as you pointed at the number and mouthed ‘surprise’. It made aomine blink and gulp.

You had worn his clothes before, but never his jersey. He felt his skin tingle in a foreign feeling of possessiveness. That was his number on your chest.

Aomine turned around and walked to the coach. “Put me in at the beginning of the game.”

His teammates gawked at him. Aomine? Willing to play? No, not just willing. Eager. This was unprecedented.

You however, were giggling in the stands, knowing exactly what his motivation to play today was.

-> KISE RYOTA:

Kise’s fans often showed up in his jersey number for games, giggling and squealing in the stands and saying his name to get his attention during warm ups. But you, you were different.

For one, you were dating. For another, you weren’t just wearing a jersey with his number on it. You were wearing his personal jersey. Tailored to him and swimming over your small frame.

You grinned when he noticed the jersey on you before the game in the hallway. He bit his lip and hid a smile.

“You wore it for me?” He tilted his head, trying to hold back from cooing all over you. You looked so cute.

“Yeah. To support you. I see all your fans do it.” You shrugged like it was no big deal. It was a big deal though, at least to Kise.

He stepped forward and smacked a sloppy kiss on your cheek, made you squeal and wipe it off in mock disgust. It didn’t bother Kise though. He was on cloud nine just looking at you wearing his clothes.

-> MIDORIMA SHINTARO:

His brain short circuits when he sees you.

Next, a million thoughts hit him all at once.

First of all, how did you even get your hands on his jersey? And how had he not noticed a missing jersey from his closet?

(You were sneaky and crafty usually, so it wasn’t too surprising)

Second of all, how did orange look so good on you?

“What is the meaning of this?” He scowls at you, making you giggle and skip closer to him. Midorima fought to keep a straight face. You were glowing.

“I know you have your lucky object with you,” you eyed the humongous hourglass figurine in his hand. “But I thought it would be nice to have a little extra luck.”

He felt his lips twitch, the muscles of his shoulders relax. He hadn’t realized he was about to walk out to court while being so stiff.

He pouted at you and looked away when he caught your teasing gaze, looking away with heated cheeks. “Thanks for the luck.”

You giggled again and planted a kiss on his jaw, turning around to the hall which lead to the stands.

“See you after the game, Shin.” You called back. Midorima allowed his lips to tilt upwards as he watched you leave.

-> MURASAKIBATA ATSUSHI:

I’m gonna say it, he doesn’t think it’s too big a deal.

Not the jersey itself, but he is more affected by the fact that you’re wearing his clothes at all. Because they are huge on you.

You’re swimming in it, dwarfed by the sheer amount of fabric. If he didn’t like the look so much, he would laugh.

But he loved it. Loved seeing you in the stands, perking up and grinning at him whenever he looked up at you and met your eyes.

The white and purple looked great on you, made you stand out in the crowd and put you in the center of his vision. What a view to have during the game.

Him putting in more effort on the court was all because it made you cheer for him and stand taller. He could give less of a shit about the actual game or the end result.

Rest assured, he will be subtly hinting at you to wear more of his clothes, jersey or otherwise.

-> AKASHI SEIJUROU:

Akashi’s actions make it abundantly clear that he is very territorial of you.

You are his. No one else has rights to you the way he does.

Now imagine him seeing you at a game, which he knows is also being attended by his peers, underclassmen, opponents and other acquaintances, knowing you are in his jersey.

His number on your chest and back, his school colors enveloping your frame.

Everyone would know you were his. And that sense of power made him feel things.

His piercing gaze finds you in the stands, the uptick of his lips and the satisfied look on his face was enough for you to squirm. Oh he liked what he saw.

He gives you a harsh kiss in the hall when the game ends, and an approving once over that fills you with glee.

With zero words, Akashi has ensured that you would show up to all his games from now on with his jersey on your back.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

hii, I wish to request a Willy Wonka x reader 😭🙏 where reader doesn’t like chocolate at all because it’s too cloying, so Wonka tries to make the right candy (or chocolate) to give it to the reader at Christmas Eve (he wanted to gave reader a small gift before Christmas day, like a form of confessing his feelings to the reader). And reader also prepares a small gift to Wonka bc they also want to confess their feelings to him

Reader can be gender neutral, or however you want

English isn’t my first language so sorry any grammar mistakes, also sorry if I didn’t explain myself well

have a good day and thanks for reading 😭🫶💐

The Bittersweet Gift of Love [W. W]

Willy Wonka x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: don't worry! English is not my first language either. I have to admit that writing with neutral readers is always a challenge for me because I translate my texts directly, but I think this time it's a decent thing. I hope you like it!!

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

What could a chocolatier give to a person who didn't like chocolate? That was the question Willy had been asking himself for the past few weeks.

You hadn't specifically said that you didn't like chocolate, rather it was a matter of not liking the excessively sweet or sticky taste that some had. That is, most of the chocolates he made.

“Maybe it's just that you haven't found the right flavor,” he had told you once, while the two of you were talking.

And he was quite convinced of that, even thinking that if he managed to make something special for you maybe he would earn some affection from you. It would be as if he gave you a certain part of himself, so that you could make it yours.

So it was that Wonka, after reflecting a lot, decided to try all kinds of combinations until he found one good enough to satisfy you. Christmas was approaching and he believed that the occasion would be perfect not only to give you the present, but also to take an important step for which he had not yet had the courage: he wanted to confess his feelings for you.

The man didn't know much about love, however, he knew that he liked you a lot and he wanted you to know it. It was just that he was pretty nervous about it and he hoped everything would turn out as perfect as possible, after all, you deserved it.

Christmas Eve came when he was least expecting it and then it was time to dress in shades of green and red to attend the party that the Smith family would throw, as a thank-you to everyone after Dorothy had heard what the entire group did for help Noodle when she needed it most.

Willy put a lot of effort into buying, with some of the few coins he had left, a cute outfit appropriate to the occasion that he combined with his characteristic coat. When he was in front of the library door he felt the little purple box in his hands extremely heavy and he thought it would be a better idea to put it in his pocket, or else you would realize ahead of time the surprise he had for you.

“Mr. Wonka,” Dorothy greeted, as she opened the door “Come in, come in. It's freezing outside”

“Good night, Mrs. Smith,” he murmured cordially, removing his hat and placing it on a rack in the entryway. Apparently he was the last to arrive, since everyone else was already talking happily in the room.

Of course his eyes went directly to you, who was wearing a green sweater that highlighted your beautiful skin tone and you already had a huge smile on your pink lips from the cold.

“It's good to see you, Mr. Wonka,” said Abacus, being the first to speak “Sit over here.”

He smiled internally at the good fortune that the place the man had left him was right next to you and when you gave him a look, he felt himself blush.

“Hi,” he murmured shyly.

"Hello! I'm so glad you could come."

“I would never miss it,” he responded smilingly. His knees collided with yours and suddenly your warmth seemed to invade him as well, perhaps because of the closeness, but also because of the overflowing love he felt for you “How are you?”

With this question you began a pleasant and private conversation, which developed between close whispers and giggles that made him increasingly nervous. The others didn't mind too much that you didn't participate in the general talks, as they knew that certain unresolved matters probably needed time.

You ate the delicious dinner that the family had prepared, you drank punch, you sang some Christmas carols and when the night had advanced enough you returned to your previous place, although now with fewer people around.

“This is so nice, I love Christmas. The atmosphere is always so homely and warm” you said, with your eyes resting on the simple tree that adorned the room.

It was almost midnight and the others were in the kitchen sorting through some of the cookies that Noodle had put there an hour ago, which only left you and the chocolatier in the living room.

“I guess I believe you, your eyes are literally shining now,” he said happily. He felt like sliding his hand into yours and this time, steeling himself, he didn't hold back. You flinched slightly when you felt that.

“What are you doing?”

“I have something for you,” he breathed, feeling strangely excited by what he was about to do “It's a gift.”

“Oh, Willy,” you responded, a bit incredulously, as you bent down to grab something from your bag on the floor. “I have something for you, too.”

He chuckled when he saw the box lined with bright red and a purple bow decorating it, since it was a pleasant coincidence that you had also prepared something for him.

“But don't tell anyone, because he didn't bring gifts for the others,” you added, quietly, and then he helped you up, still holding onto your hand.

"Come with me"

He led you to an empty room and he closed the door behind you, hoping he only needed enough minutes to not raise suspicions among the rest of the guests. You were nervously holding the gift, with both hands now that he had let go of you.

“Okay, listen. I wanted to do something special for you today,” he began to explain, as he pulled the box out of his pocket. “And I also added, uh… a note. You don't have to read it now or anything, but it says something in it that I want you to know."

“You're starting to scare me,” you stammered, obviously nervous. Willy was going to ask what you meant until he saw you take a small envelope out of your pocket, which you placed on the red paper. “Because I have the same thing for you.”

He stumbled a little at the second coincidence of the night and he wondered what your note could be about. He knew that he had written a little poem confessing how he felt about you, but... what if you were just wishing him a Merry Christmas? He was going to look like a complete fool.

“You can read mine in a more… private place if you feel comfortable. Maybe alone,” he suggested, though he knew it was more for his comfort than yours.

“Huh, how about we just open the gifts and leave the notes for later? I wouldn't want you to read mine now either” you murmured, just as shy as him.

Willy agreed and you extended your gift in his direction, hinting that he would be the first to open. He undid the bow, carefully, and then opened the box, revealing a beautiful scarf.

“Wow, I…”

"Do you like it? I made it myself”

“I don't believe you,” he said immediately, looking even more surprised. “It's beautiful, I really love it. Thank you so much"

He wasted no time and placed the garment around his neck. Curiously, it matched the rest of his outfit.

"It looks pretty"

“Mine is also a gift made by me. Feel free to tell me if you don’t like it, I… I’ll understand, okay?” you looked a little confused at that and then he took out the piece of chocolate, carefully placed inside the box “I know you don't like chocolate, but I don't think anyone should live without consuming such a great delicacy. So I made you this, because it doesn't have those things that you don't like. It's... different, but I hope you like it”

With some shyness he offered you the sweet and you put it in your mouth, under his watchful eye during the process. You tasted what he had offered you: it was a little bitter, but not in that way that makes your head hurt or leaves a bad taste on your palate, but with just the right touch. It was firm and didn't melt in your mouth, but decent enough to chew on. And finally, it had a touch of something indecipherable to you, but that gave it a certain exotic flavor that was pleasant to your senses.

