#and snarkiness and kindness and how they follow their heart on things that matter most to them

[misteria247]

Gonna be annoying take my insanity and accept it-

So answering that one ask earlier and talking about 12 tmnt specifically Leo, I'd just really realized just how similar Leo and Mikey are. Like let me explain.

Leo's a pretty laid back person in the emotional department. It takes a lot to get him really upset with people, and he's literally always thinking about his brothers and their father and friends, always keeping an eye on them and always offering them comfort and hope whenever they're in need of it, lifting their spirits up when they're down. Leo's also surprisingly seeing the good in others. Like take for example Karai. Out of all of the group, it was Leo who believed that Karai could change, that Karai had something in her that was worth trying to reach out to. And you know who's like this as well??

Mikey.

Mikey's a chipper person, who like Leo is laid back in the emotional department. It takes a lot to get him actually extremely upset and he's always right behind his brothers, his father and friends backing them up and watching their backs. Whenever one of them are upset Mikey's always trying to cheer them up and helping them get back in high spirits whenever things get bad. He offers comfort when they're in need of it. Not only that but like Leo, Mikey also sees the good in people. Examples being Leatherhead, and several other mutants. Like Mikey was the only one who was willing to believe that Leatherhead was trustworthy and saw something in him that was worth reaching out too, despite everyone else not wanting him too.

Like Leo and Mikey are hella similar in a lot of ways and are so vastly different from each other as well like bro it's such a tiny little detail but it's a lovely tiny little detail and I love when things like that come together to make something bigger.

[missmonsters2]

—On Your Mind

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: You watch her across the room, eyes heavy-lidded and the edge of a red solo cup resting against your lips. It doesn't matter that a sea of bodies separates the two of you. It doesn't even matter that there's someone else in front of you right now, trying to get your attention. The sight of Wanda fighting with her boyfriend always caught your eye. 

Warnings: Toxic Behaviour. Infidelity. Spicy but not explicit content. Toxic!Reader. Tony—should get therapy but throws a party instead. Natasha—trying to be a good person. Vision—is a loser.

Note: JLKSDFJSk I wish I could explain this but I can't. Inspired by the song #icanteven - the neighbourhood

Main Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any other platforms (even with credit)

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The music pumped so loudly that you could feel the bass thrumming along your skin. It was electric, and the only thing that soothed you right now was when the taste of the bourbon in your red solo cup slid down your throat with ease. 

You found it kind of funny that Stark rented out an entire club, buying the most tasteful liquor but refused the glasses and shelled out money for red solo cups instead. You had teased him, saying he was looking to relive his youthful days, but Stark insisted it was because it would get more expensive when people got too drunk and broke the glasses one way or another. 

You didn't blame him. Stark was a particularly stressed individual, even if he hid it behind his snarky remarks and flippant personality. But that was what you especially liked about him. 

"Are you having fun?"

You hold your cup out to Natasha, letting her pour you another bourbon on ice.

"So much," you replied flatly, looking her in the eye as she smiled. "It's almost crazy how much I can't contain my excitement."

Natasha laughed, tipping her cup towards you, and you bumped yours against hers in cheers. Once the two of you took a generous sip of your drinks, Natasha sighed as she leaned against the counter.

"You didn't have to come tonight," Natasha drawled. "Stark throws one of these every year. He won't even know if you're missing one."

"Thanks for blatantly lying to my face." You smirked. "But with his neurotic personality? I'd be getting phone calls all night if I didn't show up."

Natasha only chuckles in response, and you know that she knows that you're correct. She turned to you, about to say something else, when she noticed a glint in your eye. Following your line of gaze, Natasha only sighed. 

Across the room, past the many bodies of people dancing, was Wanda arguing tersely with her boyfriend.

"Stop," Natasha warned you, flicking the side of your head. You turned to look at her with a raised brow. 

"Stop what?" You asked innocently. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You know exactly what." Her nose is scrunched up in mild displeasure. "Stop staring at Wanda and Vision fighting. They're really on the rocks lately, and your flirting with her has been making it worse."

You shrugged, uncaring. "Wanda hasn't told me to stop." You smirked again. "And from the looks of it over there, she might need someone hitting on her to lift her spirits."

Natasha bumped her shoulder against yours, shoving you slightly in reprimand. "Don't you feel bad at all?" She sighed. "Vision isn't...a terrible guy and everyone can tell you make him feel...small."

"I think it would take me having a second heart to feel remotely bad for him," you rolled your eyes and then scoffed. "He's not a terrible guy, but I wouldn't exactly say he's awesome either. He's so condescending to Wanda."

Natasha only fidgets uncomfortably at your words, unable to fight against them. It was hard when Natasha thought back to Wanda's muted behavior this last year. You wouldn't have known being new to the group, but Wanda used to be so full of laughter and mischief. Now, she was so serious and, well, drab. 

"Still," Natasha bit her lip. "They're dating and Wanda doesn't seem like she's come to her senses about breaking up with him."

"Maybe she just needs a little push," you quipped with a shrug. 

"If that were the case, the constant love confessions she gets would've woken her up already," Natasha pointed out dryly. "Wanda's not unaware that she's an incredibly attractive girl." Natasha left out the part that begs the question of why she stayed with a guy like Vision in the first place. 

"Yes, but she's told all those dudes to fuck off," you grinned, swirling the bourbon in your cup. "So, maybe," you licked your lips, eyeing the two arguing across the room, "she needs a little push from someone whose interest she's entertaining."

Natasha sighed, grumbling obscenities under her breath before she looked at you with unimpressed eyes. "I want no part of whatever you're planning to do tonight." With that, Natasha gave you a look before she walked away. 

You laughed as you began to walk off in the other direction.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I have no plan!" 

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Wanda glanced at you. It was her 29th time since arriving at this stupid party. She hadn't wanted to come at all, not feeling social in the slightest lately. 

But Vision had insisted since he's been friends with Tony since they were young. Vision never missed any outgoing Tony planned, and sometimes it drove Wanda mad. It was a point of contention how often Vision would choose Tony over her needs. 

Wanda never blamed Tony since he was unaware it was a problem in the first place. Unless Vision told his childhood friend, and Tony was blatantly ignoring it and continuing on with the constant events and invites. 

The dimmed lighting and pumping music gave Wanda a slight headache, and she was about to turn to Vision to tell him they could only stay for an hour because, despite trying to convince her boyfriend to not go, big events like this were impossible to not go to. 

"Vis," Wanda kept her tone even. "I'm serious, I want to go home after an hour—two at the most."

"Wanda," Vision sighed as if she were being completely unreasonable. "You know these only happen once a year. Just—try to enjoy yourself, okay?"

Wanda didn't reply with anything in return, only tersely nodding her head. If she opened her mouth now, she would undoubtedly say something that would cause another spat between them, which has been happening a lot as of late. It just seemed like every little thing was a cause for an argument. Half the time, Wanda didn't even remember what they were fighting about by the time they had their next argument (which would be soon after).

Wanda pursed her lips. Well...that wouldn't be an exact truth. 

Lately, the fights have been centering around a few focus topics. Vision's lack of attentiveness, Wanda's nagging, and you.

It was bad, Wanda knew. She really shouldn't be indulging your witty banter, lingering looks, and grazing touches. Honestly, it was probably already considering cheating how much your attention charmed her. 

It was just the right amount of flirting. Friendly and obvious but not disrespectful. 

"I'm going to go find Tony. Do you want to come along?"

"No." Wanda answered shortly and shook her head.

Vision sighed deeply through his nose, pinching the space between his brows. "Fine," he gritted, trying to avoid another argument. "Just stay here and enjoy yourself then. I'll come find you later."

"It's hard to enjoy myself when I have a headache, Vis," Wanda glared at him.

"Then you should've taken an Advil before you came—" Vision started to raise his voice but immediately cut himself short. He muttered to himself as if he were trying to calm himself down. "I don't know what you want me to do, Wanda. We're here, so let's just do our best, okay? I'll see if Tony has some Advil."

"I want to go home, Vis," Wanda emphasized because she was sure Advil wasn't going to fix her mood. She had a tight feeling in her stomach that this party would be a mistake. 

Wanda looked over her shoulder again and found your eyes on her. They were aloof as you stared, and you weren't even paying attention to the girl talking in front of you. A chill scratched down Wanda's arms, her skin rising to goosebumps. 

That was probably why Wanda entertained it. You made her feel seen, and Wanda had never felt so seen by someone as much as she did when you looked at her. 

"Jesus Christ, Wanda. I wouldn't have insisted on you coming if I knew you were going to be so miserable to be around," Vision grunted. 

Wanda sharply turned back to Vision, her eyes flashing dangerously.

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The song changes. The calypso beat and reverse guitar sound ring in your ears compellingly. 

You've been leaning against the back wall for a while now, nursing that bourbon drink Natasha poured for you earlier. The club is hazy with flashing blue lights, making it easier for you to be a wallflower. 

Well, almost.

"I didn't think we'd get to see each other again. I thought about texting you, but I don't know. I felt weird since you haven't texted me. But I mean, what a coincidence, right? I would've never guessed you knew Tony too."

You hummed, barely paying attention to the brunette in front of you. 

Wanda was still fighting with Vision, and honestly, you were quite impressed. They arrived almost half an hour ago, and they're still managing to fight in a club with deafening music. 

Your index finger tapped against your red solo cup along with the beat of the music idly. Natasha's probably right, and you shouldn't look at Wanda anymore. You have a perfectly nice woman in front of you now, eager to talk with you and probably would go home with you without too much work.

But Wanda Maximoff was a vice, and she had you in an unyielding grip.

You watch her across the room, eyes heavy-lidded and the edge of a red solo cup resting against your lips. It doesn't matter that a sea of bodies separates the two of you. It doesn't even matter that there's someone else in front of you right now, trying to get your attention. The sight of Wanda fighting with her boyfriend always caught your eye. 

Vision threw his arms up in frustration and defeat before he walked off. Wanda turned her head, eyes catching yours in a glint, and you smirked behind your cup.

And the sight of you staring at her fighting with her boyfriend had always caught Wanda's eye.

"That's lovely," you muttered half-heartedly to the girl in front of you, passing her your cup as you stood straight. "You like bourbon, right? You should enjoy yourself and I'll catch you later."

You heard the call of your name, but you're already navigating through the crowd of bodies.

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A warm hand slid into Wanda's, fingers tracing her palm before interlocking. 

"Hey."

The husk voice and puff of air hit the shell of Wanda's ear, and she turned around as if she hadn't been waiting for you. The smell of bourbon and the citrus smell of Neroli Portofino hits her nose. She almost sighs contentedly but bites down her tongue instead.

"Hey," Wanda leaned in towards your ear to say back. 

Your thumb traced the thenar of her palm while staring into her eyes, searching for something—and god, Wanda hoped you found the answer because she couldn't verbally give you one. 

"Wanna dance?" You asked her, but you're already dragging her out onto the dance floor, between the sea of bodies, obscuring them from view. 

You pulled Wanda into your body, all her parts pressed against you perfectly. Your hands on her waist, squeezing tightly once.

Headache?

Wanda felt like such a liar. She was feeling something else—something that traveled much lower. Something that Advil couldn't fix.

This was a terrible, terrible idea. 

And Wanda blamed Vision for it. He really should've just taken her home. 

Wanda turned around in your arms, her back pressed against you as she ground against you along with the beat. Her hips sway while your hand caresses her shoulder, trailing down her arm. 

Your lips grazed the shell of her ear, ghosting down her neck, and suddenly the flirting didn't feel so friendly anymore. 

Your hand enclosed Wanda's, and her head fell backward, eyes fluttering close as she leaned against you, moving with the music. 

"You're so pretty," you muttered in her ear, and she almost couldn't hear it over the music. Wanda's hand tightened around yours, and she could feel the rumble of your chuckle. "Are you even thinking of him?"

Wanda's eyes snapped open as she looked at your piercing gaze and felt herself grow feverish. 

Guilt filled her because, no, Vision hadn't crossed her mind once until you brought him up. 

"I—" Wanda started to say, but nothing else would come out. 

"Must've been a pretty bad fight." You kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder. "He's a shitty, shitty guy. Otherwise, he'd cross your mind even a little."

Wanda felt you grip her chin, tilting her head down to stare straight ahead, and her stomach dropped.

"But I guess you're pretty mean too, Wanda. I mean, you're probably the only thing on his mind right now and you're not even thinking of him a little," you chuckled, and Wanda shouldn't feel so flushed with how callous it sounded. 

A couple of people have moved off the dance floor, giving Wanda the perfect line of sight to see Vision—or for Vision to see her, she supposed.

He stood there with a bottle of Advil; his face was grim.

But he didn't move, and neither did Wanda. 

They stood there, staring at each other.

"Don't think that bottle of Advil is gonna help him," you mused. "He looks sick to his stomach."

You nudged her to stand straighter, causing her to look at you. "Wanna get some fresh air, or do you wanna go be miserable with him?" You gave her a choice, despite your taunting words. Your grip on her hand loosened, only giving Wanda a split second to decide. 

Wanda tightens her hold on your hand. "No, it's pretty hot in here."

You gave her a lopsided smile as you began to tug her in the opposite direction of Vision, and Wanda followed, only turning her head back once to look at Vision's grim face as he gripped the Advil bottle. 

Wanda leaves, and he doesn't follow.

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Wanda moaned against your mouth as you pressed her against the wall of the club in the alleyway. Her fingers slid against your jaw, pulling you closer as she consumed your lips over and over. 

She hated the taste of bourbon, but it tasted so fucking good on your tongue. Wanda wanted to concentrate on only one thing, and that was just how good it felt to have your hands sliding up her waist, ruffling her shirt as your thumb pressed against her ribs. 

But fuck, you were making it really hard for Wanda to feel the pleasure guiltless.

"So pretty," the words from your lips tumble into Wanda's mouth. "Think about you all the time. Can't believe you're with such a dickhead."

"Not right now I'm not," Wanda quipped, capturing your lips. 

The words made you chuckle, and you squeezed her in your hands. "Not right now?" You mused. "Are you saying you're going to go back to him?" You peppered kisses along her jawline.

"Are you telling me Vision's gonna take you back after he looked like he was going to throw up?" You pulled back just slightly to look Wanda in the eyes. Her chest rose and fell in deep pants, lips plump and cheeks flushed. 

You brush your lips against hers, pressing lightly as if to test the connection between the two of you. "He's probably standing there like a fucking moron thinking about how could you do this to him."

Wanda surged forward, deepening the kisses as she firmly pulled you closer. Her grip was possessive and intense, and she just wanted you to shut up.

"Natasha asked me earlier if I even feel bad," you pulled away, shifting your hands to thread through Wanda's hair, gripping her head to pull her into another lust-driven kiss. 

Wanda moaned.

"I don't," you told her. "I don't even feel a little bad."

Your thumb stroked Wanda's swollen lips. Really, she was so fuckin' pretty. 

Wanda raised her brow at you. "Are you gonna talk about him all night? If you keep making me think about him, I might just go running back right now."

You chuckled, pulling her into a rough kiss, teeth dragging at her lower lip, and Wanda whimpered. You soothed it over with your tongue, hearing her soft sigh. 

"Let's not make empty threats. You and I both know who's always on your mind. Does that make you feel bad?"

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You woke up to an empty bed, but you weren't surprised. 

You checked your phone to see a bunch of texts from Tony to see if you were awake and sighed deeply, sending a quick message back.

Another thing you hated about the yearly parties was the brunch date the next day. 

You lingered in the shower, your fingers running over the dark hickeys that littered your neck and collarbones. 

By the time you made it, you were the last person.

"There you are!" Tony dramatically scowled at you, pointing his fork threateningly at you to sit down.

You took the seat next to Natasha, getting a questioning look from her with her brow raised. You winked at her before looking ahead.

Wanda and Vision sat together cozily, her head on his shoulder while his arm was around her. 

Vision was pointedly ignoring your existence, but Wanda looked at your amused gaze that trailed the matching hickeys on her neck poorly covered with concealer, raising her brow in challenge. 

"Man," Tony groaned, rubbing his face. "I feel like shit today. Anyone else feel bad?"

There were mumbles here and there in response. 

Wanda just stared at you before she soundly said, "No. I feel just fine."

[amethystina]

"Han fattas mig."

One of the compliments I often get on my writing is just that — my writing. My word choices, my sentence structure, my imagery, my rhythm, my originality, etc. Now, I never thought I'd reach a point where I’d become that good at the craft itself, especially not in a language that's not even my native tongue. Partly because of imposter syndrome but also because I'm usually such a perfectionist that I never thought I’d dare to write something that doesn't strictly and stiltedly follow the rules.

Sentence fragments? Words used in unusual contexts? Odd or highly specific imagery? No can do!

Except, clearly, I can. I should, even.

And I want to share one of the monumental pieces of writing that made me realise that. And it’s not even a whole work. It's just one sentence, really:

"Han fattas mig."

Now, that probably looks a bit weird to those of you who don't understand Swedish, so let me explain.

That's a quote from the children's book Ronja the Robber's Daughter written by the famous Swedish author Astrid Lindgren. It was published back in 1981 and while I didn't actually read the book as a kid, I DID watch the Swedish live-action movie many times. But, even then, it took until my adult years to fully grasp the utter and heart-breaking brilliance of that quote.

For some context, the book/movie is about Ronja who, surprise surprise, is the young daughter of a robber chief. That quote is said by her father, Mattis, when one of the old robbers of their clan suddenly dies. Now, this old robber, Skalle-Per (uh... I guess the translation would be Bald Pete?), is clearly a father figure for Mattis. A wise old man who, while gloriously snarky, is also incredibly nurturing and emotionally mature. Which stands in stark contrast to Mattis who is the somewhat traditionally dominant, macho man. He HAS to be, on account of being the chief for a clan of rough and tough robbers. They, in many ways, complete each other, where Skalle-Per is kind, thoughtful, and sensible while Mattis is brash, violent, and impulsive.

Now, predictably, when Skalle-Per dies, Mattis throws a full-on tantrum. The kind that shows just how inexperienced he is with dealing with emotions without Skalle-Per to help him work through them. And, since the whole problem is that Skalle-Per is now dead? Mattis has absolutely no idea what to do.

He starts pacing back and forth, crying, flailing his arms, and yelling things like: "He's always been here! He's always existed, and now he doesn't!" And no amount of calming words from his wife soothes him and, eventually, he says that line:

"Han fattas mig."

And there is no direct translation I can give you that fully conveys the amount of raw, almost childlike, grief in that one sentence. This sentence was the one that made me realise that following the rules doesn't matter because, strictly speaking, this one doesn't. The words used are unusual to the point where they're even a little odd at first glance but, once you look deeper, also so incredibly impactful.

The rough translation would probably be "I miss him" but, as said, that doesn't convey the sheer desperation that those words do in Swedish. First of all, it throws the words around, completely changing the focus and weight of the sentence. "Han" is "he" and "mig" is "I." So saying "I miss him" reverses the order where the emphasis SHOULD be put on "him" but the main subject of the sentence now becomes "I" (i.e. less about the loss and more about how "I" am feeling). In “Han fattas mig” the “he” is the most important part.

Second, you have the word "fattas" which, yes, directly translated means "missing." But not the kind of missing that we Swedes normally use for grief. We have another word for that called "saknar." If you miss someone who has died, you'd say: "Jag saknar honom." Which is basically the same as the English “I miss him.” The word "fattas" is for a completely different context — a much more mundane one, with almost no emotional stakes. It's what we use when a piece is missing or something is lacking a required component. Kind of like you would say: "This stew is missing something" when it doesn't taste the way you want it to. But it can also mean "lost" as in "there's one puzzle piece missing."

