#as something you COULD NOT DO before and so you waited even though it was HARD

[jackiezenauthor]

Someone mentioned a furry becoming a werewolf and it got me chuckling. Of course, I made it worse.

Cw:

furry shenanigans.

No 'action'

single take

"Feel them! They're so fluffy I could die!" the giant wolf squealed like a teenage girl... which she used to be, right before Matilda's summon got lured away from its intended target and decided to sink its demonic fangs into the wrong person.

She looked past the giant furred jugs that were meant to be breasts, trying to figure out what the beast meant. Always hard to tell with animal heads, but this one looked rather... Pleased?

"And I have toe beans too!" the werewolf squealed again, staring at her own paws. "And look at this cake!" she turned around and showed her butt, her tail swinging past Matilda's nose.

The witch stepped backwards, doing her best impression of that smell didn't just insta-kill half of my olfactory cells, and thank Lilith for that. Sometimes people took some time to tease her before finally complaining, and this time she couldn't rush into it either. That wretched demon had messed up, but it was she who summoned it to begin with. For something this irreversible too...

"Nobody believes me, though." the werewolf whined and dropped on the floor, taking a number of books and ingredient jars down with her tail. "For some reason, whenever I open the camera to show them, it cuts off. No matter what I do. And I can't take any pictures either."

Was that crying? Her ears were flat along the line of her head.

Cursing people into lycanthropy was not Matilda's favorite spell, but she'd done it a few times before. This was the first time one had adapted to their new body in a matter of... She checked the clock... Three hours. Usually it took about a week until they even figured out how to stand up on just their hind legs. This one even folowed her summon's smell all the way back to her...

"I am so sorry that you got mixed up into this." Matilda spoke slowly, as peacefully as she could. "You really didn't deserve it."

The beast's eyes widened and a wailing howl broke from her throat.

"You mean, you're going to take it away?" she sobbed.

"Take it awa...? You mean, remove your curse?" Matilda scratched her head. "I... I really can't." she admitted. "BUT! I can make you some potions that will help you keep it in control! Most of the days..." she rushed to the back of her shop, the brew that she'd been working on almost ready. "If you can wait until the moon starts waning."

"You can't?" the werewolf sounded... cheerful?

Yes. The tap on the floor behind her was definitely her tail wagging.

"You don't want the curse removed?" Matilda asked slowly, one hand in her pocket, ready to unravel the silver thread she kept for self defense, just in case the beast exploded on her. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"God, no!" she answered, her tail-wag making a worrisome number of ingredient jars jump on their shelf. "I love being a wolf!" she revealed a worrisome amount of white, sharp fangs, in what could be suspected for being a smile.

Matilda went back to stir her brew one more time, counter-clockwise, then three times clockwise. She reviewed the entire conversation in her mind. No. There had been no real shade of sarcasm, if she accepted the idea that this girl was not, in fact, trying to complain or take revenge... But then...

"Why are you here?" Matilda returned to the main room.

The werewolf got up carefully, holding her tail with one hand and stretching a tote bag to the witch with the other.

"Can you do some kind of spell or curse, so that I can record and take pictures of myself?" she said.

"You want to be on camera?" Matilda looked inside the bag: a phone, a laptop and a webcam...

"Yes, please!" the werewolf flashed her another view of all her fangs.

"I can enchant you a collar..." the witch returned the tote bag. It felt like a very strange fever dream.

The beast squealed and clapped her paws, her tail wrecking havoc through the ingredient jars behind her. She startled and grabbed her tail again, her ears flopping up and down in what could only be... bashfulness?

"I'm so sorry for your jars!" she said. "I'll pay for what can be bought and help gather the others, anytime, just teach me how!"

Matilda nodded, watching the beast cradle her twitching tail to her chest. She really was happy with this situation...

After so many centuries in the craft, she really didn't think anything could surprise her any longer. How wrong she'd been...

"Can it be the pink one?" the werewolf perked up when the witch opened her leather binds cabinet. "And do you need those cuffs anytime soon?" her tail swiped yet another row of jars.

Yeah... There were still mysteries left in the world...

A witch found out to her horror that she had somehow cursed the wrong person. Expecting retribution when the victim came knocking at her doorstep, she was surprised to find them rather pleased with the curse's effects.

[readwritealldayallnight]

reader who is flexible / does yoga x simon who gets really flustered watching it? 👀

During those first few months of living together as flatmates, having gone from strangers who happened to have a friend in common to sharing a bedroom wall within 24 hours, you both learned a lot about each other

On your end, you learned that his presence in the flat was a rarity, gone for days if not weeks at a time before coming home. Even then, he usually was only back for short periods of time, most of it spent sleeping

You do discover that he’s an early riser however, much to your chagrin when the sound of his routine post workout shower wakes you up before the sun has ever risen

You learn that he’s a decent enough cook, but will always insist on helping in some way if he finds you in the kitchen working on something, no matter how simple or complicated the dish is

Over time you even find out how he prefers his tea in the morning and when you get the chance, try and surprise him with a warm drink waiting for him after his shower

When you know that he prefers to keep the flat a little cooler than you usually have it, you’ll turn the thermometer down a degree just before he comes home, just as he’s gotten into the habit of turning it back up for you on his way out, the gesture going unspoken between the two of you

Simon also learns a lot about you in the time since you’ve moved in

He learns all about your taste in music, a melody never not playing in the background of whichever room you’re occupying, often telling him the name of a song or artist you can tell he likes from the way his foot will tap or fingers will drum against his thigh

He discovers you’re a bit of a night owl, often hearing you in the kitchen baking some dessert or another at midnight, or talking on the phone with a friend. He never minds though. In one case he wakes up to sweet treats in the morning, and the other he gets to overhear your even sweeter voice chirping and giggling. And if one time a smile of his own graces his lips when he hears you telling your friend how you’re loving the new flat, and your flatmate “isn’t so bad on the eyes either”, then who’s complaining?

He finds out what your favourite take out food is, often surprising you with something on his return home, definitely not blushing under the mask if it earns him a hug or peck on the cheek as thanks

But one thing Simon learns about you early on, something that he thinks about not just at home but on base, in briefings, on missions, on helis and jets and trucks, is how part of your daily routine, is doing fucking yoga in the living room.

He’s been in countless situations most civilians could never even dream up, let alone withstand, and Simon under the mask that is Ghost always stays as cool and collected as any seasoned vet would

But seeing you in sweatpants, or leggings, or even worse when you’re wearing those shorts of yours, strolling into the living room with your yoga mat tucked under your arm, his pants instantly tighten every single time, knowing what’s to come (or rather who’s to c-)

Following along to your instructional video playing on the telly, paying him no mind as he sits in the adjoining kitchen as you bend into position after position, simply doing your nightly routine as you have for years now, unknowingly putting your flatmate through a torture he’s never endured before

Every time he’s lucky enough to witness you stretching your limbs, contorting your body into poses he couldn’t fathom doing himself, he finds his dreams that night filled with the very same images of you, though wearing far less clothing, and in his bed instead of a yoga mat, though he would take you anywhere let’s be honest

He always waits for you to finish your routine, be it a quick 15 minute stretch or a nearly hour long session, he remains and watches you until you leave, before he dares to stand with his arousal on full display through his pants, rushing to his room or bathroom to take care of business

He learns that he’s never felt more intense pleasure at his own hand than when he thinks of you, when he has has your face and body freshly imprinted on his mind as he finishes, imagining the heaven that it must be to have the real thing rather than his calloused fist

It’s interesting you see

You really like Simon, and you like when he’s home, like getting to know him and spend more time with him

And if you happen to learn that when you do your yoga routine out where he can see you, that he suddenly spends a lot more time in the flat than on base, coming home more and more often, no matter how short his stay is… well, who’s complaining?

[ostaramoon]

lovebird  ➹ dean winchester

【 pairing 】 dean x angel!reader / cupid!reader 【 summary 】 you’re a cupid, you can’t help the natural call to make two beings fall in love. even if it means bringing critters into the bunker when no ones looking.  【 cw 】 fluff, spn lore on cupids is bland so yes i’m adding to it, grumpy x sunshine trope 【 wordcount 】 1.3k

the bunker had been under a quiet hum for quite some time now, sam in the library organizing and filing while dean sat in the war room looking for cases. the older winchester had nearly forgotten about the little angel cas left in their care a few weeks ago. a cupid, to be precise. 

at first he absolutely refused, claimed they weren’t a daycare for heaven’s flight crew. but cas, being a busy man, simply left the brothers standing in the bunker with a smiley little cherub. unlike most angels dean has met, you were sickeningly sweet, incredibly helpless at times, and though he would never admit it— adorable, too. 

you tried to be helpful, like quietly stepping in to do the chores sam and dean argued over. but it’s not like you really knew what you were doing. like the time dean tiredly shuffled into the kitchen one morning, opening the cupboard to find bacon, milk, and eggs stashed in there. when he started on an angry roll of name calling, it was your tear filled eyes and pouty lips that made him shut up quick. that afternoon was spent teaching you what food goes in the fridge. 

or the time you tried to fix up the impala, completely unaware that spray paint doesn’t cover up scratches. when dean strolled into the garage, expecting to take a sweet sunday joy ride just to find his baby had been vandalised, his shouts damn near shook the entire bunker. when he found you with paint stained fingertips and that pathetic wobbly lip, his anger dissipated. you settled on a promise to never under any circumstances ever touch baby again. 

now, as he sits before the glow of sam’s laptop, the quiet begins to feel entirely unsettling. he leaves his spot, heading for the library. when he doesn’t see you taking on your usual little helper tasks with sam his brows furrow. 

“have you seen the little bird?” 

sam looks up from his pile of books and paper, “no,” he shrugs, “i thought she was with you.”

that damn cupid is up to something, he thinks to himself. 

with a sigh dean turns, setting off to sweep the bunker. the kitchen is quiet, empty. at least the food is safe he assures himself. heading down stairs into the hall of bedrooms he finds your room empty as well. as he heads towards the dungeon, the last place he’d expect you as you once described it as dark and spooky, a muffled giggle stops him in his tracks. 

he waits, listening, as he hears it again coming from sam’s bedroom. he quietly approaches the door, gently pushing it open to find you kneeling on the ground with your back to the door. 

“what the hell are you doing, lovebird?” he crosses the room, standing over you and what he can now see to be a pair of brown fluffy rabbits. 

startled, you look up at him with wide eyes, “nothing.” you smile. his heart does that stupid little flutter that seems to only happen when you smile at him like that. all sweet with a pinch of mischief. 

“right,” his brows knit together as he points at the rabbits, “this is nothing?” 

a little humph leaves your lips as you rise to your feet, crossing your arms and looking up at dean with a determined scowl across your face, “i’m matchmaking, if you must know. these two have been hopping around outside for days and i could practically smell how much they need each other.” 

he looks between you and the critters a few times, “yeah, no, we’re not doing this. no rabbits— no animals of any kind allowed in the bunker.”

 his heart pangs as you jut out your bottom lip, eyes growing glossy. damn this pathetically cute little thing. his hands instinctively cup your face, “hey, hey, lovebird. no crying, remember?” his voice gruff, barely masking his annoyance.

you sniffle, biting your cheek to stop the tears brimming your lashes. you can’t always help the crying, cupids are naturally empathetic creatures with no qualms about showing their emotions. dean thumbs your cheeks, giving a light squeeze to one side. 

“but i’m a cupid!” you cry out, “i can’t help wanting to help them fall in love.” 

“rabbits don’t fall in love!” he drops his hands from your face, trying to find his words despite the absurdity of yours. “they mate, like the saying, ‘mate like rabbits’ there's no love happening here.” 

you stare up at him, wiping stray tears as some terrible thought makes your face turn sour. “so, like you?” your voice reflects the absolute devastation you feel at the realization. 

“oh what now?” dean groans.

“they’re like you! mating with no love.” you whimper. it’s no secret dean moves about women with everything except love. it was one of the first things you noticed about him, a spider's web of potential love stories that never takes because he’s swatting them away before anything divine can happen. you could have easily fixed this, but something about dean getting sweet with another woman makes your heart feel heavy. besides, dean asked you specifically not to matchmake with humans while you were on earth. so, the itch to use your skills was killing you and a perfectly innocent set of rabbits happened to be right outside the bunker. 

dean shoots you an incredulous look before shaking his head, “alright, i’m gunna pretend you didn’t just say that, little bird. we’re getting these things out. now.” he brushes past you, reaching for the rabbits far too slowly and aggressively, making them scurry off in opposite directions. 

“great!” you shout, “you scared them! now they’ll never even mate!” you drop to your knees, cooing gently at the fluff hiding underneath the bed. 

dean paces behind you, eyes squeezed shut as he musters up all the patience in the world, “hold on,” he stops abruptly, tilting his head to you, “why are you in sam’s room?” 

a shy smile finds your lips at you meet his quizzical gaze, “sam doesn’t say no nearly as often as you do. i thought if he saw how cute the bunnies are, he’d be on my side and i’d get to keep them and their love babies.” 

as much as dean would love to think your words fill him with nothing but anger and annoyance, your innocently sharp manipulation is rather fascinating. you were right, sam doesn’t like to say no and he was more fond of having pets than his older brother is, but dean would have put an end to this little scheme one way or another. 

as you lie half under the bed now, reaching for one of the rabbits, dean notices the little black droppings peppering the room. sam’s room.

“actually, lovebird,” he smirks, “why don’t we leave those two alone for a bit, see if your matchmaking skills really can work on the wildlife.” 

your excitement at his words makes you scramble off of the ground, peering up at him with a hopeful smile, “really? you think it’ll work?” 

“mhm,” he grins, stealing your hand in his, “let’s give ‘em some space, i’ll watch that reality show you love and let you tell me which ones are fated souls and all that cupid stuff you talk about.” 

➹

you sat with your legs crossed on the couch, dean beside you with a beer in hand and an amused grin as you raddled off all the little quirks that are tell-tale signs of a cupid’s work. on the other side of the bunker there's a clunk of commotion that startles you, but dean hardly reacts, his grin morphing into a satisfied smirk. 

“what was that?” you grab dean’s arm, shuffling closer to him.

“give it a sec.” he responds cooly. within seconds sam is stomping into the room, bewildered and clearly annoyed. 

“why,” he huffs, “are there rabbits shitting all over my room?” 

“oh no.” you whimper, sinking deeper into the couch, hiding your head under dean’s arm. 

“the little angel brought you a gift, sammy,” the older winchester let’s out an uncontrollable laugh, watching his frazzled brother with pure amusement, “don’t you just love it?” 

y'all i am not used to writing without angst or an emotional overtone so pls lmk if this sucks lol

[covenofagatha]

Saw you're taking requests and decided to toss one your way!