He, without knowing everything you were experiencing, kept looking at you because he wanted to analyze your reaction to know what you really thought, and luckily your reaction showed agreement with what your chocolate lips said:

“It is the best chocolate I have ever tasted”

Willy felt that like the greatest compliment in the world and he couldn't help a smile crossing his face, satisfied with himself for having achieved his goal, but above all for seeing the happy expression on your face.

“You will never have to eat chocolates you don't like again, I have a jar full of these just for you. They will even bear your name."

It was inevitable not to take a step towards him to hug him and the boy, although at first he seemed surprised, soon responded to you.

“No one had ever done anything like this for me. I appreciate it a lot"

“Well, it's my Christmas gift. I wanted it to be something special,” he confessed, feeling his heart beating in time with yours “Merry Christmas, Y/N”

“Merry Christmas, Willy,” you said. The note in his hand felt extremely heavy and he was eager to read it, but he knew he would have to wait a while.

Suddenly you heard Noodle calling your names and you got out of there before anyone else noticed your absence, which worked because the girl was walking around the hallway when you were closing the door.

“It's going to be midnight, come here,” she said and you obeyed.

Dorothy revealed that she had a small present for each person and you began to look under the tree, eager to find out what would be in those little boxes. It wasn't something very ostentatious, but you were grateful anyway.

So, when no one was looking, you ran to the bathroom to finally read whatever he had written to you, hoping it wasn't as embarrassing as the confession you had made. You were stunned to learn the content and for a moment you feared you were dreaming, but you weren't.

When you left you knew well what your intentions were and your heart stopped for a moment when you noticed that Willy was nowhere to be seen, until Lottie told you that she had seen him heading to the kitchen. You rushed over and when you opened the door you noticed that he was about to do the same, with a bright expression on his face.

A second later he had already pulled you inside and without saying another word, he kissed you.

[xxbottlecapx]

I saw someone talk about this idea (can’t find them now) so- 

Steve is walking down the street and he hears the jingling of a dog collar so he turns around to ask to pet their dog but it’s just Eddie. 

Steve might have a meltdown. He seriously might. This was the worst day he’s had in a long fucking time. 

The day started with a fucking seizure, of all things, when Steve hasn’t had one in months, so he decided to go to the emergency room to get checked up just in case. 

The doctors said he was fine, the scans and blood tests came back just as normal, but he ended up missing lunch so he didn’t get to have down time with his best friend Robin, and she was the biggest reason he could manage his anxiety and PTSD.

His mom called him when he was at the hospital, even though she disowned him ten years ago when he was forced out of the closet as bisexual. He thought she wanted to talk but apparently her husband (Steve’s father, unfortunately) was dying and wanted Steve to help with the hospital bills considering apparently their business went under, which Steve hadn’t known about because he hasn’t seen them in ten years. It led to a fight over the phone which triggered another seizure, so he’s had two in one day. Because of his history with seizures, the hospital decided to let him go, which he wasn’t entirely sure would be a good idea, but what else were they supposed to do? It’s not like Steve knew. Besides, he’s pretty sure they were understaffed and maybe they just didn’t have a place for him. They just gave him some painkillers, gave him a form so he wouldn’t have to go to work for a week, and let him go after giving him an IV. Steve would have argued about the work thing, but the doctor was able to convince him that having a bad seizure in front of a bunch of toddlers might be a bad idea, even if they’ve dealt with his smaller ones before. 

He decided he would go for a run because that always relaxes him before remembering that he shouldn’t go running after having two seizures, so he decided to go for a walk instead. Of course, this only makes things worse for himself. First, he forgets to take his dog Farrah with him on the walk, and then he realizes that he’s wearing a thick knitted yellow sweater in 86 degree heat, also he lost his glasses somehow? 

He must have still had some postictal confusion left because he very quickly got lost and then he couldn’t find wherever the fuck he put his phone, so he couldn’t call Robin to pick him up, and it’s not like his anxiety would let him walk up to some random person and ask. 

It was getting dark, so he wasn’t going to approach a woman, which was something Robin had to teach, and Steve was kind of scared of men, which might be stupid because he was a man, and also taller than most men, but anxiety is a bitch so it’s not like he could argue with it. 

His heart beating outside his chest, Steve realized he very well could have a third seizure, or a panic attack if he didn’t calm the fuck down, so he went to hide behind a alley which just so happened to be behind a bar. 

That was fine. 

The music was dampened by the concrete wall and sometimes silence made Steve’s existential dread even worse. He missed his dog. Farrah was a white teacup chihuahua and Pomeranian mix that Steve had adopted from a shelter he had been volunteering at. She kept getting bullied for her size even when they put her in with the other babies, and the shelter asked someone to foster her. It was a foster fail but Steve didn’t regret it. 

Steve tried to think of her as he sat down, working on the deep breathing his therapist had told him about. Of course, Steve sat on the floor and got beer and gunk on his jeans, but he was so tired that he was past caring. 

A migraine was coming on, all of his bones hurt, and he had white spots dancing in his vision. His hands were shaking. It’s very possible he had a small seizure when he was getting here and he didn’t remember it, that happened sometimes. He really hoped Robin had done okay at school without him. They taught a kindergarten class together. He really should have called to get her an aid but it had slipped his mind and she was going to be pissed. 

He would just stay on the floor until he felt better. Then he’d call and apologize. 

He did remember to feed Farrah and she had some pads on his living room so she would be okay. When he got home he would give her a lot of treats. Maybe he would make Robin cupcakes. 

Steve’s nerves picked up when he heard someone open a door behind him. Luckily for him, he had a switchblade in his pocket (he got it from Max, and who knows where she got it from) so he could use that in case of an emergency if anyone tried to accost him. Then again, this was a bar, maybe they’d just think he was drunk and leave him alone. 

The jingling of a dog tag gets Steve’s attention, and suddenly he thinks he might actually cry if he doesn’t get to pet this dog right now. 

The person’s heavy footsteps get closer, the dog chain making cute clinking sounds, and Steve readily looks up to ask, even though his face is already red with embarrassment, because what if the person says no?

But then he sees the man’s thick-heeled boots, and then his leather jacket with all the metal spikes on the shoulders, and Steve thinks no, he doesn’t have to ask to pet the guys dog, and then he chokes when he realizes there isn’t any fucking dog. The man is wearing a collar. 

Steve tries to quickly shove his head between his legs, curl into a ball so the man might not notice him, but whatever sound he makes is enough to draw the guy's attention. Fuck. 

“Hey, what were you going to say? I saw you try to ask something.” The guys crouches down in front of Steve. Steve assumes the guy is going to beat him up for looking at him weird or something, but the man’s voice, while deep, is actually very calm. He has a few more chains hanging from his black jeans, which were absolutely shredded, and the clinking noise still reminds Steve of Farrah but now he’s embarrassed about it. Is he wearing fishnets under his jeans? Oh my god, Robin is going to kill Steve in the morning if this guy doesn’t kill him first. 

Steve thinks about answering but his words get clogged in his throat. Sure, he didn’t ask to pet the guy, but he thought about it, and his face burns and Steve wishes he could jump into the dumpster a few feet away. 

He must look weird, because the guy, already crouching down to him, gets closer until their knees are touching. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, very gently putting a heavily ringed hand on Steve’s arm. 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve sobbed, finally lifting his head to meet the guy's face. The dude’s hair is long, held up in a ponytail, which shows off the fact that he has an undercut with a pattern shaved on it. This man is absolutely terrifying, oh my God, how is Steve going to get out of this situation without dying? 

The guy's eyes widen at the words, but he keeps his movements slow as he places his hands against both of Steve’s trembling arms. Not constricting him, just pressing, just adding a bit of pressure. 

“You’re okay, I’m not angry.” The guy says soothingly, “You haven’t done anything. Why- why are you crying?” The guy’s voice goes high pitched, cracking a little. If Steve wasn’t so terrified, maybe he’d find it comforting. 

Steve doesn’t know what comes over him. He tells himself he’ll come up with something stupid, but his body hurts and lying takes a mental energy that Steve doesn’t have right now. His head pounds and the sound of his blood rushes past his ears. 

“Uh, I heard your collar and I thought you were a dog.” He whispered, putting his head between his knees again. “I was gonna ask to pet you. I’m so sorry.” He sounds absolutely mortified, which is good because he is. Why was he saying this? Steve was about to die and then Farrah would go back to the shelter and Robin would find another teacher and forget about him and no one would be able to teach Dustin to drive because he’s too annoying to keep a normal driving instructor- 

“You can pet me, if you want.” The guys interrupt Steve’s spiral. He moves so he’s sitting next to Steve, both their backs to the wall, his chains clinking all the while until their thighs are touching. Steve could briefly feel the dull spikes on the guys jacket pressing Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve’s brain completely blanks out. 

“…Uh-“ his hands are close to his chest, in fists, but mostly he’s just confused. Why is this guy being so nice to him? Steve thought he was a dog. He was never going to live this down. 

“I like petting.” The guy says, a small smirk on his face that brings charming wrinkles to his cheeks. Steve blushes. 

“Ca….” He can’t tell if the guy is serious, but the dude quickly pulls his hair out of his ponytail, shaking his head- like a dog. 

Maybe it’s just the seizure talking, but Steve tries to call his bluff. 

“Can I pet you?” Steve whispers, confusion and uncertainty lacing his shaking voice. 

“Yeah.” The dude replies calmly, tilting his head. 

Well, Steve realizes, now he kind of has to, doesn’t he? Shit. The guys hair looks really fucking soft. Steve’s allowed to touch it? 

Without knowing what else to do, Steve stiffly pats the guys on the head, which makes the guy laugh. Still, he doesn’t attempt to make Steve stop. In fact, he gets closer, until Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulder, playing with the hair on the crown of his head. Steve doesn’t really know what to do at first, but the dude smells really minty, but also like weed, and Steve doesn’t hate it as much as he thinks he should. He brushes his fingers through the guy's brown hair until there are no knots, letting his heart settle until the spots in his vision go away.

“So, what are you doing out here?” The guy asks quietly, letting Steve mess with his hair, his eyes are closed almost like he’s enjoying it. 

“I got lost.” Steve starts. The guy hums, so Steve continues. “I, uh, I had a few seizures this morning, and I got confused and got lost and I can’t find my phone or my glasses-“ Steve only realizes he’s rambling when the guy gives him a very concerned look. 