So when Mattis says those words, he doesn't say "I miss him." He's saying: "He is a part of me and he is now missing," and "he is a part of me and I lost him," and "he is a part of me and now there is a hole where he used to be."

He is saying: "I will never be complete again."

Because "fattas" is also the word we use when something is missing and the thing won't be complete until you add it/return it/get it back. And, in this case, since the man in question is dead, you know Mattis will never get that chance. He will never be whole again. Which, sure, is a rather terrifying take on grief, but also not an untrue one. Grief will lessen over time, but the loss will still be there.

And this isn't me doing some sort of complex linguistic analysis — I don't have to. Because it's all there. It's so simple yet so effective. And yet, somehow, no one had really thought to use the word "fattas" to describe grief before. Because it's just a simple and mundane word we use for entirely different things, not big, painful emotions, right? Except Astrid Lindgren did. And while she no doubt did so to make it easier for children to grasp the concept — since most kids can relate to the feeling of losing something in the context of "fattas," which is much more direct and real than the elusive emotion of "saknar" — it also changes how an adult can view grief and loss.

Not even "I lost him" can fully encompass the absolute BRUTALITY of the grief found in the sentence "Han fattas mig."

And that is why I give fewer and fewer fucks about the rules. Now, obviously, I doubt I'll ever come up with something as brilliant as this sentence (it honestly rocks me to my core sometimes) BUT it's worth trying. It's worth being creative and experiment with the words you know and in what order you place them. Just maybe, you'll end up with something really cool. That's not to say you should ignore any and all rules, but it's okay to play around. It's okay to do the unexpected.

I think it's important to remember that. Writing is creative. We write to express things — to find ways to describe and explain complex emotions, grand adventures, and sweeping love stories. It connect us and gives us a way to share our experiences, thoughts, and feelings. And, sometimes, the set boundaries won't be enough. Sometimes, we might just need someone to look at how we describe grief and go: "I can make it simpler and, at the same time, so much more painful."

And it doesn't always have to be complex. It doesn't have to be difficult words and purple prose. Sometimes, all you need is three words so easy that a child can understand them and, somehow, you will describe a sense of loss so deep and so fundamental to that character that you KNOW that they will never be the same ever again.

So experiment. Be bold. And, above all else, have fun.

And, one final heart-wrenching fact to wrap this all up: The actor who played Skalle-Per — Allan Edwall — was in almost ALL of the movies/shows based on Astrid Lindgren's books. He played different roles, of course, but he was a staple — synonymous with her works. And, when the actor died back in 1997, Astrid Lindgren was asked how she was handling the loss and her reply was the same as Mattis’s:

"Han fattas mig."

[xxdungeon-stuckxx]

Time

Opposite: 

Space

Neighboring: 

Light, Heart

Presides Over: 

Time travel, alternate timelines, doomed timelines, time loops, the afterlife, ending cycles, instruments

Themes: 

Time players have a close connection to the color red.

Death often is a subject of interest for a time player. This can be in the form of having an interest in bones, ghosts, the afterlife, etc. Death often follows a time player

All time players’ planets are home to the Scratch Construct. Without them, a Scratch is impossible to perform.

Doomed timelines are always a risk for time players, and it’s not uncommon for a time player to doom themselves and/or others (intentionally or not). Time players simply see doomed selves as a fact of life and as nothing to worry about too much though.

Time players often have ties to music in some way, or rather, the instruments themselves.

Time players have a connection to technology in some capacity

Time players are already awoken on their moons before the game session starts.

Personality:

Time players are inherently prepared for the worst possible outcome. They will spend their whole lives preparing for the worst thing to come, and oftentimes, their preparations were not for nothing. The preparations that time players make are almost always done because of the plausibility of a terrible outcome. They don’t tend to take chances and would rather prepare for the worst than do nothing at all.

They are calculated with all of their actions because they are constantly thinking of the outcome of the situation. Everything they do has a purpose behind it that a time player sees as something important. Sometimes, these actions may seem silly to onlookers, but the time player knows that they have a reason for doing the things that they do.

Time players are not those who simply accept things as they are and they are at constant odds with what fate has in store for them. They seek to change outcomes that they dislike at any cost.

Any player of time is going to be someone who values action over anything else. They are constantly on the move, never sitting still metaphorically. They are players who are always making some sort of progress in order to reach an end goal. They don’t sit back and watch things play out because they would rather be the ones causing influence to get to their goal more efficiently. It comes as no surprise that time players are very goal oriented.

Time players can be defensive of themselves and don’t take criticism lightly. Any critique of them will often lead a time player to take it as a personal attack. Not all-time players will be as aggressive about defending themselves as others, however, don’t expect a time player to take an insult like it’s nothing. Time players always will come back at someone with a snarky response when they take something as an insult. To make things more interesting, they never forget when someone has said something they perceive as a personal attack against themselves. Time players can seem petty for this very reason. A good way of throwing any time player off is to hit them where it hurts most, by attacking their ego.

Time players have a hard time acting in the moment. If something doesn’t go as they planned it to, they often can be left dumbfounded and they have a harder time reacting in the calculated way they usually do. Plans are everything to a time player and time-bound players don’t much appreciate it when they don’t go as they had anticipated. Because of this, time players can make stupid decisions if a situation they haven’t planned for arises.

Time players can be ruthless if given the chance to. This ties into their pettiness and time players can become bloodthirsty at their very worst. They often do so in order to seek revenge of some kind. No matter how dumb the reason for this revenge may seem to those with an outside perspective, it is always justified by the time player. 

It is not uncommon for time players to experience abuse at the hands of others. Their upbringing often leaves them with additional strength to overcome their obstacles and hardships. However, this abuse can also cause a future thirst for blood. They often grow fed up with the abuse that they face and they learn to attack others as a form of defense, in their minds at least. They also use their anger towards their abuse to drive them further toward success. However, not all time players are those who use their abuse to justify abusing others. Many times players will use their experience with abuse as a way to empathize and sympathize with others around them. They often seek to protect others from danger because they didn’t have anyone to protect them. Either way, they hold a series of negative emotions towards their abuse, and time players never forget what was done to them. Time players take a lot of effort and patience in order to learn to forgive others for their crimes, if they even learn to forgive at all. 

Time players have a tendency to repeat things over and over again, both literally and metaphorically. This can leave them feeling as though they are “stuck in a loop”, one may say. Time players will repeat their mistakes countless times, struggling to learn how to overcome their personal endeavors. Their headstrong nature causes them to muscle their way through situations instead of taking a step back and looking at the big picture. They typically force their way through situations rather than take their time to think about doing things differently. 

Time players love to talk. They can be overwhelming to some and annoying to others. However, time players simply have a lot of things to say and so little time to say them. They would rather vomit at the mouth and explain everything to someone rather than keep their thoughts to themselves. 

Time players have an intense personality hidden within them. Some will embrace their intensity while others will hide it away and only show small glimpses into their psyche. The intensity can come in any form, such as intensely angry, intensely happy, intensely bitchy, or intensely cool, but all time players express their intense personalities in some way. 

In Cannon:

Dave Strider (Knight of Time), Aradia Medigo (Maid of Time), Damara Medigo/The Handmaid (Witch of Time), Caliborn (Lord of Time), Mallek Adalov (Player of Time), Skylla Koriga (Player of Time), Marvus Xoloto (Player of Time), Idarat Catlaz (Player of Time)

[treesap-blogs]

Review of “Felix Ever After” by Kacen Calendar!

Hello, Tumblrians! This is the third review for my Trans Rights Readathon series! I didn’t really feel compelled to make fanart like my other reads, so there will be none in this review, sorry. The book I read after Pet (and partially as I was reading that one too) was Felix Ever After by Kacen Callendar. I don’t really have much of a backstory on how I discovered this, except for that I found it under other TBR lists made for the Readathon and decided to check it out. 

Felix Ever After follows a trans boy, Felix, on the cusp of adulthood and teenhood. He’s preparing for college with his best friend Ezra, and on top of sometimes living together they’re also attending a (summer/fall?) arts academy in order to build their portfolios. While there though, Felix is horrified to see an exhibition with his deadname and old photos displayed. The suspect’s left themself anonymous, but Felix is determined to find out who it is. His top suspect? Ezra’s ex, and Felix’s one-sided rival, Declan. So, he creates an Instagram account to catfish Declan and expose him, but in the process, discovers not just that he’s innocent…but also that he’s accidentally ended up headfirst in a quasi-love triangle.

Felix Ever After, first and foremost, is a delightfully messy novel. Felix, along with every other character in the book, are prone to making mistakes(I’ve seen another reviewer say there’s at least one time where you’ll dislike a character haha), but this is something the narrative does not excuse nor gloss over. Arguments will happen, along with confrontations and by the end, yes, Felix does grow. I liked reading about that, even if it means there’s a bit too much going on at once in the plot sometimes.

Felix as a character also felt like an incredibly realistic trans teen. His understanding and questioning of his identity coexist, and I found that incredibly relatable, given where I’ve been in my own gender identity journey before. With that, we got to explore the nonbinary and demiboy labels, which was something I had not read before in any kind of book, nonetheless a YA. His personality also features two opposite, coexisting qualities: naiveness, and obsessiveness, both of which fuel the plot and the story. (I think it was BitchMedia that mentioned this before I did?) At times, this meant that I was frustrated with Felix’s actions and hesitant about how they would be resolved or discussed in the end (but I liked the ending so yay!). Without spoiling, even with the drama and the messiness, Felix still has a healthy relationship and eventually recognizes when he needs to stay out of one’s that won’t be. That was pretty epic.

The writing style also felt similar to that of She Gets The Girl or The Lesbiana’s Guide To Catholic School? I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s just the thing about recent queer contemporary novels, that have some serious subject matter in them but are overall written with a kind of lightheartedness, humor/heart and sometimes snarkiness that keeps me reading until I finish it in a day or less. (She Gets the Girl wasn’t really a five star read per say, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. That’s a review for another day!)

Overall, even if this book wasn’t what I’d call perfect I still enjoyed it.  (No fanart for this one! I don’t do stuff for contemporary books most of the time, and I got a lot of my art done a week after the Readathon ended so I didn’t want to rush in one more piece.)

Book rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️ ¾ /5 stars

(Book content/trigger warnings: Outing, transphobia, homophobia, frequent underage drug and alcohol use.)

Trans Rights Readathon Reviews: 3/5

[amandakespohl]

A Rose for Lady Amell 🌹

Chapter One: Sympathy for the Bedeviled

(Scenes 1 and 2)

Midsummer looked good on Denerim. Three years after the Blight had rolled through, spewing fire and chaos, tearing the nice parts of town to rubble and reducing the shady bits to ash, she was almost completely rebuilt. Her weathered face renewed, her stones freshly mined, her daub and wattle houses freshly daubed and wattled, she beamed under the cloudless blue sky like a stately lady instead of the half-maiden, half-crone she’d been before.

She would seldom look as fair as she did on a parade day. Garlands of red and yellow flowers bedecked every shop and dwelling, no matter how humble. Gold and silver streamers twinkled from the fences. And the parade route was marked by banners bearing the king’s crest—a pair of mabari rearing towards one another. The hounds were supposed to look fierce. But King Alistair fancied that they were playing with each other, about to pounce and roll through the grass, yipping happily. That would certainly represent him better than snarling beasts. He was not much of a snarler. Although, it had been ages since he’d last yipped.

He stood on the ramparts of the royal palace. The stretch of road that unfurled ahead of him teemed with people, a rippling, colorful mass waving flags and throwing flowers. And down the center of that sea of adulation, his true love bobbed towards him on the back of her shining black horse. She was a fine sight in her ceremonial armor—the polished silver contrasted nicely with the rich gold of her hair, which had been twisted up on her head to spill back down her shoulders like the plume on a knight’s helmet. Those locks swept here and there as she gazed around in amusement. She always looked surprised by the reception she received in Denerim. As if she hadn’t killed an archdemon three years ago and saved the world. Not to mention spending the years that followed rebuilding the Grey Wardens and driving the remaining Darkspawn back into the shadowy recesses of the earth. But then, she was a mage. People seldom cheered for mages. There was usually more whispering about abominations and waving holy symbols at them when they weren’t looking. Oh, and locking them up in stone towers to be chopped down by Templars at the slightest provocation. So perhaps her surprise was understandable.

This little display was to celebrate her latest campaign. His advisors told him that it was good to keep her in the public eye. To remind the people of his own heroics by association: the king who once fought side-by-side with the Hero of Ferelden. People devoured the story of their adventures. And they sighed and swooned over their romance. Nothing moved the masses quite like forbidden love.

Himself, he thought forbidden love was overrated. But no one ever asked him. Probably because he got grumpy when people talked about those stories in front of him. As if he and Renara were characters in a ballad, and not people who’d been rewarded for saving the world by losing the one thing they’d wanted the most. He didn’t feel bad about his resulting snarkiness. That kind of thing would make anyone grumpy.

Renara drew nearer to the shadow cast by the palace. She was close enough now that he could make out the sweet curve of her cheek and the blue of her eyes. Someone threw her a rose. She caught it deftly. A smile played across her lips as she sniffed it. Then, as if she could feel the weight of his eyes on her, she looked up at him. Smiling, she tucked the rose in her hair and gave him a wave. He waved back. The red rose looked lovely in her hair. And it broke his heart a little to look at it. He wished she hadn’t done that.

He went downstairs to meet her.

#

The Hero of Ferelden was paraded through the royal palace with the same pomp as she had been through the streets. People bowed as she passed. It was like wading through a prairie when the wind blew—all the tall stately grass swooping down in one’s direction. She wondered if the ones who’d never met her before were disappointed. They’d probably been picturing some imposing, lightning-eyed mage. And then here came Renara, all five-foot-six of her, clinking along in ceremonial armor like a bean in a flagon. It was all she could do not to laugh.

Into the throne room they went. Here is where the armor would help. Not so much in the dread battlefield of the parade, where it only shielded her tender body from thrown petals. But it was best in this room that as much of her was hidden as possible.

She threw on her brightest smile as she approached the throne. The king stood before it, stone-faced. Paying no mind to anyone else, she swept him a florid bow. “Your Majesty.”

“Please don’t ever do that again,” he said in a dry undertone. As she straightened, his honey brown eyes were fixed on her like hound noses on a deer trail. Her smile stayed in place. Another kind of armor.

He raised his voice to the assemblage. “Ladies and gentlemen. Honored banns. We have come together to celebrate the exploits of the Hero of Ferelden. Already, she’s done so much for this kingdom. Slain an archdemon and chased the Darkspawn from the city, for instance. And I could spend longer than you wish to listen describing her adventures since as she works tirelessly to keep Ferelden—and the world—safe. Instead, I shall simply say that she has my gratitude for her successful campaign to drive the Darkspawn from the Hinterlands, and I’m sure, all of yours. So let us eat, drink, and dance in her honor, and you can tell her so, yourselves!”

Under the cheering of the assemblage—less raucous than the cheering outside, but still enthusiastic—Renara murmured, “That was good. Did someone write it for you?”

He shot her a narrow glance. “I wrote it myself. I have had three years to work on this king thing, you know.”

“My mistake. I’m sure you’ve become stunningly regal since last I saw you.” She resisted the urge to tweak the end of his slightly pointy nose as she said it. Old habits die hard.

He offered her his arm. “I believe I’m meant to walk you out in true courtly fashion.”

Oh, good. Touching. That would be fun for both of them. She set her fingertips lightly on the inside of his elbow. “And your queen? She’s not here today to witness my glory?”

“Ah, she thought it might be more diplomatic if she tended to business elsewhere.”

Renara snorted. “Can’t stand the sight of me, can she?”

“Probably not for the reasons you think.” His lips quirked. He clearly wanted to give her that wry grin of his, but it wasn’t kingly. “She doesn’t begrudge you our shared past. After all, she and I are far from madly in love. We respect one another, and we no longer actively hate each other. But that’s the extent of it. No, it’s more that you had the crown of Ferelden in your hands and you passed it to me. And once again, she feels that all the glory of the throne goes to her husband and not herself, despite her brilliance. So as far as she’s concerned, you can die in Andraste’s pyre.”

“Oh, ouch.” Renara winced. “Well, you can’t please everyone. If I learned anything during our travels, it was that. Anything I did that you, Lelianna, and Wynne liked, Morrigan and Sten hated. And Zevran never seemed to care about anything until he suddenly, passionately did. Everybody’s a critic.”

“At least Oghren was mostly just drunk,” Alistair added. They entered the relative quiet of the hall behind the throne room.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I have Oghren with me. He’s a Warden now, did you know? And yes, he is drunk. He started ‘celebrating’ about five miles from the city gates.”

“Ah, I was hoping to test the capacity of the palace urns for holding dwarf vomit.”

“And this way, you’ll get that service for free!” She laughed. Then she noticed how his eyes kept fixing on her hair. He’d always been fascinated with it. Back in the day, the first thing he did during “tent time” was take it down so that he could run his fingers through it. But he didn’t look like he was itching to loosen her locks this time. Sadness lurked in the brightness of his eyes.

Oh. The rose. Shit. She hadn’t thought . . . Well, it’s not like every rose she saw didn’t remind her of the rose he’d given her from Lothering. The one he’d said made him marvel over how such beauty could exist among such ugliness, and how he thought the same thing when he looked at her. Those words were carved into her soul. But she’d been a little distracted during the parade. And it had smelled nice.

There wasn’t really a diplomatic way to remove it and chuck it in one of the aforementioned urns. What was the diplomatic approach? She wasn’t prone to diplomacy. She was a blurter. She blurted out her thoughts like a whacked lamb baaing. It was her greatest weakness. And just now, she wanted to blurt an apology. To let him know that it wasn’t meant to be some kind of bitter dig at him for breaking with her after he became king. Even though he’d spent the year before that telling her he never wanted to live without her. But that was all in the past.

When in doubt, make a joke. She grinned at him. “So, am I excused to go wash off the horse smell or am I to be bathed only in honor?”

“Oh. Yes. Right. And you’ll probably want to change. You look very intimidating in your arcane armor, but I know you feel like a bean rattling in a flagon.”

Why did he always seem to read her mind? After three years, he should have forgotten some of the things she used to say. Although, she hadn’t forgotten much of what he had. Part of her was dying to ask how he liked “licking lampposts in winter” with his new wife. But again, not diplomatic. Or any of her business.

He handed her off to a servant, who led her towards the guest wing. As soon as she was out of sight, she whipped the rose from her hair and tossed it into an urn. It hit the side and bounced in with a metallic clang. The servant peered over her shoulder curiously. Renara smiled at her and spread her hands. Let the woman believe that Renara was so chock full of magical energy that it was ringing around inside her armor. It only helped the legend. Maker knew nothing else about her did.

#

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I update this on my AO3 account as well, where I post as LotheringRose

[mckinxon]

[ yang hyeji, pureblood, she/her ] - MARLENE MCKINNON is a [ 21 ] old [ CIS WOMAN ], and a member of the [ SLYTHERIN ] house. MARLENE is studying [ TRANSFIGURATION] in their [ TENTH ] year at hogwarts. MARLENE reminds people of [ LOUD LAUGHTER, AWKWARD JOKES, CONTINOUS APPROVING HUMS, RED LIPSTICK MARKS ON COFFEE CUPS], and is siding with the [ THE ORDER ] during the war. but hopefully, it won’t come to that.

TW: death mention.

GROWING UP

Born in a somehow known family- the Mckinnons are known for respect and their unique ways of doing things. Marlene was raised by her father and her two brothers- her brothers had basically raised her despite them barely being older than her. They taught her how to be tough and how to be listened to- so, of course she learned how to scream from a young age. She learned how to show her opinion and make sure that things happen the way she wants them to. Her house had always been full of laughter- no sad days were happening. With her mother gone since a young age, she has had to grow tough skin before she could even spell 'witch'.