Agatha x reader, reader has had a really tough day and Agatha helps put her into subspace to relax. Some soft!dom Agatha with a splash of praise, degradation, mommy and maybe some size kink? And of course some fluffy aftercare after reader has been thoroughly fucked out of her mind❤

Hope you enjoy! (Disclaimer: I've never written subspace before so hopefully I did it justice, along with everything else you wanted)

Bad day

When Agatha comes home to find that you had a bad day, she takes it upon herself to make you feel better

Word count: 2600

Warnings: praise kink, degradation kink, subspace, size kink, mommy kink, oral, strap-on, aftercare, smut, and fluff (I may have missed one)

You’re on your last nerve when you get to your afternoon class on Wednesday. 

Your car didn’t start in the morning so your girlfriend, Agatha, had to drop you off at work, which you’d never complain about, except she had still been asleep when this happened so you were almost late because she had to get ready. 

And then work was awful. You had a shift at the popular retail store in town and it seemed like every customer who came in was on a mission to personally ruin your day. 

From dissatisfaction with the prices to vomit all over the restroom floor, it seemed like nothing could go right. 

Agatha had been at work herself so you had to call one of your college friends to give you a ride after. 

And now you had to sit in a class on Personality Theory for the next three hours and listen to your professor drone off on tangents. You would be getting your tests back from last week though, and you were hoping you had done well. 

“Alright, before we get started, I’ll go ahead and pass out your exams. Once I call your name, you can come up and look at it,” your professor says and you anxiously tap your fingers on the desk while you wait for your turn. 

Finally, he says your name. Butterflies in your stomach, you walk to the front to look and it’s like you’ve been punched in the gut. 

There must be something wrong, you don’t understand how you missed this many. 

Red ink stains the page and you have to clench your jaw together to keep your composure. Tears prick at your eyes as you hand the exam back to your professor and head back to your seat, burning with shame. 

It seems like it’s just one thing after another. 

You barely pay attention for the rest of class, head spinning with thoughts of how bad you did, how everything sucks, how you just want to go home. 

Agatha texts you a few times during the three hour time span, just checking in on you, but you don’t even respond. She always says that you get too wrapped up in your own brain and you know she’s right. You do let her know that you won’t need a ride home, not sure you could take the older woman’s softness right now. 

You just want to take a shower and lie in bed. 

Class finally ends and you order an Uber instead of asking a friend to take you home. When you get in these moods, you don’t want to talk to anyone. 

You grunt in response to the driver’s question of asking how you are and then the rest of the ride is spent in silence. It’s not often you get in such a foul mood, but when it does, it’s tough. 

When you make it through the front door of Agatha’s home, you immediately collapse on the couch and breathe in the blanket that still has her scent. She’ll be home soon and now you just want her to give you a big hug and tell you that everything will be alright. 

You hear keys jingle in the front door maybe ten minutes later and you sit up on the couch expectantly, heartbeat picking up. You’ve been with Agatha for six months now and she still managed to have the same effect on you that she had at the beginning. 

“Hey, baby,” she calls out, seeing the lights on, and she makes her way to the living room to find you swaddled in her favorite blanket on the couch. She frowns, instantly able to tell something is wrong. Usually you get up to give her a kiss. “You okay?” 

And then it’s like a dam breaks. You start sobbing and telling her all the things that have gone wrong that day and she instantly sits down next to you, engulfing you into a hug and whispering that everything will be okay. 

She lets you cry for a bit, hand stroking your hair, making soothing sounds. Eventually, you calm down enough to take slow, shaky breaths. 

“I’m sorry, doll. Sounds like you had a rough day,” she says, pressing a kiss to your head and wiping the tears off your cheeks. You nod in agreement. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You shrug while you think about it. And then you lean in and chastely kiss her lips. 

When you pull back, she’s smirking. 

“You want mommy to help you?” She coos and instantly, a fire awakens in your belly at the use of your favorite name for her. Your head bobs up and down eagerly but she tuts and grabs your jaw to hold it still. “Words, baby.” 

“Yes please, mommy,” you whisper. No one can make you feel as good as Agatha can. 

“Good girl,” Agatha hums and the fire gets worse. “What do you want?” 

You squirm on the couch, just looking at her, begging with wide eyes. 

“Why don’t you show me what you want?” You whine and grab her hand and bring it down to your shorts. “Oh, do you want me to touch you?” 

“Please,” you force out again. “Touch me, mommy.” 

Her grin is wicked as she lays you back down on the couch, positioning herself so she’s holding her weight above you. Your noses are almost close enough to touch. 

“Does my little baby want me to reward her like the perfect little angel that she is?” Agatha purrs and you gasp, feeling your head start to get fuzzy. She plays with the waistband of your shorts and your hips buck up involuntarily. You make a sort of strangled noise from your throat – all you can do, really – and she shushes you. “Just relax, doll. Let mommy take care of you.” You whimper as she kisses your nose and moves down your body to undress you. 

You feel like you’re on a different planet when Agatha pats your waist so you can lift yourself up for her to take your shorts and underwear off. 

“There we go, so good for me,” she says, leaving kisses against your thighs. You moan, senses heightened. You babble something incoherently and you can hear her chuckling at you. “Baby, you’re absolutely dripping for me.” 

Her fingers move up and down your slit, collecting wetness, and sounds are pulled out of your mouth by her administration. 

“Does that feel good, hon?” 

Your head lulls back on the couch and you try to say something to affirm her question. 

“Aw, is my little baby in subspace right now?” Something in the back of your mind tells you that you must be, but you’re too blissed out to answer. 

And then her tongue is on your pussy and you couldn’t say a word even if you tried. If you didn’t already feel like you were floating then, you sure do now. Your back arches off the couch as she sucks on your clit but her hands come up to hold you down. 

“Be a good girl for me and let mommy do all the work.” 

Your moans get louder as she keeps eating you out and you’ve never felt this good before. It’s like all your worries and stress and frustration that built up over the day are melting away to leave you in a puddle of pleasure. 

“Mommy, so close,” you slur, hands digging into the couch beneath you. Her teeth scrape against your clit and she moans into you and it sends you into an explosive orgasm. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever cum that hard. 

She licks you through it and you have to pull her away after a while because you become sensitive. 

Agatha comes up to kiss you, long and hard, and you can taste yourself on her tongue. 

“Do you want to try something new tonight, baby?” She asks once she pulls away and you nod eagerly before even asking what it is. You trust her more than anyone. “I’ll be right back.” She gives you one last parting kiss and quickly runs upstairs. 

She’s up there for a few minutes while you lay on the couch, still in a trance-like haze. 

And then she comes back down and your mouth falls open. 

Attached to her hips is the biggest strap-on you’ve ever seen. She must have just bought it. You had gotten to where you could take the toys you had pretty easily, but you are certain that this will stretch you out so much more than them. 

“Mommy,” you whisper, eyes widening as she comes back over to the couch. You can see that she’s holding lube in one hand. 

“Mommy wants to see if your tiny, little pussy can fit her big cock,” she says and a thrill runs through you despite yourself. “Might have to work you up to it.” 

Your legs part without thinking and she laughs. 

“So desperate for me, aren’t you? My perfect, little slut.” You gasp at the words, feeling yourself get even more wet. 

While you loved the praise from her, degradation almost turned you on more. 

“You have to relax, baby,” she reminds you, moving to kneel on the couch between your legs and pushing them even more open. She rubs your clit and slides two fingers in easily. You grind up on her fingers, trying to pull them in more. “Look at how well you take my fingers. So good for mommy. You can’t get enough of them, can you?” 

You shake your head and groan when she curls them just right. 

“Such a good whore for mommy,” she sighs. “Can you take another?” 

“Please,” you gasp out, walls clenching around the two already inside you. She pulls them and you feel empty, but that feeling is quickly gone when she pushes three in you. The stretch feels so good and your hips meet her every thrust, the pleasure in you already growing. 

And then it’s gone. Your head flies up to look at her wrapping the hand wet with you around her strap and coating it. And then she opens the bottle of lube and pours a hefty amount in her other hand to also stroke the toy with. 

“Are you ready, baby?” 

“Go slow, mommy,” you tell her, even though you know that she will. “You’re so big.” 

“You’re going to look so pretty, sweetheart, stretched around my big cock,” she says and positions the tip at your entrance. “Like a little, perfect slut. 

The first push steals all the air from your lungs. 

“Fuck,” you groan. You’ve never been so full in your life and you barely have any of it inside you. Agatha doesn’t move, just rubs small circles on your thighs and waits for you to tell her you’re okay. 

It takes a few moments for you to adjust. It’s definitely easier in the headspace that you’re in right now. 

“Okay,” you say and Agatha obeys, slowly moving forward inside you. She stops when your breathing gets strangled and doesn’t move again until you’re back to normal. 

“God, your little pussy looks so good taking my big cock so well,” she grunts once she finally bottoms out. If your mind was clearer, you’d tease her about the size kink she so clearly has. “How are you doing, baby? Can I move?” 

“Please, mommy,” you beg, still feeling euphoric. Every drag of her cock against your walls now feels like heaven. She smirks and starts to move.

She starts slow at first, just short, slow strokes to make sure that you’re still comfortable, and then she starts to really fuck you. 

The pace Agatha sets is rough and bruising and you can hear the wet, squelching sounds that the toy makes as it pushes back inside you every thrust, a mix of your wetness and lube. 

“Mommy,” is all you can pant as she fucks into you over and over again, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on her. 

“So fucking good, sweetheart, you’re taking my cock so well, such a perfect slut for mommy,” Agatha mutters, never slowing down once. If you were already in subspace before, you’re not sure you have a word for what state you’re in right now. There are not even semblances of thoughts in your head, there is only Agatha and the pleasure she is giving you. You can’t even remember what you were in such a bad mood about earlier. 

She reaches down to rub your clit again and you hear someone moan obscenely loudly. 

You think it might have been you. 

All you know is that you’re getting so close again you can taste it. She seems like she can tell because she somehow speeds up, which you didn’t think was possible. Little gasps are forced out of your mouth with every push and your walls are tightening so much around her that it makes it hard for her to thrust. 

“So good, baby, you’re taking me so well,” Agatha chants, a hand reaching up to play with your nipple under your shirt. “So perfect, such a perfect slut, my perfect good girl. Cum for mommy, cum all over mommy’s big cock.” 

She angles her hips just right and rubs your clit hard and you spasm, back bowing off the couch. You’ve never felt pleasure this extreme; it feels like you’re having an out-of-body experience. All the tension in your body is gone and you pant heavily as Agatha pulls out of you. 

“You okay, baby?” She asks and you wheeze a laugh. 

“M’okay,” you say happily, a slow smile spreading onto your face. You can feel your head clearing with the loss of her touch. 

“Let me get a washcloth, alright? I’ll be right back, I promise.” She gives you a kiss on your head and she’s back in what seems like seconds with a warm towel. You wince at the feeling of it between her legs but it helps. “Do you want to move to bed?” 

You nod, but you’re not actually sure if you can stand up based on the jelly feeling in your legs. Agatha seems to understand this without you saying anything and she scoops you off the couch bridal style and carries you up the stairs. 

You giggle and burrow your head into the crook of her neck, breathing her in and feeling her against you. 

“You did so good, baby,” she whispers. 

“Thank you, Agatha. I really needed that.” 

She pauses for a second in the hallway to peck your lips. “I know you did. I’m happy to help, sweetheart. Whatever you need.” 

Once in the bedroom, Agatha helps you into some comfy pajamas and makes you take sips of water from the bottle on her nightstand. You lay down and she pulls the covers over you both, pulling you close to her so she can wrap an arm around you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby, you know that?” She murmurs. “I love you so much.” She kisses you softly, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. 

“I love you too,” you mumble in-between kisses. No one has ever made you feel more loved than Agatha. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she continues and you blush. “I know you had a hard day today, but tomorrow will be better. You’re so strong. You’re my perfect girl. I love you.” 

And she keeps whispering the sweetest things into your ear, and you drift off to sleep in her arms, feeling like nothing was ever wrong. 

[biteyoubiteme]

I'll be quick

huening kai x fem!reader

synopsis: dress shopping with your boyfriend.

warnings: 🔞!!! slight exhibitionism, chubby reader implied, no protection, creampie mention, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.9k

an: thank you so much for requesting hp! im so nervous for you to read this lol I hope you like it if you don’t just put me down nicely :)) <3333

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

“How about this one?” you ask, smoothing your hands down the front of the silk dress you wore. It was the kind of material that should not be worn with this type of underwear; your pantie line clearly visible. Your hands went sliding down over your ass as if that would make the buckled fabric disappear. “Ignore the fact I'm wearing the wrong panties,” 

You give a slow spin in the fluorescent lights, the semicircle of mirrors reflecting every angle of your dress-clad figure at you. But all you can see is the damned line from your underwear. “Actually don't answer that, I hate it,” 

“I love it,” Kai speaks up from his spot opposite the mirrors. He's leaning back with your purse in his lap, eyes tracing up and down your body as he watches the way the material clings to you. He can imagine the way it would feel under his fingers, sliding over the expanse of your thighs. 

“You always say that,” you mutter, turning your cheek to look at the dress from the back. You can see Huening watching, eyes tacked right to the outline of your underwear. “Kai,” 

“What?” he blinks up at you like he was caught. Cheeks flushed as he pulled your bag closer to his lap.

“Is it that bad?” It was late in the day, and your usual trip to the mall was fun. Both of you could spend hours going from shop to shop, no need to buy anything but to spend time together looking at all the new things in store. It was one of your favorite things to do. 

Kai would follow you around like a little puppy, letting you pick out things for him to try on. Pulling him into dressing rooms so that he could get something new to wear. Spending too much time at the sunglasses wrack, spinning the display around and around, trying on each pair, first on you then on him, giggling over the silly reflective wraparound pairs. He loved when you picked out the different things for him to put on, especially jeans, your hands sliding into the back pockets to check their depth was always his favorite part. 

You had your favorite spots at the food court, always picking the same little table every time you sat down, knees bumping as you picked over each other's meals. Kai would carry your drink while you tried on shoes, hold your bag when you tried on clothes. And most of the time having him along with you made shopping less overstimulating, you could have fun without rushing to just get the shopping over with. 

Only now that you needed a dress for an event it felt like everything was crashing down at that very moment. Nothing felt right, every dress you tried on made it feel like you wouldn't find the one. The lights now make everything look too oversaturated, the dressing room is now cold enough to make goosebumps rise along your arms, and now the stupid panty line. 

You didn't even know why you were so focused on finding the right outfit, it was a last minute decision to even go to the little dinner your friends were hosting. you didn't need something new but you wanted something new. 

“Just take them off,” Kai suggests, sweet face glowing in the lights, every little mole dotting his skin easily seen. 

The fitting rooms were in the back of the store, the long hallway sectioned off with several doors before ending right at the little platform with the mirrors you stood now. Although a few people milled around in the shop just past the corner no one was in the other changing rooms. He was suggesting an easy fix to the only problem you were having with the dress and so you took it. Even though the door to the room where you kept all your other clothes was open and waiting for you to go back inside, you just bent right there hands going up under your dress and hooking in the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down and off without lifting the dress to expose yourself. 