“Do I need to get you to a hospital?” He asks, clearly trying not to frighten Steve. 

“Oh? No, no, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Steve said, almost absently as he braided a small strand of the guy's hair. He tried to focus on that instead of the raging headache he has crawling up his spine. “I went to the emergency room already, this is normal, it happens a lot, it’s just been a bad day. I’m sorry.” 

He can feel the guy nod, his body relaxing slightly. His hand casually moves to touch Steve’s collar with the tips on his fingers, his short nails painted black. 

“Your glasses are on your shirt.” 

Steve looks down where his glasses were hanging off the collar of his sweater. He blanches. 

“Shit, thank you. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, hurriedly putting them on. His face goes hot, and he wants to sink into the floor. He might cry again, he was so embarrassed. 

“Can you call someone?” The guy asks, not bringing up the panic on Steve’s face, which Steve is mighty grateful for because bringing it up will make him cry, he thinks. 

Steve shakes his head, “I lost my phone. Sorry.” He chokes out. 

“Can I call someone?” The guy specifies. 

That’s a really good idea. Sure, it’s getting dark, but Robin always has time for him. She’s probably out of work and blowing up his phone trying to contact him. She might even have broken into Steve’s apartment by now. 

Steve closes his eyes, trying to push past the fog in his brain. The only thing it does is add pressure to the backs of his eyes. 

“I… I can’t remember any numbers right now, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He puts his hand over his mouth to stop himself from speaking. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The guy delicately pressed his palm to Steve’s shoulder, which draws attention to the fact that Steve’s breathing has sped up again. 

Steve gulps, blinking hard to stop himself from tearing up. He feels so fucking stupid. 

“Uh, with chronic seizures, there’s this thing, called a- uh, postictal state,” he tries to explain, voice way more breathy than he would like. He’s gripping maybe a bit too firmly to the frayed ends of the guy’s hair but he makes no move to stop him. “Which I like to say just means my brain hasn’t, hasn’t caught up to my body, like it’s, um, still processing.“

The guy nods, taking Steve’s rambling with grace. “Do you like champurrado?” He asks, Steve opens his mouth, closing it, opening it again. The guy nods, hurrying to explain himself. 

“We could go to my apartment and I could make you some. You look like you could eat. I made albondigas yesterday. When you can remember, we’ll call someone.” 

Steve really shouldn’t. This guy has already been too nice to him. Steve didn’t want to impose. Also, the guy was very kind, yeah, but Robin would kill him if he got hurt following this dude somewhere. But then Steve takes stock of the aches in his body. If he didn’t go with the guy, what would he do? Sit here all night? It was going to get cold and Steve’s anxiety wouldn’t let him sleep outside in the dark in an alleyway behind a bar playing very loud, aggressive metal music. 

Steve sighs, defeated. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry.” He felt like he was doing something wrong. 

The guys smile brightly, almost blindingly so. He stands, chains jingling, and holds out a hand for Steve to take it. 

“You gotta stop saying sorry, man, you just had what, two seizures? It’s fi- holy shit.” 

The man’s hands were soft, which Steve wasn’t expecting, save for a few well placed calluses on his fingers. Steve tried not to think about it as he stood and wiped some gunk off his jeans, staring at the messy floor before figuring out something was wrong. He looked up, and the dude was staring up at Steve with his eyes wide, mouth agape. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Steve whispers, folding in on himself a little. What the fuck did he do now? 

The music rages on, but now it’s overwhelming. He feels static in his head. 

The guy’s heavily tattooed arms were held limply at his sides, “You- you’re really fucking tall.” He says unabashedly. 

Steve gulps, trying to shrink a little to make himself smaller, like that may alleviate the problem. Unfortunately, thought he did this often, It did mean he had terrible posture so his neck began to hurt. 

“Oh, I’m really sorry.” Steve wouldn’t look at him. 

“Why are you apologizing? It’s hot.” The guy says, Steve’s head shoots up to look at him as they stare at each other until the dude realizes what he just said. “Wait, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” The guy puts his hands up, a nervous huff coming out past his lips as he was the one to start panicking now. 

Steve can’t help but let out a small laugh, covering his mouth with his hands. He’s never had someone say he’s hot in such a way, he couldn’t help but be a bit flattered.  Steve nods so the dude knows he isn’t upset by the random comment. Steve’s face was already red, and now he couldn’t even tell why. 

The guy’s eyes brighten, if that were possible. 

“Okay, let’s go. I’m Eddie.” He says, motioning for Steve to follow him. It takes a second for Steve to get the memo, with how slow his brain is working, so Eddie cautiously takes Steve’s arm in the way Steve watches men do in old movies. 

“I’m Steve. Thank you.” Steve, honest to God, giggled. Maybe he should be worrying about his dad and the fight he had with his mother, but he tries not to think about it. They’re not his problem, and he has better things to do. 

He does have to look down to see Eddie’s face when they’re not sitting, but that’s normal for Steve. He’s a few heads taller than most people he knows, and he works with kids so he’s obviously taller than them. He kind of just forgets, most of the time. No one else has mentioned it. His height was why he was so popular in high school before the seizures and anxiety messed it all up, though Steve is grateful he isn’t a bitch anymore. He’s only about a head and a half taller than Eddie, though. 

Eddie laughs, and it’s a cracky, beautiful sound. “You’re welcome, big boy.” 

Steve squints at Eddie as he leads him down the street. “Big boy?” He asks. As they get farther from the bar, there are less and less people out on the streets. No one jostles Steve, though, probably on account of the guy next to him, covered head to toe in spikes with black eye makeup. 

“Really? Do you not see how large you are?” Eddie continued, looking up at Steve like he was insane as he led him to the left, then the right. “It’s honestly kind of scary.”

“Me?” Steve wasn’t scary, this guy had it wrong. Sure, he was big, but nothing about him was frightening. Steve couldn’t remember the last person he met who actually looked afraid of him. None of his students ever were. 

“Yeah, you!” 

“I’m not scared.” Steve protested, though he was also smiling. “If anything, you’re scary.” 

Eddie throws his head back dramatically, covering his face with his curly hair. The bandana in his back pockets whips around.

“Why thank you.” Eddie grins, “Just so you know, flattery works on me.” He continued until they got to what appeared to be Eddie’s apartment building. Steve held on to his arm tighter. Eddie's dramatics calm him a little. 

“I have a dog, so you can pet a real one.” Eddie teases, unlocking the door with his free arm. “Her name is Ozzy, she’s a Doberman Great Dane mix, so I hope big dogs don’t scare you. I promise she’s not violent.” There’s something in his voice that tells Steve there’s something else. 

Steve smiles softly, “She sounds perfect.”

[saturnville]

t- shirt, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x malika (black fem oc) content: in which wearing his shirt brings her comfort. warnings: 18+ steam + sexual situations and descriptions song reference: t-shirt by destiny's child wc: 1.5k

In-season was her least favorite season. Sure, she enjoyed seeing her partner in his element--world champion and multi-title holder leaving his heart on the track. But, the innermost parts of her, the selfish parts of her, hated when he was gone. It had been over 14 days since she’d seen him and she was losing patience as the days went on. 

She could travel financially, but leaving her students behind was not a sacrifice she could make frequently. The life of a professor, she noted. So, while he was in another country with timezone hours ahead, she sat on his side of the bed, propped against a pillow that smelled like his hair products, twiddling the rings around her left finger and staring at reruns of old reality television shows.

The quart of ice cream was long forgotten and she almost regretted finishing her chips so early on in the day. She hummed softly and tapped her fingertips against the remote, the tips of her nails singing an unclear tune. 

Her phone buzzed rhythmically along the side table. Her eyes darted toward the screen. Lover flashed across the screen in bright white letters. Her heart leaped as she swiped her phone from the table and answered in one breath. 

“Hi,” she greeted cheerfully. She was laser-focused on his face as it came into view. He was looking toward the right and she caught the most beautiful view of his side profile. The sun of the country he was in seemed to do him well as his complexion was deeper but just as stunning as it always had been. His earrings glistened beneath the lights of the bedside lamp. Her eyes traced the tattoo across his neck and wondered how long it’d be until she’d trace it with her lips. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” The hat he wore covered his eyes, but she caught a glimpse of them as he adjusted the camera angle. They were so big and brown, just sparkling and full of contentment. Her body warmed. 

She smiled bashfully and her cheeks warmed at the nickname. It would never get old and she loved it just as much as she did years ago. She propped her phone against the empty ice cream pint and shuffled toward the headboard. “How was today?” 

“It was good, I can’t complain. How was yours?” He then mirrored her actions and propped his phone on a nearby surface. He looked comfy, she noted. Dressed in the sweatpants she purchased for Christmas and an oversized shirt. 

“I miss you,” she said shortly. Her husband turned his head and cooed softly, reassuring her that he’d be back with her in due time. His adventures were soon ending, and within a day, he would be right where he was before he left--with her. She wasn’t amused, however. “I know, I know.” 

“Cheer up, love,” he tapped the screen with his index finger. “Flight leaves soon; give me a few more hours and I’m all yours. Promise.”

She raised an eyebrow to confirm his promise. He raised his pink to the sky and brought it toward the phone. She did the same. “Promise. Get some rest, I’ll see you soon, alright? I love you.” 

She exchanged the same sentiments, blew a kiss, and hung up the phone. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. 

-

Her favorite article of clothing gripped her frame in a way that reminded her of his hands. He wore a simple short-sleeved, navy blue tee shirt often, but she swiped whenever she had the opportunity. It cuffed at the sleeves and his scent was etched within the threads. Normally, the sweater fit loosely on him, but with the fullness of her hips and the plushness of her belly, it clenched her sides comfortably in a way that both he and herself enjoyed.

She was wrapped in her favorite gray blanket. It was a recent gift he bought for her at random. She remembered him telling her he was eyeing it when he was out and about and knew she’d love it, and love it she did.

She fisted the blanket underneath her chin and leaned further into her pillow, her eyes trained on the television ahead of her that was playing an episode of Graceland. The show kept her company while her husband handled business. 

She hoped he would be home at a decent hour, but it was going on at midnight and she had yet to hear his car entering the garage. She sighed deeply, at least he’d have something for dinner when he came home. She had the intention of sharing a good dinner with him and cuddling the night away, but those plans were diminishing as the minutes ticked by.