START OF THE WAR

Hogwarts changed everything. From the second she entered into the Great Hall and was sorted into the house she feared to be sorted into- she had heard about it; the house that was cunning, the house that was known for not being the kindest.It had taken her a while to grow acommodate with her house, not even in this moment she’s at heart with it. Most of her nights are spent on the Gryffindor coach or in the girls’ dormitory. She’s brave at heart, but she’s living witht the cunning.-  Throwing comments here and there like she doesn’t care - throwing hexes to everyone that crosses the line she had settled.  The concentration she has everytime she has a wand in her hands - it’s the same amount of concentration she has when choosing her words towards the one she cares about. She knows words can hurt. While she is amazing with her wand, her mouth is her best weapon ; in two ways, of course. The thing about Marlene is that she’s like fire - she’s literally fire. If touched, she will burn you she will destroy you from scratch. But she will also bring heat and love towards you. Passion flies through her veins, and she does nothing without a cause. She moves her body in a way that no one does. She is so concentrated but in the same time she takes everything like it’s a game. Life’s a game, after all. At least for her, it always was.

Marlene is angry. Marlene wants to make a change- so she she started working harder for her goals- her brothers always had some kind of dreams she could not follow, but with the fear of them being gone soon because of their jobs- two out of three Aurors and a Healer- she had this constant worry, and wanted to be better than just a worry and actually do something about it. She's always been good at transfiguration so it was not a tough decision at all. She had always been cold on the outside. She wouldn’t give snarky comments unless you provocked her to, but her feelings had always been bottled up and only a few had the power to open that bottle. She’d rather talk about other people than herself any time. Though, she hates gossip- she just doesn’t feel like everyone should know about her that much She makes risky decisions and doesn’t bother about the consequences when it’s only about herself. She would set a number of explosions just to make sure her friends are alright, alive and healthy. There is nothing that matters more to her than family and friends.Nothing.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Grffyindor friends- As mentioned before, Marlene’s heart house had always been Gryffindor considering her brothers had been in Gryffindor as well. She would spent most time in their commons sometimes, maybe even more than she had in Slytherin- so I believe that even now, she would keep in contact with those friends.

Unlikely friendships- I am a sucker of unlikely friendships, I think there would be a great dynamic for someone who maybe she had grew more close to after some of her family’s deaths and her continous try of picking up those pieces- it would be interesting to see the dynamic with someone she might not usually agree/get along with!

OTHER

WAND:    14½" long, made of cypress wood, and had a unicorn hair core. Quite Bendy flexibility. Cypress wood -  Cypress wands are associated with nobility. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. Fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. Wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.Unicorn - Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

Patronus: Polar-bear - Those with a polar bear as their patronus are very adaptable individuals, but stubborn. They put up strong emotional barriers and are very oriented on one aspect of their lives, such as a career or volunteer work. This can make them seem cold to others, and they can be blunt in their ways of communication. Despite this, they are very connected to everything, however small that connection may be.

Boggart: Tornado. Which is ironic regarding the fact that she has been compared to one on more than just one occasion. The first time that she had faced a boggart, she was not expecting a tornado to show up - something as powerful and unpredictable. Tornadoes can destroy everything in a second and there isn’t anything that anyone can do to stop it. That’s her fear, that things can get so twisted that nobody could ever do something about it. That she won’t be able to do something about it. And, it actually came true.

[instablamwriter]

A3! | Banri/Kazunari

Rating: T

Summary:

Banri is being swarmed by classmates because he knows the popular InstaBlamer Kazunari Miyoshi

A/N: gift for rory!

“Oi, Settsu! Didn't you come to school with that senpai, Miyoshi? He's got a large ‘Blam account! How do you know him?”

Banri looks up from the play he’s reading, barely recognizing the guy talking to him as one of his coursemates. He's had a reputation of a troublemaker despite his good grades since middle school, and so it's a novelty that people come up to him like it’s nothing. His classmates had all either been scared or bored out of their wits and bothered him to skip school to shoot the shit.

“We're part of the same theatre company,” he answers smoothly.

“Oh right! Mankai wasn't it? You guys blew up for beating Godza!”

“Huh, I don't remember seeing Settsu in that angel production?”

Banri yawns. “That’s a different troupe. I'm from the Autumn Troupe. We do the more action-focused plays.”

His classmate waves away his comment, obviously not caring. “Anyway, this senpai is really popular on campus for his cool paintings! You actually know a celeb!”

Sure, Banri 'knows' Kazunari, but only superficially. They've talked in passing at the dormitory and he has gotten praise from Kazunari before, whether it be for his acting or for some other thing he's done. Kazunari's a talkative one and easy to converse with, but they've never talked about anything that mattered.

It's not wrong to say he has a shallow understanding of their company’s graphic designer.

((Not that Banri has heart to heart talks with most people, but some are easier to open up to than others.))

He's never even checked Kazunari's Instablam before. The only reason he has any form of social media is because his high school buddies wouldn't stop bothering him until he made an account. He's used Chirper to follow gamers and shit, but that's pretty much it. He's hardly ever there.

The only real bit of curiosity Banri has for the guy is Tenma's attachment to him. Tenma and Banri get along well. It’s the whole ‘admired from apart’ thing they both have going on, albeit for him, it’s for arguably the wrong reasons. They had one karaoke session and have hit it off ever since. It’s like having the little brother he never had – well one of them, since Taichi is another. But this time, he’s being seen as himself as just Banri Settsu, not this wild delinquent who just happens to be good at anything.

He can admit it, it’s kinda nice.

Tenma isn’t a dishonest guy. He’s usually straightforward with what he means, but he can get easily flustered when it comes to being teased and dealing with sincerity sometimes. The wall he put up from often being hassled by people only for his fame has only crumbled completely in front of the Summer Troupe, and one of those people that are close to him is of course, Kazunari.

“Hah! That Miyoshi is a high school debut kind of loser.” Banri’s train of thought is pierced through by a loud snarky voice. He shifts his attention to a classmate holding up their smartphone, smug smile on his face.

“Look, my sister studied with him in middle school and this is what he looked like. Totally lame!” On the little screen of his phone is a young boy with black hair and glasses. It's what you would expect of an honor student or something, complete with that expression of disinterest.

Despite the complete difference in vibe and style, it was undeniably Kazunari, or at least, a younger version of him.

“What a wannabe trying to be a cool kid.”

“Shut up.” All eyes turn to Banri.

“W-What?!”

“Didn't ya hear me? I said to shut it.” Banri puts the play script down and stands up, the chair he was sitting on screeching loudly.

“So what if he changed himself? At least he had the guts to try to become something he wanted to be. I don't see you doing anything with your li'l sorry life except yapping your mouth around.”

“Why you-!”

“Settsua! I thought I saw this class in your sched! Mind if I steal you for a moment? Gotta talk to you about classified theatre stuff.” Kazunari winks and the rest of the classroom goes silent.

“Wah...you freshies sure look tense!” Kazunari claps his hands. “Don't worry, guys! You'll settle in soon! Try your best to loosen up!” He does a wriggly dance before gradually stepping out of the lecture room.

As soon as they're out in the hallway, Kazunari stops speaking. His back is to Banri and Banri scratches the back of his neck.

“Did ya hear all that?”

Kazunari finally faces him and he leans on the wall. “He's not wrong to call me a wannabe, but it did take a lot of courage for me to change. I've changed a lot about me to fit what others would want so I wouldn't be lonely anymore, but I'm slowly figuring out again what I want and voicing it out.”

When Kazunari smiles at Banri, it's not like his usual grin, but a soft small one.

“Thank you Settsua, for standing up for me. That was uber cool of you!”

And in a second, he reverts back to his usual cheery self.

“T'was nothing,” Banri mutters.

Kazunari puts a hand on Banri’s shoulder.”Anyway! I didn't really need you for anything but I know you're trying to stay out of trouble this time around.”

Saluting, he winks again. “See ya ‘round!”

Banri watches as Kazunari turns the corner and disappears from his sight. If Banri’s interest in Kazunari had been piqued before, he's super curious about the other man now. And if he thought that Kazunari looked pretty in that one moment, well Banri can keep that to himself.

[frogtanii]

[buckle up; this one is a long one (1.6k words)]

things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

she was supposed to show up, apologize “sincerely,” and the boys, her boys, were supposed to welcome her with open arms and swiftly discard of you.

instead, she was sitting in the back of a cramped police car with two pigs, one of which had a horrible b.o. problem and an affinity for sauerkraut.

it was so frustrating.

and, of course, it was all your fault.

you’d been blocking her from true happiness ever since the beginning when you’d first met in middle school. it was crazy because you’d actually seemed nice; kind, understanding, and you didn’t judge her for what her father did to her mother or for how she acted out because of that.

sure, you were a little weird and sometimes you could be downright rude to other kids in your class but you cared for her in a way that no one else had before.

(un)fortunately, you didn’t come alone — you were a packaged deal. your childhood friend, daishou, came into her life right along with you. she didn’t mind at first; daishou was fun when he wanted to be but he was mostly full of snarky comments and sarcastic quips.

the three of you spent all your time with each other; from playing at the playground to helping her begin her makeup youtube channel in 8th grade.

you all got along pretty well up until you got to highschool. once there, you threw yourself into your studies, sort of retracting yourself from her and daishou.

how selfish.

she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by you—you knew how bad she was at making friends and you didn’t even care, leaving her all alone to fend for herself.

well, not all by herself.

daishou was a constant. no matter where she was, or how alone she was feeling, he was there to provide entertainment at the most, and his presence at the least.

it wasn’t always the healthiest, most functional friendship, she could admit that. there were weeks that daishou would choose to ignore her for no apparent rhyme or reason, citing his explanation as he just didn’t feel like it.

obviously it sucked but he was her only friend, ever since you so cruelly abandoned them. i mean, you still ate lunch with them every day and invited them over to study and hang out, but it was not the same.

with you so absent, she grew closer and closer to daishou to the point she was spending almost every waking moment with him. and, as the story so goes, she fell for him, head over heels.

she knew it was a bad idea, if their friendship was anything to go off of but she didn’t care. she was desperate for love and physical affection and he seemed willing to at least give her the latter.

after she decided to confess, nerves all the way in her throat and a box of chocolates behind her back, daishou took her virginity in the back of his ford fusion, hard, fast and nothing like she’d imagined.

the next day, she’d cornered you in the library (where you always seemed to be) to tell you the good news. your face was unusually blank as she detailed the best night of her life to you, your response being less than stellar when she was done. “please be careful,” you had said.

what did that even mean? you clearly wanted to keep daishou safe from her which was ridiculous because weren’t you supposed to be her friend too? she’d stormed out of the library after that, determined to demand a kiss from daishou to make her feel better.

that day was one of the last that she’d see you for a while. you got caught up with clubs and schoolwork (and apparently therapy for god knows what) while she got caught up with daishou.

things with him weren’t... great. they never really were but things were getting even worse. his random bouts of silence got longer and though it was only freshman year and they’d been dating for less than 5 months, he’d meet with her after school with a hickey plastered on his collarbone that she knew she didn’t put there (she sucked even harder over the spot to claim it as her own).

as she said, things weren’t great but they weren’t horrible either. they remained that way all the way up until sophomore year.

you and her had drifted even further, hardly speaking to one another unless it was for a project or to vaguely greet one another in the halls. it was okay though. you had all your other friends and she... well she had daishou.

speaking of, her “boyfriend” had been more distant than usual. she wasn’t an idiot and she knew he’d been seeing other girls on the side, but she believed she would be the one he’d end up with, the one he’d marry.

how foolish she had been.

it was prom night and she felt beautiful. her beauty channel had finally begun picking up traction (she’d just hit 13k subscribers the night before!!) so she filmed a prom night makeup tutorial, making sure that every square inch of her face was perfect. donning a silky blue floor length dress, she felt like a princess and she certainly looked the part.

she showed up to daishou’s house about 30 minutes before the event, ringing his doorbell with an elated grin painted all over her face. he had mentioned in passing that his parents and older sister would be out for the weekend, leaving the house for themselves. that meant sex and sex meant being wanted.

after the third ring of the bell, she started to get nervous. maybe he wasn’t ready yet? maybe he needed help with his tie? just when she was about to wring the bell again, the door swung open to reveal daishou... not in his suit.

“oh, it’s you,” he’d grumbled. “‘m not goin’ to prom.” she felt her breath catch in her throat. she’d protested and begged for an explanation but he wouldn’t give one to her. eventually, she’d followed him into his house, furious because how could he do this to her? on her night?

it didn’t take very long for him to get fed up, his snake-like eyes honing in on her, filled with venom. “‘m not goin’ because i don’t like you anymore. you still look pretty though.”

just like that, with just a few words, he’d shattered her heart. she was frozen in place, completely disconnected from daishou, her love, as he not-so-gently pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.

she felt tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, her legs were carrying her to a place she hadn’t been in months.

banging frantically on the door, she cried out, begging for someone, anyone to hear her. the door opened quickly and there you stood. you’d clearly been studying but as you took in her frazzled appearance, it seemed as though your heart broke.

you ushered her inside, sat her own the couch, and began to make her a cup of tea, your parents having been out for the night as well. once the kettle went off, you quickly prepped her drink and gave it to her, the words flowing out of her like liquid once she had taken a sip.

she didn’t know why she was even there but despite the animosity between the two of you, you seemed like you truly... cared. (neither of you mentioned the tears that stained your favorite t shirt or the quiet apologies you muttered into her hair).

that night quickly went and passed and by the next day, she was feeling rejuvenated and more like herself. however, that feeling quickly dissipated when she caught you in the hallway between classes speaking with daishou behind the stairwell in hushed tones.

within the span of a few hours, her heart had been broken twice and she was sure she’d never felt such heartache before.

she turned on her heel and darted away, avoiding your every attempt to talk to her for weeks and weeks until you just... stopped trying. after you’d cut off conversation, yet again, the sadness quickly festered and morphed into anger.

that anger only grew when she watched you graduate at the top of your class in your senior year, your smile blinding as you accepted your diploma. it only grew when she saw that you had made it into the university of your choice on your instagram story, her own rejection letter torn up in the bottom of her wastebin. it only grew when she saw you’d made your own youtube channel, her own going untouched and neglected (her last video had been a half-assed “get ready with me” that had more dislikes than likes due to her horrible makeup and even worse attitude).

soon enough, the rage had intensified until it had taken over her whole being. she was just so angry at all that you’d done to her, all the ways you’d ruined her life that she couldn’t keep herself from plotting your demise.

when she got the email from the hyper house management team that invited her into the house and offered the option that she could pick someone she wanted to move in as well, her anger turned into excitement.

this was her chance. this was her moment to turn your life into a living hell, to make it at least a fraction of what she went through by your hands.

she was going to make you pay and god, was it going to feel great.

the metal of the handcuffs chafed her wrists as she adjusted herself against the cool leather of the cruiser, the discomfort removing her from her reverie.

yeah, right. it seemed as though she was the only one “paying” right about now.

she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

things definitely weren’t meant to turn out like this. not at all.

℗ poker face

not like this

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OMFG THE BACKSTORY REVEALED I AM SO OVER IT >:(( this took me forever to write and i still wasn’t able to include everything i wanted to so hop over to my asks if you need any clarification!! oh oh && just a reminder, this playlist is from meiko’s perspective so chances are, things didn’t exactly go just like this wink wonk KAJS ANYWAYS DONT FORGET TO FEED ME ILY <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[shotorozu]

you like their hands

character(s) : shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, monoma neito (2/?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, quirk left unmentioned

post type : headcanons + small scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice] not even nsfw

note(s) : i was gonna put denki in this but i had a hard time thinking about what kinda hands he’d have, so i’m putting him in the next post

»»————-　♡　————-««

shinsou hitoshi

his hands are big, and his fingers are quite thick.

really likes wearing rings and bracelets, but he usually doesn’t wear them when he’s working (i’d say that bc wearing jewelry while doing physical activity HURTS)

regarding texture, his hands were initially soft— but due to transferring in the hero course, they roughened up over time

he’ll use hand cream if you want, but he doesn’t go the extra mile. and his nails are trimmed at all times. painting his nails a black color would be great once in a while.

lol i forgot to mention nails in the last post

he notices right away that you like his hands when he catches you staring at them when he’s cracking his knuckles

like.. people have said that his hands are nice, but he doesn’t really say much about them bc they’re not you

scenario

a crack sound is briefly heard in the rather silent room. the scrolling on your phone halts, and your eyes follow the sound of the crack.

ah, he’s cracking his knuckles. you think to yourself, and you’re left just simply admiring the way he applies pressure on a knuckle. who knew that his rather— large hand would look appealing, even while cracking his knuckles.

you snap out of your observation, but instead of just simply going back to whatever you were doing, you’re met with lilac eyes. “you were staring again.”

your cheeks heat up, and you opt to just turn your head to the opposite direction. “sorry,” you apologize. however— that’s not what hitoshi was looking for apparantly.

“if you like my hands alot,” he scoots next to you, hands sliding up and down your arms— his firm grip practically making the pre existing butterflies in your stomach act up again. “then you should’ve said so, kitty.”

is he conscious of his actions? hm. you could say that

he’ll purposely play with his capture tool right in front of you— the material wrapping around his hand. and he can only laugh when you immediately get absorbed into it

the back of his hand will brush against your cheek. then, when he comes in to kiss you, he’ll cup your cheek— kissing you with his other hand resting at your nape

under the table, his hand will start to slide against yours, interlocking hands with you. he’ll act like nothing is happening, but on the inside— he’s taking in your reaction

a little spicy, but when he wants you to look at him— he’ll do that thing where his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, as it almost dips right into your mouth

if he feels a little extra, his hand will also be tugging on your hair (if you’re fine with that. otherwise, he’s sticking to the one above)

oh and he also does that thing where he rests his hand on your neck, thick fingers squeezing your throat lightly.

overall— THIS MAN omg, he’ll entertain your interest in his hand nicely, just for you. and every single thing he does is memorable

kirishima eijirou

his hands are quite normal regarding size, they are almost always veiny, a lot more than bakugou’s actually. i think at some point he was concerned about them

his hands are rather flushed in color, but that’s because of his quirk. his fingers have a few tiny scars here and there,

he occasionally has pen marks on his wrists due to bad penmanship, and his nails.. don’t look the best, but they’re not the worst it’s bc of his quirk

the palms of his hands are ridden with callouses. but he wears them with pride because it’s the pure evidence of his hard work with his training.

but he starts to get worried about them when he goes to hold your hand.

you always had a thing for kirishima’s hands, but you just never had the chance to tell him that. i guess asking you did it for him

scenario

did you even realize how hard you were staring at his hands right now? it happened every single time he enlaced his arms around you, his hands resting at the sides of your arms

at first, he thought it might’ve been because his hands are too rough, or you might’ve been in discomfort— because maybe, just maybe, he accidentally activated his quirk?

the fact that he can’t exactly tell what it is worried him, maybe he should just ask you.

but his worry washed off when you told him upfront that you ‘liked his hands’

“wait so.. you’re staring at my hands because you like them?” kirishima wants to confirm your words, and— so casually, by the way— nod in agreement.

tracing the veins on his hands, you elaborate “your hands are really nice, i can tell how hard you must’ve worked.” pressing your smaller hand against his, you smile.

eijirou takes a moment to process it, but it’s surprisingly quick. “oh t-thanks!” he sheepishly took the compliment, a small blush sporting on his cheeks. “i’m glad it wasn’t because you thought they were weird.”

kirishima unintentionally feeds your interest with his hands. like sometimes.. he’s just not aware of it, but yes— he is feeding your interest well

will always make you compare hand sizes with him, chuckling softly at the dazed look on your face when your palms touch

if you allow him, he’ll fix your hair for you. doesn’t matter what hair type you have, he’ll do LOTS of research to know how to style it

those hands are magical

if you get a papercut, or a wound from cooking— he’ll patch you up, then he’ll press a kiss on the bandaid.

he’ll do this thing where he’ll squeeze your sides when you pull in for a hug. but if you’re not okay with that, he’ll opt to just rubbing your back with his hand— rocking you softly as he hugs you

a little spicy, but his hands do wander a lot. you might need to even hold them in place to make sure they don’t go too wild

in addition to that, he’ll just SLIGHTLY, activate his quirk to make sure you’re conscious of his touch. his finger tips gliding against your back, sending shivers down your spine.

but of course, he’s careful. he doesn’t activate it to the point it causes scratch marks, nor will his actions draw blood. he doesn’t wanna do that

in short— kirishima’s a little clueless at first. he wouldn’t really tease you in public, but he’s surprisingly attentive to your interest.

monoma neito

his hands are on the tipping edge of slightly above average. he doesn’t have a lot of veins on his hands, but they do pop out depending on what quirk he’s using

monoma’s hands are pretty spotless of any scars (from cuts, abrasions, etc.) because he gets REALLY annoyed with wounds pretty easily

to the point he’d want to attend to the wound immediately, he doesn’t let them sit— it’s just a personal preference

his nails are at the perfect length. not too long and not too short to the point it hurts, you don’t know how he does it.

wears watches on his wrists, and not the digital type— he sorta acts like he can read it easily, but it takes him a few seconds to even get to know the time

you know this because kendo snitched on him and told you LOL

you secretly hate yourself for this, but you really like his hands because of how he takes care of them. you’d never tell monoma even though you’re dating him

scenario

you’re unsure of yourself on how your boyfriend— monoma, found out about your fascination with his hands. it was supposed to be a secret for the rest of your life, and you only remember talking about it once out loud

which you assumed was a close call, considering that you thought he didn’t hear it at all— but he did.