Kai feels all the blood rush to his face, the prickling heat slinking through his bones. It was enough to already be thinking about undressing you, but now seeing you do most of the work for him, at his suggestion, was taking him out. You tossed the fabric into the dressing room, aiming for your pile of clothes but missing, the corner of the fabric still seen from where Kai's sitting. 

“That's so much better,” you're back to sliding your hands down the silky fabric, flattening out any bumps to make sure it's lying right. You love the way it hugs your thighs, outlines the shape of your hips, the curves of your stomach, and lays against the swell of your chest. “Okay now just imagine it without a bra, I'll have to find something without straps,” 

“It's uh- it's really nice,” you look over at him in his hesitation to find that he wasn't saying it just to appease you but was finding it hard to swallow back what he really wanted to say. He was doing exactly what you asked, picturing you naked under all that silk, he could see it falling to the floor, how easy it would be to slip right off of you.  He pushed your purse closer to his growing bulge, cheeks flushing deeper when you asked, “Huening, are you blushing?” 

He loved it when you used that slightly teasing tone on him, it was as if your fingers were brushing up his neck with each word. “I think that's the one,” he was avoiding directly drawing attention to your question, not needing to think about exactly why he’s red so that he can try and wish away his erection before you guys walk out of here. 

“Okay, perfect.  I don't think I want to even try on anymore ,anyways,” you step down from the little platform, “oh, do you think we could stop at the little candy store on the corner and get the gummies we shared last time?” 

“Umhum,” he gives his usual hum in response as you close the door behind you. 

It's only then that you realize that you can't undo the zipper by yourself, he had helped you do up the back with no problem and there was no way for you to reach up to grab the zipper on your own. “Kai? Could you help me take this off?” 

It's the last thing he should be doing, he knows it as soon as he's in the dressing room with you, hand placed on your hip as he steadies you. You're just as soft as he expected, his free hand not even making it to the zipper. You watch him in the mirror in front of you, his eyes following his fingers as they make their way down gripping the outside of your thighs.“God, I love your body,” he groans, his head falling to your shoulder, lips dusting over your shoulder when you finally feel how hard he is. “You really like the dress huh?” 

“No I just love you and need you, please I'll be quick,” he whines right at the back of your ear. 

“Anyone could hear-” 

“I'll be quiet, I promise, please,” and your slight nod is all he needs to push up the back of your dress, his hand pushing between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your fold, swirling over your clit to build up your arousal. You fall forward, hands bracing yourself on the mirror, kai readjusts so that one hand is splayed across your tummy, silk spilling through his fingers. 

He’s quick to free himself from his jeans, pushing them down just enough so that he can line himself up with you, dragging his tip through your folds, catching at your entrance. You know yourself well enough to cover your mouth when he pushes in, the overwhelming stretch of him always making you whine. He's no better, his pretty face reflecting at you as his mouth opens in a silent moan when he fully seats himself inside you. His head falls into your shoulder so that he can muffle any sound that wants to escape, your back arching as his hold on your plushie hip tightens, fingers digging into the soft skin of your tummy. 

Kais intoxicatingly deep inside you, his first thrust pulls a throaty whimper for you that you can't hold back. “This was a bad idea-” you try to whisper, cutting yourself off by clamping your hand back on your mouth when he slams his hips against your ass. His breath fanning over your ear when he whispers, “You feel fucking amazing,” his trapped whimpers rumbling his chest, all the vibrations pressed to your back. He peeks in the mirror, biting his lip when he watches the way your tits bounce, hanging perfectly in view for him, “fuck- look at you,” 

His cock slides so effortlessly in and out of your needy cunt, warm fluttering walls drawing him in until he's forgetting he needs to be silent, that he shouldn't be pounding this hard, changing his orgasm so intensely that someone might hear him. 

It's the soft clapping of skin that reminds you where you are, “slow down kai- we could- we could-,” but it's then that he uses the hand on your hip to slide under the bunched fabric of your dress, to draw circles on your clit. It was an instant shock that had your knees shaking. 

“Who cares,” he's muttering, head shaking as he picks up his pace, “If anyone saw you dressed like this they would want to be right where I am, fuck, but they could never fuck you like I can, never,” his last word caught on the end of a whimper drawn out and pulled from him as he came. 

It's the look on his face, brows tightening, eyes squeezing shut as he falls apart, mixed with his steady pressure on your clit that has you tumbling over the edge after him. Your whole body flexes as he pulls you in tight to him, hand leaving your stomach to clamp over your mouth. 

Both of you are struggling to catch your breath in the now stuffy room, mirror fogged up from your hands, skin once chilled now inflamed with your post-sex afterglow. His cock still jerked even when he pulled out of you, his hand moving to try and stop the spill of your combined release. Your thighs try to close around the feeling of him brushing your sensitive clit while he leans down to pick up your discarded underwear, using them to clean you up. 

He peppers kisses all along your cheeks bunching up the soiled fabric in his hand before unzipping your dress. “I really do love this dress on you,” 

“Oh really? I couldn't tell,” you giggle, and he helps you get dressed, carrying your bags out after you, panties shoved into his back pocket. 

When you leave the store you wrap an arm around his center, going underneath his jacket to feel all his warmth. He slinks his arms around your shoulder, tugging you into his side, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Didn't I hear you say something about getting gummies?” 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! thank you to @thetxtdevil @hmusunoo @hyukascampfire and @prince-jjae for proofreading/beta reading this for me ily all sm okay my little sweet baby angels I hope you get everything youve ever wanted in life and more

[loverafey]

right of course we all think that rafe is dominant in bed alright- but what do we think about submissive rafe wanting to be taken care of after a tiring day? can you write sum for that???

your theme and writing is just so ugghh i love it and i think your writing style would fit my request so GOOD

anon this made me giggle you're the sweetest. <3 !!! confession time i've never written dom!reader before so this is an amazing req :]

pent up ! bf!rafe x reader.

          ꕀ warnings - smut, this is so filthy good lord, switching the dynamics up, dom!reader and sub!rafe, handjob, orgasm denial, he whimpers guys, riding. wc -  1.4k

it’s quite the norm for rafe to come back home all pent up after a long day, sometimes dishevelled and mostly pissed off. it was as if something wrong happened to him every day, at least in his eyes. it was slightly amusing, though you’d never tell him that, lest it does nothing but makes his mood all the more sour.

though it was nothing like today. he hadn’t muttered a word when he came back home from work, hadn’t spared a glance at you, eyes down and lips pursed tightly as he stomped his way into the bedroom. you wouldn’t even have noticed his presence if it weren’t for the sound of his footsteps. rightfully concerned, you rose from the couch where you’d been waiting for him, following after him.

“rafe?” you asked, noting the way his shoulders visibly stiffened up.

“i’m not in the mood.” he grumbled out, not as snappy as usual, just tired and bummed out. you tilted your head curiously, still stepping closer to him until you were in front of him. at this point, you’d gotten used to not caring about the rather hurtful words he’d be spewing out when mad.

“c’mon, what happened?” you asked, hands gently moving up to cup his face. despite the frustration etched on his face, he leaned it, earning a smile on your face as your fingernails lightly scratched against his skin, soothing his nerves.

“stupid fucking- stupid bitch tried to scam me. do people thing i’m fucking dumb, that i’m just some… incompetent replacement of my father?” he rambled on rather hastily, causing his words to get mixed and fumbled. you listened, gently guiding him on the bed. he didn’t resist at all, too exhausted to complain or start another argument that he’d normally do when tired.

“you must be so tired, huh? seems like a really bad day.” you sat down beside him, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling him lean into you. limp and compliant, he rested his head on your shoulder and groaned, pulling you up to sit on his lap, craving nothing but your warmth.

“you’ve no idea.” he huffed against your skin, shuddering when he felt you massaging his tense nape.

rafe was never one to fall into submission. he always had to be on the top, to assert his power over others, anything to fill something. though with you, it was less about power and more about letting him do all the work so you were constantly showered in affection. but today, none of that was playing in his head. he wanted, no, needed you, but he was just so tired.

“baby…” he breathed out while you felt his thighs twitch under your hips, aching to ground up against your crotch.

“do you want me to take care of you, rafe?” the sweetness laced with your words made his heart clench as he pulled his head away from your neck to look at you, blue eyes desperately pleading, cheeks flushed. fuck, he looked beautiful like this, needy with glossy eyes, his fingers harshly tightly into your sides without even realising it.

you let him hold you in whatever way he’d like, your hands finding their way to unbuckle his pants and tugging down slightly along his briefs until his cock sprung out, all heavy and hard, tip already leaking. you couldn’t help but wonder if you could make him cum in his pants, maybe some other day. it already looked like his cock was hurting enough.

“poor baby.” you cooed, words naturally coming out of you much to your surprise. your soft palms against his cock felt like heaven to him, and it was taking everything within him to not thrust up against your hands like something feral. he tried to relax on the mattress, leaning against the headboard as he breathed deeply, feeling your palm swipe up against his sensitive tip, rubbing slowly and lightly, as if barely even touching.

“fuck- stop teasing me.” he hissed through gritted teeth which soon dissolved into a choked moan when your thumb beginning to rub on his tip firmly, collecting the beads of precum before rubbing them down his length. the poor guy was literally trembling from pleasure, not having realised how much tension he had stored within him.

his hands continued to rest on your hips, clenching and tugging at your shirt to ground yourself as one hand of yours rubbed up and down his cock while the other rubbed against the swollen tip. his lips were parted, threatening to swoon as his hips began to involuntarily buck up, his mind feeling all bleary from the sheer bliss coursing within him.

“it’s okay, i’m here for you, and i’m really proud of everything you do for me, for us.” you reassured, unable to suppress a grin at the way his eyes rolled back into his skull at that, just so ecstatic to finally hear someone say that. he’d make sure to worship you fully after this, to kiss you all over, but for now this was all that mattered.

“shit, i’m so-” he couldn’t properly finish his words, whimpering out loudly as his eyes squeezed shut, chasing his orgasm. almost there, almost-

you pulled your hands away, his eyes flying up as he stared at you in shock, still sensitive and fuzzy from almost getting an orgasm. you could’ve sworn those were tears that welled up in those tired eyes of his as he grunted, shaking his head. “w-what, why?!”

“just hold on. patience.” you snickered to yourself, a seductive revenge for every time he’d done the same to you in the past. “you’ve to be a good boy for me or else you won’t be coming tonight.” you spoke as firmly as you could, your amusement still seeping in.

much to your shock, he didn’t retort or fight back, glaring at you as he chewed on his bottom lip. “please…” he croaked out, needily rubbing his denied cock against the front of your shorts. your hand gently smacks the top of his cock, earning a muffled noise from him. seeing him sensitive was surely one of your new favourite things now.

“fine… ‘cause you’re just so tired.” you cooed, lifting your hips up to gently take down your shorts and panties, rewarding him with the view of your pussy that he’d been yearning to see, all soaked. “see? you did this to me.” your fingers teasingly spread your slick folds apart, watching the way his eyes were practically fucking you hungrily alone from his vision.

“please…” he whined out, not even hiding all those pretty noises anymore. he was always loud, but never this pathetic. it was so endearing in a way. positioning your pussy on top of his cock, you slowly sunk in, moaning pleasantly as his girth stretched you out in the best way possible. his head lolled back, gripping your hips tight. fuck, he could just cum like this, already so close to explode.

your hips begin grinding against him teasingly, your walls tightening around him while you moved up and down, feeling his cock pulsating within your warmth. there was just something so special, so him whenever he’d start hitting all the sweet spots inside you with such ease. but something that was much sweeter was the fact that he was obediently taking it all, letting you ride him without him thrusting up into you greedily no matter how much he’d want to.

“you can cum in me, baby.” you encouraged him, causing his eyes to widen. his arms were wrapped around you as his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, feeling you bounce up and down on his cock until he finally reached his peak, his cock twitching maddeningly, thick spurts of cum spurting within your pussy.

he panted heavily, sweat clinging to his forehead, not minding the way your hands began to take off his shirt so he could breathe freely, his chest all flushed. you didn’t pull away yet, letting his cock rest snugly inside you, his lips letting out an incoherent mumble as he clung onto you tight.

“i love you…” he lazily peppered kisses on your neck. drained out, but now in the best possible way.

[itneverendshere]

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (eight)

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: mentions of domestic violence; unhealthy relationships;

It takes another week for your bruises to disappear entirely and for you to get comfortable enough to join Rafe downstairs while he’s working away with Jerry.

He didn’t mind though, he liked watching you heal, loved seeing you devour whatever he cooked for you. It was almost like he was healing himself too.

Rafe glances up from under the hood of the Chevy, the clang of metal on metal breaking the heat of the afternoon.

He isn’t sure what draws his attention, but there you are, sitting on the porch steps with sunlight catching in your hair, watching him and Jerry work like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

It devastates him—how much happier you look. A week ago, you'd barely let him leave your side without that haunted look creeping back into your eyes. 

You sit there comfortably, legs stretched out, looking eerily like the girl he remembered from so long ago. Almost.

He wipes his hands on the rag tucked into his pocket, taking a moment to breathe you in. Seeing you there, in his space, still feels unreal.

Somehow, the universe had given him a second chance when he’d never thought he’d get one, hee wants to keep you that way, safe, comfortable, smiling.

“Rafe,” Jerry’s voice pulls him back to work, and he tears his gaze from you reluctantly, not before he catches the way your lips quirk just a little more when you realize he’s been watching.

He ducks his head back under the hood, focusing on the busted engine. At least, that’s what he tells himself, but the truth is, he’s already planning what to make you for dinner. Maybe spaghetti?

You’d eaten three helpings of it the other night like you couldn’t get enough. He’ll make extra.

He grins to himself, a small, private thing, as he tightens the bolt on the alternator. He isn’t usually one for kitchen work but he’d been experimenting ever since you got here, he'd been cooking more than ever.

Figured out how to make pancakes the way you liked them, even if it meant burning the first couple batches, learned the trick to getting mashed potatoes just right, and spaghetti? He can make that blindfolded by now, if it means seeing you sitting, all full and satisfied, looking at him like he’s doing something right for once.

He peeks your way again, can’t help it.

God, he could write poetry about you if he had the words, if he was smart enough for that shit. Something about how your skin soaks up the sun like it’s meant just for you, or how you make the whole world quiet just by sitting there, looking at him.

You stretch, raising your arms over your head and his chest hurts so good. You don’t know what you’re doing to him, do you? You have no idea how much he wants to drop this wrench, cross the yard, and pull you into his arms, just to feel you against him, like the good old days.

“Rafe,” Jerry calls again, this time a little more assertive.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” He mutters, running a hand through his hair, smearing grease. The old man shoots him a look but says nothing.

He blames you, how is a guy supposed to focus with you sitting there like that? Looking all pretty and sweet, like you belong nowhere else but on his porch, waiting on him to finish up.

He wonders if you’d blush if he told you.

Maybe later, at dinner, he’ll get you talking about something—something that makes your eyes light up and your hands move like they always do when you got excited. Not the whole thing, of course, not the part about how he wants to keep you here forever, how he spent the last week falling asleep next to you, scared out of his mind to wake up and you’d be gone.