Temporarily, she tore her eyes away from the television screen and swiped her hand along the bed in search of her phone. She sent him a quick text.

Malika

I miss you, baby

It took only a few moments for her phone to alert her of a message from him. A smile graced her lips.

Hubby

I miss you too. Packing up the car; I’ll be home soon. Another 30 minutes, baby.

Malika

K, be safe. I love you

Hubby

Love you more.

She then tossed her phone to the side and resumed watching her show until her husband arrived. She didn’t realize sleep almost had its grasp on her until she heard the robotic voice of the alarm system and a key rattling within the door lock. She flicked the blanket off her body and sat up slowly, stretching her tired limbs. She swung her feet over the bed and slowly padded out of the bedroom and down the dark steps.

She followed where the light led and saw her husband leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes staring at the timer on the microwave.

“Hi,” she squealed out softly, making Lewis turn his head. His braids, tied in a ponytail under his cap, swung slowly. He smiled at her, dropped his arms, and beckoned her near. “My gorgeous girl…” he said lowly, running his fingers across her sprawled hair. His hand traveled down her face and his thumb traced her lips. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

“Mhm,” she hummed. She pulled away just slightly and eyed his physique with no shame. Her husband was a good-looking man and she enjoyed basking in his beauty. He tilted his head to the side, noticing her lowering eyes and swaying body. “Sleepy?” Malika nodded. While her day wasn’t as long as his, she was tired. Being a professor wasn’t for the weak and she couldn’t be convinced otherwise. 

“Get in bed, love,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands along her arms. She shook her head. “I will when you come upstairs.” She missed him so much and just wanted to be near him.

The microwave beeped behind them.

“I’ll stay down here,” Malika insisted, pulling away from him to sit at the dining room table. “tell me about your day. You raced well.”

His smile was charming as he swirled his food around with his fork and recapped the days he spent away. Of course, there was sightseeing, food tasting, drinking, and fellowship, but it was still work. So, none of the frustrations about the car, the managers, and other stressors were bypassed during their discussion. He even let it slip that a group of enchanted fans had a minuscule concept of personal space, especially about a married man. Malika shrugged. It came with the territory and as long as her husband knew how to handle it, that was her primary concern. 

“Well, baby, some people are bolder than others. They can look but never can they touch.” Malika giggled, leaning forward on her elbows. He took a bite and nodded with pursed lips. He’d be damned. 

Lewis leaned back in the seat and dropped his hands to his lap. He smiled for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. He said, “I feel like I’m talking about me too much and not enough of you. How was your day?”

Malika shook him off, enjoying hearing his voice after only getting a good morning, have a good day, and I love you before they both had to rush out of the door for their jobs. “I like hearing about your day.”

“Nothing arguing with managers and being in a hot suit for hours is amusing, baby,” he chuckled. “how’d that test go with the students?”

Malika’s students had a test over legal precedents and the historical events that prompted their passing and implementation into law. Most of them passed, which fueled her pride but also made her realize that she needed to change her methods in one way or another to ensure the other three students who struggled got the help they needed. The course was difficult and it should have been, but she was willing to make changes once she received feedback from the students.

“They did so well,” Malika gushed. “except three, so I need to talk to them, but I’m glad everything went smoothly. I was nervous, this was the first test I’ve given.” Being a new professor at the collegiate level, (after having dropped out of her doctoral program and then returning), she was nervous about how good she’d be as an educational instructor, but the growth of her students proved that she was great at her job.

Lewis caught how her eyes gleamed with pride as she spoke about and smiled softly. He was more proud of her progress over the last years, seeing that her hard work had been paid off. He took her hand into his as his lips brushed over her knuckles. “Proud of you, my love.” Malika gushed and thanked him. They spent a few minutes going into more miscellaneous details of their days before standing to take refuge in their bedroom.

His eyes followed her frame as he closed the door behind him. “Is that my shirt?” He asked, closing the door behind him. Malika turned over her shoulder with a small smile. She nodded and pulled back the comforters. 

“It is,” she replied. “as much as I like it on you, I think it looks better on me.” She turned towards him. “Might look even better on the floor though.” His eyebrows lifted in interest. The look on her face was teasing. Her eyes sparkled with familiar mischief, the corner of her lips was raised, and her eyebrow quipped slightly. Her fingers danced along the hem of his shirt, curling along the edge to lift it, but, his quick strides and strong hands stopped her. 

He stood in front of her at the side of the bed. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but the confidence he possessed and his muscular frame gave the allusion that he towered over her. The warmth in his eyes grew hot and flames threatened to burn her insides. She could feel her loins stir with desire the longer their eyes stayed on one another. 

“You sure?” he asked, replacing her hands with his own. His palms were warm as they slid up her thighs, slid over her bottom, and gripped firmly. Her eyes fluttered closed and a whisper, yes, came from her. He hummed and hooked his finger around the thin panties that covered absolutely nothing. He pulled. She yelped. “On the bed.”

Malika moved faster than lightning. She brought her hands to her hair and prepared to pull her locs into a ponytail, but her husband’s headshake of disapproval made her arms fall. She’d forgotten how much he loved them. She laid on her back, hair sprawled against the pillows, chest heaving in anticipation, and thighs shaking from the sight of him alone. 

He was now above her, pulling the black headband off his head. He tossed it across the room. His shirt followed. Malika couldn’t resist reaching out to caress his skin. Her fingertips traced the large compass in the middle of his chest. They trickled downward toward the waistband of his pants, which they tugged on roughly. “Careful, darling.” His tone was teasing but she wasn’t in the mood for games. 

“Just love on me, please.” Always prepared to please, he took her hands in his, brushed his lips over the knuckles, then pulled his shirt over her body, dropping it on the floor. Even though they’d been together for years and love-making was not uncommon, he was in awe every time he looked at her. As a result, she felt shy under his gaze, still in awe about the fact that he loved her, all of her. 

“I love you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear as he gave her everything she wanted. The intensity, the passion, the desire. It had her writhing and shaking beneath him, all a beautiful sight to see. Her mouth was open and her lips damp from her tongue darting out to moisturize them. Her neck stretched as she struggled to stay still, her skin decorated with small marks that would bruise by the morning. And her eyes, her big brown eyes were glossy as her end was near.  “My pretty girl. You love me, baby?” 

Words were caught in her throat and all she could manage was a nod. Lewis tsked. “I asked you a question, love.” He slowed his movements, which pulled a sorrowful sigh from her. His eyebrow quipped. 

“Yes, yes! I love you, baby! Always…” 

Her confessions brought him to an end he wasn’t expecting to reach so quickly. Malika whimpered quietly as her husband worked her down from the high she rode. Slowly, her eyes opened and he smiled dopily, caressing her lover’s face with trembling hands. 

The gaze they held was filled with so much love and adoration. They looked like the lovesick teenagers they were when they met years ago, so enamored and full of one another. After some time, she said hoarsely, “I’m glad you’re home.” 

He pressed his lips against her cheek. “Me too, baby.”

Surrounded by the remnants of their love-making, they found solace in each other's embrace. With whispered words of affection and tender caresses, they whispered sweet nothings to one another before fatigue covered them like a blanket. They held to each other tightly, refusing to loosen their grip. Their love would always be their sanctuary, the stronghold that kept them bound together, always.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hiya hiya! Once again congratulations on 500! I was wondering if I could request a fic with Isagi and handholding! Idk hand holding sounds very romantic so I would love to see how you’ll write it!

── PATHWAYS

Synopsis: You go on a walk with your boyfriend while he’s on a break from the intense training of Blue Lock.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Isagi x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.1k

Content Warnings: fluff, isagi is lowkey a simp, slight rin and nagi slander (i love them though i promise)

A/N: EEK i’m sorry this took me a sec anon!! i’ve never written for isagi before so this was def smth new which is why it took me a bit to get in the right headspace. i hope it’s okay for you <3

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It was colder outside than you had expected. Isagi, who was wearing a coat and had a scarf wrapped around his neck, didn’t seem bothered by the temperature, but as for you, you were miserably trying to hide your shivers, pulling your sweater tighter around yourself to disguise it. He had told you that it was chilly, and you had ignored his warning, so it was now your burden to bear.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Isagi said, white clouds forming in the air from the heat of his breath. “I missed you a lot the entire time I was there.”

“I missed you, too,” you said. “I know we were able to talk a few times on your one friend’s phone, but it wasn’t the same.”

Isagi wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get my own back. I really tried my best. I wanted to talk to you as much as I could, to make up for our physical distance.”

“It’s okay. The fact that you were willing to take care of all of your teammate’s sweaty, gross laundry just to get the chance to call me for a couple of minutes means more to me than anything,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked along the side of the dirt path connecting your house to the nearest park.

“That was definitely a sacrifice,” he said, gagging from just the memory. “I’d do it again for you, but it was really horrible, Y/N. It’s bad enough dealing with my own clothes after matches, but adding Nagi’s to the mix…it was brutal, to say the least.”

“My poor boyfriend,” you said. “I’m so lucky to have someone who’s willing to endure so much for me. I must’ve been a really good person in my last life.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “To be honest, I was kind of scared you’d find someone else while I was gone. It would only make sense, right? How could a girl as beautiful as you not have a million other options? It would be pretty easy for you to forget about me and move on.”

“Would you forget about me and move on if the roles were reversed?” you said, your teeth chattering. Isagi’s eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing behind his dark hair.

“No way!” he said, shrugging off his coat and draping it around your shoulders. “I’d never, ever do that. I still can’t believe I’m dating you at all!”

“You’re so goofy,” you said. “Hey, don’t give me this. Won’t you get cold?”

“Nah, I’m tough. What kind of number-one striker gets defeated by some wind?” he said. You hummed appreciatively, zipping up the large jacket and rejoicing in the warmth it instantly provided you with.

“Number-one striker, and the hero of Blue Lock, I’m told,” you said. His cheeks turned pink.

“That, too,” he said.

“It’s all everyone at school talks about. One day, you just randomly disappeared, and no one but me knew where you had gone. Then suddenly, you were on TV, making the winning goal in one of the most exciting matches of soccer any of us had ever seen! I feel like the girlfriend of a celebrity,” you said.

“You should get used to it,” he said. “I’m only going to get better from here. I’ll be a World Cup winner next, and since you’re stuck with me, you’re going to have to deal with everything that that entails.”

“Stuck with you?” you said. He reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly, holding up your interlaced fingers so that he could admire them.