“so i heard you like my hands, huh Y/N?” monoma’s teasing tone does not aid the situation. your cheeks heat up with embarassment, and you can’t get yourself to answer his question— without sounding like a fool anyway.

you fake annoyance, “where’d that come from?” you ask, and monoma doesn’t seem to want to switch the topic

“i’m asking you a question, dear Y/N— i heard you like my hands,” his tone would’ve sounded condescending to any other person, but you can tell that he’s either genuinely curious

or just teasing you, because that’s how he is.

to aid his question, he brushes his fingers along your neck— near your pulse. you jolt, stunned by the sudden action— heart beating rapidly against your chest.

“see,” monoma presses his hand against your chest, where your heart is palpitating, grinning in a way that’s teasing you “it’s true, isn’t it? sweet Y/N has a thing for my hands, hm?”

you furrow your eyebrows, and flick his forehead— and he hisses in reaction, “fine then, i do like your hands.” you finally give in, admitting final defeat.

ever since then, you haven’t heard the end of it

definitely that person that’ll just randomly bring it up to you, no matter what hour of the day it is.

“oh Y/N, you were totally fawning over my hands earlier—”

“i will castrate you.”

you know he means well most of the time, but sometimes he just loves teasing the heck out of you.

but that doesn’t mean he neglects your obvious interest in his hands.

he’ll compliment you, he’s a snarky person in general— but to you, he’s totally smooth with it.

slides his hand from your forearm to your hands, only to bring them up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your hand

squeezes your hand everytime he sees you, it’s kind of a nonverbal greeting at this point

similar to kirishima, he likes comparing hand sizes— teasing you about the size difference (even if it’s not even a big of a difference, he’ll take that chance.)

does this thing where he rubs his thumb against his palm. does it a lot when he’s concentrated about something, or just out of the blue

a little spicy, but he’ll make you tell him what you like about his hands, and what you like about the things he does with those hands of his. if that makes sense

he wants all of the details, doesn’t care if it’s mundane, or things he does when he’s feeling a certain way.

he wants to know, because as soon as you’re done with your spewl, he’ll do exactly what you like, teasing you while he’s at it. and so he can start incorporating those habits whenever he’s around you.

totally someone that’ll make you suck on those fingers. oh, but he’ll purposely get some dessert on them— asking you to suck them off

“good grief, i got some dessert on my fingers again. Y/N, come suck them off”

sometimes he’s serious, sometimes he’s just teasing.

overall— it’s pretty adventurous. he starts to act on it as soon as the revelation is revealed to him.

but i’d say he does just fine.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, translate, repost, or use my work for audio readings without my consent :))

[hops-hunny]

Angels on Earth

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.8k

Request: “CONGRATS ON 300 FOLLOWERS!!!! I love your writing sm <3

this is my first time ever making a request and recently I found out that the person I was dating is still in love with their ex so I'm looking for comfort rn hehe

could you do a 23, 33, 35 with Ron, a mix of fluff and smut? chubby/plus size fem reader please”

Summary: Ron thought he was obvious, but it was clear (Y/n) was more obvious.

Warnings: Sexual themes

A/N: This took a while but I’ve also been busy but, enjoy!

23. “Cause I never believed there was a heaven till I found you.”

33. “Would you fuck me if I was skinny?” “I’d fuck you right now.”

35. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just said so.”

For as long as Ron could remember, he had always found his potions partner to be beautiful. Who could blame him? (Y/n) was a beautiful girl. Round cheeks, soft all around, beautiful (h/c) hair, and the prettiest set of (e/c) eyes he had ever seen. But that wasn’t originally what drew him in, it was everything else. (Y/n) had an aura that surrounded her that was so bright, so full of life. Everyone who befriended her was always in a positive mood, smiles seen left and right from the jokes she’d tell. Even right now, with her hair pulled back from her face and the cute little goggles she insisted on wearing, he couldn’t help but admire her.

“Right. I think that should be it.” She said, pushing the goggles up her face as she turned her head to look at him. His face flushed and if she had noticed, she didn’t say much. “That is unless you fucked something up. Merlin knows how bad you are with Potions Weasley.” she giggled, his heart pulling and racing in his chest. 

“Oi! ‘M not that bad. Plus you didn’t let me touch anything, should be fine unless you managed to make a mistake.” He leaned towards her a bit with a devious smirk. “But it’s impossible for you to do that isn’t it? I forgot you were just a perfect princess.” He pulled away, eyes trained on the potion in the cauldron in front of them. Amortentia, was it? He found it a bit strange because he couldn’t smell anything but the girl’s perfume no matter how far he leaned in. In his own state of confusion, he completely missed the girl’s own shocked look on her face.

“What do you smell?” she questioned, gathering her things due to the period drawing to a close. His eyes widened at his realization before calming down. Now was a better time than ever. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before sighing.

“You.” his eyes shot open at the sound of a snort. (Y/n) had made her way towards the exit of the potions room, (e/c) eyes rolling at him as she shot him a smile. She went to leave the room before giving him an up and down.

“If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just said so.” she teased, shooting him a wink before exiting the room. He groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face as he adjusted the awkward bulge in his pants. He stood, gathering his things as he huffed to himself.

“I’m in deep aren’t I?” he said out loud, ignoring the look his slimy potion’s teacher gave him. Without another word, he left continuing on his path to his next dreadful class of the day.

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

“She probably thought you were joking.” Harry said, causing Ron to give him a glare. Even though there was a big possibility that Harry was right, he didn’t want to believe him. He thought his attempt was a good one! He was direct about what he meant, right?

“He’s got a point. You guys usually joke around and mess with each other a lot. She probably thought you were cracking a joke. Have you tried just telling her how you feel?” Luna asked as if the answer was obvious. Ron felt his brow twitch as he sighed, sinking down in his seat more as he threw his head back.

“What can be more obvious than saying you smell someone in your Amortentia? Do you guys even think?” He questioned.

“Do you? Cause if you did then you’d know that was a poor attempt.” Hermione chimed. Although at first he was sure his attempt was good, that it was obvious, suddenly he was beginning to have second thoughts. Was he clear enough? Sure, you could say one thing but he’d be the first to admit his actions didn’t match. He huffed, looking at his friends, desperation hidden in his eyes.

“Well, what should I say then?” 

“Say something truthful! Let your heart speak for what your actions couldn’t.” Ginny chimed, causing them all to give her a strange look. She crossed her arms, looking away with red cheeks. “What? I think I’d know what chicks like, I do shag em afterall.”

“So tell us, what does your heart say Ron?” Luna asked, he sighed as he racked his brain. He liked her a lot. How could he not? (Y/n) was beautiful, a gift from the heavens above. The softness of her skin, the roundness of her tummy, and those beautiful luscious thighs. He was surprised no one else had made a move on her yet. She was kind too, always willing to help her fellow (y/h/h) in need.

A lovesick dopey look took over his face. “I...I’d say…” he let out a dreamy noise as hearts took over his eyes, “I never believed there was a heaven till I found you. Never believed angels walked among us at Hogwarts, that I think she’s amazing and I-”

“Okay ew that’s enough. I’m gonna be sick. Save it for her.” his sister said, grimacing as she stood up. “And with that note, I’m gone. Why not tell  her at the Gryfindor party tonight? I’m sure she’ll be there!” Ron gulped nervously. That soon? Surely a few hours wasn’t enough time to prepare! Maybe he’d try in a few months…

However as he looked across the hall, seeing some twit practically eye fucking her, it was settled. Tonight he would tell her and if not, he’d at least make some progress.

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

Ron let out a shaky deep breath, wiping his sweaty hands along the front of his jeans. Whether it was the sweltering heat of all the warm bodies, the shots he had taken, or the thought of what he had set out to do tonight he didn’t know, but either way he was burning like a phoenix. His eyes trailed the room nervously, looking for (Y/n). How was he sure she’d be here anyways? She wasn’t a frequent attender to parties, only showing up to them sporadically. However at the sound of a familiar laugh-snort combo, he had all he needed. 

In his buzzed(and slightly drunken) haze, he followed the sound blindly, face heating up at the girl's appearance. She wore a blush colored bodycon dress that clung to the folds and curves of her body nicely.. Her hair was styled differently than usual, but suited her perfectly nonetheless. Most things did. And when she saw him? Her face broke out in a bright smile as she hiccuped, handing her half empty cup to one of her friends. She stumbled her way over to him. He steadied her by placing his hand on her waist, looking down at her.

“Ronnn! Omg Ronnie, what’re you doing here?” she hiccuped again, giggling as she stared up at him. He smiled back at her softly, stroking along the softness of her waist.

“ I could ask you the same thing, love, you’re not much of a drinker usually.” he placed a hand on her cheek, thankful for the liquid courage flowing through his system. “You alright? Come on, let’s sit you down. You don’t seem to be too steady.” he said, guidning her towards the couch. When they got there, he expected her to sit next to him but was in shock as she parked herself in his lap. She wrapped an arm around his neck, smiling down at him drunkenly. He handed her a glass of water, the same one he had been handed earlier when he was getting a bit out of hand. She thanked him, sipping on it at a slow pace. 

After a few minutes, the hiccuping and giggles had died down from her, leaving her to form goosebumps at their current position. She was fully seated on the boy’s lap and he had his arms wrapped around her, rubbing his fingers along her soft pudgy sides. She bit her lip as she looked off to the side, before bringing her eyes back to his.

“Uh, Ron,” she started, looking down as she picked at the skin around her nail beds. Letting out a deep sigh, she continued, “Can I ask you something?” her heart began to race rapidly as she looked at him, watching as he nodded before offering her a soft smile.

“Course. What’s up?” How should she phrase it? Should she be simple? Should she-

“Would you fuck me if I was skinny?” she blurted out, eyes widening. Although she had wanted to ask him something about if he was attracted to her, she hadn’t intended on being so...bold. She was known for speaking her mind but not in situations like this! In a state of panic, she went to stand up but was pulled down by a strong pair of arms, pulling her close to an even stronger, toned chest. He chuckled in her ears, hair tickling the edge of her neck.

“Shit princess, I mean...I’d fuck you right now.” his grip on her sides tightened, trailing one hand on her thigh. Out of all the things she could’ve said, this was the last one Ron expected. (Y/n), his snarky potions partner, in his lap in that god forsaken dress asking if he’d fuck her. He felt his own heart begin to race. Did she mean to say it? Well, did she mean to say it to him? Or did she just want his opinion for someone else?

“O-oh.” she stuttered out. (Y/n) pulled back some, turning her head to look at him, finding that his eyes instantly were drawn to hers. 

“Do you mean that?” they both asked. Ron’s cheeks turned red as (Y/n) felt her own face grow warm. Both of them let out breaths they didn’t even know they were holding, laughing with one another.

“I meant it but, did you?” she asked, breath hitching of the closeness of their faces to one another. She could smell the fire whiskey mixed with hints of cannabis and weed mixing with it making her absolutely intoxicated. He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers.

“‘Course I did, love. You don’t have to be skinny for me to do anything with you, let alone fuck you. Because trust me,” he trailed a hand along her upper thigh, sliding it between the soft expanse of them. “It’d be my pleasure to fuck a woman with a body like yours. A woman so soft, so tender, bet that cunt of yours is tight and dripping. Isn’t it?” the girl squeaked, clenching her thighs around his hand. He leaned down, pecking her lips softly before pulling away, (Y/n) whimpering  in a desperate attempt to let him know she wanted more..

“And if I were to grant you that pleasure right now?” she purred, placing a soft hand on his cheek which he gladly leaned into, a dark chuckle leaving his lips.

“I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

[alisonsfics]

how could i hate you?

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

request: “would you mind writing a sebastian stan x reader fic? i had this idea where the reader & him have been dating for a while. he meets her parents & the readers parents are super rude & small minded. the reader is worried about how he’ll react. you decide the ending. can it be angst & fluff? it’s personal” - 🥺 anon

word count: 2k

warnings: controlling and derogatory parents, swearing (use of the word f***ing, but it only occurs once)

“Hey, sweetheart? You almost ready?” Your boyfriend called to you, from the other room. You were trying to put on a necklace, but you couldn’t get the clasp to close because your hands were so shaky. “Almost” you croaked, trying to push back the tears.

Tonight, you were taking Sebastian to dinner with your parents. He was going to meet them for the first time. Your nerves had consumed your entire body. Your hands were shaking, and you could feel your heart in your throat.

You loved your parents, but they tended to be hypercritical. They had both lived in a small town their entire lives. Small towns breed small mindsets. They weren’t the most supportive when you decided to move to Los Angeles. They didn’t understand the appeal of a big city.

You could handle their criticism, but the last thing you wanted was for them to be rude to Sebastian. He cared so much about their approval, and you wanted him to have it.

Sebastian peeked his head into the bathroom and saw the tears that were welling up in your eyes. Before even saying a word, he enveloped you in a hug. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you. “What's wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, while rubbing your back.

You took a deep breath and pulled out of the hug. Sebastian had a worried expression on his face. He cupped your face and left a soft kiss on your lips. “You can talk to me” he said, softly. You nodded.

“I’m really fucking nervous about tonight” you told him, your voice breaking. He pulled you back into a hug and pressed kisses into your hair. “It’ll be okay. I promise” he assured you, but you couldn’t even let yourself believe his words.

You held the collar of his shirt and buried your face in his chest. “I know how they are, Seb. They’ve always been super critical. I don’t want them to say anything rude to you” you mumbled into his chest.

He hummed, letting you know that he understood. “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with criticism before. Besides, how could they not like me. I’m pretty amazing, right?” He joked, causing you to giggle.

You pulled away and lightly hit his arm. “There’s that smile” he said, smiling to himself. He took the necklace out of your hand and gestured for you to turn around. He clipped the hook together and then spun you around. “It’ll all be okay” he said, before taking your arm and pulling towards the front door.

As you drove down the highway, you started to tap your fingers on your thigh. It was your tell tale sign that you were nervous. Sebastian, knowing all of your little quirks, noticed instantly. He reached his hand over and interlaced his fingers with yours. “It’s just one dinner” he said, softly.

The words brought you comfort. Your parents could attack every part of Sebastian’s character, but it was still just one night. You both could home and pretend it never happened. While you wanted their approval, you didn’t need it to be happy.

He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Before unlocking the doors, he looked over at you. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time” he said, giving you a gentle kiss. He let you take a few deep breaths, and then you both got out of the car.

You saw your parents sitting on a bench outside. They smiled when they saw you both walking towards them. You could tell it was a fake smile, but you allowed it to go unmentioned.

“You’re only ten minutes late. That’s a new record” your mom whispered, as she pulled you into a hug. You pulled away and kept an equally not-genuine smile on your face.

“Mom and Dad, meet Sebastian” you said, introducing them officially. He gave your mother a hug, and then moved to your father, shaking his hand. “That’s a nice car you have. A little expensive for my taste, but nice” your dad said, giving his signature backhanded compliment. Sebastian noticed, but just thanked him, trying to make a good impression.

Sebastian quickly opened the front door to the restaurant and allowed you all to walk inside. His hand found its familiar spot on the small of your back as you all waited for the hostess. He gave you a hopeful smile when your parents looked away.

Eventually, the hostess walked over to the stand. “Hello. I have a reservation for four. It should be under Stan” Sebastian told her. She nodded before grabbing a stack of menus and leaded you all through the restaurant.

You made it to the private room that Sebastian had requested. “Oh a private room? He’s already trying to win us over with his money” your mother sharply remarked, barely above a whisper. Sebastian pulled your seat out for you, and you all took your seats.

“So why did you pick this restaurant?” Your dad asked, at least trying to make conversation. Sebastian lit up as he remembered the story that followed along. He gestured to you, letting you tell the story.

“This was the restaurant that Sebastian took me to on our first date. I remember how nervous he was. He wanted everything to be perfect. He ordered me one of every dessert, so I wouldn’t have to pick” you said, resting your hand on top of Sebastian’s on the table. Your parents smiled as you told them the story, and you hoped it was a good sign.

“So how did you two meet?” Your mom asked you. Sebastian looked over at you, as if asking permission to tell the story. You gave him a reassuring nod. “We met at a wedding. We both knew the bride and were invited to the wedding. We got seated next to each other during the reception, and we got along really well. The rest is history” he said, smiling over at you.

It was heart warming to watch Sebastian reminisce over the night it all began. A lot had changed since then, but he was still your rock.

After a dinner full of snarky remarks and subtle insults, you were about to blow. Sebastian had his hand on your thigh, and he was trying to calm you down. All the insults had been directed towards him, but he was the one who kept a level head. You, on the other hand, wanted to scream at your parents.

You were almost done. You just had to wait to pay the check, and then you could go home and pretend this night never happened. You were so close. The waiter set down the check, and it was like you could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Sebastian reached for the check. You heard your dad scoff under his breath. You snapped.

“Alright. Out with it. What could you possibly have to say?” You asked, finally breaking. Your mom looked taken aback. “I’m just not shocked that Mr. Hollywood is trying to pay for dinner. He’s made it clear that he thinks he’s better than us” your dad said, crossing his arms.

It made your blood boil. “He’s buying you dinner. Why can’t that just be a nice thing?” You asked. You genuinely wanted to know why they were so offended by every nice gesture Sebastian made.

Your mom's expression changed as though she had been insulted. “It’s not just about paying for dinner. He’s trying to show us how much money he has. He thinks he’s better than us because he’s a fancy movie star. So what if we live in a small town? At least we appreciate the small things. All he does is spend Daddy’s money. He’s probably never had to work a day in his life. You actors are all the same” your mom chimed in.