He can’t say that, not yet.

He still doesn’t feel deserving, the years haven’t dimmed you a bit—if anything, you’re brighter, and stronger, especially after what had happened, after you showed up on his doorstep with bruises and trembling hands, you’re still here, looking at him like he’s someone worth trusting.

He can’t stop thinking about what your parents said, all those years ago. How they’d made him feel like the scum on their shoes, but he isn’t that same kid anymore, is he? He built a life here, fixed cars, learned to cook, stayed out of trouble. You came back to him.

The sound of pawsteps across gravel draws his attention before he even realizes he’s been listening for it. A familiar shadow pads around the corner of the garage—a big mutt with a patchy brown coat, floppy ears, and a wagging tail that never quits.

Rafe chuckles under his breath. “Look who finally decided to wake up,” he drawls, wiping his hands on his jeans as the dog, Ace, makes his way toward you, bypassing him completely.

Traitor.

You sit up straighter on the steps, blinking at the unexpected visitor, “Who’s this?”

“That’s Ace, the one I told you about,” He explains, leaning against the Chevy, arms crossed. “Sleeps in the garage most nights. Jerry feeds him scraps when he thinks I ain’t lookin’.”

“Bull,” Jerry mutters from under the hood, but Rafe just grins.

Ace stops a few feet away from you, his tail still wagging but slower now, careful, he sniffles the air, head tilting as if he’s sizing you up.

You extend a hand tentatively, and Rafe’s heart damn near fucking stops when Ace leans forward, his big nose brushing your fingers like he’s been waiting all his life to meet you.

“Oh,” you breath, your lips curving into a blinding smile as you tenderly scratch behind his ears. Ace practically melts, pressing his head into your palm like you’re the best thing that had ever happened to him and Rafe feels like someone punched him, at least a hundred times, square in the chest.

Even the fucking dog is in love with you.

“He’s sweet,” you coo as you stroke Ace’s scruffy coat. “Aren’t you, boy?”

The dog lets out a contented huff, flopping onto the ground at your feet like he’s ready to stay there forever, Rafe can’t blame him.

“He doesn’t warm up to folks like that,” He finds himself admitting, “Usually takes him a while to trust people. Guess he’s got good taste.”

You look up at him, and there it is—that little spark in your eyes that makes his knees weak. “He must take after his owner, then.”

He lets out a noise, between a laugh and a swallow, scratching the back of his neck, looking down at the ground because he knows if he looks at you too long, he’ll probably do something stupid, maybe kiss you right there in front of Jerry and the whole damn yard.

“Nah,” he concedes finally, “Dog’s got way more sense than me.”

You laugh, that sound was always better than any song he ever heard, even if you haven’t laughed like that in a long time.

“You’ve got your moments.” You tease, still scratching the mutt behind his ears.

“Moments, huh?” He smirks, slow and lazy, the way that always makes you blush. 

Your cheeks are still flushed, just like he hoped they would, and you shake your head, but he doesn’t miss the way your grin only grows.

God, you’re so beautiful it hurts. He wants to bottle this moment up and keep it forever—the sun on your skin, Ace curled up at your feet, and that look in your eyes.

Jerry clears his throat loudly, and Rafe drags his attention away, turning back to the engine with a muttered, “Don’t you got somethin’ better to do, old man?”

Jerry snorts. “Not when you’re makin’ moon eyes at her like that, might as well sell tickets.”

He shoots him a glare, his ears turning pink, and you cackle again, a little louder this time. It’s worth the ribbing, worth all of it, just to hear that sound. Rafe sighs, long and dramatic. "Don’t you have a crossword or somethin' to keep your mouth busy?"

The old man sniggers, his laugh scratchy and full of life as you look between the two of them, enjoying the show.

“So,” you pipe up, resting your chin on your hand, comfortable enough around Jerry to finally ask, “How did you two meet? Officially, I mean.”

“Cameron didn’t tell you?”

He groans, already regretting everything. “Oh, come on—don’t—”

“Shut up, kid,” Jerry clicks his tongue, waving him off, turning turned to you, his eyes already sparkling with mischief in the late afternoon sun. “It was, what, five years ago? Somethin’ like that. I was in the middle of the hardware store, cussin’ out a kid who bagged up the wrong screws for me.”

Rafe ducks his head, mumbling, “It wasn’t that bad.”

Jerry ignores him, his hands moving as he speaks. “And here comes this scrappy little punk, all long limbs and attitude. He’s hanging around the counter, lookin’ like he’s ready to swipe somethin’. I figured, well, either he’s desperate or he’s an idiot, so I hollered at him.”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing at Rafe. “Scrappy little punk? I remember that.”

He sends a faux glare your way, “Don’t gloat him on.”

“Could’ve called the cops on him,” Jerry goes on, enjoying himself. “But I didn’t. Somethin’ about him looked...he just needed a break. I handed him a sandwich instead. Figured, worst-case scenario, he’d run off and I’d be down a couple bucks.

“But he didn’t.”

Jerry beams, “He sat right there on the curb and ate the whole damn thing like he hadn’t had a meal in days. Then, after he was done, he asked me if I had any work for him.”

You try to keep your expression even, but your throat tightens a little as you take a peek at Rafe’s reaction. He isn’t looking at you, his hands are busy wiping grease from a bolt that needs no more attention.

Your mind paints a picture you don’t want to see: him, still just a teenager, sitting alone on a curb in a strange town, starving, with no one to turn to. You remember the boy you’d known back then—the one who laughed loudly, talked too big, and held your hand like you were the only thing he had in the world.

The thought of him losing all of that, of losing you and ending up so desperate, breaks something inside you.

Jerry isn’t oblivious; he sees the flinch when he mentions Rafe’s first meal here. He catches how your shoulders tense, how Rafe avoids looking at you, the old man has a knack for reading people, so, still with a knowing smile, he pivots.

“Speakin’ of this kid’s early days,” Jerry claps his hands, “Y’know, I had half a mind to send him back to whatever dock he washed up from.”

His free hand dragged down his face. “C’mon, Jerry—”

“No, no, she’s gotta hear this,” Jerry insists, grinning again now. “You ever heard the phrase, ‘bull in a china shop’? That was this one.” He jerks his thumb toward him. “I handed him a wrench, told him to take off the oil pan on an old Ford. Figured, simple job, even he couldn’t screw it up.”

You tilt your head, curious despite yourself. “And?”

“The next thing I know, I hear this god-awful bang—like a car had fallen off the lift. I run over, and there’s Rafe, sittin’ on the ground, oil pan in one hand, half the damn exhaust in the other.”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle, your eyes widening. “No!”

“I was new!” he defends, albeit childishly, his neck turning a faint shade of pink. “I didn’t know cars back then, alrigh’? Boats are different.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jerry chaffs, “Different enough that I had to spend half my day puttin’ that exhaust back together.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but there’s a sheepish tilt on his lips. “You’re lucky I didn’t quit after that.”

“You?” Jerry cackles, slapping his knee. “You were lucky I didn’t fire you!”

“Alright, that’s enough outta you,” Rafe grumbles, though his tone is more affectionate than annoyed. “She doesn’t need to hear every stupid thing I did.”

Jerry winks at you, “Stick around long enough, and I’ve got plenty more stories where that came from.”

Rafe sighs dramatically, shaking his head, he turns back to the car, he doesn’t mind being the butt of the joke if it makes you laugh.

You’re still petting Ace, murmuring something that he can’t hear, but it doesn’t matter. The way your lips move, the gentle tilt of your head—it’s enough to send his heart hammering.

He doesn’t know what he did to get you back in his life, but he’s sure as hell not going to mess it up. Not this time.

Ace moves at your feet, rolling onto his back, his tail thumping against the ground and you laugh again, that heart-wrenching melodic sound.

He doesn’t even care that Jerry caught him “makin’ moon eyes” earlier—because this is what love looks like, he’ll gladly wear the fool.

“Everything okay over there?” you call, a teasing tilt in your voice.

He clears his throat, coming up with something to say,  “Yeah, just—uh, makin’ sure Jerry doesn’t mess up the alternator.”

Jerry barks a laugh from behind the car. “Kid, I’ve been doin’ this since before you could walk. Go ahead, tell her about the time you tried to put windshield wiper fluid in the oil tank.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe mutters as your snort spills out, unrestrained and perfect. He wants to record that sound, keep it for the nights when his demons get too loud.

Jerry pops back up, smirking as he wipes his hands on a rag. “She oughta know what she’s dealin’ with.”

He shakes his head, the faintest grin on his lips. “She knows enough. Don’t you, darlin’?”

The nickname slips out without him meaning to, but it feels right. 

“Yeah, I do.”

Jerry slaps him on the back, pulling him out of his head. “Alright, kid. Let’s fire her up, see if she’ll run.”

He nods, tossing the wrench onto the workbench. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do it.”

He steps around to the driver’s side, sliding into the worn seat, the key turns in the ignition, and the old Chevy grumbles to life, sputtering a little before settling into a steady rumble.

Jerry whoops, giving the hood an affectionate pat.

You’re clapping, beaming brighter than the sun dipping low on the horizon, the pride in your eyes, you’re looking at him like he just moved mountains instead of fixing an old truck—it’s overwhelming.

He kills the engine, stepping out of the car, wiping his hands on his jeans as he crosses the yard, Jerry mutters something about grabbing a beer and heads inside, leaving the two of you alone with the fading light and the lazy wag of Ace’s tail.

Rafe stops, suddenly nervous, scratching the back of his neck, his attention flickering between you and the ground. 

“I like watching you work. You look happy.”

Happy, such a simple word, but hearing it from you feels monumental, you’re giving him something he didn’t even know he was missing.

“Yeah, guess I’m not used to having an audience,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a small, sheepish grin.

You tilt your head, studying him and he feels completely exposed, knowing you remembre all the cracks, every scar, every damn thing about him, but instead of turning away, you lean forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand.

“You’re good at it, y’know.”

“At what?”

“Everything.”

He looks away, swallowing hard, “Already promised I’d make you that pasta again, don’t need to butter me up, princess.”

You roll your eyes, as you wave him off. “Don’t let it go to your head, country boy.”

He chuckles, the sound wrapping around you. “Too late for that.”

Ace stirs at your feet, letting out a happy huff as your hand absentmindedly scratches his belly. Rafe watches the way you’re with the dog, so effortless and full of love, and his heart swells.

“Y’know,” he says, his voice more serious, “it’s nice, havin’ you here. Feels... right.”

You brush a strand of hair out of your face, glancing down at Ace before looking back up at him. “It feels right to me too,” you admit.

Rafe’s breath catches, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to touch but doesn’t know how. Instead, he clears his throat, tilting his head toward the garage. 

“Guess I should, uh, finish cleanin’ up.”

You nod, smiling a little. “Don’t let me stop you, grease monkey.”

He gives you a tongue-in-cheek smirk, the side of his cheek puffing out slightly, shaking his head as he stands, but not before he leans down, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, and whispers, “Keep callin’ me that, and I might start likin’ it.”

He knows exactly what he's doing when your lips part in a gasp as he leans in, how your eyes widen before you try act unaffected—it’s like you’re both teens again. He didn’t mean to flirt, not at first, but the way you look at him, it’s impossible not to. 

He pulls back, letting his smirk settle into place, giving you that lazy, self-assured grin you always pretended to hate when you were younger.

By the time you think of a comeback, he’s already halfway to the workbench, his smug grin unmistakable even from a distance.

Jerry returns with a beer in hand, catching the tail end of your flustered expression. “What’d he say this time?”

“Nothing,” you reply quickly as you scratch Ace behind the ears again.

“Uh-huh,” Jerry says knowingly, settling into his chair and shaking his head with a chuckle.

Dinner comes slow but is worth the wait.

The sun's long since tucked itself away, and by now, the house smells like garlic and tomatoes, the scent that makes you feel like you’re right where you belong. 

Rafe stands in the kitchen, his back to you as he plates up the spaghetti he promised. He’s in a worn t-shirt and jeans, the grease scrubbed from his hands but still faintly streaked along his forearm.

He’d gone all out—spaghetti with his homemade sauce, garlic bread, and even a side salad, though he figured that would mostly be for show. 

“Hope you’re hungry,” he calls, leaning on the doorframe as you appear from the hallway, fresh-faced and relaxed after cleaning up from earlier. You smile at him, and his heart stutters like it always does when you stare at him like that, turning with two plates balanced in his hands, “One gourmet pasta dish, comin’ up.”

You laugh, sitting cross-legged at the table. “Big words for a guy who learned how to boil water when he was seventeen.”

“Now, that’s just mean.” He sets the plates down with mock offense, but there’s a light in his eyes, the kind that only shows up when you’re here.

The first bite is heaven—simple, hearty, comforting.

You can’t help the little sigh that escapes as you twirl more noodles around your fork. He watches from across the table, leaning back in his chair, one hand loosely gripping his beer. He’s not subtle about it either, letting his eyes wander over you like he’s cataloging every detail.

“This is amazing,” you say after swallowing. “Seriously. You’ve been holding out on me.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a bite of his own. “Nah, just figured if I burned a few meals first, you’d lower your expectations. Keep the bar manageable.”

“If this is you being ‘manageable,’ I’m almost scared to see what happens when you’re trying.”

“Careful, princess,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair. “Might start thinkin’ you’re tryna keep me in the kitchen.”

“Well, you do look good in an apron,” you bite back a shit-eating grin as his face warms ever so slightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes, stabbing a piece of garlic bread and pointing it at you playfully. “Keep it up, see what happens.”

He takes a sip of his drink, watching the way your shoulders relax, and how you reach for another piece of bread without hesitation. It’s everything he wanted when he planned this—just to see you like this, comfortable, at home.

“You’ve gotten good at this,” you say after a moment, gesturing toward the food. “It’s kind of... surprising.”

Rafe shrugs, his lips twitching into a crooked smirk. “Figured it was time I learned somethin’ useful. Can’t live off fast food forever, y’know?”

You tilt your head, studying him. “You’ve changed.”

He doesn’t look at you right away, focusing instead on twirling his fork through his pasta. “Time does that, I guess. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it ain’t.”

“I think it’s good,” you say, and the sincerity in your voice makes him glance up. Your eyes meet, and there’s something there—something that makes his chest feel all empty and full at once.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I like this version of you. Feels like you’re where you’re supposed to be.”

You talk about the past like as if it’s something distant, like it doesn’t still linger in the cracks of who you’ve become. He hates it—hates the way your voice wavers. Hates that, for five years, you’d been fighting to survive while he wasn’t there to stop it.

He should be grateful for the words, for the way you look at him like he’s the version of himself you can believe in. But all he can think about is how wrong you are. How he was supposed to be there—not here. If he says it out loud, the mood will drop, and the hope in your voice will disappear. He can’t take that from you—not when you’ve fought so hard to get here.

So instead, he swallows the words.

You’re still smiling and he lets himself pretend that this is how it’s always been—that you’ve never known anything but moments like this, safe and warm. The corner of his mouth twitches upward as he watches you, but that tightness in his chest refuses to ease.