“Do you see your hand?” he said, very seriously. 

“I see it,” you said.

“And you see mine?” he continued.

“Mhm,” you said. As always, his were warm, compared to the iciness of your extremities. He liked to joke that it meant the two of you were made for each other, only able to reach the perfect temperature when you were together.

“That’s us,” he said. “We’re going to be like that forever.”

“Goofy and cheesy? What a lethal combination,” you said, shaking your head.

His palm was callused and rough against yours, a proof of how hard he worked. He was always like that, you had noticed even upon first meeting him, always doing the best he could in any given situation, making up for any disadvantages with the sheer force of his will alone. It was nice to have that tangible reminder of who he was pressed against you, so you made no move to let go of his hand even after his little demonstration had concluded.

“I know,” he said. “And my jokes are really bad. But you like that about me, right?”

“I do,” you said. “Your jokes aren’t terrible, though. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“They make you laugh, so I guess they can’t be that bad,” he said. “Although everyone in Blue Lock hated them. One time, my friend Bachira threw a shoe at me for being unfunny, and Rin Itoshi called me a lukewarm NPC for trying to cheer him up with a pun.”

“If anyone is an NPC, it’s him, just for unironically calling someone that,” you said. “They just don’t understand you, Isagi. It’s okay; true art is never appreciated by the masses.”

“That’s right. As long as you’re happy, I don’t mind if they detest me,” he said. You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Should we get sour gummies at the convenience store? It’s been forever since I had some,” he said, his entire face turning red. It was funny — he would declare his love to you in the most cliched of ways and entirely on a whim, but if you ever reciprocated, he would shut down entirely. Like he said, he really still couldn’t believe that you both were actually together, that in fact you had been together for months now, and so he often acted like a little kid with his first crush whenever he was around you.

“Sounds like a good idea. I’ve been craving some myself,” you said.

“Okay! Let’s go. I’ll race you!” he said, taking off at a run, though contrary to his challenging words, he pulled you along, careful to keep your hands connected as you giggled and stumbled after him.

You had missed him, so much more than you could ever verbalize. You had spent every day that he was gone thinking about him, his spontaneity, his wide smile and his kindness, the gentle way he always spoke to you, how easily taking care of you came to him.

Running towards the convenience store alongside him, you held onto his hand tightly, as much for balance as because you couldn’t imagine letting go. 

[ludicdoll]

𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

farleigh start ☆

pairing: farleigh start x fem!reader

contents: american reader, smoking, soft farleigh, very slight angst, fluff

synopsis: you and farleigh smoke under the sunset, reminiscing on your exciting summer.

a/n: go listen to weak for your love by thee sacred souls nowww

you sigh against the warm breeze, staring up into the golden sky. your summer was coming to an end, which means you would have to leave saltburn, which means you would have to go back home to america. you thought you wouldn’t care when summer ended, in fact you were excited to go back home—but now everything’s changed. your summer started out with felix inviting you after the graduation party. he said “everyone will miss you if you leave so early.” he was definitely just trying to make you feel better, but you caved in on his offer anyway. on the first day you arrived at the estate, elspeth almost immediately claimed you as one of her own children.

she was a very sincere woman, her blonde hair was always pinned up to frame her classic face, and her clothes always reflected her wealth. you were so intimidated by the catton’s at first, but as you got to know them better, you realized they’re quite normal. sure—the family heirloom art pieces on the walls and their 200 acres of land weren’t normal, but on the surface of their personalities, they were just average people who happened to be blessed with money. during your stay at the mansion, you found yourself talking to farleigh more often. at oxford you and farleigh never talked much, only sharing occasional glances from across lecture halls. you shared the same friend group with him due to felix and got along surprisingly well.

you both had witty personalities, a stubborn flare, and incredible fashion tastes. you recall your first real conversation with farleigh. it was on your first night at saltburn during dinner. you were seated next to him and gossiped the whole time about annabel and felix’s situationship. you laughed and smiled at his words and he seemed to be feeling just as amused as you were. now and then you would have your petty, harmless arguments, but nothing too extreme. in the midst of all of the catton’s chaos, you and farleigh found peace in each other. slowly, he even opened up a little to you. he talked about his mom, claiming that he was scared that if he left england, he would never get an ounce of money again. you pitied him truthfully. however, he was also incredibly smart, he just never bothered to show it.

farleigh also loved literature, he would roll his eyes at you whenever you’d call him a nerd but he enjoyed classics, drama, mysteries, romance, almost everything and anything. you would think that him living a chaotic, party filled lifestyle meant that he never had any time to pick up on any other hobbies or interests, but he did. he learned french and was surprisingly good at it, he didn’t speak it fluently—but he knew enough to hold up a conversation with someone random.

you sit in your window nook, closing your book and placing down on the cushion, staring out of the cracked window as you ash your cigarette out of the open panes. it’s mid september, the weather was slightly cool, but the humidity from the light rain earlier had made it slightly warmer. you raise your fingers to you mouth, dragging out the smoke from your cigarette. you lean your head back against the wall, closing your eyes as you breathe in the air around you. suddenly, you’re awoken by a knock on your door. “come in!” you call out as a head of curls poke through the door. farleigh smiles before closing the door behind him and walking over to you. he’s wearing a dark navy ralph lauren cable knit sweater (very fitting for him) and black trousers. he looked like he just got back home from something. “having your main character moment, i see?” he teases as he sits down across from you in the nook. you roll your eyes, softly shaking your head with a laugh. he grins, looking down at the book in your lap.

farleigh reaches over, grabbing it before reading the title outloud. “one hundred years of solitude,” he repeats. “how are you just now reading this?” you snatch the book out of his hand before placing it back down next to you. “oh, i’m sorry i’m not a nerd like you.” you reply mockingly. farleigh gives you a deadpan expression before cocking his head to the side, staring at you with low eyes. he readjusts himself in the cushion, scooting closer to the where his legs were touching yours. “venetia won’t be able to shut up when you leave.” he mutters. you turn, smiling weakly. you’ll miss her too, you’ll miss everyone when you’re gone. the two of you sit in silence for a minute, soaking in the beautiful shift in colors within the sky. you pull a cigarette out of its box next to you, offering it to him. he stares at you, almost like he was hesitating to take it or not. of course, he couldn’t decline so he swiftly took it out of your fingers.

you grab your lighter and ignite the flame by his lips. he immediately groans quietly, a wave of relief glowing across his face. “where were you all day?” you ask. “you just disappeared during brunch.” farleigh blows a thin line of smoke out of his mouth, shrugging. “the pub.” he looks over your empty room, biting down on his bottom lip. you used to have so many posters and polaroids littered across your walls, but you had already packed all of your stuff—leaving the room blank. “god, it’s so boring in here now.” he says. his breath suddenly hitches when he sees your suitcase in the corner of the room, packed and ready for your leave. you notice this and reach over to touch his shoulder.

in an attempt to lighten the mood, you rub at his arm. “aw, you gonna miss me, far?” you ask with an exaggerated sad face. farleigh scoffs, chuckling softly at your expression. “mmm, don’t get ahead of yourself.” you giggle, turning your head to look at the sky above you. you had made so many memories here, so many friends you wouldn’t be able to replace back in the states. a part of you wished you could stay in england, but another part of you missed your home. “do you remember the first time we met?” farleigh breaks the silence suddenly. you glance over at him, raising a brow. “it was at felix’s acceptance party. you showed up wearing a bold silver sequin skirt, very bold.” you cringe as you recall your odd fashion choices in your first year at oxford.

“oh god, don’t remind me.” you cry out as you pinch your nose bridge with a defeated sigh. farleigh laughs, exhaling the smoke out of the window. “truly … it was definitely the talk of the night.” he adds on to make you wince further. you raise a hand, waving it in front of him, hoping he’d stop talking. “but—i liked your outfit that night. i thought that you had to be interesting if you were wearing that.”

“really?” you ask. he nods, a smirk dancing on his lips. you sit up, leaning closer to him. you stare up at farleigh through your lashes, cocking your head to the side. “and was i interesting?”

farleigh seems to get a rise out of this sudden confidence from you. he leans down closer as well, just inches away from your face. “mhm,” he hums as he raises his cigarette back up to his mouth. you can’t help but stare at his pink lips as he takes a long drag. the two of you exchange quiet glances, a thick tension rising in the air. “whatever shall i do without you?” he teases as he leans back on his palm. “well, i’m not leaving until tomorrow morning.” you glance over at the grand clock in the corner of the room before turning back to meet farleigh’s gaze. “—we still have a couple more hours together.”

“yea? it’s not enough.” he muttered the last part quietly, but loud enough for you to dicipher. farleigh looked so soft under the sunset, the rays of pink light illuminating his face perfectly. your stomach suddenly flips, a wave of heat spreading to your face. he looked almost angelic in a way. you never thought about your right dynamic with farleigh. others around you would often say you and farleigh were close, maybe a little too close. you liked sitting in his lap and he liked holding you, not like it was im a sexual manner, you just genuinely enjoyed his touch. it was purely platonic to you from the start. but as you spent more time with him, you realized his demeanor would get you a nervous mess at times.

you thought you didn’t like farleigh, but the fuzzy feeling that would overtake you would make you squirm under his stare. it made you feel like you were twelve again with your first crush. “maybe we could just spend the next few hours talking.” farleigh says. you blink, examining in his soft features. the longer you stared, the more you’d notice certain aspects of him face you never acknowledged before—like how he had very faint fading freckles in the summer, or that one curl that would fall on his forehead perfectly. you nod in response to his suggestion before leaning back to your original position. for the next two hours, you and farleigh just sit there, rambling on about everything you could think of. your conversation ranged from shit talking to philosophy, then to the planets orbiting around us. you talked so long to the point where the sun started to set, slowly dipping below the horizon with a burst of pinks and oranges. you grab at his arm, gasping quietly as you gaze up at the sky. “look!” you point out. he raises a brow, glancing back and forth between you and the sunset. “what?”