Now, you were glad you were in a private room, so no one had to hear your screaming fest. You instinctively reached for Sebastian’s hand. You stood up from the table, taking him with you. “We’re leaving” you said, before heading towards the door. You pulled Sebastian with you.

You stopped before you grabbed the door handle and turned around to face your parents. “You know what? I have dealt with your criticism all of my life, but you are not going to attack Sebastian. He took you out to a nice dinner, and he has done nothing but be polite and kind to you. Also, he has earned every bit of his success. He left Romania at eight years old, and he built himself an amazing life. So, don’t sit here and tell me who he is. He is a loving boyfriend, and that is all that should matter to you” you said.

You turned to leave the restaurant and had to fight back the tears. Sebastian kept his arm wrapped around your waist as you exited the building. “I’ve got you” he whispered in your ear.

When you finally made it outside, he pulled you right into his arms. “Please, don’t hate me” you mumbled into chest. He pulled away from you, and all you saw on his face was confusion. “How could I hate you?” He asked, his voice softening.

“Because I was the one who said yes when they asked to meet you. I should have said no. I should have made up an excuse. I should not have made you sit through that excruciating dinner. I am so sorry” you apologized, genuinely. He cupped your face, and you could see his heart break. “Baby, I could never hate you. None of what happened in there was your fault” he assured you.

You felt a tear run down on your cheek. You felt responsible for your parent’s actions. “But they were horrible in there” you told him, confused. He wiped away your tears, hoping to wipe away the whole experience with them. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to love you” he said, before leaning in to kiss you.

“Thank you” you said, pulling him into a hug. Sebastian was always there for you when you needed it. He always knew how to calm you down. “Of course, sweetheart. Now, go sit in the car. I left my phone inside. I’ll be back in five minutes” he said, kissing your temple. You nodded and headed towards the car.

Sebastian walked back inside, but it wasn’t to grab his phone. His phone was right in his back pocket. He had kept his cool throughout dinner because you were at his side, but he had to stand up for you and himself.

He walked back to the room and found your parents still there. They were talking to each other and wore disgusted expressions. “Oh, he’s back” your dad said, his voice filled with disappointment.

Sebastian took a deep breath and maintained his composure. “I know you don’t like me, so I’m going to say this once. I love your daughter. She's the reason that I sat through this entire dinner and continued to be polite and smile. I don’t care if you approve of me, but in front of her, you will at least be civil with me. I had to watch her cry in the parking lot because she was worried you two would scare me off. I had to watch her worry that I might just walk away. You broke her heart tonight. If you do it again, I won’t be this polite” he said, before walking out of the room. He walked straight to the car, without any form of expression on his face.

When he got in the car, he simply gave you a smile. You were still worried. “Did they say anything else to you?” You asked him. He shook his head and took your hand in his. “They had already left” he lied, dismissively.

You nodded and gazed out the window. “I love you, you know that, right?” Sebastian asked, causing you to look over at him. “Of course I know that. I love you too” You asked him, confused.

He shrugged. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m never going to leave you” he told you, genuinely.

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[sierraraeck]

How to Apologize

Spencer x Luke x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You can’t believe that for the four months since you’ve joined the team, and have been relentlessly flirting with the two hot agents, no one thought to tell you that they were together. Luke and Spencer decide they should apologize to you with an impromptu, late-night visit.

Category: Smut. Essentially pwp. A little fluff and a dash of angst if you squint.

Warnings: Cussing. Alcohol mentioned. Fingering (vaginal and anal), oral (male and female receiving), protected penetration, double penetration. Use of condoms and lube.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Welcome back to episode three of me being in love with Ralvez. I’ve just really been in a mood for them lately, so I hope you enjoy what my mind comes up with when I just keep thinking about them ;)

You’ve got to be shitting me.

You couldn’t believe it. Luke and Spencer were together, and had been for over a year now. You’d only been on the team for about four months, all of which you spent unabashedly flirting with both of them.

Everyone knew it, too. It wasn’t like you were particularly quiet about expressing how much you enjoyed their company, and how easy they were on the eyes. It was fun for you, and you thought it was fun for them. They both seemed kind of into it, and the team found it a little funny.

Now you’re understanding why they found it funny. Because the whole time, you’d been embarrassing yourself by flirting with taken men. And they weren’t just taken. They were dating each other.

“You’re joking,” you said, with absolutely no humor. You were sitting on a barstool looking around at the shit-eating grins around you. They all shook their heads.

Your mouth was agape, “You’re fucking joking. You all saw this happening and not one of you had the decency to tell me!? This is bullshit!”

This just caused more laughter to erupt around you. Luckily, the bar you were at was pretty noisy, so not too much attention was drawn to your group.

“Honestly?” Emily started, “We just wanted to see, you know, as a profiler, how long it’d take you to figure it out.”

“And we,” Luke hopped in, gesturing to him and Spencer, “Wanted to see how well we could control our microexpressions.”

“This is some shit,” you mumbled to yourself, still wrapping your head around what was being said. You were trying to be light-hearted about it, and you had to admit it was a pretty good one they pulled on you, but you still felt a little insulted. And embarrassed. Oh god, you felt really embarrassed. Especially now that you knew they were ‘testing your skills’ or something, and you weren’t good enough to pick up on their relationship. You offered a disbelieving smile and shook your head. “You know what? I’m disinviting myself from this, and I’m going to go home, because otherwise… Actually let’s not talk about what would be happening otherwise.” The whole team gave you some strange looks at that comment, and you just took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’m just gonna go.”

“Hey, Y/N, wait!” Tara called after you. You turned to face her. “We meant no harm by it!”

You laughed and acknowledged, “Oh, I know! I just think that maybe I should do a little mental detox now that I know I need to cool it.” You winked, trying to make everything calm and casual so that there would be no weird feelings when you returned to work on Monday.

But you definitely had weird feelings. About the deliberate joke that led you down a very deep rabbit hole, about the fact that you couldn’t just ‘detox’ the two men from your mind, and about how long they let the joke mess with your feelings.

It didn’t matter, though, because Spencer and Luke were together, and the last thing you wanted to do was make things complicated.

You were seated on your couch with a glass of wine watching reruns of your favorite show when you heard a knock at the door. You were in your pajamas, a navy tank top with matching shorts, and had been home for nearly two hours. It was a little past midnight, and you were actually about to go to bed. You couldn’t figure out who was at your door, and why the hell they’d be there past midnight, but one look through the peephole gave you clarity.

Two tall, handsome, nervous figures stood, waiting for you to answer. You sighed, unlocking the bolt and pulling the door open. You had the slightest idea to grab a jacket or something to throw on over your pajamas, but you were no longer trying to impress the agents before you.

“Hey guys,” you croaked, voice sounding tired.

Spencer and Luke were still acting a bit nervous, but Luke gave you a small smile. “Hey Y/N. May we come in?”

You gave them a once over, realizing they were both in large, matching, burgundy robes. You were confused, and gave them a strange look, but stepped to the side regardless. They quickly scampered into your apartment.

Once inside, Luke shut and locked the door, standing in front of it. You waited for them to say something.

Instead, they looked at each other, took a deep breath, then undid their robes, dropping them to the floor. They were completely and utterly naked.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, unable to peel your eyes away from the two of them.

They both smirked slightly at your reaction, and Spencer brought your attention back to his eyes when he said, “We figured we needed to apologize.”

All you could manage was a weak ‘uh-huh.’

“As long as you were serious about some of the things you said-” Luke started.

“And were actually flirting with us because you liked us-” Spencer continued.

“We wanted to show you that we were serious and flirting with you, too,” Luke concluded.

Again, all you got out was an ‘uh-huh.’ They looked at you expectantly, so you picked your jaw up off the floor and forced your brain to say something more helpful. “Yes, I was dead serious, yes, I was actually flirting with you, and, to answer your next question, yes.”

“The last yes was for what?” Luke half-teased.

“Whatever the fuck is happening right now,” you gestured to their bare forms, “yes.” They both laughed slightly, and just as Spencer was about to take a step toward you, you held up your hand. “Hold on, wait. I know you said you were serious, but is this something the two of you actually want, or is this just out of pity?” you asked skeptically.

Luke’s eyes went wide, “We actually want this.”

At the same time, Spencer said, “This is not out of pity.”

They seemed sincere, and that was good enough for you.

This time when Spencer stepped toward you, you didn’t stop him. His lips latched on to yours, and you immediately sank into his warmth. His lips were soft and his tongue was energetic, searching every part of your mouth it could reach. Luckily for you, he was already stark naked, giving you free reign to explore his bare chest.

As Spencer was exploring your mouth, Luke came up behind you and started lifting your shirt off your frame. His hands felt nice, just barely brushing up against your cold sides. You and Spencer had to part, but only for a moment, as Luke pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side.

You already felt like you couldn’t breathe, but when Luke seductively trailed his fingers up your sides and around between you and Spencer to start toying with your nipples, you thought you might never breathe again. Spencer started kissing down the column of your throat, sucking slightly at each point. Without Spencer’s mouth to absorb the sound, they could both hear the small gasps and whimpers you made at each touch.

Luke was firmly at your back, his hot chest pressed up against your shoulder blades, or maybe the fire radiating from them was all in your head, you couldn’t quite tell. Spencer wrapped his arms around your back, and pulled you all the way to him, leaving barely any room for Luke’s fingers to continue their ministrations. You made a snarky remark in your head about how you weren’t surprised about Spencer’s possessiveness, until he reached behind you. Luke groaned in your ear shortly after Spencer squeezed your ass and continued his trail to the growing bulge behind you. Spencer was quite good at multitasking. Kissing, sucking, stroking… That didn’t surprise you, however. You knew how fast his mind could work, and how it always seemed to be thinking about multiple things at once.

It didn’t really surprise you either that Luke was less good at multitasking. Still amazing, but not like Spencer. With that in mind, you decided to turn the attention of the group a little bit. You turned in Luke’s now still arms, back against Spencer’s chest. You gave Spencer enough room to continue massaging Luke, but you did lean forward enough to plant your lips on his.

Luke’s kiss was different from Spencer’s. His lips were plump and captivating, and his tongue was a bit more languid than Spencer’s, granted that could’ve been because most of his attention was being drawn elsewhere.

“Wait,” Luke panted, pulling away from you. You and Spencer both immediately stopped what you were doing and looked up at him. “Bedroom?”

You tilted your head in the direction of the door down hall, and the three of you moved like it was a mad dash to get there first.

Once inside, Luke’s lips reattached themselves to yours, and he walked you backwards toward the bed, hands on your waist. They traveled lower, over your still-clothed ass, and spread flat on the back of your thighs. Somehow, you knew what he wanted, lacing your fingers together behind his neck and jumping into his sculpted arms. He swiftly strode the rest of the way to the mattress and plopped you down, following quickly with his own body. Your legs were partially wrapped around his middle and his hands were back on your waist again, this time toying with the waistband of your pajama shorts. You had a fleeting thought about how you wished you were wearing any of the cute lingerie pieces in your drawer, but before ten minutes ago, you never thought the situation you were currently in would even be possible, let alone happen. It wouldn’t matter much longer anyways, as Luke’s fingers were pulling away the remaining garments.

Now, completely bare in front of him, Luke pulled back to admire you. Spencer was at his side, also eyeing you, but wasn’t quite as patient. He crawled up the bed, looking you straight in the eye. You nodded to him, your silent consent for him to lower his head, placing delicate kisses all around your neck and chest. He was back to doing what he had only moments ago, only this time he travelled farther down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You took a shuddering breath, weaving your fingers into his shaggy curls.

Luke stood, admiring the sight. His boyfriend was hunched over their mutual crush, drawing the most arousing whines from your mouth. It went straight to his cock. But, while this was definitely a mutual pleasure situation, it was also a way to make it up to you. He wanted to make sure you got all the attention first before going any further.

With that in mind, Luke joined the two of you, his focus a little farther south than Spencer’s. You’d been so caught up in the feeling of Spencer’s tongue and teeth nipping at your peaks that the feeling of Luke’s fingers circling your clit drew a dramatic gasp from your lungs. You tugged a little harder on Spencer’s locks, causing him to moan into your skin. You made a side note to yourself about hair pulling for Spencer for future reference. You were optimistic that you’d need it.

Luke started gradually picking up the pace on your clit as Spencer switched his attention to the neglected breast. You knew that you were already pooling, and despite not being able to see anything past Spencer’s mess of hair, you could tell that Luke was pleased. His index finger circled around your entrance, one, two, three times before pushing in. Your back arched off the sheets, pushing your nipples further into Spencer’s mouth and palm. Your jaw hung open in a silent moan.

Spencer noticed, and teased, “Come on, you’re usually not this quiet when it comes to expressing how much you enjoy our company.”

Luke leaned up, finger still pushing in and out of you, to see your face. He barely caught what Spencer was referencing, as you were trying to snap your jaw shut, and smirked down at you. He turned his head to the side and started kissing up the side of Spencer’s neck, who habitually craned it to the side, providing more access. Luke added a second digit, scissoring them inside you. Spencer hummed happily at the little hickies Luke was scattering all over his neck, and you felt the heat in your belly start to burn. God, it was so fucking hot, in every sense of the word.

Luke curled both of his fingers upwards, hitting that perfect spot, as he latched his lips to Spencer’s. With the combination of the sight and both men’s ministrations, you fell over the edge.

You squeezed your eyes shut, only a little disappointed that you couldn’t continue looking at them, as your lungs expelled any air you had in your chest.

When the waves of pleasure had mostly subsided, you managed to lift your eyelids, peering up at the sight above you. Luke and Spencer were still attached at the mouth, but they pulled away, Spencer laughing a little while Luke just grinned.

“Remind me to always kiss you like that when we have guests,” Luke said to Spencer, then winked at you. You gave a weak shrug, still too blissed out to form coherent sentences. It wasn’t your fault that the two people you’d been fantasizing about kissing on top of you turned you on. No way in hell you were ashamed about it, either.

Still laying there a bit dazed, the fluffy haired boys rolled over, taking all the heat with them. Spencer was hovering over Luke, tracing his tongue down Luke’s defined muscles before reaching his destination.

Spencer wasted no time running his flattened tongue up and down Luke’s length before sucking at the tip. Luke ran his fingers through Spencer’s hair, and both seemed to relax into each other. Despite the explicit sight in front of you, everything about the two of them, clearly starting to drift into their own world, was domestic. Caring and filled with love. You almost didn’t want to disrupt them, but the overpowering need to be near them won out.

Spencer’s lower half was over the edge of the bed, his toes being the only thing holding him up and giving him a vantage point. You slid off the bed yourself and tried to soundlessly move behind the younger man, coming to rest in a squat.

Spencer was getting Luke all worked up, raspy grunts mixing with satisfied hums as Spencer bobbed his head up and down. His movements came to a screeching halt when you leaned up against the foot of your bed and swiped your tongue quickly over Spencer’s tip. He let out a soft whine, muffled by Luke’s skin, who took a sharp inhale at the vibration.

Spencer’s dick was hard and spilling precum as you worked it into your mouth. His hips started moving of their own accord, forcing you to take him deeper, faster. The three of you started a steady rhythm that was already faltering. Both men were getting close.

Propped up only on your toes, you almost lost your balance once, digging your nails into Spencer’s side for support. He growled, and just because you could, you dragged your nails down the rest of his backside. All of the muscles tensed at once, and you smiled as best you could with your mouth full, moving your hands back to work what your tongue couldn’t.

Abruptly, Spencer pulled his hips back from you, and crawled further up the bed. You followed, getting up from your spot on the ground. Your toes, on the brink of cramping, weren’t complaining.

You realized why Spencer had pulled away so quickly, catching Luke coaxing Spencer into his lap. Even though they were in a slightly different position, it didn't stop you from what you’d been doing before.

Right as Spencer got situated on Luke’s cock, just starting to roll his hips, you took Spencer back in your mouth. You had one foot on the ground, the other knee next to Luke’s torso. Spencer was louder than you’d expected, letting curses and praises fly past his lips as if they were statistics of the utmost importance.

Luke was less vocal, but he seemed more coherent. Barely.

“Come here, baby,” Luke panted. Pulling off Spencer for a moment, you looked back at Luke. His face was already glistening, and he was gesturing toward your legs. You lifted the one closest to him, and he eased it over his head. Straddling his face, he pulled you down to him, licking a clean stripe up your slit. You moaned his name, letting your head hang.

He was just so warm. Everything about Luke was warm. His personality, his face, his tongue and mouth and literal body temperature. It made you feel safe. Thinking that, you realized just how perfect he was for Spencer. You could tell Spencer wasn’t someone who experienced warmth very frequently, you’d heard about his cold past, but you were happy that there was finally someone to show him some. It made you feel even more embarrassed that you hadn’t noticed their relationship sooner.

Lost in thought, you’d stopped doing anything besides feeling Luke’s tongue alternate between pushing into you and swirling around your clit, something Spencer was less excited about. His large hand cupped your face, causing you to look up into his pleading eyes. You stifled a giggle at the sight, quickly figuring out why he was looking at you like that. You returned to tracing your tongue up and down his cock, but it was becoming much harder to focus.

Luckily, you could feel how close Spencer was to finishing, and gave him the silent ‘okay’ to finish in your mouth.

Hot ropes of cum filled your throat, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes when Spencer pushed all the way into your mouth. You were gasping for air when Spencer leaned back from you, and so was Luke as he desperately called Spencer’s name. He must’ve been close when Spencer momentarily stopped moving to find his own release.

The pressure between your hips was building as you continued to watch Luke disappear inside Spencer. You started wriggling your hips for more friction against Luke’s mouth and slight scruff, but Luke wouldn’t let you. He wrapped his arms almost completely around your waist, and pulled you down like an anchor. No matter how much moving you did, there would be no getting out of his grasp, not like you really wanted to anyway.

You couldn’t tell which one of you finished first, but your collective moans filled the air all the same. You whined at Luke who continued to lick up every ounce of moisture from you, the sensations starting to become a little too much.

He let you go, and you took a moment or two to deep breathe, forcing oxygen back into your lungs. Once Spencer thought you’d gotten sufficient air, he took it all away from you again, leaning down to kiss you. He tasted himself on your tongue, which only made him relive the fresh memory over again.

He peppered little kisses down your neck and side, which was a tad ticklish. Spencer caught on despite you trying to keep yourself together, noticing the slight flinching in your muscles. He spent extra time working you up until you were laughing and begging him to stop.

Spencer was working his way down to Luke, who’d been absentmindedly massaging your cheeks for no other reason than he wanted to touch your tush.

You weren't sure how, but the two tall men were able to kiss each other around you, Luke sitting up and Spencer leaning forward. He got to taste you off of Luke’s lips, and was almost jealous that he didn’t decide to take Luke’s spot instead.

You leaned into Luke’s chest, resting your head on his shoulder and reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his soft curls, much shorter than Spencer’s but fun to play with nonetheless. They kissed each other with more passion than you’d really ever seen before, one hand touching the other man, their other hand tracing the curves of your body. You felt like you could fall asleep in the exact position you were in, half on Luke’s lap, half on Spencer’s.

But alas, there was still plenty of night to fill. Spencer asked if you had any lube and condoms, and you were about to get up and get them, but both men kept you where you were. You started wondering how much the two of them talked about or planned before showing up at your door, but decided those were questions for a later hour.

You directed Spencer to where both were kept while Luke turned you around to face him. You had a very quick discussion about cleanliness, something you were relieved to find out wasn’t an issue for any party, and Luke was sliding on a condom and pushing into you before you knew it. Pregnancy wasn’t something you were looking for at the moment.