“You’ve got something...” He gestures vaguely, and when you blink at him in confusion, he reaches for his napkin. “On your lip.”

You laugh, startled, and quickly swipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Did I get it?”

“Nah,” he says, smirking as he leans forward slightly. “Other side.”

You try again, this time swiping with your thumb, but it’s no use.

He chuckles low, shaking his head, his heart squeezing as he watches your eyes crinkle at the edges. He’d give anything to go back and rewrite the past, so you’d never know the pain you went through.

“C’mere,” he says softly, his voice warm like the honey he used to sneak into your tea.

Before you can whine in protest, he’s reaching across the table, thumb brushing gently against the corner of your lips. His touch stays a second longer than it should, his eyes locked on yours and he doesn’t pull back. 

Instead, his hand moves to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing the edge of your cheekbone.

You don’t pull away, and that quiets the voice in his head screaming at him to back off, to give you space. The last thing he wants is to upset you. Your breathing hitches slightly, your attention flickering to his lips, and that’s all it takes to shake whatever restraint he has left.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, feeling a desperate need for your permission. “I’ll stop.”

You shake your head, just barely, the motion subtle but enough, “You don’t have to.”

Five years. Five years of silence, of distance, of trying to live in a world that didn’t feel like home without the other. He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to turn away. But you don’t—you couldn’t if you tried, not with the warmth of his palm against your skin, the way his breath ghosts over your lips.

And then, finally, his mouth meets yours.

The kiss is not as gentle as he expected.

It’s desperate like the years apart have snapped every ounce of longing into something unbearable. His lips move against yours with a reckless abandon, the kind that whispers I’m sorry  I missed you and I never stopped loving you all at once. It’s messy and clumsy in the best way—you’re both trying to relearn the map of each other, chasing something you thought you’d lost forever.

The kiss deepens, the world falling away until all you can feel is him, and you wonder how you ever survived without this.

But as suddenly as it began, he pulls back. 

Rafe’s breathing is uneven, his forehead resting against yours, his thumb still brushing over your cheek as if to soothe, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for everything. For not being there. For—”

You cut him off with another kiss, softer this time but no less meaningful. It’s your way of telling him there’s nothing to forgive, that every broken piece led you back here, to this moment.

“You’re awful quiet,” he says, “That’s never a good sign.”

You glance back at the remnants of dinner. “Just thinking,” you reply, deliberately neutral, but it doesn’t fool him.

“About what?”

You hesitate, “About the first time we met.”

That catches him off guard. His eyebrows knit together, and he straightens slightly, “What about it?”

You huff out a chuckle, “I was just remembering how much of an ass you were. You were so mean.”

“You make it sound like I wasn’t justified.”

“You were so angry that day. You had this scowl—like you wanted to scare me off.”

“I did,” he admits, his hand dropping to the table, fingers brushing yours, “Didn’t work, though. You figured me out pretty quick.”

You're studying him like you’re reading the pages of an old, familiar book. Your fingers curl around his, “It’s easy when you find your soulmate.”

Rafe’s breath catches, his eyes searching yours like he’s looking for a sign that this is another one of your teasing remarks. But when he sees the sincerity in your face, the way your lips curve into a gentle, knowing smile, he feels a warmth spreading through his body. 

“Yeah?” 

You nod slowly, your fingers gently brushing his. “Yeah, don’t think I ever really had to figure you out. I just had to see you.”

He’s quiet, a little stunned, he knows you’re not just talking about the past, about that first meeting when he was all bitterness. You’re talking about the now, about who he’s trying to be, who he’s becoming. He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes for a second, just soaking in the feel of you—real and here and his.

He swallows hard, unsure how to express himself.

“You’re… you’re the love of my life,” he admits. It’s not a grand confession, there’s no dramatic buildup, no orchestrated speech, it’s just a simple truth, spilling from his heart like it’s always belonged there. His heart races under the look you’re giving him, “I know I screwed up. I know I’ve been a fuckin’ mess, but I never stopped loving you, don’t think I ever could.”

Your lips tremble eyes shining with something tender, as you reach out, your hand brushing against his clothed chest, feeling the rhythm of his heart beneath your palm.

“I’ve always known,” you say, your voice carrying every ounce of emotion you’ve kept buried. “I’ve always known, Rafe, even when we were apart. You’ve always been it for me.”

The words, the honesty in them, he’s suddenly overcome with a flood of emotions so intense, it’s almost overwhelming. He leans in, his lips pecking yours gently, over and over again, until you’re grinning from ear to ear again. 

“You’re it for me, too,” he murmurs against your skin, “Always.”

Rafe doesn’t let you move far after dinner, you’re not even halfway to the sink with the plates before he takes them out of your hands, his skin brushing yours, lingering just long enough to make you shiver all over again.

“Don’t,” he scolds.

“You cooked,” you protest.

“I always cook,” he retorts lightheartedly as he sets the plates on the counter. “Doesn’t mean I’m letting you clean up. Sit.”

You fold your arms, leaning back against the counter instead, the stubborn tilt of your chin making him laugh. It’s not mocking—but he still shakes his head, muttering something about “always gotta have the last word”, you still let your elbow bump his every so often.

The simple domesticity of it catches you off guard, you never had it before, so it’s not something you would’ve associated with him back then—but here he is, sleeves pushed up, completely at ease. Five minutes later, he pushes off the counter and takes a step closer, 

“C’mere,” he’s guiding you toward the couch with a hand at the small of your back.

Ace follows, tail wagging lazily as he flops onto the rug near Rafe’s feet. He usually doesn’t let him come up here, but you’d begged to prettily earlier, and he couldn’t say no to that face. You settle in first, tucking your legs beneath you, and he sits beside you, his arm draping over the back of the couch.

The night winds down slowly, and by the time you’re both settled, Ace is already sprawled across Rafe’s legs, you’re warm with spaghetti, affection, and a sense of belonging. He moves, his arm slipping around your shoulders as he tugs you closer, his cheek resting against your temple.

“This feels right, doesn’t it?” 

You nod, leaning into him, “Yeah, it does.”

[capquinn]

how would quinn react to reader doing that prank about when he says “goodbye/goodnight i love you” and you don’t say “i love you” back just to mess with him

omg this guy avoids tiktok like it’s the plague so there is no doubt in my mind that he has absolutely no idea about this trend so he’d be SO confused and wouldn’t know what to do with himself except pout and stay close until he gets to the bottom as to why you hadn’t said it back 😭

Quinn’s brow furrowed the second the words left his mouth and yours didn’t follow.

“See you soon. I love you,” he had said, as casually as ever, tossing his backpack over one shoulder, leaning in for his usual goodbye kiss.

But instead of the automatic, almost musical "love you too," that always followed, there was… nothing. Just you, standing there, watching him with the faintest glimmer of mischief in your eyes. At first, he paused, waiting like you’d simply forgotten. Maybe you were distracted. Maybe you didn’t hear him. He glanced back at the door, then at you again, the crease between his brows deepening.

“You good?” he asked, his voice light but tinged with the slightest bit of uncertainty, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was normal or if he’d just entered a parallel universe where you suddenly forgot how this whole goodbye thing worked.

“Yeah,” you said breezily, smiling just enough to make him squint.

“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out as he shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.

He moved toward the door, opening it halfway before pausing again. And you could see it — really see it now — the way his mind was spinning, trying to figure out what he’d done, if he’d done anything, and why you weren’t playing along.

He half-turned, his hand on the doorknob, giving you one last expectant look.

“You, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice quieter now. “You sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Yep.”

And that’s when the full force of Quinn’s what-the-hell-is-going-on face hit you. He didn’t look mad — not even close — but the confusion was written all over him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again like he was about to ask a question but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. His hand fell from the door as he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You didn’t… You didn’t say it back,” he pointed out, almost cautiously, like maybe it wasn’t something you’d realised. “I said 'I love you.' You usually…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line as he waited for some kind of explanation, one that you weren’t giving because you were too busy pretending you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. You tilted your head, your expression perfectly blank except for the big, wide eyes you fixed on him.

“Do I not say it enough?” he asked, softer this time, like the words came with a little sting. “Is that what this is?”

And now you felt guilty because, of course, he’d think this was some kind of message, like you were trying to make a point instead of just pulling a dumb prank for no reason other than your own entertainment.

“Quinn,” you started, the smile breaking through despite yourself.

But he cut you off, shaking his head slightly, the tiniest bit of exasperation creeping in.

“Because, like… I mean it every time. You know that, right?”

And now you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh bubbled out, loud and sudden, and you reached for his hand, tugging him closer. “Oh my God, Quinn. I’m kidding. It’s a prank.”

His brow shot up. “A prank?”

“Yeah,” you said, still laughing as you slid your arms around his waist.

He huffed, but there was relief in it, his hands settling on your hips as he gave you a halfhearted glare.

“Not funny,” he muttered, though his lips were already twitching. “I was about to cancel my flight.”

“Sure you were,” you teased, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. He didn’t move, but you could feel the smallest twitch of a smile forming despite the way he was still obviously trying to stay mock-annoyed. “See? You’re too sweet. That’s why I had to mess with you.”

Quinn let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head like he was already filing this away as one of the countless pranks he’d endure over a lifetime with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice gruff but too soft to be anything but affectionate. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You couldn’t help it — you started laughing again, the sound spilling out as you tucked your face against his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I love you,” you said through your laughter, your voice muffled.

His smile finally broke free, slow and warm and just so Quinn.

“I love you too,” he said, his tone soft now, steady, like those words were always going to be there no matter how much you tried to mess with him.

[siriuslylantsov]

mistletoe

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which you and spencer decorate your apartment for christmas.

tags: fluff, roommate!spencer, gn!reader, idiots in love, pinning, decorating!, spencer lifts reader up super quick, reader teases spencer bcs its fun, a little singing.

a/n: woahhh first christmas fic. MY BAD i listened to our love by curtis harding when i wrote majority of this so it just became what it did (not rlly sure what that is). you'd think a reader fond of christmas would only be playing christmas songs (esp when decorating), but she doesn't even?? idk guys. also i gave a hack making a header for this one, might continue making them. anyway lmk what you think, happy reading :))

wc: 1.7k

“tacky, tacky, tacky...” you drone, fingers skimming over the themed trinkets and signs on the shelves. you’re christmas decor shopping with spencer. it's almost the end of november, which you personally think is too late (being a strict ‘christmas starts on november 1st’ believer), but you had no choice in the matter, wanting to wait for spencer's schedule to free up so you could go together. 

“oh cute!” you chirp, picking up a porcelain snoopy with a santa hat on. you show it to spencer, who trails behind you with a sparsely filled cart. “beside the-”

“tv,” he finishes for you, nodding in agreement. you place it in the cart and continue walking down the aisle.

“i hope you’re checking the price tags,” he muses from behind you, scanning over all the items. you shoot him a look paired with an unconvincing “yeah.”

“be serious,” he says, though a little amused.

“i am,” you step closer to him, meeting his somewhat challenging gaze. you try to hold your ground but something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he squints at you makes you want to look away. “fine, i'll look over everything before check out. deal?”

he smiles, victorious. “deal.” he holds out his hand and you give it a firm shake before continuing your perusing.

you spend the next 2 hours like that, complaining about the abundance of generic things and squealing when you do find something nice. in the end, settling on an assortment of baubles, to add on to the ones you already had from last year, a new green blanket, a mulled-wine scented candle (that took you way too long to pick), the snoopy ornament, and 2 matching mugs which you had to sweet talk spencer into buying. you can never have too many mugs. 

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

you light the new candle and set it on the dining table, briefly glancing at the flame. the warmth on your face feels nice but you pull away quickly, knowing that if spencer catches you that close to the candle, he’ll chastise you about the fumes. 

he's digging through the closet for last year's decorations. the tree is already up–7ft something–tucked in the corner of the living room, bare and in dire need of some personality. he finds the box, and you pull out the fairy lights, starting to swirl the wire from the top down, spencer opposite you to help.

music faintly plays from your speaker, so you turn it up, landslide by fleetwood mac.

you circle around the tree with a handful of baubles, a collection of reds and whites, hanging them up where they felt right. spencer nudges you for approval on a few placements and you give him a reassuring smile. the two of you move in sync, on either end. he places a custom ornament of his team somewhere to the front of the tree. when you put up the last of the new ones, you take a step back and give it a good look. happy, spencer hands you the star. he hovers two tentative hands under your arms, over your rib cage, to lift you. there’s a stool near you that would’ve been perfectly fine, but you wiggle in his grasp anyway, telling him he can. despite his lanky frame, he picks you up with ease. you place the gold topper on firmly. when he puts you down you lean back into him, swaying. you hum quietly to the music. he presses his lips into your hair, lingering, before pulling away. you instantly miss his warmth, but you don't dwell on it, why should you?

the click of the kettle sounds from the kitchen, he's probably making tea. you think to tell him to use the new mugs, but he already knows. you're still swaying, head dipping up and down as you move across the room. you look through the box for more things to decorate with when your eyes land on a sprig of artificial leaves held together with a red bow.

“hey, when did we get mistletoe?” you call out, hoping your voice carries to the adjoining room.

“hmm?” he pokes his head through the door, looking at the item in your hand. “oh... penny got it for us last year, didn't put it up though.” he explains before returning to the tea, you put it in your pocket for later. you were well aware of what his teammates thought of you, or rather you and him. over the course of the 2 years you lived with spencer, you’d been taken to their family dinners and get-togethers as his plus one, never a girlfriend or a date, you. they ceased their relentless teasing for your benefit, but you knew spencer got the brunt of it when you weren't around. they mean well, they’re just annoying, he told you after you met them for the first time. 

you saunter over, ready to tease him. you can't help but want to, he's just so easy. plus, you think it's endearing when he's flustered. “you wanna put it up?” you ask with a smirk, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“what! oh- i don't know, no- uhm- well i don't mean no like it would be bad a bad thing- i just mean–” he stammers nervously, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before you cut him off with a laugh. 

“calm down, pretty. i'm just joshin’ ya.”

he lets out a sigh of relief, though it's laced in hidden disappointment. he wouldn't mind if you put it up, wouldn't mind at all. he hands you your mug, navy with little yellow speckles that resembled stars. with his own in hand, he leads you out of the kitchen.

you settle on the couch beside each other. your shoulder lightly bumps against his in steady beats because you're still swaying, as you blow at your drink. worried about you spilling he peels it from you and sets it down on the arm rest to cool on its own. your knee is bouncing now as the next song starts playing, our love. 

“there's a girl in town and words gone around she's just fine,” you sing quietly, head dropping onto his shoulder. “so i don't worry my head cause i know her heart is tied to mine.” you tip back onto the cushions, and you raise a dramatic hand to your chest, over your heart. “the life that we live and the love that i give to her. each day it grows more and more i'm sure, it shows. well,” you shift to face him, leaning closer. 