“the sky!” you say in an obvious tone. “happens everyday, nothing new.” he says nonchalantly as he releases himself from your grip, resting his head against the window. you groan, smacking his arm with the back of your hand. “okay, well it’s my last sunset in england.” you turn your body fully so it’s facing the window, legs crossed underneath you as you put out your cigarette. you feel the cushions slowly sink when farleigh scoots closer. he places his head on your shoulder, sighing quietly. “m’gonna miss you.” his voice is low, rough but smooth at the same time. you tilt your head to look at him, giggling at his sudden honesty. “i’m serious,” farleigh picks his head back up from your shoulder, tracing his thumb along your jaw.

his eyes flicker back and forth from your eyes to your lips, his face show a look of contemplation. for a moment, you wish he would come back to america with you. the thought of him living with you didn’t bother you. in fact, it sounded perfect. he was a genuine person—and yes, he was a bitch but he was truthful and sweet when he wanted to be. “i wish i could stay longer.” you whisper. farleigh trails his thumb up to your bottom lip, tilting closer to you. “you could,” he says. you laugh awkwardly, “i’m sure the catton’s are sick of me though.”

“i’m not.”

you stare up at him, his dark eyes boring into yours. he looks so vulnerable right now, so calm and content. it was a rare occurrence if you saw farleigh not gushing out insults left and right. his voice made you shiver, goosebumps lining your skin with each syllable that left his pretty mouth. “i—i don’t want you to go.” farleigh stutters out with a soft sigh in a way that sounded like it was ashamed of admitting it. before you could respond, his lips crash onto yours. his pace is frantic at first then it softens, kisses delicate and slow. farleigh’s hand on your jaw trails around to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, pulling him close to your body. you could feel his warmth radiating off of yours, it was so sudden. you never expected to be making out with the farleigh start. there’s so many things running through your mind, but they all vanish into clouds as you melt against his soft lips. your stomach flutters rapidly, a slight buzz rising to your head. he grins into the kiss, a shitfaced grin at that. farleigh slips his tongue in your mouth, the subtle taste of liquor on him.

“far—” you whimper through labored breathing. he slows, pulling away from the kiss as he rests his forehead against yours. his hand falters from the back of your head to your neck. “fuck, you don’t understand what you do to me.” you crane up, looking at him with doe eyes. “please stay. just for a little while.” he begs, brows furrowed with worry as he laces his fingers into yours. you swallow, glancing over at the packed suitcase on the floor. you peer back up at farleigh, a small smile tugging on your lips. “please.” he repeats.

“okay,” you breathe out, “i’ll stay for a little longer.”

© please do not publish my work on other sites.

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 8th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: Day eight, are you still around? I would be excited for you to be, and the next person behind the door is, too, I am pretty sure of that! Thank you so much for your time, I appreciate it! Do you like the holiday season, by the way?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Alex (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3649 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: it is very domestic until its not, dirty talk, free use, degredation, teasing, manhandling, creampie, pining for you, mentions of exhibitionism.

Decorating your home with you had something so entirely domicile about it that it pulled at his heartstrings. Seeing you walk around in a Winterstar Sweater made by his beloved grandma, lovingly decorating the windowsills and the fireplace, even hanging up little ornaments all over the house – it just did something to him. The house smelled like hot cocoa and pine needles from the tree he had just set up in your living room and he heard Winterstar music play in the background, only adding on to these already strong feelings. Your eyes were shining so sweetly, making him sigh out loud. Yoba, he was in love with you. He had always thought that he was the happiest working out, and then you had come along, taking his emotions and giving them a good swirl. He remembered the day he had realized that he was in love with you – Granny Evelyn had been worried because he had had refused his breakfast. And now, look you, look at him. He was wearing a matching sweater, following you throughout the house with a box of decorations like a dutiful puppy.

You loved the winter holidays. Alex did, too, but even more so did he love you being absolutely in love with the season. He hadn’t minded sitting on the couch for hours to cut out some DIYs you had seen on Pinterest, had watched every soppy movie that had made you swoon, and now he was helping you place ornaments on the tree. “You sure chose a big one this year,” you chuckled, looking up at the tree. Alex puffed out his chest in joy, grinning at you wiggling his eyebrows. “Well, you’ve got a big living room and a big boyfriend. It only made sense that you get a big tree, too,” he grinned, reaching into the box to pick out a new ornament, just for his hand to come back empty. “Seems like we are out of decoration.” “Only the star is missing,” you told him, cradling it in your hands with such a care that it made his heart swell. You held it toward him, nodding to the tip of the tree. “Can you put it on? I won’t be able to reach it,” you smiled, eyes catching the fairy lights wrapped around the tree. Oh, Yoba. He just loved you. “I know a way to fix that,” he cooed, not allowing you to inquire about his hint, instead wrapping his big arms around your legs, lifting you high enough in the air for you to reach the top of the tree. The squeal that left you made him chuckle, pressing you firmly to his body – there was no way in hell that he would drop you, after all. “Can you reach it?” He asked when he didn’t feel you move after all, cheek pressed against your bare legs. Another nice perk of visiting you at your house, you didn’t usually bother wearing pants, especially when your top was long enough to cover your crotch, like the sweater did. Don’t blame the maker, though! She only had had Alex as a reference, which meant that the sweater reaching your thighs had been accepted with a hearty laugh. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, making Alex’s eyebrow quirk. What had gotten you so shy all of a sudden? His head tilted upward, and that’s when he saw it. You weren’t wearing pants, yeah, he knew that one. And it had seemed like you hadn’t bothered to put on panties, either. The way blood rushed to your boyfriend’s cock should have made him feel ashamed – the grey sweats that had been comfortable just moments before suddenly feeling like a prison. “You are…” “I know,” you laughed awkwardly, brain not taking long to realize what he had seen. Something else that didn’t take long was you finding yourself pressed against a wall, Alex’s muscular arms boxing you in with ease. “You did know that I was comin’ ‘round today, didntcha?” “Y-eah,” you murmured, lower lip caught between two sets of pearly whites, still a little breathless, too, with how fast you had been man-handled into this new position. “And you still decided not to wear panties?” He asked on, his thick thigh urging yours open to comfortably take position between them. “I-“ you began, swallowing thickly. Alex tilted his head, his fingers having found your nipples through the wool of the sweater, giving the nub a gentle pinch. Fuck, you were so hot, and you being flustered only added to it. “You?” He asked, his hand on its way to trail down further, hooking under the fabric of the hoodie, finding your clit with ease. Throbby little nob made your hips buck for the attention, you sweet little thing. Had you been waiting for this? He was pretty sure you had been waiting for this because the moment his finger traced through your folds, collecting wet and slick on the pad of his finger. Definitely waiting for this, huh?" He asked lowly, the tip of his dick tapping against your folds again, making your thighs twitch around his hips a second time. “Yes…,” you pouted, kissing at his jaw, wanting to add something else when suddenly, you could finally feel his thick head press against your needy fuckhole. “To do things like this?” He breathed, pushing his hips forward, urging your gummy walls to open for him. Fuck, yes. Exactly this was what you had been hoping for.

You let out a sigh that was very well bordering on a moan, but Alex wasn’t done asking questions yet. “Ready for me at all times, that’s what you fucking want? To be stuffed to. The. Brim?” He hissed, taking you by surprise as he suddenly sunk balls deep inside of you, cruelly stretching you thin with one swift movements. You squeaked out loudly, your fingernails digging into Alex’s broad shoulders, as you tried to at least adjust a little. “That’s what you had in mind, wasn’t it?” He whispered dirtily, pressing a short kiss into your neck, before letting your lips clutter together. He was kind enough to stay still for a moment, but brats like you needed to learn a lesson, right? You had been keeping this for Yoba knew how long, after all. Making him find out when decorating the damn tree, too. Your lips accepted his  greedily, your tongue tracing over them in a silent apology, but the man wouldn’t take it. Not just yet. Not even when your pussy felt so good around him, clinging and sucking him off already, and he hadn’t even started moving yet. He would show you that he hadn’t been the only one missing out, he decided, pulling back his hips a little, just to sink forward again, stretching you just as thin as before. He messed around with that feeling a little, allowing your pussy to relax just a little before having to wrap around him completely again. The little moans and whines you gave him, combined with those little begs for more fell on deaf ears as Alex kept fucking you like this, the only difference he had started to make was pulling out further, his lips finding spots on your neck to suckle hickeys into. “Just decided to fucking run around without panties and didn’t tell me…fuck, babe, you are a fucking brat,” he snarled, making you pout again. “I just-“ “You just?” He hissed, hazel eyes finding yours again, and he finally, finally picked up speed. His pelvis snapped against yours as his cock bullied your wet walls open, your butt smacking against the wall whenever his crotch smacked against yours. Your eyes rolled, the ability to speak being replaced by moaning throatily. He was rougher now, too, pounding your little fuckhole with those precise, hard fucks that had the room spinning.

A grin had found its way on Alex’s face – he just loved watching you falling apart on the length of his dick. “Can’t fucking answer today, can you? Slutty enough to not wear panties around the house but not able to answer, is that how it goes? I will give you a fucking reason not to answer,” Alex growled, hands falling onto your hips to pin you tight against the wall as he thrusted into you, stuffing your cunt with hard and bullying thrusts. He just couldn’t help himself – not when you looked so beautiful when he bottomed out inside of you, not when your eyes rolled like this when he gave you another quick snap of his hips. Not when you sounded so, so good together, with your cunt squelching sloppily, not when you took him so. Fucking. Good. A small groan left his lips as he tucked his face into the safety of your neck, his fingernails digging into your hips. You just felt so fucking good, it was fucking breathtaking, making him pant into the crook of your neck. Your moans sounded so pretty, too, all high-pitched and needy, like he wasn’t pounding you hard enough for the frames next to your head to shake. Like you weren’t already struggling to fucking take it. But what he loved even fucking more was the fact that your moans matched the pace of his thrusts, falling from your lips in an endless flow when he fucked you fast, slowing down when he did. You were just perfect for him, weren’t you? Person and cunt – made for him.

“A-a-aleeeeex,” you whined out, your head bumping into his as your teeth found his shoulder to bite into, tearing a groan from him. Oh, you always played him dirty like this, just knew that biting him riled him up more, made him take you harder, and he fucking did. Balls smacking against you roughly as his dick bullied into you, the brunet making sure you felt. Every. Fucking. Inch. Of. Him.  “Fuck!” You cried out, your toes curling, legs kicking as if you attempted to get away fro, him. The athlete lifted his head to take in your face, seeing that mouth hang open, those eyes absolutely dick drunken. Yeah, you were his, drunk on his cock, and he would make sure it fucking stayed that way.