Luke had been doing most of the work up until Spencer returned, his presence really only being a shifting of air behind you. Your eyes were locked on Luke’s eyes which were flicking between you and the man behind you.

It took you all the way up until Spencer’s hip bones came in contact with your ass that you realized what Spencer wanted the lube for. That and the guttural groan that ripped itself from Luke’s chest. At that point, Luke had stilled his thrusts up into you, so you decided to keep the pace, bouncing up and down on Luke’s ever-hardening dick. You braced yourself with a hand on his chest, his skin feeling like it might melt your fingertips.

Spencer snaked his hands around your body, cupping your breast in his hands and rolling your nipples around between his fingers. Spencer, you were convinced, had bad circulation, feeling colder than you and Luke. You arched your back into him regardless, giving him full access to nip down your neck as he continued to pound into Luke. You had barely noticed the slowing of your hips atop Luke’s until Spencer placed his hands on your waist with a bruising grip. He set a much faster pace for you and Luke than either of you had set before, but you couldn’t be mad. Each thrust pushed you further and further toward the edge.

That all stopped when Spencer lightly leaned you over Luke’s body, Luke gladly accepting by pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around your back. The three of you were still moving, but only in the slightest way you could from your positions.

With your face buried in Luke’s neck, reveling in the momentary reprieve of a slower pace, Luke must’ve been looking at Spencer who was tracing all sorts of patterns on your ass. You felt like there was a silent conversation you were being left out of.

You were clued in when Spencer traced a single finger right over your puckered hole, all the muscles contracting at the sudden contact. Luke whined at the tension, as he was still completely sheathed inside you.

Spencer lightly continued his tracing, close but not too close, as he leaned over your back and asked, “Is it okay if I touch you here?” He emphasized his words with another swipe over your hole. This time, you were a bit more prepared.

You twisted your neck around to look at Spencer’s face. It was soft and questioning, showing you that, while he was interested, he clearly wasn’t going to do anything you didn’t want to. But you were intrigued. You’d only ever tried it once before with a definitely straight man, and it was just medium. Nothing you had really considered doing again until now, but you trusted Spencer. And honestly, who better to give it a second chance with than someone who knew what he was doing? Not only that, but frequently participated in it with his boyfriend?

You nodded, looking him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Let us know if you are ever uncomfortable or need us to stop,” Luke reminded.

You turned your attention back to him and nodded again. “I will.”

Now with confirmation from you, Spencer dripped some of your lube at the top of your ass, watching it roll all the way down to where you and Luke were connected. Luke had stopped moving completely, and you were staying still enough for Spencer to slowly push a finger into you. He confirmed with you one more time that you were okay, which you assured him you were, before he started moving.

He was nice and slow to start, allowing you time to adjust to the feeling. As Luke started rocking back and forth with his hips, Spencer added a second finger, scissoring them to help stretch you out. You hissed at the added pressure.

Both men started moving a bit faster, pulling gasps out of you faster than you could bring air back in. You were surprised that you whined when Spencer removed his fingers, not realizing how much you were actually enjoying yourself. You felt empty with the loss of contact, but didn’t have to worry for long when the familiar ‘pop’ of the lube cap let you know it had been opened.

A few moments later and Spencer was filling you up at a tantalizing pace. Luke slowed again, allowing you time to adjust to the new sensations. The man at your back pulled clean out of you, drawing yet another whimper, as the one below you placed his firm hands on you back and rolled the two of you to the side.

Spencer was at your back again, already pushing back into you as Luke pulled your top leg over his hips, giving both men better access.

It started out slow and sensual, but gradually turned into something desperate and frantic. Hands were groping over bodies, mouths were attaching themselves to any lips or skin available. Spencer was massaging your tits from behind and Luke hand his arms draped over your hips to bring you closer to him with each thrust by your ass. The three of you were a mess of limbs and moans, each trying to meet your end.

Spencer came first, sloppy thrusts coming to a halt behind you, and tried to muffle his groans in the flesh of the base of your neck. It didn’t help much. You were right behind him, the brutal pace they had been pounding into you becoming too much. You were worried you might have blown Luke’s eardrum out with how closely you were screaming next to him, a sound your neighbor was sure to mention when filing a complaint you couldn’t care to feel guilty about.

You and Spencer were floating down from your highs, but Luke wasn’t as satisfied. He pulled out of you, cold air hitting your body and sending a shock through your system. His lips were on yours quickly, which had you melting again.

He growled in that deep voice of his about turning you around, which made you feel all tingly until he actually did it. It took more effort than you care to admit to simply change sides, facing Spencer now. It was good to look at his face again. You had absolutely no problem with Luke’s (who would?), but you wanted to look at them equally. Unfortunately, you weren’t born with eyes in the back of your head.

You were back in the same position you’d been in, just this time your other leg was propped up on Spencer’s more pronounced hip bones and not Luke’s. Spencer quickly took advantage of getting to see your face head on, capturing your lips with his. His tongue slid into your mouth when you gasped at the feeling of Luke entering you from behind. It was a bit easier for him to slide in, Spencer having already stretched you out. Luke joined Spencer as they both kissed down your neck, only stopping briefly to kiss each other.

The slightly younger man trailed all the way down to your breasts, taking your nubs in his mouth or fingers. Luke was still marking up your neck, brushing his fingers down your sides. With each of his thrusts, your heat was grinding against Spencer’s length, which you felt continually get harder. He looked into your eyes and you whispered the few words of your consent, not being able to get anything else out.

He bucked his hips up into yours, having no trouble as you were still wet from your previous orgasm and your impending one. The feeling of the two of them pushing and pulling inside you, hitting different spots from different angles, you knew you weren’t going to last long. It just felt so good to be completely filled up to the hilt.

Needing something to grasp on to, your fingers immediately found Spencer’s curls. You remembered from earlier he seemed to like it, so you tugged, pulling a delicious groan from his pink and puffy lips. You felt Luke’s labored breath on your ear, and with the few brain cells that were still working, you could tell that the three of you were very, very close.

You snapped first, clawing your nails down Spencer’s back, and the feeling seemed to be enough for him. The sound of his love and his crush moaning in harmony pushed Luke over the edge, joining your symphony.

The three of you laid there panting before both men got up to remove their condoms. Luke came back with a towel to wipe you clean of yourself, Spencer putting the lube back where he found it. Luke tossed the towel to the side, laying down next to you. Spencer walked back into your room on slightly shaky legs, which made you smile just a bit. He, too, collapsed next to you. You were able to see all the red marks on his back and thighs from your nails, and you almost felt bad for not spreading the wealth around a little more, only Spencer’s skin receiving the assault.

Soon, all of your breathing reached a normal level, and Spencer pulled the sheets up over his body, Luke helping him get you under, then sliding under himself.

You sighed with content, then laughed, drawing both men’s attention to you, as if it weren’t already. “Wow. You sure know how to apologize.”

They both chuckled with you, cuddling even closer now.

“So was it worth it?” Luke half-teased.

You pretended to think about it, but replied, cheeky, “I mean, you could have told me sooner, but I guess I don’t mind the two of you needing to apologize.” And to be honest, you hoped there’d be more reasons for apologies in the future.

[tothemeadow]

Art trade with @azurenocturne​

Art originally done by @ Lsjenjen on twitter

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

- Kyojuro decides to take your relationship to the next level while teaching you how utterly amazing you are, no matter what anyone else says. -

warnings: NSFW, oral sex, mentions of emotional abuse, Douma is kind of a dickhead

words: 2k

-

“You’re doing it again.”

Snapping away from your reverie, you nearly drop your phone as you fumble around, embarrassment heating up your insides. You hadn’t even realized you were spacing out again. Still, Douma cracks a smile. You tense as he reaches over the table, the rings adorning his fingers catching the afternoon light streaming in through the windows. He merely pats the crown of your head with a gentle touch; you know that this is all for show since the two of you are in public. While Douma has never struck you during the course of your relationship, he isn’t gentle either.

“Stupid girl,” he mutters. “There isn’t anything that important in your life to distract you this much.”

Ah, there it is.

You’re used to the biting words, the snarky comments, the endless insults. On some days, it’s like his sole mission in life is to yell at you constantly, but what can you do about it? It is your fault, after all. Maybe if you had your head on straight or weren’t so sensitive, things could be better for you in life.

You swallow dryly. The plate of half-eaten food sitting in front of you doesn’t even look appetizing anymore. “I’ve got exams coming up, you know that,” you tell him, voice low. You know better than to talk back to him, especially when you’re in public like this.

With a scoff, Douma leans back in his seat. It’s unfair that he’s still unbelievably attractive even when irritated; strong jaw set, eyes heavy lidded, and birch hair pulled up high, he looks like he’s ready to set foot out on the runway rather than be sitting here on a lunch date with you. The houndstooth material of his jacket ruffles as he crosses his arms. He’s just so pretty, incredibly so, and you’d be damned if you said you couldn’t bear to stare at him all day.

“Well, you’re with me,” he spits. “Exams be damned.”

“Douma, you know I can’t fail these courses if I want to graduate-“

“I don’t care,” Douma interrupts. “Christ, all I did was ask you out to lunch, and all you do is think about it your classes? What am I, chopped liver?”

“No,” you say frantically, “of course not. I’m sorry. Please… Please don’t be mad.”

Douma sighs. His expression softens, then; getting up from his chair, he opts to take the spot next to you instead. “I know you’re sorry, my little cherub. You know all I want to do is to be stuck in that pretty little head of yours, right?” With a gentle hum, he slings an arm around your shoulder and nuzzles the top of your head. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

It’s those simple words that makes your tummy flutter and the ice around your heart to melt. This is why you love Douma, after all. Sure, he can be mean sometimes, but he means well.

A smile blossoms across your face as you lean into his warmth. “I promise.”

-

When it comes to playing life, you always act the fool.

Words are cheap, enough said. It just so happens that Douma’s are practically dirt.

Although he knows you’re sorry about focusing on your studies lately, it’s almost if he never drops the subject. He has a point though – he is your boyfriend, after all. It’s just your fault that you have the improper abilities of juggling your love life and schooling at the same time. It’s when he’s attending his own classes that you’re finally able to breathe, even though you feel guilty about thinking that way in the first place.

You still can’t shake off the guilt as you venture through the school’s library, browsing for books your professor recommended for you to better understand the material. It’s a slow process, your eyes scanning over each of the exposed spines. “No… no… no… “ you say to yourself, the quiet mantra continuing on while your search comes up with nothing. “Dammit, why can’t I – ah!”

Before you know it, your body is colliding into someone else’s; as you’re about to take an inevitable tumble and land on your ass, a strong hand grasps onto your forearm while another lands on the small of your back.

“Whoa there! Sorry about that!” a deep, attention-getting voice whisper-yells.

As you open your eyes (you didn’t even realize you closed them to begin with), your met with a boy around your age, eyes bright and blond hair held back with a backwards ballcap. As he flashes you a cheeky smile, you’re struck by how white his teeth are compared to his golden skin, the sharp line of his jaw. Your heart thuds in your chest, and for good reason, too – this man is hot.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” this stranger continues. He pulls you upright, making sure you’re properly balanced before giving you a onceover to check for any bruises.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you say awkwardly. It’s incredible how quickly your body heats up under his gaze despite literally just bumping into the guy. “I wasn’t paying attention anyway, it’s all my fault-“

“Hey,” he interrupts, his eyes crinkling even further, “I wasn’t paying attention either. Don’t take all the blame for yourself, eh?” He sticks out a hand, then, the prominent veins in his forearm and hand instantly catching your attention. “Rengoku Kyojuro, at your service. You can just call me Kyojuro, though.”

Kyojuro.

The name rolls around your brain like a loose bolt. You wonder how it tastes on your tongue, how your lips feel when you say it. “Kyojuro,” you say, testing it out. You immediately decide you like it. Grasping onto his hand, you introduce yourself, an easy smile making its way onto your features before you even realize it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Right back at ya,” he chirps.

His hand is large and warm. In fact, heat seems to radiate off his body, tempting you to lean in and hold him close.

“Say,” Kyojuro says, a hopeful glint shining in his eyes, “do you want to grab a coffee or something?”

Your heart nearly gets stuck in your throat. For a moment, you think of Douma and what he would he say if he found out about you grabbing coffee with some other guy. However, Kyojuro just seems so nice and, well, perfect.

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I’d love to.”

-

After that fateful meeting, things started to change.

During the free moments you had, you would meet up with Kyojuro, either to go out to eat or simply have a study session together. You quickly found yourself thoroughly enjoying his company, and all for the right reasons. Despite his excitable, bold behavior, he was kind, more so than most people you know. You craved to be in his presence, to have his pearly smile directed at you. Hell, even the thought of him made your heart throb.

Of course, it didn’t take long for Douma to start noticing your “odd” behavior. You acted distant whenever the two of you were together, so much more… closed. What really got him, though, was when he confronted you about it. I found someone else, you had told him, face and voice equally solemn. This is the end of us. Even you were shocked by the mere fact that you had dumped him; after all this time, you were finally free of his cruel words and the endless pain.

“You’re doing it again, sweetie.”

Just like that, you’re snapping back to reality and away from your thoughts. “Sorry,” you mutter, “I was just thinking of… things.”

Even after a few months of ditching Douma for Kyojuro, you still find yourself spacing out. Kneeling on the bed like this, your hand hangs in the air, absentmindedly holding a brush while the other is still holding onto Kyojuro’s blond locks. Turning around fully, Kyojuro’s thick brows furry together as a glint of worry sparks in his eyes. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he urges, taking your face into his hands. “I am not Douma. I’ll never be like him, you got it?” Gently stroking your cheek, he flashes you a soft smile. “I couldn’t bear to put you in pain like that, my sweets. You’re too special for anything like that.”

Oh god, he’s so gentle, so freaking sweet that you’ll get a toothache. As cheesy as it sounds, your heart yearns for him, for his promises, and for his loving touches. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone like this in your life.

“So please,” Kyojuro continues, gaze dropping to your mouth, “trust me.”

And you do. For the love of everything high and mighty, you trust this guy with your entire being. The kiss you two share starts off slow, yet it’s so full of unspoken feeling that it makes your heart soar. You can’t deny the fact that his hands feel good as they trail lower, brushing over your neck and shoulders before settling on your waist. Hell, you love it when he presses you onto your back, his weight hovering over you protectively. Like this, Douma can’t hurt you. Douma can’t even get near you, not when Kyojuro is around, not when he’s treating you this softly.

It didn’t take very long for you to confide in Kyojuro about how your relationship with Douma went. Appalled by Douma’s so-called methods, Kyojuro promised to treat you like the queen you are because you deserve it.

Even as you quake, Kyojuro holds you steady. And he’s always so warm, so wonderfully warm as he rids you of your shirt before following suit. Your fingers drift over the swell of his pectorals, the divots of his abs. Now, things have escalated between you two before, but nothing to this extent. The last person you slept with was Douma, and even then he would degrade you and make you feel like utter trash. But no, not with Kyojuro. Never with Kyojuro.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mutters, mouth slanting over your neck and down your chest. Your heart quickens as mouths your breasts, hands slipping around and unhooking your bra. “And you’re so soft and sweet…” Trailing off, he lifts himself back up, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re perfect, (y/n). I’ll be damned if anybody tells you differently.”

Heart leaping to your throat, you sling your arms around his broad shoulders and pull him back into a kiss. You refuse to let yourself shed any tears, but you can’t deny the dampness gathering in your eyes.

“Pretty girl,” Kyojuro says, mouth beginning its descent once more. This time, he carries on past your chest, lips brushing against your tummy as he carefully removes your pants. Your fingers comb through his hair as little gasps slip through your lips; nuzzling you through your panties, he openly gropes your thighs and ass, deep, rumbling moans vibrating in his chest.

“Kyojuro,” you breathe, back arching as he yanks down your panties and presses his mouth against your quivering pussy. His movements remain slow, but the deep stroke of his tongue inside your pussy or the strong suckling on your clit has you seeing stars. His bright eyes never leave your face, a lustful yet loving expression carved into his handsome features. A slight yank on his hair has him redoubling his efforts; easily bending your thighs to your chest, he works at your pussy vigorously, the lewd noises and his husky groans filling your ears.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, thick fingers slipping past your folds. You keen at the touch, your velvety walls fluttering around his digits. “You’re wonderful, my sweets,” he coos, pressing his mouth to the inside of your knee in a quick kiss. “I love you.”

“Kyojuro, please,” you pant. The tears building up in your eyes finally break free as you reach out towards him. “Make love to me… won’t you?”

Drawing away from your dripping pussy, Kyojuro hovers over you, a dazzling grin painted on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

You nod frantically. “Yes. I… I trust you, my love.”

Hearing the pet name tumble from your mouth has Kyojuro’s eyes crinkling. “Anything for you, sweetie,” he purrs, reaching down and undoing his pants. “Everything for you.”

[sunshineacd]

A snippet from the Wilderness Retreat AU that I’m finally making progress on.

“I come in peace.” TK says, holding up the bag of marshmallows in his one hand and the graham crackers and chocolate in his other. Carlos stares at him for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to stare at the fire in front of him. TK lets out a breath and pushes himself to walk forwards and he sits down, a fair distance away, on the bench Carlos is sitting on. He puts the bags onto the surface, directly in the middle of them. That way, it truly is a peace offering.

They sit in silence, the only sound being the flames crackling sending echoes flooding through the trees around them. It only takes a few moments before Carlos moves to grab the bags that TK had set down. TK watches as he rips open the bag of marshmallows, sliding one onto a stick and TK almost has to laugh at how old school this all is. Growing up in New York and with his parents constantly working, he had never really gotten the chance to go camping or really be out in the wilderness at all. But Carlos almost seems like a natural at it all.

TK watches as he twirls the stick around the top of the flames. “So, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Carlos looks at him, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

TK smiles softly, shaking his head. “Easy, it’s one of the questions on the list.”

“Oh,” Carlos mumbles. “Makes sense.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” TK asks, “You think I wouldn’t ask otherwise?”

It’s Carlos’ turn to shake his head. “You don’t strike me as a sit down and get to know someone kind of guy. I have no idea why I could ever think that though.”

TK opens his mouth to snap back with some sort of snarky remark but he closes it back again, feeling his jaw clench. He takes a moment to breathe before he approaches the situation again. “Are you going to answer the question or not?”

Carlos turns to look at him and stares for a moment and TK can almost pinpoint the moment where Carlos lets his guard down. “A police officer and before you ask why, because I know it’s the second part of the question, it was to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

“So, how come you didn’t pursue it?” TK asks.

“I always believed he never thought I could do it, that my heart was too soft for it.” Carlos says, shrugging a shoulder. “Besides, I really enjoy being a firefighter. This is where I belong. What about you?”

“Oddly, I wanted to be a firefighter, for the same reason as you. My dad was one and I wanted to be just like him. I was for a little while but I decided that it wasn’t where my heart was and that being a paramedic was where I wanted to be. Guess we have something in common there, huh?”

TK nudges Carlos with his elbow and he can’t even miss the flash of a small smile on Carlos’ face. TK feels himself relax slightly at the shift in the mood, the air around them becoming lighter. Carlos finally moves the marshmallow away from the flames before grabbing a couple of graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. As if he feels TK’s eyes on him, he looks up.

“What now?” He asks and TK can only imagine the look on his face.

“Nothing, I just don’t know you could do that to that poor marshmallow.” TK says, shrugging a shoulder.

Carlos’ brows knit together in confusion, a crease developing at the top of his nose and TK thinks it’s one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen. “What? Cook it?”

TK scoffs. “Please, Reyes, that’s beyond cooked. That’s burnt. And trust me, I would know what burnt food looks like.”