“our love, is a bubblin' fountain. our love, that flows into a sea. our love, deeper than any ocean. our love, for eternity.”

you quiet as the second verse starts playing, switching to mouthing the lyrics instead. you look at him with a reverie, head tilted in observation, that makes him nervous. “…he holds me down for sure.” in diligent self-sabotage, he combats this by starting to sing along with you, putting his mug down beside yours, effectively ending the moment as you spring in recognition.

your eyebrows furrow in amusement as you follow suit, planting your hands on his shoulders to move his in tow with yours. the angle is awkward, and he looks a little silly as he does it but it's fine. the chorus plays through and you tire, dipping your head back into his shoulder as he returns your mug to you, albeit still quietly mumbling the lyrics. 

you practically chug the tea, having reached an ideal temperature. spencer sits sipping slowly, a serial sipper. you curl into his side in the meantime, arm looped through his. after several minutes, he finishes and you take both mugs to the sink, rinsing them swiftly. 

you slowly but surely continue decorating. two stockings adorned with your initials hang from the key rack in the hallway. handmade paper snowflakes are stuck to the window, snowflakes that had you and spencer hunched over in concentration on the floor a few nights ago, tediously cutting away. you go back and forth on whether the tinsel would go well with the tree, realising all it missed was something sparkly, you wrap it around. spencer nails a simple wreath on the front door, there's a little purple bow on it. snoopy is placed in the midst of the trinkets that sat at your tv table–good choice, you think. you change out the pillowcases on the couch for ones with a red flannel pattern and throw the new blanket across the back. 

the space is perfect, standing in the middle of the room you take a deep breath. waxy candle scented greatness fills your senses, and somehow pine? from the wreath you assume. it's dimly lit, and the low light reflects off the sparkles on the tree gracefully. you wish you had a fireplace during times like this, you take a picture to preserve it anyway. 

you leave to change into your pyjamas, quickly so the cold doesn't linger on your skin. when you return to the living room you find spencer on the couch, a book perched in his lap. you come up to the back, mistletoe that you fished out of your pocket in hand. you crouch behind him, a little to his right, with the leaves dangling over his head. you graze it lightly on his hair and he looks up. his eyes widen slightly in realisation, but he doesn't try to move, he's intently still. with an amused huff, you lean in and kiss his cheek softly. he's still frozen in place, so as to prolong whatever's happening, a flush spreading across his face. you lean back and drop the sprig into the seat beside him. 

“goodnight spencer,” you whisper, suddenly timid. he touches his fingers to the area as you walk away. 

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

a few hours later, he walks into your room, quietly padding across the floor, to your side of the bed. he made the mistake of drinking a cup of coffee a few minutes after you left and now, he can't sleep, naturally. he bends and presses a kiss to your forehead, in some kind of implied reciprocation. you don't feel it, you don't even stir, but for now, that's alright with him.

he’ll put the mistletoe up, maybe in the doorway to the kitchen. and hope to god you both find yourselves under it at the same time.

m.list | comments and reblogs are appreciated :)

[chithereader]

losing my cool / aaron hotchner

part 2 to playing it cool !!! hope you like it word count: 1.6k pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader genre: angst at first, but fluff!!!!!! cw: more sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, mentions of insecurities

The smile on Aaron’s face slowly fades as he takes in your frozen stance. You’re staring at him like he just shot you in the back and worry starts to fill him, “Honey..?” waving his hand in front of your face, hoping it would be enough to break you out of your stupor. 

 “Hello?” Still waving his hand in your face, your eyes darted to his. Your body is in a state of shock– in your mind, there’s a tiny version of you desperately digging her way out of a landslide of disbelief. Waves and waves of doubts and insecurities hindering you from processing what is happening. 

Aaron watches as your mouth moves with barely any sound coming out. Like a fish out of water, you’re scrambling, “W-what?” That’s… a bit too shaky to be good. 

He pauses to think. The doubts are starting to creep up on him. 

Maybe he was too rash with his question. 

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to spring it on you. 

Maybe he should have waited for a better time.

Maybe he should have planned something. 

Maybe she isn’t ready.

Maybe she just doesn’t want to marry me. 

He tries hard to swallow all these dark thoughts, clearing his throat to fake the confidence that’s slowly diminishing, “I said, ‘Marry me.’” After he says those words again he stills, hoping that this time he’ll get an answer. And that.. it would be the answer he so badly wants. 

But time slows down and his heart soon follows as he watches tears start to pool in your eyes. You’re shaking your head– they’re tiny shakes and you look panicked. This isn’t good. Not good at all. 

He really wasn’t expecting this. It never occurred to him you’d say no. Or ..not yes. Aaron’s mind is running a million miles per hour. He doesn’t know what to do, or say. He barely even knows how he feels. And so he defaults to doing the one thing he does best (as a prosecutor at least): object. 

This is triggered by your movement. You move around him, leaving the kitchen towards your living room. Your goal was to sit on the couch, craving some stability as your legs get weaker the more you’re processing what was asked, how you reacted, and how it could be coming across. 

But Aaron’s legs are longer than yours. Before you even reach the couch, he’s holding your arm firmly and gently at the same time. He’s got that furrow in his brows that makes him look stern, but his eyes betray him as you can clearly see the worry in them. 

“Well yes!” he says in disagreement. He doesn’t understand why you haven’t said yes, and as much as he isn’t the kind of man to ever force a lady into anything, a part of him is scared of what he’ll hear if he asks you why you’re not saying yes. 

Though instead of allowing that fear to paralyze him, he allows it to control him. To bear its face because the softer, more rational part of him is hiding. 

You’re avoiding his gaze, crossing your arms– you’re turning away from him. “No- Aaron, you– I don– I ca–” 

You know he’s studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your face, your neck, your body. He’s taking in everything he can because you’ve given him absolutely nothing so far. And oh how you wish you could voice it all out. 

You just wish it was easy to say I don’t think I’m enough for you. What if you realize one day that I’m not good enough? Are you sure? Are you sure about this? About me? What if you start to want someone smarter? Prettier? Hotter? What if you want someone who is as accomplished or important as you? What if you get bored of me? What if– 

You’re broken out of your thoughts when he suddenly straightens. He looks as if he’s realized something and the next thing you know you’re hit by a gust of wind because he’s running up the stairs. 

Within an instant you run after him. A dozen scenarios are running through your head, the worst being Aaron packing your things because he’s going to ask you to leave. Your heart beats faster as you reach the top of the steps. You peek into your room and see him rummaging through drawers. 

Your worries quiet significantly when you realize they’re his drawers. And just when you’re about to approach him, he turns around meeting you halfway. You’re both illuminated by the sunlight that’s coming through the bedroom window you’re standing in front of. 

He’s still. He’s got a serious look on his face. You take him in, trying to read him but he’s got his profiler look on– unreadable and determined. His voice rattles you, “I’m sorry. That was a mistake.” Firm and devoid of any emotion. 

Oh god.

You’re shaking your head, reaching to hold him by his arms. You start to cry, “Aaron please, that’s not what I–” but… he’s going down on one knee. 

What?

He watched multiple emotions flicker on your face. Defeat, panic, confusion– “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said that. I– I planned to do it better than that. I don’t know why I let it slip out, you deserve better than that.” 

Before you can process it, Aaron’s holding out a ring. He’s holding your hand in the other while tears are streaming down both your faces. You have no idea how you heard it but you guess it’s simply a testament to how attuned you are to him when he whispers, “Please, please, please. Will you marry me, honey?” 

Time stops. Literally. You can feel your heart in your chest beating louder, heavier. It’s pounding as if begging to be heard. Begging to let Aaron know that it beats for him and him only. You’re lowering yourself to kneel before him. You want to see his face properly. His eyes. His nose. His lips. This is the man you love. This is the man you want to marry. Your eyes are simply capturing every angle of this moment. 

You’re leveled now. Equals. You grab both his hands in yours and you stare into his brown eyes. You want him to know you mean it, as you nod your head slowly and breathe out, “Yes.” A smile breaks across his face, tears starting to stream again. 

You watch him as he tries to put the ring on your finger, getting it on the first try even if his sight is slightly hindered by his tears of happiness and relief. The sun makes the ring sparkle, catching your attention and you look at it properly for the first time. 

It’s beautiful. Aaron would argue that the stone screams you – grace, loyalty, peace. He catches your eye and the both of you start to smile. You start to giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck while his arms snake around your waist. 

He buries his head in your neck, breathing in your scent while silently thanking the heavens for granting him this. You break apart, startled to hear tiny footsteps nearing. The both of you start to stand up from the floor, straightening yourselves out and wiping the remaining tears staining your faces. 

You both look to the door, waiting for the little boy to show himself. You hear a soft knock right before the door opens slowly, a head peeking in, “Daddy?” 

Aaron goes to the door, opening it more for Jack to come in. The little boy goes straight to you and you pick him up in your arms with ease, resting him on your hip. You have your left hand holding him stable, and even though the little boy’s still groggy with sleep he notices the sparkling addition to your hand. 

You take notice of how his little face lights up in excitement and you have no idea what about it he understands, “I help Daddy buy you that!” His voice is full of pride, genuinely proud that he had played a part in picking. 

You’re confused, not fully understanding what Jack means. Looking to Aaron for an answer, you’re surprised to find him blushing. He looks shy and he’s shrugging at you but you can tell he’s trying hard to play it cool. The smile fighting its way on his face betrays him. 

You decide to take your chance on the adorable kid that is now fiddling with your ring, watching in amazement at how much it’s twinkling in the light. Children are the most honest people you know anyway. Pursing your lips with squinted eyes, you investigate “What do you mean, bubba?” 

“Daddy asked me what ring pop you want, so I asked you when we watched Spiderman and you said your favorite is the green one so I tell Daddy you want the green one!” 

Your heart stutters and the tears start coming in again. Aaron asking Jack for his opinion for your engagement ring. Jack thinking it's a ring pop. Jack asking for your favorite ring pop flavor. Jack being proud that you got the ring you want, pop or not. 

Brought out of your thoughts by Jack wanting to leave your hold, you put him down. You watch as he happily walks out of your room, presumably to go to the kitchen. You look at Aaron again, and just as you’re about to say something about what you just found out, you realize one thing. Spiderman.

You gasp. Covering your mouth in surprise, you slap his arm lightly, “That was our third date!”

Aaron laughs loudly, rushing out of the room before you can throw questions at him or even comments about how insane he is. He couldn’t care less. He was right. 

a/n: just want to say thank you so much for the love and support i've been getting for my hotch fics!! as someone who's new here, it all means so much to me <33 i recently made a masterlist as i plan to write so much more and branch out to other characters i've been perpetually in love with!! leave requests of what you want to read or characters i can write about, i'd love to write for you guys ◡̈ tagging the people who wanted a part 2 for this: @pear-1206 @dedicatedfangirl2001 u guys are so sweet

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. … instead we’re moving slow, i guess she’s used to it by now.

05, CHAPTER FIVE. YOU BETTER START THINKING.

ju speaks. i procrastinated this so bad lol but i have some time over the break to get some stuff out (more hoaw chapters) so yay! pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual innuendos.

present day, june 2025.

i’m not sure why i let it happen again.

scratch that—i know exactly why. i just don’t want to admit it to myself. it’s always like this with paige and me. a spark, a touch, a stupid comment or argument that turns into something much bigger, much harder to control. we’ve been here before, over and over, in different cities, in different beds, pretending like this time will be the last time. it should’ve been.

the last couple of weeks have been easier than i expected, softer in a way i didn’t know we were capable of. i’m starting to think it’s too good to be true. paige hasn’t been running from me, hasn’t been trying to prove something every second of our time together. maybe that’s why i’ve let my guard down, just a little.

she’s still herself, of course. cocky, loud, and incapable of stilling. but she’s been showing up. not just physically but in the ways i used to hope for back when we were together the first time. it’s in the way she looks at me when she thinks i’m not paying attention, like she did in high school when she told me she never wanted to let go of me. it’s in the way she texts me good morning before i can even think about reaching for my phone, like she’s trying to prove she can still be someone i want to wake up to.

and maybe, stupidly, i’m starting to believe her.

not completely, not yet. paige bueckers has always been good at saying the right things, making promises she’s not ready to keep. but these past weeks, it’s like she’s trying to remind me who she was before everything got so messy. the version of her i fell for in the first place.

but when she’s here, like this? it’s so hard to remember why i ever tried to stay away.

paige is stretched out on her back, arm slung around me, fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly on my shoulder. the sheets are tangled around her bare legs, and she shifts slightly, the motion sending a faint brush of her skin against mine. i glance up at her, and the smug smirk already curling at her lips tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“you staring at me, nai?” she asks. her voice is rough and a little husky from sleep as she stretches. my eyes flash to her exposed abdomen.

“don’t flatter yourself,” i mutter, though it is so obviously a front.

“tooooo late,” she drawls, shifting again so she’s propped up on one elbow, the other hand sliding up to lazily run along my arm. “you’re terrible at pretending you’re not obsessed, by the way.”

i roll my eyes, trying to hide the way my breath hitches at her touch. “says the girl who texted me five times in a row last night because i didn’t answer fast enough.” i lean back against the pillow, staring up at her, and i swear i could forever.

paige’s grin widens, shameless as she looks away. “i mean, what was i ‘posed to do? sit there and wait? nah, i had to apply pressure.” the smugness on her face tells me she’s having way too much fun with this, fun with me.

i snort, shaking my head as i get up, swinging a leg over her and straddling her waist casually. “pressure? you called me a ‘certified flake’ and threatened to pull up if i didn’t respond.”

paige lets out a low laugh, her hands instinctively finding my thighs as i settle over her. “yeah, and look where it got me.” she licks her lips, smirk softening as her eyes flicker over my face, lingering on my lips that are curled up into a smile. “don’t act like you didn’t like the attention.”

i arch a brow, tilting my head to the side. “oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

her hands tighten on my thighs, smirk faltering for just a second before she regains composure. “mhm. attention. you’re welcome.”

i roll my eyes but don’t pull away, my hands bracing on her chest. how could i? “you’re such a problem.” i bring the comforter we shared last night up over my back, and its like a tent giving us privacy from the sun of my windows. i really need some black-out curtains or something.

“and you love it,” she fires back, her voice dropping, teasing, as her fingers trail upwards, stopping just far enough.

i do. God, i really do.

i smile, and i swear my face hurts from it as i lean down to kiss her. again and again, each one leaving paige chasing after my lips. i savor the moment. i’m not sure how long it’ll be like this, but i like it. a lot. i pull back, resting my head on her chest, breathing in her morning scent as she bites down on her lip in reminiscence.

“tell me i’m wrong,” she murmurs.

i laugh, more of a pity chuckle just because she’s so full of herself. i furrow my eyebrows just slightly, bringing my hand to a resting point right by my face. “i’m not telling you shit, bueckers.”