“You like this, huh?” He panted, one of his hands leaving your hips to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling back your head to force your throat to be exposed, “being fucked against the wall like this? Fuck, you are so hot, baby. So pretty. Show me those tits, baby, come on,” he ordered, low moan making his throat vibrate when you lifted your sweater almost immediately. Your tits were bouncing so nicely for him, making him dip down his head and lick over one, then the other. You tasted like sweat and that Christmas cookies lotion he had gifted you, and Yoba, he could have drowned in your taste. Never wanted to taste anything but you again as his lips latched onto your nipple, shuddering at the lewd moan that filled the room. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If you kept up being this fucking perfect, he would cum. Fill you to the brim, make you take it fucking all. The thought alone made him moan again, the sound bleeding into the one that left your throat, all high-pitched and bumpy. “Alex, fuck, please, I am gonna cum, Alex-“ You yapped, your hand gripping the other tit, holding it toward Alex almost desperately. The brunet looked up at you with those dark green hazel eyes, the look in them were enough to make you whimper. “And you think I am gonna let you cum?” He breathed, letting his tongue drag over your other nipple before sucking it into his mouth. “Unghhh- please, yes!” You rambled, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth when you felt his fucks growing just a tad slower, forcing you to really, really, take every single centimetre. “Mhhhh, didn’t hear you,” he murmured, spitting on your tit before, lips sucking a hickey into the sensitive skin. “Sounds like you don’t really wanna cum.” “Fuhuuuck, Alex!” You whined, gasping when an extra hard thrust bumped you into the wall. “Please! Please, pretty, pretty, pretty please let me cum! I need to cum, Alex, pretty please! I am going to be a good girl, promise! But please, please, pleaSE let me cum!” You sobbed, hands running through his hair as if it would do anything to convince him. “Hmmm,” Alex started, but he just couldn’t resist. He needed you to cum, too. His hips resumed their pace from before, crotch meeting your cunt in those sloppy kisses. Your back arched of your walls, hand finding your lover’s back again to hold onto as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. You were so, so close, and the stimulation to your nipples certainly helped you get closer to that edge. “Need you to cum ‘round my cock, baby. Need you to make the biggest mess around me, yeah? So I can fuckin’ pump you full, baby. Yeaaaah, clench ‘round me, I fuckin’ know that you love it when I pump you full. That’s it, baby, that’s it, damnnn, you are so… so hot. Gonna cum for me? Come on, baby, cum for me,” he coaxed against your chest, his bullying thrusts never ceasing.

“Al-alexxxxxx- Alexalexalex.” Your thighs were squeezing, legs twitching in an attempt to push away when you were finally pushed over the edge, but there was no fucking chance to get away from your boyfriend who held you with an iron grip, his eyes fixated on your cunt gushing creamy rings around his cock. Yoba, his balls were tight. You just always managed to drive him crazy, didn’t you? He was absolutely love-sick, dumb for you and your pussy. “That’sssss it, baby. Making a fucking mess f’me, that’s fuckin’ right, oh my Yobaaaa,” he groaned, his own head finally falling back. Your body felt so fucking hot, so prickly and gushy and warm, you were pretty sure that you were seeing stars already.

 You were whining still, Alex’s thrusts slowly bordering on becoming too much, especially now that they were becoming less precise. A sloppy, rough mess, rutting away, riled up by greed and a nearing orgasm. Suddenly, your boyfriend’s body tensed up, low groan bubbling up his throat as he bottomed out inside of you, dick twitching as his dick drooled fat globs of cum inside of you. Alex was panting, whimpering your man as he tried to thrust it deeper, lower lip quivering at the feeling of his cock being milked by your clenching and spasming pussy. It felt like you wanted to suck him dry, having him shudder as his forehead carefully knocked against yours. His hips were giving some lazy, sloppy thrusts, hazel eyes that you had fallen in love with years ago meeting yours, and Yoba, he was whipped. The two of you shared a tired smile, one that spoke more than any words ever could.

However, Alex did need to share on more thing. He had to make a point, after all. “Next time we will apply this free-use thing to public, too, whatcha think? To make up for lost time, I mean.”

[pshwrldd]

Sorry… part 2

>< pairings…: minghao!ceo!husband! X female!reader

. ^^ Genre : fluff.

**warnings: skinship, kissing (lmk if i missed anything!!)*

Part 1. Part 2

‼️NOT PROOFREAD‼️

It’s been a week since the both of you fought. You can't help but remember what occurred that night, but you attempted to forget and push aside those thoughts as whenever the thought comes in mind, you' feel like tearing up, which will make Minghao worry. But it seems like luck is on your side because today minghao had apparently planned a surprise for you. He told you to dress casual and comfortable. Despite being slightly upset at him, you couldn’t help but follow his request and feel excited.

you followed what he told you, wearing a simple sage green sweater and white jeans. After getting ready, you sat on the couch waiting for minghao impatiently, excited for the suprise. Just as you were gonna call him out, he appeared out using a coat whith a white dress shirt underneath and jet black pants holding his phone and and car keys. You can’t help but stare as the beautiful figure infront of you. The way his dress shirt outlines his toned chest and body. You snapped out of your spell when u heard minghao chuckled then saying,

“Sweetheart? You fine? You look like you’re gonna drool”

You returned his statement with a glare and stood up,

“are we leaving yet?”

you walked towards the doorway and exited the house as minghao hummed in response. As you were walking towards the car, you suddenly saw minghao jogged past you to open the car door for you. You smiled softly feeling touched at that simple gesture. You entered the car and closed the door as minghao walked to the drivers seat.

You were silent throughout the whole car ride. You leaned againts the seat of your husband’s black austin martin. You stared out the window the whole car ride, feeling a bit guilty for getting mad at minghao. Minghao realised your silence and decided to break it,

“sweetheart? Are you alright?”

you turned ur head to him and nodded with a smile,

“yep, all fine, just excited”

*‼️readers pov‼️*

when i arrived to your destination, i unbuckled my seatbelt and was about to exit the car when minghao stopped me.

“wait, i need you to close ur eyes”

i looked at him confused and exited the car, following what minghao requested, i closed my eyes. I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder as he lead me to out final destination.

as i thought this would go on forever, i felt minghao’s grip on my shoulders tighten signalling me to stop walking. Then minghao removed his hands and whispered,

“baby… you ready for the suprise? You can open your eyes now”

end of reader pov‼️*

you opened ur eyes nervously, not knowing what to expect. As you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a beautiful picnic set up with a mini tent and fairy light all around it. There were your favourite comfort snacks and a bouquet of your favourite flowers, tulips. You turned to minghao shocked and immediately hugged him tightly, pressing him againts your body. Minghao chuckled at your reaction and hugged you back.

“you like it hmm?”

“are you seriously asking me that now hao? I love it, so much.” You replied placing a soft kiss on minghaos lips. From that night on, you knew, minghao’s apologies were real.

nanas love note: I DEFINITELY DID NOT CRIED WRITING THIS😖 this is probably the longest yet sweetest one yet. Prob one of my favourite works now. Ik i said on Tuesday but SUPRISE<3💗 ANYWAYS AS PER USUALL, gotta give my special thanks to @icyy-hoon for helping me with this MASTERPIECE🫶🏻 i hope you like it and for those who haven’t read part 1, GO READ IT‼️

Taglist<3 : @jaysng @amorek1m @icyy-hoon @jakesangel @mr-jypark

[shanastoryteller]

Happy lovers season Shana! I'm very excited for the upcoming prompts! 😀 Can I please request some more Enola Holmes or Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries? 💚 If not please feel free to do a dealer's choice. I love all that you write and it fills me with joy to see new updates from you 😊

set in the same universe as Here is Your Home Country

Dot doesn’t want a big wedding, doesn’t want a lot of fuss. Married at her church, and then Prudence has offered to have the reception in her garden. Probably more at Jane’s insistence than anything else, but considering Mr. Butler has already insisted on handling the catering and logistics and anything else she might need assistance with, she might as well.

It’s sweet of him, really. She knows that he’s worried about her sisters that disapprove and her mother that disapproves and her brothers that had been apocalyptic at the news, and how that means she’ll be planning this wedding without them. She’s not worried. They’d never cared about her life or her happiness until it was something that would embarrass them.

The less said about what her friends from church think, the better. But she hasn’t headed their gossip for years, not since she started working for Miss Fisher.

Jack’s a good man and doesn’t deserve their ire. She won’t tolerate it.

~

“You’re really doing it, huh?”

Dot looks up and feels first pleasure then wariness that settles on a gut rolling mixture of the two. “Hello, Nell.”

Her older sister is standing over her, blocking her light, but she just closes her notebook and uses her foot to nudge the chair opposite her. The waiter should be by again soon.

She looks different out of the heavy makeup and light clothes of the club. Wearing a sweater and long skirt, she looks like the sister Dot remembers. “Mum called me. Me.”

Dot winces. “You’re invited, of course, I just wasn’t sure where to send the invite.”

Nell leans back in her chair, raising an eyebrow and reaching into her purse for a cigarette. Dot wishes she wouldn’t. She hates the smell. “I didn’t really get that impression from you two.”

“We were just colleagues then,” she says, which isn’t completely accurate, but neither is friends. Or perhaps it is. They knew one another then, and respected each other, and were kind to one another. But she’d had Hugh, and Jack’s eyes had been on Miss Fisher, and – they hadn’t known, then, where they would end up.

It’s nice.

She knew him and liked him and cared about him before she loved him. It makes her feel like she can trust him, that he won’t surprise her in a way she doesn’t like.

Nell hums, then says, “She wants to know if you’re having money troubles.”

Dot stares, wishing she knew her mother a little less well and didn’t understand exactly what she was saying. “She thinks I’m marrying Jack for his money because I have gambling debts?”

She shrugs. “You know what she sees at the church.”

She’s not going to get angry. Getting angry won’t do her any good. “I’m marrying him because I love him.”

“You loved Hugh,” she says. “He was cute. Your age. He even converted.”

Part of her wonders who was keeping Nell updated on the gossip of her life. The rest of her doesn’t care. “He didn’t love me right.”

“There’s a wrong way?” she asks, too lightly.

“Yes,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from scowling. “And I can’t love anyone right who loves me wrong. Hugh and I would have been miserable, in the end. We were in love with people that didn’t exist.”

She’d wanted someone who would love her through all of her changes.

Hugh had wanted someone who would never change.

Even in her bitterest moments, she can’t truly blame him. She had been a static woman when they’d met. She was the one that changed and she was the one that had wanted someone who would love her anyway and she was the one that had ended their engagement when she’d realized that someone wasn’t him.