“It’s not burnt, it’s charred. And why does it not surprise me you can’t cook?”

“I never said I couldn’t cook, I just — look it doesn’t matter, I’m just saying. It’s burnt.”

“Oh, but I thought we were getting to know one another.” Carlos says, his tone highly sarcastic and TK can’t help but to smile at it. “So what? Are you one of those people that barely toast the marshmallow?”

“Of course I am, that’s the only way to eat them.” TK counters.

“Yeah, okay, sure. Don’t worry, you are entitled to your wrong opinion. Nothing wrong with that.”

TK finds for the first time that he is rolling his eyes in the absolutely most fond way he can. Honestly, he’s good with this. If for only a moment in time the only issue between him and Carlos is marshmallow controversy then he could count that as a win.

[mercy-burning]

Incredible

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Professor!Spencer sparks a connection with a spunky student. Category: FLUFF (of the spicy variety, so I’d rate it PG-13) Warnings: Adults with age gap (Reader is in her early 20s), language, flirting, making out, a brief mention of oral sex Word Count: 8.7k

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

Full Request: “...Okay so prof/student, and reader is so badass, has tattoos, flirt all the time, but like hate everybody except spencer, and he loves that she is so different, intriguing, dark and touchy? But like everyone in spencer life thinks that she’s using him, because of her grades, and also because they are “so different” but like they love each other, so she makes a big gesture and says fuck all of you, I love him and it’s the only thing that matters, and spencer is like heart eyes” —Anonymous

NOTE: My first go at Professor!Spencer! This is a favorite trope of mine, so I loved finally getting to delve into it myself. I hope I did it justice! Also, the original title for this was “Bad For You” and it was supposed to be a little different, but it went in a different direction than I was intending. I still hope it’s okay though!

***

Truthfully, the first time she showed up in his classroom he had a feeling. It was a feeling he didn't get very often, therefore he wasn't sure what to make of it. All he knew was that when she sat down in the front row, all the way on the right, keeping to herself, he just felt that there was something special about her.

The obvious reasoning behind this newfound feeling was most likely the multiple tattoos that adorned her skin, and the flashy, attention-grabbing makeup that surrounded her eyes and lips, but as the semester progressed, Spencer started to realize her academic confidence was taking hold of most of his attention. Sure, she stood out in the crowd, completely different from anyone else who'd entered his classroom, and without a doubt one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. But rather than scrolling through her phone while waiting for class to start each morning, she brought out a book to read or notes to study or something else to keep her busy. If anything else, yes, he admired her work ethic, at least what he could see of it.

And as time progressed, he'd come to see her succeeding more in his class than almost anyone else. Under normal circumstances, it would have been all good and plenty, but as it turned out, Y/N was anything but normal.

The first... incident happened not long after the first week of the semester, and a group of other girls were sitting next to Y/N. Class would start in close to five minutes, and students were still filing in while the group was having a rather... interesting conversation.

Spencer had had a feeling about what it was pertaining to, but his suspicions were confirmed the second he heard Y/N's voice, loud and clear.

"For the love of God, if you're gonna talk about him like he's a hot piece of ass right in front of him, you might as well shout it from the rooftops."

He looked up to see she hadn't lifted her head from the book she was reading as she said it, flipping a page half-way through her tangent and looking unbothered, despite the connotations of her words.

Rather than being upset at her, like he figured most girls in their situation would, they all stayed silent the rest of the time and barely looked anyone in the eye.

The moment Y/N realized she had them, Spencer noticed a small smirk on her face.

Class ended about forty minutes later, and just as the bell rang, he called out.

"Uh, Y/N, could I speak to you for a second?"

She looked up at him for a brief second before nodding, and even though mostly everyone in the classroom laid out a chorus of Oooohs, she still managed to look unbothered. In fact, he could have sworn he noticed her roll her eyes for just a split second.

She packed up her things and waited for everyone to leave. And as she approached him finally, Spencer felt a slight twist in his stomach at the way she did it, her expression somewhat worrisome despite her show of confidence earlier.

"Hey," she greeted plainly. Her hands clutched onto the strap of her bag so tightly her tattooed hands looked almost pale.

"Y/N," he greeted back. "I, uh... I'm not sure exactly what happened before class, but—"

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have said anything, it was probably rude embarrass them like that, but it was rude of them to talk about you like that right in front of you."

Spencer paused, not really sure how to respond other than to nod. "Well, uh... I... Thank you, I appreciate that."

"Besides, they're only auditing anyway, it's not like they actually care about the subject. I mean, c'mon, if you're gonna verbally daydream about sucking your professor's dick while he's standing right in front of you, you should at least have the decency to give a shit about what he's taking time out of his day to teach you."

Well... That certainly hasn't been what he was expecting. With eyes wide and hands starting to sweat, Spencer tried to think of how to respond, but came up short. But he had to say something, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I appreciate your honesty."

Y/N smiled at him. It was a genuine smile that he hadn't seen, and he wished he could see it a thousand times over.

"Well, then, Sir, can I tell you something in all honesty?"

"Always."

She looked him up and down for a moment, his heart involuntarily swelling at the way her eyes raked over him with somewhat of a mischievous gleam. "You are a hot piece of ass. And I give a shit about what you're taking time out of your day to teach me. Thank you for that."

Without another word, she turned away and walked off, leaving him with a dropped jaw that slowly transformed into an amused smile.

Two days later, a Friday to be exact, Y/N showed up a few minutes early as she had every Friday prior. Spencer turned to give her a kind smile, but she didn't look up. She promptly sat down in her seat and got out a book, finding her page and leaning back in her seat.

He didn't want to interrupt, but still he offered a bright, "Good morning," and took the chance that she might offer him a greeting back.

She did glance up from her book, following it with a little smirk and a wink. And just as quickly as it came and went, she started reading again, almost as if the greeting had never happened.

"What are you reading?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Y/N didn't look up this time. But she said, "The Da Vinci Code."

"Oh," he responded, happy he'd even gotten an answer at all. "I've never heard of it."

This time she did look up. And she looked highly amused. "You've never heard of The Da Vinci Code? Not even the movie?"

Since they were looking at each other now, Spencer only shook his head.

"Seriously?" Y/N pressed, tilting her head to the side.

"Seriously. What's it about?"

She simply stared at him some more, and he figured it was still shock over his cluelessness when it came to The Da Vinci Code, but something about the look on her face said it was something else. Something more... devious.

Finally, she said, "I'm not gonna tell you." And then she went back to reading.

He should have left it at that, should have just moved on, but he couldn't help himself. So he pressed further. "Why not?"

Y/N looked up again, and then she closed the book. "Because if it's seriously taken you this long to even hear the name of the book, or the movie, then maybe it's just not your thing."

"Well, Y/N, truth be told, there's a lot in modern pop culture that I don't know about, so... That might not be true."

The two of them held gazes for a few seconds, just completely... captivated by each other in ways neither of them had experienced or could explain. He was in awe of her blunt and snarky presence, and she was utterly taken with his modern naivete.

When she repeated his words from the day before, "I appreciate your honesty," and smiled wickedly at him, he smiled back and almost fell to his knees.

Then students started to come into class and Y/N looked down at her book, which she seemed to have forgotten that she closed, because she actually blushed and fumbled getting it open quickly, obviously not as smooth as she'd always been.

The sight made Spencer's heart flutter.

Once class ended, he looked up to see Y/N standing at his desk and holding out her book. "Here. You should read it."

"Oh, I—I can find my own copy, I— You're reading it, I couldn't..."

Y/N huffed a laugh. "I've read it like five times already, I practically have the entire thing memorized. Just give it back when you're done."

He took the book with a smile. "Well, I have just a bit of paperwork to get done, but after that I'm good to go, so if you come by at the end of the day, I can give it to you then."

She blinked at him, and for a few moments neither of them said anything.

"Oh, I, uh... I read fast," is all Spencer said to explain himself.

Y/N nodded and glanced up at the clock above his head. "Oh. Ha. Right, of course you do. Um, I'll, uh... I'll come back, then. Professor."

The title falling from her lips would have ruined him completely had she stayed any longer, but again, she walked away without another word or glance, and it left him breathless.

There was a point, later on in the day when she came back to get her book, where he'd left her equally as breathless.

He was flipping through pages at light speed, and he didn't even notice her come in and sit down in the chair across from his desk. She sat there for a good two minutes, just watching him flipping pages and muttering silent words to himself, completely unaware of her presence. She'd seen him concentrating before, grading papers while the class was taking quizzes and such, but she'd never been able to study him for more than a few seconds at a time, and as she'd deduced before, it was extremely captivating.

He was extremely captivating. And she told him as much.

Kind of.

"Look at you go," she mused, leaning forward on his desk and resting her chin in her hands.

Spencer jumped, sliding the book so it hit her elbows, and she laughed.

"Y/N, you scared me!" he gasped, clutching at his chest with his right hand. "Ho—how long have you been there?"

"A few minutes. I would've stopped you but you looked like you were in the zooone." Her fingers wiggled and tapped across her cheeks as her face still rested in her palms. A huge smile played at her lips, and despite almost being scared to death, Spencer found himself growing warmer at her amused self.

"Yeah, I guess I was," he stated, bringing his hands to slide the book back to him. He looked down at it for a moment before smiling. "I was actually re-reading it for a third time. After the first I went back to look at the notes I took, and after going through them pretty thoroughly I applied some..."

As he rambled on about the process in which he read, Y/N found herself in an even deeper trance than before. She wished more than anything that she could have payed attention to his words, so she could have a discussion about her favorite book with him, but his passion and commitment to something he didn't even know about until earlier in the day, much less something she of all people just threw at him, was just so...

"Doctor Reid?" she interrupted, almost slipping out of her hands when he stopped and tilted his head, suddenly invested in what she had to say. "Can I stop you for a second?"

"Oh.. Was I going too far? I'm sorry, as you know I tend to ramble quite a bit sometimes, and I know it can be a bit much..."

"No, that's not it. I've... gotta be honest with you about something."

"Hmm?"

She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and searching his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "I didn't hear a single word you just said. And I promise it's not because I'm not interested in having this conversation about The Da Vinci Code, it's... something else."

"What's wrong?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, and equally as clueless, and it did things to her insides that she hadn't felt with anyone in... well, ever.

"What's wrong is that I hate everybody. Well, hate is a strong word, and I only mean pretty much everybody that goes to school here, anyway, and it's been that way ever since my Freshman year. And yet... Somehow, I end up with this class, and in almost no time at all you've managed to learn more about me than anyone I've ever met in my three years here."

"Well... I—I'm an educator, I... it's my job to somewhat know my students."

"No, it's your job to teach me. Any other professor would have chewed my ass for saying what I said the other day, and instead you... well... I don't really know what that was the other day, but I didn't get in trouble for it. And then today you actively asked me about what I was reading and genuinely took interest in something you'd never even heard of before... And then you..." She threw her hands in the air. "You fucking read my favorite book three whole times in one day and took notes on it... Seriously, who... Who are you?"

Spencer wasn't sure what to say. Especially when all he wanted to do in that moment was tell her to keep talking to him. He found that he loved when she talked. Even when she was trying to figure him out, to understand why she'd been completely flipped inside and out by a man that was at least 20 years older than her.

Especially considering that on paper, the two of them didn't look like a conventional pair. He was tall, lean, and structurally beautiful in all the right ways, where as she was closed off and beautifully stand-offish. His skin was clear of anything and hers was adorned with tens of tattoos. His clothes were always formal and neat, while hers consisted of only jeans and plain tees and long sleeves.

If anyone saw them together, it wouldn't have made sense.

They both knew this, and yet...

"I am... utterly enchanted by you," Spencer said without thinking. He didn't have to. it was the truth.

Y/N's shoulders slumped, as if some sort of weight had been lifted from them. She smirked a little. "And I am... strangely not indifferent to you."

"Uh... Thanks?"

She laughed, genuinely laughed, and stood up. "That's a compliment, Doctor. A very good compliment."

That mischievous smile of hers returned, and it made his stomach turn over again, his own smile never wavering, and conveying every sense of wonderment that it could.

"I know this might be... unprofessional... And we definitely shouldn't do anything on school property, but... Would you maybe want to, uh... go get coffee or something some time this weekend?" he asked, trying his hardest not to feel small around her big personality.

"What, to discuss The Da Vinci Code, or to go on a date?"

By the look on her face, it was obvious that she knew they couldn't call it a date. As long as they were professionally involved like this, an actual date could never be on the table. But it seemed to be in her... rather playful nature to suggest it anyway.

The thought made his heart flutter again. Still, he said simply with a knowing smile, "To discuss The Da Vinci Code."

She nodded, throwing her bag over her shoulder and getting ready to leave. "Fine. But just so you're aware, there won't be anything stopping me from zoning out and staring at your beautiful face from time to time."

With all the truth in the world, he said, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

***

His middle finger tapped incessantly on the cool, wood surface of the picnic table in the park. It wasn't ideal to meet this far away from the nearest parking lot, but the little spot was far enough away that he was positive no one would see him meeting his student for lunch—a lunch she offered to bring despite his insisting on paying for food. In the end, it was clear that Y/N was more stubborn than he was.

That excited him.

Speaking of excitement, the moment he spotted her walking into sight, his heart rate picked up. And at the powerful surge of butterflies that swarmed in his stomach, he mentally berated himself for even feeling that way.

This was not a date.

And just when he thought he had things under control, she finally reached the table, set down a brown paper bag, and flashed him the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. Her hair was up in a low ponytail with small strands of hair sticking out and blowing in the light breeze. She wore jeans and a tight lavender tee shirt that ended just above her navel, and it had the word "Wednesday" printed on it in black block letters. It wasn't Wednesday, which equally confused and amused him, though because he'd already found her personality amusing enough, what she wore didn't matter.

Except... the more he took her in the more it really did matter, because he noticed more tattoos, which where usually covered with long sleeves and jackets, most likely as requested by the university. But under the soft glow of the September sun, he could clearly see a collage of tattoos running up her left side, disappearing under her shirt. Where it ended, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't dwell on it for too long, or he was afraid the mental images would turn his brain to mush.

Obviously he couldn't do that.

"Hey'a, Professor," she said with a little wink as she took a seat across from him.

"P—please. Outside the classroom, just Spencer is fine."

She gave him a knowing smirk and simply stated, "Okay," though there was nothing simple about it. Her words had an effect on him, and she knew how to play them to her advantage.

But she was apparently in the mood to be nice today, at least for now. Because she peeled back her playful tone and revealed something more friendly. Simple. She tilted the bag towards him and nodded.

"I brought us some subs, as requested. I hope I got your order right."

"I'm sure it's fine. Thank you."

Attempting to keep his cool around her, Spencer remained quiet as they ate. He also avoided looking at her for too long, because every time he did catch her eye she was staring at him, obviously amused as she finished off her sandwich.

But of course, at some point one of them needed to speak. Right?

So he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "It's uh... It's really nice out today, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, tilting her head to the side and giving him a look that almost sent him flying backwards. "If that was you attempting to break the ice, Spencer, it was completely adorable... If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous."

"I—No, I'm not nervous, wh—why would you think that?"

"Because you can barely look me in the eye, and then the first thing you say to me when we're finished eating is about the weather..."

She raised her eyebrow then, giving him ample opportunity to explain. So he sighed, a rather embarrassed laugh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry, it's just... You're kind of intimidating."

She gave another laugh, one that made his heart soar higher every time he heard it. "Oh please! You're my hot professor, if anything you should be the intimidating one here."

It was his turn to laugh. "Y/N, believe me, if you really knew me, you'd know I'm probably one of the least intimidating people on the planet."

There was a long pause before she nodded, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Well, then, maybe I should get to know you..."

Despite the tugging in the back of his mind that said it was a bad idea to form this close of a relationship with one of his students, especially one who made him feel all warm and fiery inside, he found himself smiling back in agreement.

***

The sun was setting by the time Spencer walked her back to her car. And after dropping off their garbage at one of the public trash bins, he found the walk rather calming. The breeze picked up a bit, somewhat settling the fire in the pit of his stomach as she talked to him about The Da Vinci Code. And then there was the fact that they'd actually spent hours talking, so much so that they hadn't even realized how late it had gotten. Needless to say, it was extremely rare for Spencer to find that type of connection to someone, the type that allowed him to speak back and forth so easily and without regret or embarrassment.

He was thinking about how nice that was when they finally stopped. In front of a motorcycle.

"Is... Wait, this is yours?" he asked her, obviously shocked but more disappointed that he hadn't guessed sooner, and probably a little too turned on than was appropriate.

"Yep," Y/N said proudly, tapping the glinting black metal. "It was a high school graduation present from my mom. She and I used to build motorcycles when I was growing up, and when we moved to the city it got pushed to the backburner. But I love this bike, I ride it everywhere."

"That's... Wow. That's nice." It was really all he could think to say as he looked at the bike and nowhere else. Because if he looked at her, especially standing next to the bike, it was sure to spell out disaster.

"So, where'd you park?" Y/N asked, pulling him from his trance.

"O—Oh. Um, I didn't. I took the train."

He didn't fully realize the weight of his words until a devious smile played at her lips. "Oh? Well... Do you want a ride home?"

"No! Uh... No, I can... I can take the train, it's not a big deal. Th—thank you though."

Despite his better judgement, Spencer looked up at her, and before him was a beautiful young woman with a gleam in her eyes and a pout on her lips that would have destroyed any man in a matter of seconds. Her hand was outstretched, dangling a shiny silver helmet from her fingers. It glinted in the soft orange glow of the sunset, tempting him in the most evil way possible.

"You've been so good to me, Professor. Let me take you home."

At this point, he had no idea whether or not she meant her words to sound as seductive as he'd heard them. His brain screamed, No! but... In the end he knew she was only being nice. She had to be... But it's not safe! Do you know how many motorcycle accidents there are per year?

Before he could stop himself, he sighed and took the helmet from her hands. "A—Are you sure?"

All his reservations were worth it to see the beaming, toothy smile that she gave him right then. "Of course! Besides, who wants to ride the train home for the thousandth time when you could ride a kickass motorcycle instead?"

He put the helmet on, laughing along with her though deep inside he was more than a little terrified. He'd never been on a motorcycle before— it wasn't ever something he thought about. And now he was about to get on the back of one with his student, who had tattoos and spunk and just about everything he didn't. She was incredibly pretty and smart, and now he was learning that she was a total badass in somewhat of a traditional sense as well.

Y/N climbed onto the bike and nodded at him to get on behind her. Thankfully she wasn't able to see how incredibly awkward he felt getting on, scooting up to press himself to her back and figuring out where to rest his hands.

"A couple rules," she said, taking the key from her pocket. "One: I need to know where you live."

"O—Oh, right."

He told her and then she nodded. "Good. I know where that is. Rule two: Try not to adjust yourself too much, it could throw us off. But honestly you don't have to worry about that. As long as you hang on to me, you'll be just fine."

"O—Okay. How should I, um..."

With a small laugh, Y/N reached behind her and grabbed his arms, bringing them around to her front. His stomach flipped at her touch, even long after it was gone.

"Hang on as tight as you need to, got it?" she called to him

"Okay."

"Good. Now. Final rule. Have fun. Look around. Feel the wind in your hair."

"But I'm wearing a helmet..."

Y/N started the bike then, and he jumped, bringing himself closer and squeezing her tightly. His face nestled into her neck as best as he could without distracting her, though she didn't seem phased by it in the least.

"You know what I mean," she called out to him. "You ready, Professor?"

"I think so!" he called back, squeezing his eyes shut despite her final rule.

"Alright, we're off!"