“yeah? but you didn’t say i was wrong.”

i don’t want to admit it, not to her, not even to myself, but paige knows me better than anyone. she always has. it’s infuriating and comforting all at once, the way she sees through me like i’m an open book. i’m not an open book. i never have been, but for paige…

she doesn’t press, though. she never does when it really matters. she just watches me with that maddening half-smile, her fingers brushing over my skin like she has all the time in the world, and i know she’s waiting for me to say it. to give in.

maybe that’s why i keep coming back. or maybe it’s because she’s the only person who’s ever made me feel this much all at once—frustration, want, affection, something i’m not ready to name. whatever it is, it’s why i don’t pull away, why i let her keep pulling me closer even when i know i should stop.

i shift, the sheets rustling beneath us, and my chest tightens. not about what she said, but what i’m forcing myself to think about. i hate how much i want this, how much i want her, even after everything. especially after everything. but its addicting, and i know she feels the same.

“maybe i’m just a sucker for this,” i mutter, low enough that i’m not sure she hears it.

but of course she does.

she nearly breaks her neck to look down at me. she doesn’t let the words settle. “nah, you a sucker for me.”

i roll my eyes again, avoiding her gaze, but i don’t argue. instead, i lift my head again as i prop myself up on her chest. “what makes you so sure?” it’s a stupid question, but i was fully ready for her to read me.

paige’s smile turns smugger. “because you’re here,” she says simply. “and you’re smiling like that.”

i scoff, trying to play it off, but the way she’s looking at me makes it impossible. i lean down, pressing my lips to hers again, even slower this time. how could i stay away from her when kisses me like this? i feel the way her mouth curves, realizing she’s smiling too.

my hand slides up to cup her face, and she pulls me just a little closer by the small of my back, grip tight like always, like she’s scared i’ll slip. it’s not rushed—in fact, we have a couple hours to be entangled like this before having to part—it’s intentional. like she’s got all the time in the world and wants me to feel it.

and i do.

“it’s—mhm—okay,” paige says, and i find her muffled words rather cute as i shift my hips up, pushing my lips further into hers. her hand slides up my bare back, fiddling with the clasp of my bra. “i am too.”

i pull away, sitting up a little straighter as i quirk a brow at her. “you’re what?” i ask. i decide to help her out, unclasping my bra, but holding the straps up over my chest until she’s finished speaking.

her eyes fall, tongue swiping over her swollen, pink lips. i’m teasing her, i know it, paige definitely knows it. but as she brings her hands up slowly, tearing my own away, i almost forget what i was doing to her in the first place, suddenly fully exposed. i hear her breath hitch. “a big, fat sucker for you.”

i bite back a smile despite her unserious words, because they always make me do that. i roll my eyes, cusping her mouth into my hand playfully as she laughs, shaking out of it.

paige doesn’t hesitate.

she attaches her lips to my collarbone, trails down to the curve of my chest. i look down, and if i didn’t know any better, i’d say paige bueckers is absolutely enamored with me. “so beautiful, baby,” she huskily says, her hands grounding my hips against her as she moves to my tits, attacking the marks she’d left last night so roughly it has my breathing going faster.

i tangle a hand in her hair, fingers tightening reflexively, and it’s like i can’t look away. her face, her lips—every detail feels seared into my memory. “for real,” she continues, and when she looks up at me unexpectedly, lips curving into a small grin, it’s like i’ve completely checked out.

i’m not me anymore, i’m whatever paige wants me to be.

“need you framed or somethin’.” it’s a joke. clearly a joke, nailea. but the way she’s making me feel makes it land differently.

“framed, huh?” i manage.

“yeah,” she replies proudly, like it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever said. “you know, like for the crib. big centerfold. maybe as my lock screen too.”

i can’t help it—i laugh, shaking my head, closing my eyes momentarily as i pretend her words aren’t setting me closer to giving myself to her completely. “you’re so stupid,” i mutter.

paige doesn’t flinch, her grin only widening as she dips her head again, her lips brushing over the swell of my chest. “nah, just honest,” she murmurs against my skin, and the way her voice vibrates there nearly makes me lose it.

i force myself to breathe, leaning back slightly as her hands wander. “maybe you can,” i blurt out without thinking, and she pauses, glancing up at me again.

“what you talkin’ about?” she asks.

i don’t answer right away, leaning over to grab the pink polaroid camera sitting on my nightstand. it’s old and clunky, a relic from freshman year that my dad had given me, and i’d kept it more out of nostalgia than utility. now, though, it feels like fate.

it always does with us.

when i sit back, holding the camera up, paige’s eyes light up, her grin widening into something more troublesome. “nai,” she drags out.

i lift my eyebrows, playing along, like i don’t already know where this is headed. “i’m listening.”

“you not serious,” she shakes her head, voice etched with some laughter. she doesn’t believe it, yet she still tilts her head, sizing me up like she’s already planning the perfect angle.

“thought you wanted me framed, p,” i counter, poking my bottom lip out as i lift the camera a little higher.

her grin deepens, tongue flicking over her teeth as she leans back just enough, hands sliding up and down my legs, creating some sort of friction. she hesitates. “you sure?”

i pretend to think for a moment before responding. “hmm, depends. you gonna cooperate?”

paige chuckles. “oh, i’ll cooperate.” she shifts again, her posture loosening as she leans back against the headboard, one arm draping casually over her head, the other trailing down to rest just between my legs. shes so sexy it’s almost overwhelming. her grin is the same as always, blue hues pierced into me.

“go on then,” she urges. “show me how you see me, baby.”

i adjust the camera into focus, fingers fumbling over the different buttons i’m sure i’ll have to show her have to work before snapping the first photo. the flash and the sun combined cast her in a perfect light, and though she’ll look less defined in the old pixels, the sight’s engraved in my head now.

the whir of the camera fills the room, and the polaroid slides out, landing softly against her chest. paige grabs it, holding it up with a satisfied smirk as the image slowly develops, inspecting it like it’s a prize. she glances at me, her expression softening just a little. “i’m bettin’ you could do better.”

“oh, you think so?” i shoot back, handing her the camera.

“mhm. there a timer on this thing?”

i step out of the shower and into my room, shivering a little as i pull the towel tighter around my chest. paige, completely the opposite temperature of me, must have messed with my thermostat.

i silently curse her for getting so comfortable.

she’s still here, tall figure leaning over the bed she made up. she’s wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and her sports bra, her phone in one hand, the other lazily shuffling through the scattered polaroids we just took.

“what you doin’?” i ask, tilting my head at her as i walk over, water droplets trailing down my legs.

paige glances up, her blue eyes gleaming like i’ve interrupted something i should’ve known better than to question. “you thought i was lying about my lock screen?” she smugly says, holding up her phone.

i keep my eyes on her, not knowing what to expect as i move closer, the faintest tug of a grin threatening my lips. “what’d you do?” i mutter, snatching her phone to check it for myself.

sure enough, the lock screen now features a series of the pictures we’d taken. i blink, and i think my boiling, hot shower just cleansed every dirty thought i had before getting in, because i don’t remember us being this fucking horny. my cheeks flush despite myself. “paige, you cannot keep this on your phone.”

she strokes her chin, lowly laughing at my reaction. “why not? looks good, don’t it?”

i shake my head as i fight back every inch of amusement that wants to take over me. “it’s unhinged,” i retort, though the corner of my mouth betrays me. a part of me wants her to keep it.

she looks at me, completely unfazed. “everything we just did is unhinged.” well…

before i can think of a snappy comeback, there’s a sudden knock at the front door, loud and authoritative. my heart leaps, and i freeze. paige stiffens too, her smile faltering just slightly.

“shit,” i mutter, tossing her phone back on the bed. “put a shirt on.”

paige doesn’t move immediately, still grinning like she thinks this is funny.

“now, p!” i urge, hitting her arm and scrambling toward my closet for a robe.

“aight, aight,” she finally says, scurrying over and grabbing a shirt off the back of a chair. she takes her time pulling it on, moving like this isn’t urgent, like we’re not one knock away from being exposed.

but then there’s another knock, louder this time. not from the front door—this one is right outside the bedroom.

the fuck?

i freeze, my hand still on the closet door, dread pooling in my stomach.

paige’s eyes widen as realization dawns on her. “yo, who has a key to your apartment?” she mouths, grabbing the polaroids and shoving them under the pillow in a panic.

i shake my head as if to tell her i wouldn’t know before squaring my shoulders, trying to channel a calm i don’t feel. If i act casual, maybe—just maybe—i can smooth this over. except i don’t know who it is. we don’t know who it is. i tie the robe around myself and open the door slowly, preparing for the worst.

and there she is. cameron brink.

her arms are crossed as she scans the room, and she doesn’t have a reaction to paige’s presence in the slightest bit. i speak first. “how’d you—“ i start, but she cuts me off, holding up a pink key decorated with yellow daisies attached to her keychain.

well, shit.

“i had a feeling i’d need this,” she says coolly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “and your locations.” her eyes flick over my robe, then to paige standing awkwardly by the bed, and then back to me.

“bye, paige,” she says pointedly, not even giving her the courtesy of a glance as she busies herself by stuffing her keys into her purse.

paige hesitates, looking between me and cam, clearly debating whether to say something. i’ve got my own arms crossed, chewing down on my lip like a kid in trouble. she takes the hint, and finally, she steps toward me, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before grabbing her phone and heading toward the door. “i’ll… catch you later.”

if it weren’t for the predicament we were in, i’d call her adorable.

the door closes behind her, leaving me alone with cam, and i don’t even have to look at her to know what’s coming.

“really?”

i roll my eyes, crossing my arms tighter against my chest. i shouldn’t be upset with her though. i’m deflecting. “you stalking me now?”

cam smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “i came to apologize for what happened at the bar,” she says. “in person, because i haven’t seen you. but now i know why—you’ve been busy.” her voice has something etched in it, almost like she’s disappointed in me, but at the same time, knew.

i look away, fingers curling around the fabric of my robe. “it’s not like that,” i mutter, but even i don’t believe it. not really. it is like that. and maybe i’m just too tired of pretending i can stay away.

“isn’t it? i thought you were done with her,” she says, her brows raising like she’s daring me to lie.

i let out a breath, awkwardly keeping my hands to my sides as i sit on the edge of the bed. “me too.”

“then why is she leaving your apartment like a one-night stand?”

“because—” i start, but the words stick in my throat. what was i supposed to say? that seeing paige nearly every day had unraveled every ounce of willpower i had? that being around her felt like falling into an old habit, comfortable and impossible to resist?

“you try having your ex-girlfriend get drafted to the team you work for,” i say finally.

still, she rambles. “and maya?” cam presses. she’s so worried about it you’d think it was her problem. “they’re seeing each other, you know that, right?”

i close my eyes for a moment, guilt clawing at my chest. that wasn’t fair. “we haven’t…” i trail off, shaking my head. “we haven’t been thinking that far.”

cam exhales, hand running down her face. “that’s the problem, nai. you’re not thinking.”

her words settle into the room, a bit harsh for me to hear, but not untrue. and maybe that’s what stings the most—that i’ve been avoiding this conversation with myself for weeks. the truth is, i haven’t thought about anything beyond the way paige makes me feel when she’s close, the way her voice drops when she says my name, the way her hands feel like they’re meant to pull me back in no matter how far i run. i haven’t thought about maya, about what it would mean for her to find out, about how i’d explain myself if it came to that. i haven’t thought about the job i fought so hard to get, and how quickly it could all fall apart if this got out.

i look at cam. she looks like she’s seen this all before. she hasn’t. she hasn’t even seen half of it and wants better for me. she loves us both, i know that. but apart better than together.

i bite my lip, frustration pooling in my gut as i try to put my thoughts together. somehow, the only thing i can think about is how this isn’t just paige and i’s secret anymore, and i should fight to keep it under wraps until we figure it out. “please don’t tell maya,” i plead.

cam looks at me, her expression unreadable for a long moment before she sits down beside me, close but not touching. “you know i won’t.” i feel a sense of relief. “but promise me you’ll start thinking. about how this affects your job. about you.” she chuckles dryly, emphasizing that i don’t really have a choice.

i suppose she’s right. she is right.

[livinghalfway]

Magic Mirror

Summary: A magic mirror shows what a person desires most in the world. It shows Damian his twin standing next to him. Word Count: 1202

“Come on Damian, all you have to do is stand in front of it.” Dick pleaded with him while gesturing for him to step closer to the magic mirror they had recently obtained from a villain’s lair. 

It was a rather plain mirror as well for being a rare magical item; nothing but a full length mirror with a simple black frame. The only interesting thing about it was that it had the ability to show what a person desired most in life when they stood in front of it. 

Once that little trick was discovered the others had quickly jumped at the chance to stand in front of it. Which was foolish in Damian’s opinion; allowing everyone in the room to view your deepest desire. 

“Tt, I think not Richard; I after all already know what the mirror will show me.There is no point in me standing in front of it.” 

Before Dick can continue his beseeching his case though Jason cuts in from across the room; next to the mirror. “Oh yeah? What do you think would show up, Demon brat; you dressed up as Batman?” 

“He wishes,” Tim snickers next to Jason, “It’s probably gonna be something embarrassing and that’s why he doesn’t want to do it.” 

"Drake, if you know what's good for you you'll stop talking!"

Tim gives Jason a nudge with his elbow before loudly whispering, "That sounds like a conformation if I've ever heard one." 

"Tt, how dare-" Damian is quickly cut off from his incoming tirade by Dick jumping back into the conversation.

"Okay! Let's not start arguing with one another." Dick says to all of them before directing his focus towards him, "Damian, if you really don't want to try out the mirror you don't have too. No one is going to force you to." 

Damian merely rolls his eyes as he walks towards the mirror. The only reason he does so is because being Robin is what he desires the most; he knows it. Looking into the mirror will merely be about proving Drake and Todd wrong. "I'll do it Richard if only to shut these two imbeciles up." 

The moment he stood in front of the mirror waiting for the magic to change the reflection Damian knew that he shouldn't have let Tim and Jason get to him. He had done something foolish and there was no going back now as the mirror swirls with a gold shimmer. 

When the distorted image clears once more Damian swears he feels his heart stop. The reflection shown is not one a million years could have prepared him for. It is not him standing at his father's side, Batman and Robin, as he thought it would have been. 

Instead it shows Damian exactly as he is at the moment. He would almost think the mirror didn't change anything if it weren't for the boy in the mirror standing next to him. Even after all these years it was someone he would never be able to forget. 

His twin brother, Danyal, and him standing side by side once more. While Damian stands rigid and shocked, Danyal's posture is relaxed. He's even smiling as he leaning towards him until their shoulders touch in the reflection.

He doesn't feel it though; he wants to feel it. 

All of a sudden it hits Damian that this is what he desires the most out of everything in the world. The only thing he wants is for his brother to be alive and with him at the manor. With the family Danyal not got the chance to know; the family that doesn't even know he exists. 

In the blink of an eye the magical gold swirls take over the mirror once more, and when it clears it is once again just himself looking back at him. 

After what must be an eternity of staring at the mirror Damian realizes that everything around him is too quiet. He snaps his head to the side where his brothers are, and sees the three of them staring back at him. All of them are in varying degrees of shock and curiosity at what they had just seen. 