Nell leans forward to steal her half-drunk cup of coffee, leaning back as she gulps it down in three long swallows. “Okay. I’ll tell Mum to back off, yeah? Not that it’ll do any good. She never listens to me anyway.”

“Oh,” Dot says, startled, and then Nell is getting to her feet and waving as she melts back into the crowd of the street.

~

Bert and Cec are in their room, sleeping after working through the night. Jack is over, but he’s never not known, and these days they don’t even bother to shove their twin beds apart when he's here.

She’s seated on her knees at the coffee table, Jack sitting behind her on the couch, nose buried in a case file that she’s going to look over herself as soon as she figures out this seating chart.

Jack clears his throat and she leans back, pressing her back to his knees and looking up. The file has been discarded and he’s looking at her with a sort of warm softness that has her reaching out her hand and letting him haul her upright just enough so that she can fall into his lap, seated sideways so her legs are stretched out over the couch.

His arms come around her waist and his lips quirk up in an almost smile. She smooths out the line between his eyebrows with her thumb, almost asks, but know it’s a waste when he’s nearly there already.

Sure enough, he looks at the space over her head and asks, “Do you want us to get a new house?”

She blinks. She hadn’t considered it, really, had assumed that she’d move into the house Jack has now. She’s been there. It’s a very nice house. A little empty feeling, perhaps, but she figured they’d solve that quickly enough. Instead of saying any of that, she asks, “Do you want me to want us to get a new house?”

He looks at her then, exasperated, and she smiles, shifting her hand lower to trace his bottom lip. He licks his lips, his tongue barely brushing her fingertip, and her breath hitches, but he says, “Rosie picked it.”

It makes sense that his first wife helped pick the house, and Dot has never tiptoed her way around Rosie, but that’s not quite what he’s saying.

Rosie picked it.

“Do you like it?” she asks.

Jack shrugs, looking away from her again. “She made a good choice.”

“Yes,” Dot agrees. It really is a very nice house, in a good area. “But do you like it?”

He shifts beneath her, meeting her gaze when he admits, “I let her pick what she wanted. I thought things would be okay, if I could give her what she wanted.”

And now it reminds him of how much that didn’t work, how she left that house and him both. He’d offered her the house in the divorce, but she hadn’t wanted it, for her own reasons.

“Why don’t we pick something we both want?” she asks, because no matter how nice the house is, she doesn’t want what he doesn’t’. “I bet Mac has some good leads on houses that are going to be on the market. She knows so many useful things like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, relief making his whole body relax even as his arms tighten, tugging her that much closer against him.

“Yeah,” she echoes, then dips down her head for a kiss he’s eager to give her.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

illicit affairs

the one where Joel calls (kind of)

Summary: A week after you're back home in Seattle you get a visitor.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.649

Rating: T

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, angst, fluff, some heartbreak

A/N: Pick your own ending part one feat. Joel Miller

illicit affairs master list // Pedro Masterlist

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You tried to keep your expectations low. 

A week after you came back home to Seattle and many talks with your friends later you accepted that you couldn’t change the situation from here. 

Event though it was killing you inside.

Calling your mother and telling her everything on the phone was not what you wanted, even though it would be the easiest way because you wouldn’t be able to see how she reacted to the news. 

But you couldn’t talk to her before you had talked to Joel.

You could call Joel. 

You now had his number.

Your friend cyber stalked him and found the number of his company. 

You had made your peace with being a single mother before you even ran back into Joel. So while him, now that he knew, seemingly not wanting to be involved was hurtful, it wasn’t the worst. 

You had your friends. Your colleagues. And you had Sean. 

Sean had called you every single day, trying to keep you in the loop of life back in Austin. Though he hadn’t talked to your mother in two days. 

Today you had spent wearing your most comfortable sweater, eating nothing but Cheese (you would regret that later, but the craving was real) looking at new potential apartments in the area. You needed a bigger apartment, a room for your baby. 

On your next appointment you would learn the gender and you were beyond excited. 

You could do this by yourself. You would do this by yourself. 

Of course you had dreamed about having your own family growing up. You had dreamed about meeting your prince and getting married. Having babies and be happy forever. 

But you were five years old back then and seriously influenced by Disney movies. 

You had learned that Disney movies were not the real life by now, which frankly sucked. 

Absently you checked your phone, wondering where your order of cheese pizza you placed an hour ago was, when there was a knock on your door. 

„Finally,“ you cheered to yourself, grabbing the money for your pizza. You shuffled through your apartment in your cosy socks, one of your hands on your belly that had somehow popped in the last two days. 

You opened the door, expecting your pizza, but it was

„Joel,“ you gasped in surprise. 

Joel was sitting in your living room. 

He was here, in your apartment. 

You had fled to your kitchen, making him a coffee to gather your thoughts. You fired texts off to your best friend telling you that Joel was here and to your brother asking if he had any idea how Joel got here. 

But you couldn’t stay in the kitchen forever even if you wanted to. 

Taking a deep breath you put the mug of coffee on the carton of your pizza that had been delivered in the meantime, making you way back to the kitchen. 

The first thing you noticed was that he looked nervous. 

He had taken his shoes off, standing up when you came back into the room. His hair looked wild, like he had ran his hand though it for a lot of times. 

„Coffee black, right?“ You asked. 

He gulped. 

„Yeah. Yeah, that’s right,“ he nodded, carefully taking the mug. You sat down on the love seat across from the couch, opening the pizza. You missed the small smile gave you as you hummed in delight while inhaling the scent of the pizza.

„I would offer you some, but I didn’t expect any guests and I have been craving this the whole day,“ you say apologetic. 

„It’s okay. I’m not hungry anyway,“ he said before he sat back down. His legs were spread as he sat, his head resting on his hands, his elbows angled on his knees, his back hunched over as he looked at you. 

You took a deep breath. 

„Why are you here Joel?“ you finally asked, picking up a slice of pizza, biting into it. 

„I had a 6 am flight that Monday,“ he began and you stopped chewing. 

„I watched you sleep for at least twenty minutes, trying to decide what to do before I took the, what I thought back then, easy way out and left without saying a word,“ he confessed. 

You slowly nodded, breathing slowly. 

You would let him talk. You had been waiting a while for him to talk. 

„I don’t do shit like that. I don’t go out and fuck random women. Not that you are random. You are everything but random,“ he sighed. He set the mug of coffee down, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. 

„I knew I made a mistake as soon as I stepped out of the hotel. Which doesn’t excuse my behaviour and I want you to know that I am sorry for leaving without a word. So fucking sorry. I just… You are so much younger than me. And I got scared. I wanted to the right thing. Never thought I would catch feelings for you,“ he sighed, letting himself fall back against the couch. 

„Never thought you’d end up pregnant,“ he shook his head.

You set the slice of pizza you had just grabbed down, watching him. 

„I met your mother in the week after I came back home. I was working with her boss. And it just…. It’s not… Fuck I feel like such an asshole. I realise now that I used her to get over you. Which is not fair to either of you.“

You were pretty sure you stopped breathing. 

„You’re pregnant,“ he whispered. 

You nodded. 

„You’re pregnant and it’s mine,“ he whispered again. 

Your bottom lip trembled and you nodded again. 

He released a long sigh. 

„Okay,“ he said, his eyes on yours. 

„Okay?“ You asked. 

He nodded. 

„I want to be involved if you let me. We maybe wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t made the decision to leave, so I have no… I have no fucking right to ask for anything. But you don’t have to do this alone,“ he said. 

„What,“ you cleared your throat, „What about my mom?“ You asked quietly. 

„I broke up with her,“ he said and you inhaled sharply. She must be heartbroken. You could see how much Joel meant to her. Tears sprang into your eyes and you pushed the pizza away from you, as tears begin to fall.

Joel’s hand reached out as if to touch you, before he stopped. He looked devastated. 

„I’m so sorry,“ you sobbed and he groaned confused. 

„She was so happy with you. And I ruined it. I ruined it,“ you shook your head, sobbing quietly. 

You jumped when you felt Joel’s hand taking yours, having missed him even gotten up from the couch and you looked at him as he knelt in front of you. 

„You didn’t ruin anything. I should have been honest from the beginning. To both of you. I am the reason this situation is so damn messy. It’s not your fault,“ he said. You took some moments to take deep breaths, calming yourself down. 

„Did you… Did you tell her? About us?“ You asked. 

„No. If you want her to know, we can do it together,“ he said and you released a shuddering breath. 

„If you want to be involved we have to tell her. I just don’t know…“ you shook your head. 

„We don’t have to figure that out right away,“ he said with a small smile.

„What about us?“ You asked. 

He shrugged. 

„What do you want?“ He asked softly. 

You knew the answer to his question. If was selfish of you. But you had wanted him from the first moment you met him you still wanted him. 

„I want you,“ you whispered and a small smile sneaked to his face as he looked at you. 

„Then we will make it work,“ he promised, kissing your hand. 

„She looks so much like Joel,“ you were smiling at your mother, as she held your new born daughter in her arms. 

„Yeah. She’s like his twin,“ you said fondly. She looked at you, eyes soft. Sean was sitting next to her grinning down at his niece. 

You had moved back to Austin. 

There had been a lot of talks, a lot of tears, a lot of heartbreak.

It hasn’t been easy, going for what you wanted, but in the end everything turned out okay. 

The conversation between you, Joel and your mother must have been the hardest thing you had ever done in your life, but she understood in the end. 

She had noticed how much you loved the father of your child before she even knew who he was. By the way you talked about him to her. And after taking some time to think about her feelings, after taking some time to heal, she was making her peace with it. 

She had told you some time ago that she wasn’t even really sure if she was in love with Joel or with the idea of being in love again.

But she definitely fell in love with Robert, her new husband to be. She already moved in with the man on his ranch just outside of Austin. And that after only two months of knowing each other. 

Not that you would ever judge her.

And Joel?

Joel had been with you whenever he could before you decided to move back to Austin. You had met his daughter and family. 

You were loved. 

You looked up when Joel walked back into the living room, his eyes meeting yours across the room, a smile sneaking to both of your faces. 

In the end, you got your Disney fairytale. 

Just…. Not in the right order. 

And without a ring on your finger. 

Not knowing that the missing ring, was already hidden in Joel’s work bench, waiting for the right moment to be put onto your finger.