The bike lurched forward a few seconds later, and it took everything Spencer had not to yelp. He wasn't sure how tightly he clung to Y/N but as long as they were still going, he figured it was okay.

It was colder suddenly, and he knew that they were moving at a decent speed. So he took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, seeing buildings and trees go by in a flash. But the longer they rode around town, the easier he found it to breathe. While his grip around Y/N's front was still fairly tight, he'd definitely loosened up a little, and she could tell. His head was turning from side to side, looking at just about everything he could, and she couldn't see it, but he was smiling wide the whole time.

It was exhilarating. It was fun. And he couldn't remember the last time he had this much genuine fun, all worries completely erased from the mind and replaced with silent whoops of joy.

And then they stopped outside his apartment, and once the loud rumbling of the bike silenced, leaving his ears with a low thumping beat that raced alongside his heart, Spencer finally loosened his grip on Y/N completely. He got off the bike and whipped the helmet off, blood rushing through his veins like he'd just fallen out of an airplane.

He paced on the sidewalk, waiting for Y/N to put the bike in park and get off, and truthfully she was a little nervous. It was definitely weird giving your professor a ride home on your motorcycle, not to mention the added obvious sexual tension between you that shouldn't be there at all. She wondered if maybe she crossed a line, and she chewed her lip nervously as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Spencer?" she called out softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm..." He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his hair, which was already pretty wild after being under the helmet— which was currently on the sidewalk.

Great, Y/N thought, I fucked up big time...

But he laughed, a wide smile adorning his pretty features as he looked at her. "I'm fantastic! Y/N, that was.. I can't believe I've never done that before! We weren't even going that fast, but it felt like we were flying!" He laughed then, the sound bringing a relieved smile to her face. And then he took a step closer to her and the relief quickly transformed into genuine joy and contentment.

"That was... incredible," Spencer breathed, his smile never faltering. "You... You're incredible."

She was going to thank him, but before she could say anything he strode to her in two steps and brought her face to his in a searing kiss.

Searing... That's exactly what it was, too. Y/N whimpered into his mouth at his intensity, the way his hands dwarfed the sides of her head and the way his lips moved feverishly against hers. She slipped her hands into his back pockets and brought him closer, her touch jolting him forward and walking them back over to the bike. They stumbled a bit before Y/N was able to gently lean against it.

Meanwhile Spencer couldn't contain himself. By now he was consumed in this fire that she'd set within him, burning down his every defense and sense of logic. He couldn't get enough of her, the way her hands kneaded his ass through his pockets, and how her tongue perfectly collided with his in every way. Each little moan and whimper she let out into his mouth spurred him forward until his fingers were threading into her hair, loosening her ponytail and no doubt gently tugging at her scalp.

If that bothered her, she didn't let on, her hunger matching his in every way.

Eventually, though, she felt herself leaning back too much, and she brought her hands out of his pockets to gently brace herself on the bike, steadying them.

But that didn't slow them down in the least. Truthfully, they weren't sure if they'd ever stop, drinking each other up right there as a few cars went by and the sun set behind them.

It wasn't until Spencer moved one of his hands down to her hip, searching for bare skin, fingers slowly sliding their way farther up her side, when a chorus of, "Ow ow owwww"s and whistles and hollers sounded behind them. He pulled away rather quickly, Y/N's teeth pulling at his bottom lip before he saw a truck full of teenagers whizzing past. They honked their horn and continued hollering until they rounded the corner, and by then the fire in his veins had significantly simmered.

He stepped away from her completely, combing through his hair and blinking, trying to collect his thoughts. But they came out as a jumbled mess. "I'm.. We shouldn't ha... I'm sorry... Y/N, that..."

"I—I know..." is all she said, still bracing herself on the bike.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying hard not to look at her. She was obviously rattled, though he thought she didn't mind. In fact, he was pretty sure by the way she was looking at him right then that she was ready to continue what they started, though she didn't do anything about it.

She did say, though, "It's okay. I'll, uh... See you Monday."

"Y—Yeah. Monday... Thanks f—for the ride."

His whole body was numb, fuzzy as she finally moved, walking over to her helmet and picking it up. She put it on and sat on the bike, putting the key in ignition before turning to him one last time and saying two words that sure enough ignited the fire again.

"Anytime, Spencer."

Long after she sped off around the corner, out of sight but most certainly not out of mind, he stood there on the sidewalk, his lips burning and his heart racing.

***

He wasn't sure what to expect on Monday, save for inevitable awkwardness between them, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see Y/N walk into the classroom early that morning with a box in her hands.

"Before you say anything, I just want to disclose that I'm willing to not make things weird," she announced as she made her way over to his desk. She set the box down, revealing six chocolate-frosted donuts with sprinkles. "You said you liked these the other day, so I brought some as a gift... You know, to... apologize."

"Oh, Y/N, you... You don't hav—"

"No. Please, just... Look, I didn't realize it at the time, because for a moment you weren't my professor, you were... You were my friend. And I know now that insisting to let me take you home was less than professional, and I'm sorry. I really was just trying to be nice, but I... I shouldn't have..."

"Y/N, I... kissed you... I'm the one who should apologize for being unprofessional. Really, I don't... I don't know what happened, I just..."

"Adrenaline... You... You were exhilarated and happy, and there was obvious chemistry between us that wouldn't have gotten that far if I hadn't asked you to hop on my bike, so... I'm sorry."

They both looked around, hoping it was still too early for anyone to show up, and then Spencer sighed, looking down at the donuts. "I shouldn't have asked you to lunch in the first place. I... I do want to have a connection with my students, but that's not... That wasn't my intention. I crossed a line I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

Y/N sighed, taking a donut from the box. "You know, we can't keep apologizing back and forth like this... So... Can we call it even? We're both sorry, we both fucked up, and we both promise to... act like it never happened?"

"Is... that what you want?" he asked softly, not entirely bringing his head up to look at her, but looking at her through his eyelashes.

His gaze sent a course of butterflies through her stomach, and she hated it. She hated that she was growing fond of her hot professor and that she couldn't stop thinking about his lips on hers and what they'd feel like roaming other places on her body— more specifically, over the tattoos on her skin that she always found him staring at from time to time. She hated that he was charming and pretty and smart, and she hated that he gave a shit about her.

That's why her throat burned like acid when she lied. "Yes. That's what I want."

And for the sake of professionalism, he was inclined to believe her, even though deep down his heart knew that she was lying to him. "Alright then. Thank you for the donuts."

She smiled, trying not to shake as she held her donut up in the air. "Anytime, Professor."

Then she took a bite and walked to her seat, the two of them eating in silence while they waited for class to start

***

The next two weeks went by seemingly slower and slower by the second. If it were a normal situation, Spencer and Y/N going back to their normal student-teacher routine would have been a good thing. And in a way, it most certainly was. However, they both felt plagued by their distance in a way that hadn't been so daunting in a long time.

Almost every day the girls behind Y/N would continue talking about their professor (quieter this time, though still loud enough that she could hear for herself). And every time they did, her thoughts inevitably dragged back to his lips on hers, soft and hard all at the same time, a feeling she knew she'd never be able to experience again. And then she'd glance up at him, seeing him concentrate as he graded papers or read a book, and her insides would burn once more, a reminder of everything she couldn't have.

Likewise, Spencer would be lecturing, glance over at Y/N by happenstance, and that low simmer returned to his veins, begging him to turn back now or re-enter the dark cloud of desire that threatened to ruin his career. He was thankfully able to recover quickly, though not without trying to quell the heat that flooded through his body at the remembrance of her kisses.

Each day was like a ticking time bomb. They waited until the semester was over— hopefully they wouldn't have to see each other and all could have been forgotten. But the days didn't want to fly. They wanted to ride on the back of a snail, just slugging along until it was almost painful to experience.

Even still, Spencer and Y/N went about their days until the semester was one week away from finishing.

It was Monday, class was just about to end, and then he called her over while everyone was chatting amongst themselves.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. Nonetheless, she made her way to his desk with as much normalcy as possible, and the closer she got to him, the warmer she got. It was exhausting, really.

"What's up?" she asked blankly.

"I just wanted to... congratulate you on your work. Truthfully, you've exceeded just about everyone else in terms of quiz and test scores, your work ethic is above average from what I've seen in most students... You're smart,, and you know the material really well. And... A colleague of mine and I are attending a seminar on profiling in New York, and I think you should come with. Present your final essay to the group."

Y/N blinked a few times. "Wait... You're serious?"

"Mhm. I've showed your work to my colleagues and they're all impressed by you. I'm... not exactly sure what your plans for your future are, but I really think you have something special here. And if... If it's not something that interests you, at least consider coming to the seminar anyway. Regardless, your work is exceptional and I think you should be proud of it. I... I know I am..."

The bell rang then, and everyone filtered out as Y/N stood there awkwardly, thinking everything over.

"I don't need an answer right away, but the seminar is on Saturday, so any time before then would be great. Think about it?"

She looked around to make sure no one was around before speaking, her throat tight. "You're not... just saying this because of... what we did? I mean, you really think I'm... I'm good enough to do this?"

Spencer's eyes softened, and against his better judgement, he reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. "I really do. I wasn't lying, you're exceptionally smart and you really could have a future in the FBI, not even as a profiler if you don't want to. But as always, it's your decision. All I'm asking is that you take some time to think about it. Is that okay?"

Y/N always knew that despite the attraction they had to each other, Spencer was a professional first, and he always did encourage her in her studies. She knew he saw something in her, something bright and worth teaching, worth growing, and in that moment, that's what his eyes conveyed. He truly believed in her, not because—or even in spite—of the forbidden moments and feelings they shared, but in addition to them. If anything their feelings were considered the addition here. Because while, yes, their bodies were buzzing at proximity to one another, their heads and their hearts were more connected in that moment than anything, with sheer understanding and care and belief for one another that extended past physical attraction.

Y/N smiled, nodding. "Okay. But I don't need to think about it. I'll go."

"Are you sure? You really don't have to say yes if you don't wa—"

"Yes. I'm sure. A—And thank you, Sp—ah, Professor. I... Thank you." She laughed a little, possibly the most flushed she'd ever been around him, and it made him smile

"Of course."

***

One thing they didn't really put into consideration was the fact that the semester was now over.

It was Saturday, the morning of the seminar, and Y/N was scheduled to fly with Spencer and his colleague, Doctor Tara Lewis, to New York City. Currently, Dr. Lewis was asleep, on the other side of the jet, and Y/N and Spencer were left awake, sitting across from each other and completely buzzing with energy.

You could see why this might have been a problem they hadn't considered.

Y/N wasn't technically his student anymore, and they'd became well aware of the fact after she showed up at the BAU, where she met the rest of Spencer's co-workers and friends. His family, from all she'd heard. And there was a conversation she couldn't help but overhear after they were soon set to leave.

"Now I know why you really brought her along." The voice belonged to Luke Alvez. She was sure of it— his voice was hard to forget. Especially when it was laced with suggestion.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

As cute as his cluelessness was, Y/N couldn't help the bubbles of nerves that erupted  throughout her body like a torpedo shooting through water.

"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, man. Sure, she's smart, and we all know it. But if what you've told us is true, she's also Mystery Motorcycle Mama."

"Wha—How do you know that?" Spencer exclaimed, obviously a little worried. Y/N couldn't say she blamed him.

"Oh, come on, a woman looking like that shows up, you expect me not to believe she's the one you made out with on the street? It wasn't hard to figure out."

The fact that he'd even told someone about that made her nerves rise. She'd wanted to talk to her mom about it for weeks but thought it might have caused trouble, too scared to even think about it.

Luke quelled some of the nervous tension though, when he said, "Don't worry about it, first of all, no one is going to say anything. Okay, and secondly, technically she's not your student anymore... What's stopping you?"

"W— She's a student, first of all, and... I don't know, we've finally gotten back to normal, I don't... I don't want to jeopardize that, especially now that we're going on this... trip together..."

This trip together... Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling a little warmer and a whole lot more anxious. It wasn't bad, though, more thoughtful. If anything she was interested to see how he'd react around her now that their professional relationship had somewhat come to a halt.

And now they were staring at each other on the jet. Y/N's fingers tapped gently against the table while Spencer's knee bounced rapidly. They were only twenty minutes out, and since they were on the jet it wouldn't be a long flight. But once again, time wouldn't fly. The only difference was, now there was nothing really standing in their path aside from the obvious taboo of it all. People always heard about teachers that got with former students, and it was always so scandalous.

And while it was obvious that they wouldn't be able to publicly say they were 'together', there was something like a barrier between them that had been shattered, or at least see-through in a way that it hadn't been before. It was a little easier to breathe, even, though they still somehow managed to take each others' breath away. It was always just a look, a little smile in the other person's direction, and all ability to function was gone.

The fact that they were still so captivated by each other, even through all the awkwardness and worry, was something that gave them hope. Hope that once this was all over and there was absolutely nothing stopping them from being together, they could still find their way back, and be just as connected to and enchanted by each other as they'd always been.

But for now, at least, they still had this seminar, something he'd only invited her to because of her academic achievements. And because of that, whatever happened between them had to be strictly professional

As if they hadn't already spent almost an entire semester repressing their feelings and only visiting each other in dreams.

***

The group spent the majority of the day getting a tour of the campus they were visiting. Their actual presentations wouldn't start until 7pm, where they'd speak in an auditorium that very much reminded Spencer of his own classroom.

After lunch, some more touring, and then dinner, the three of them found themselves back at their rooms, going over the material. Of course, Tara and Spencer were naturals since they'd both done a handful of teaching, but Y/N was nervous. She'd never given a big presentation like this before, even if it was only just reading sections of her essay that coincided with what Tara and Spencer were talking about.

"It's dumb," she said, slamming her papers on Tara's bed. "I shouldn't be this nervous about reading in front of people, especially since I'm such a goddamned delight in regular conversation."

Tara laughed. "You'll be great, I promise. You've read through it a million times, and even if you don't have it memorized, it'll be right there for you if you need it."

"I... I know." She started pacing a little, trying to even out her breathing. "But I... I've never done anything like this before and I... I don't want to mess up. I mean, Spencer believes in me, enough to have wanted me here, and I don't want... I don't want to let him down."

"You won't. Do... you know how I know?"

Y/N shook her head and sat down next to Tara, smoothing out the skirt she had on. She never wore skirts. She could have worn pants, but something pulled her to the short black fabric, and right now she didn't want to think about what that was. All she wanted to do was focus on calming her nerves.

"I know because... in the little amount of time that I've known you, I can tell how dedicated you are. How strong and smart you are. You know how to hold a room, and you know how to talk to people. And it helps that you know what you're talking about... You do know what you're talking about, right?"

Y/N laughed, genuinely laughed, and nodded.

"Then there you go. You'll be a natural."

The fact that one of Spencer's colleagues, whom he seemed to trust wholeheartedly, believed in her just as much, saw the same talent and dedication that he did, eased her troubled mind quite easily. She thought the worst was over, and to some degree it was.

She wasn't nervous anymore, worried that she'd disappoint Spencer, though when he knocked, came into her and Tara's room, and stopped, looking Y/N up and down with an enrapturement she hadn't seen on anyone's face before, her stomach dropped.

That look? It had been precisely why her mind begged her to put the skirt on instead of the pants.

The black velvet fabric was tight and ended mid-thigh, revealing half of a tattoo she had hidden— black and lavender flowers that matched the color of her blouse. It was a long-sleeve turtleneck that covered the tattoos on her arms and neck, but hugged her figure beautifully. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, loose strands framing the front of her face and big golden hoops dangling from her ears. Her face was completely void of the vivid makeup she always wore, replaced with a shiny, sheer lip gloss and simple eyeliner and mascara. The one thing that stood out, other than the tattoos visible on her thigh and her hands, was a golden eyebrow ring that glinted under the dim light of the hotel bedroom.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

And he had to stop himself from falling to his knees as he cleared his throat to talk. "Um, it's time to go."

The two of them were glad to have Tara as a buffer, because her "Alright, let's get going," while ushering them out the door made breathing a little easier.

So yes, Y/N certainly wasn't nervous about speaking in front of the crowd anymore. Rather, she was eager to see how focused Spencer would be during the presentation. It was hard enough for him to teach whenever she wore a particularly low-cut top in class—of course she noticed—so seeing her that closely, having her right there within his reach as they taught together, presented a jolt of excitement that gave her an extra boost of confidence.

Admittedly, though, the way she felt his eyes burn into her every cell made it extremely hard to concentrate on anything.

Nonetheless, Y/N, Spencer, and Tara eventually found themselves standing in front of maybe fifty people, students and administrators alike. Y/N swallowed hard, trying to push down any nerves that arose just then, but a soft hand at her lower back centered her.

"You're going to be great," Spencer whispered in her ear, his thumb gently stroking her back. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling... thankful, in more ways than one.

The actual presentation itself was a breeze. With one encouraging nod from both Spencer and Tara, Y/N stood at one of the podiums and read off sections of her essay with clarity and confidence. Even though it was only a few paragraphs at a time, few and far in between when coupled with Spencer and Tara's detailed, more experienced presentations, Y/N was immensely proud of herself.

She felt like she belonged there. Not like in school, where everybody judged her because she was a loner. Here she didn't stand out, at least not in a jarring or negative way.

And Spencer could see all of it. As she stood there, speaking to the crowd, he took in her confidence, basking in it like it was the sun. Like she was the sun.

They took questions for a few minutes, and Y/N was obviously a little rattled, not expecting to get any questions of her own. But she answered each one with grace, practically beaming with pride and accomplishment.

***

Under the dim streetlights and with glittering snow behind her, she looked absolutely angelic.

Y/N and Spencer offered to wait outside while Tar talked with some of the administrators about coming back sometime in the Spring. But chances are, Y/N wouldn't be there, so Spencer wasn't even sure that he cared to come back. At least not right then, watching her pace around happily in the snow, her smile as wide and as radiant as he'd ever seen it.

"That was... I can't believe I did that!" She was in complete awe, and it reminded him of the day he hopped off her motorcycle and went on a similar tangent. The feeling of a rush, of pure, unadulterated joy... "I mean, I can because you believed in me, and I know it's probably kind of dumb to be this excited about a presentation, but like... I did it! I was..."

"You were a natural," Spencer mused, feeling his whole body warm at the sight of her smiling at him.

She stepped closer and closer, nodding. "I felt incredible."

"You are incredible..."

Once again they found themselves on the sidewalk, completely unbothered and so taken with each other it was hard to breathe.

And then she stepped forward and kissed him, much like he'd kissed her. Their lips melded like they'd never left in the first place, and that familiarity between them added fuel to an already significant flame.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair and reveled in his reciprocation as his tongue gently opened her mouth further. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as tightly to him as he possibly could. And when she melted into him, giving herself over to him completely, he finally felt peace. Right then there was no worry, no awkwardness or burning tension that ate at him until he wasn't sure he could contain himself anymore... He simply just... was. He provided her with warmth and comfort, and in turn she provided him with a feeling of excitement... Of adventure and genuine fun and joy.

He never wanted to let her go.

While there wasn't a truck full of teenagers to break them out of their spell with whooping and hollering, there was a one Doctor Tara Lewis who cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, highly amused. Meanwhile Spencer and Y/N split apart, refusing to look at her. "You ready to go?"

"Uh huh," Y/N said, at the same time Spencer said, "Yep."

Tara laughed, patting both of them on the shoulder as she walked in front of them.

Normally, they would have stayed apart from now on, but the only person they knew who could expose them was already there, and she clearly had no intentions of saying anything to hurt them.

So, Spencer reached out for Y/N's tattooed hand, and she took it gladly, staying close to him as they walked the two blocks to their hotel.

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