He considers lying at first. Saying that he had no idea who the boy was. He can't find it in himself to do that though. Damian had kept his brother a secret long enough; maybe it would be good for the others to know. "That Richard was my twin brother; Danyal." 

With those words Damian practically collapses on the nearest chair; feeling drained and exhausted. The others follow suit as they too take seats next to him. 

"Danyal … Danyal was kind. He understood people much more than I ever will." He takes a deep breath, "He was smart and curious. Always asking questions and wanting to understand everything around him. It was always the stars that fascinated him the most."

"Sounds like a good kid," Jason starts, "must have gotten all the friendly genes in the womb."

"For once I think I agree with you, Todd." 

The silence that follows is thick and suffocating. It is luckily broken after a few seconds by Tim's hesitant question, "What happened to him?"

That was the big question wasn't it? What happened to Danyal; to the twin and brother that wasn't with him when he arrived at the manor?

"Danyal … died a couple years before I came here. The two of us were attacked by a group of rogue assassins after our study lessons." Damian swallows, his throat feels tight, "I wasn't as focused as I should have been, and Danyal ended up taking a fetal hit meant for me."

"Damian-" 

"Let me finish, Richard." He snaps. He doesn't think he would be able to finish if otherwise interrupted. "Danyal was dead by the time he was finally brought to the pits. I knew there was a chance it wouldn't work, but I didn't think it would take him completely. His body was never recovered from the pits.I never got to bury my brother." 

It's when his vision starts to blur that Damian realizes that he's crying. Danyal always did have a way of making Damian show emotions that he would rather keep hidden.

He feels himself being pulled into a chest, and for now he doesn't fight against it. Damian's not sure if he honestly could at the moment. 

“Father doesn’t know about this.” Damian continues after a few minutes of silently sobbing in Dick’s arms. 

“He needs to know.” Tim states, “Maybe not today, but soon.” 

“You tell him when you’re ready, short stack. The old man can deal with not being told right away.” Jason reassures him when he doesn’t answer Tim right away. 

"What am I not being told?" Damian feels as if he's been dunked in water when he realizes that his Father had heard the end of their conversation. 

"Father."

"Damian?" Bruce takes in his youngest son's appearance and it doesn't take a genius to know that he's in some kind of emotional distress.Which in of itself is very rare for him to be in.

"Father, please take a seat. There is something I need to tell you." 

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Long one shot for Jealous!Toto Wolff with wife reader. With how many celebrities and famous people at the Las Vegas GP, it's no wonder how many times she has been hit. Toto and their son, Jack saved her. Fluff/suggestive. Anything, I don't mind. Thanks!! :)

With prompts : Are you jealous?” “No, I’m not!” “Oh, you really are jealous! Wait, why would you be jealous?”, "I trust you, I just don't trust them." & “Jealousy doesn’t suit you. I like to see you smile more.”

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Reader

i loved writing this fic!! i have a serieus one coming out soon with a rather similar plot just more angst it is toto based!!

Jealous!Toto Wolff - One-Shot

The bright lights of the Las Vegas Grand Prix shimmered like a thousand stars on the Strip, illuminating the desert night sky as the paddock buzzed with excitement. The air was filled with the sound of revving engines, the chatter of celebrities, and the occasional laughter of fans mingling with drivers and team members. But for you, the night had started to feel overwhelming, your patience tested by more than one unwelcome encounter.

You had come to the race with your husband, Toto Wolff, and your young son, Jack. The plan had been simple: enjoy the thrill of the race, soak in the electric atmosphere, and have a good time with the family. But as you wandered the paddock, admiring the sleek cars and waving to some of the familiar faces in the crowd, the attention you were receiving started to feel less flattering and more intrusive.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to approach you—many of them were fans of Toto, or simply curious about the wife of the Mercedes team principal—but tonight, with the who’s who of the celebrity world filling the stands and the paddock, it seemed like everyone wanted a piece of you.

It started innocuously enough. A few polite conversations, quick photo ops with fans, the usual pleasantries. But soon, it became clear that a few of these “fans” weren’t as well-meaning as they appeared. A touch on the arm here, a lingering gaze there—nothing outright inappropriate, but enough to make you feel uncomfortable. And when you tried to escape back to the hospitality area, a certain well-known actor had greeted you with a lingering kiss on the cheek that, while nothing more than friendly in appearance, sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine.

It was at that exact moment that Toto appeared. His sharp eyes, usually so focused on the race, were now locked onto the scene before him with an intensity that made your stomach flutter—though not in a good way. He was standing by the entrance of the hospitality suite, his gaze fixed on the interaction, his posture stiff and controlled.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice calm but with an edge you had never heard before.

You nodded, attempting to brush it off. “It’s fine, Toto. Just… a lot going on tonight, you know?”

His eyes narrowed, and he took a few steps forward, the crowd seemingly parting for him as if they could sense the subtle shift in his demeanor. He turned to the actor, his expression cold and polite. “Excuse me,” Toto said, his voice flat and even. “I’m afraid my wife is not interested in further conversation.”

The actor blinked, startled by the sudden intervention, and gave a half-hearted smile before backing off, muttering something under his breath.

As the actor walked away, you felt the warmth of Toto’s hand on your lower back, a gesture meant to reassure but also to stake a claim. You glanced up at him, catching the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something between possessiveness and concern.

“Toto, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “I was fine.”

His expression didn’t soften. “Are you sure? Because it didn’t look like you were fine.”

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, offering a small smile.

He didn’t return the smile. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke slowly, as if carefully choosing his words. “I trust you. I just don’t trust them.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “Wait, why would you be jealous? It was just a kiss on the cheek.”

Toto’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Jealous? Me?” He raised an eyebrow, as though the idea was ridiculous, but the tension in his voice betrayed him. “No, I’m not jealous.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe a little. But only because I don’t like how they treat you.”

Before you could respond, Jack appeared, holding a toy car in his hands and grinning from ear to ear. His innocence broke the tension in the air, and Toto’s stern expression softened. He crouched down, scooping Jack up and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Are you having fun?” Toto asked, his tone much lighter now.

“Yeah, yeah! It’s so cool here, Daddy!” Jack exclaimed, looking between you and his father. “But I think Mummy’s getting bored.”

You chuckled, even as you shot a playful glare at Toto. “I’m not bored, Jack.”

But Toto wasn’t letting it go. “I think you need a break,” he said, glancing at you with an unreadable expression. “You’ve been dealing with a lot tonight. How about we get some privacy? Just the three of us. We can go back to the hotel, away from all this madness.”

His suggestion caught you off guard, but it was exactly what you needed. A moment to breathe, to relax, to remember why you were here in the first place: for each other. And maybe, just maybe, Toto needed a little time away from the chaos too.

Later that evening, after the race had ended and the crowds had dispersed, Toto had whisked you and Jack away to a luxurious suite in one of the quieter corners of the Strip. The moment you stepped inside, the world felt miles away. The chaos of the paddock, the glittering distractions of celebrity and competition—none of that mattered now. It was just the three of you.

You sank onto the plush sofa, feeling the weight of the day lifting off your shoulders. Jack immediately jumped into your lap, grinning as he showed off the race car he had “won” from one of the games in the paddock.

Toto, still standing by the door, watched the two of you with a soft, almost tender smile, his earlier frustration completely dissipated. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, you know,” you teased, leaning back into the cushions and catching his eye. “I like to see you smile more.”

Toto’s smile grew, but there was still a playful edge to it. “I’m smiling now,” he said, walking toward you. “And I don’t want to see anyone make you feel uncomfortable again. You’re mine, and I protect what’s mine.”

You laughed softly, reaching for his hand as he sat beside you. “Toto, we’ve been together for years. You know I’m not going anywhere.”

He squeezed your hand, the unspoken words between you both speaking volumes. “I know. But I still don’t like the idea of anyone else thinking they can have you.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Well, they can think whatever they want. But the only person who gets to be close to me, in every way, is you.”

Toto’s smile turned into a grin, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Good,” he whispered, resting his chin on top of your head. “That’s the way I like it.”

There was a long, comfortable silence between you, the kind that only true intimacy can bring. Toto leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your lips, the kind of kiss that spoke more of reassurance and love than anything else. When he pulled back, his eyes softened, and you could see the shift in him—the guard he’d been holding up for so long had finally come down.

“You know,” he murmured, his fingers brushing your cheek as he traced a gentle line along your jaw, “you’ve always been the one to make me smile the most. But tonight… tonight you’ve made me feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

A blush crept up your neck, and you ducked your head, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Stop, Toto,” you whispered with a shy smile, but your heart was racing, his words making you feel cherished in ways you hadn’t expected after a long, chaotic day.

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. “I’m serious. You’re everything to me. And I just want you to know… no matter what happens, you’re the only one I care about.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling. “And I’m the only one who’ll ever have you,” you said softly, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

Toto’s grin softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you—no words, just that quiet understanding that had always been the foundation of your relationship. His lips hovered over yours again, but this time, instead of kissing you immediately, he lingered, savoring the closeness.

“Let’s not think about the world outside for a while,” he whispered. “Just us. Here. Together.”

You nodded, a sense of peace settling over you as his lips finally met yours, slow and deliberate. The kiss deepened, and in that moment, everything else faded away—the buzzing, the noise, the world outside your hotel suite. There was just him, and you, and the soft, perfect rhythm of the love you shared.

As you pulled back, Toto’s fingers gently traced the line of your collarbone. “We need more moments like this,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

“Then let’s make them,” you replied, smiling up at him, knowing that no matter how chaotic life could get, moments like this—just the two of you—were the ones that would always matter most.

In the quiet of the hotel room, the two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[meelusinee]

A WHIMSICAL DEAL ✩ T.N NOTT X READER

in which theodore meets you at a Slytherin party and can’t get you out of his head

pairing: theodore nott x whimsical!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none!

author’s note: double post day today!!! major note here is that the formatting is just a wee bit different because i will be publishing this from my phone rather than my laptop like i usually do. it died and i left the charger at a friend’s house, but i shall be back up and running to my full aesthetics and work by tomorrow morning! other than that, enjoy!

A WHIMSICAL DEAL | THEODORE NOTT X READER

Theodore hasn’t set up a Slytherin party in almost a month because of exams.

That was something that had to change.

He and Mattheo had snuck into Honeydukes through the Hidden Eye passage, The barrel was hard to lift, but easy to sneak into the dorms under a simple Illusion Charm.

The tables were hidden in a small hole in the wall Lorenzo made, his expertise in bartending coming in handy as he set up a minibar for the party. No free drinks would ever pass under his eye, not unless either him or his friends wanted a good lay-in for the night.

For the most part, it was Slytherins at this party. Either that, or houses that were in the know.

Luna Lovegood was the most recent addition to the Slytherin’s main party squad. Ever since her and Blaise began dating, she started to visit the parties more and more to help set up and clean. While Mattheo and Theo weren’t so sure about it at first, the drink combinations she ended up making had gotten at least 20 more party-goers.

One of them being you.

Theodore had noticed you almost as soon as you entered the Common Room. You had a certain aura about you that he just couldn’t not notice, elegance he had never seen in anyone else he ever met in his life.

He had almost dropped his drink right then and there, quickly regaining his composure as he approached you. Enzo was going to have a field day with him. “Can I get you a drink, lovely?”

“A drink?” you giggled softly, hand resting on your hip. You looked so magical within the Slytherin lighting, something almost ethereal or radiant shining off of you. “I believe that you have Whorpflasters whispering in your ears.”

“Whorpflasters?” Theo asked incredulously, voice coming out more nervous than he intended.

“Yes, Whorpflasters!” you repeated, nodding slowly. “They’re very rude. Usually they whisper insecurities in your mind, especially around settings you’re not particularly comfortable with. Are you okay with being at this part?”

“Uh,” he whispered, a small blush creeping on his face. “Yeah, I’m good here.”

“Perhaps it’s exams.” you nodded, patting his head. “I think that you passed them with flying colors, if the Querbs following you are any tell.”

Theo nodded incredulously at that, watching you smile that whimsical smile before you walked off to get a drink. Enzo had winked at him when he saw you walking over, pointing his head to Blaise and Luna standing over his shoulder.

“Theodore, hello!” Luna said to him. She had whimsy about her too, though it just wasn’t the same as yours. Nothing he could think of seemed to compare to you.

“Hey there Luna.” he nodded, swallowing a bit of his drink before looking back at you.

“Have you met Y/N?” Luna asked, waving to Blaise as he walked off to talk to Mattheo and Draco.

“Uh,” he whispered, staring at you before looking back. “Yeah, yeah I met her. She said that I have Whorpflasters in my ear from exams, and Querbs following me around.”

“Well, do you?” Luna asked, her head leaning back and forth as she seemingly examined him.

“I have no idea what Querbs even are.” Theo whispered, hopelessly looking back at you again. You were standing at the end of the bar waiting for your drink, completely out of place yet fitting in all at the same time.

“They’re spirits attracted to intelligence.” Luna said to him simply, taking a small sip of her drink. “Though it seems that you’re also being visited by their cousins, Uerbs. Rather recently too.”

“The difference being?” Theo asked, looking at Luna incredulously.

“They follow people who have fallen in love.” Luna smiled, raising her glass slightly before walking over to where you were standing at the bar.

Theo was screwed.

“Luna said that you wanted to talk to me.”

Theo turned around as soon as he heard your voice, blinking in confusion when he saw you.

The both of you were currently in the library, Theo standing by one of the windows while he waited for Blaise. Blaise, who was supposedly meant to be meeting him for a small party reconstruction.

He quickly realized that this meeting was not about party reconstruction. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take advantage of it though.

“Oh,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I wanted to ask you about Querbs.”

“Oh, Querbs!” you said, clasping your hands together. “Yes, they’re creatures from intelligence. They’re said to come from Phoenixes, their ashes are full of life and often produce a spark of it. It’s very miniscule and hard to detect, especially with the increasing levels of Phoenix endangerment.”

“That sounds very dangerous.” Theo agreed, subconsciously pulling a chair out for you before sitting down himself. “Why is that?”

“Well, that’s because of their feathers.” you explained to him. “Poachers love the fire they create, oftentimes a small lint from the feather can be used in extremely dangerous bombs. Two single feathers could blow up half of Hogwarts if the bomb is made correctly.”

“That’s,” he paused. “Really powerful.”

“Very much so.” you nodded. “Querbs come from those small sparks that feather lints leave. Of course, there’s also Uerbs. And then there are Xuerbs, but those are rare.”

He had heard about Uerbs, and quite frankly did not want to approach that topic. “What are Xuerbs?”

“They’re like baby Dementors in a sende.” you hummed. “Like Whorpflasters, but worse.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” he said. “Is it?”

“No.” you shook your head. “But, there are much more pleasant creatures out there. Liborati are rather unique, they feel off of herbal plants in a way that is often rather good for them.”

Theo smiled softly as you explained how Liborati helped plants develop magical energy, and eventually went into more details about Querbs. He watched as you pulled out small books and read him passages, clearly very enthusiastic to explain this all to someone.

Theo questioned whether anyone else had ever bothered to listen, though he felt his brain short-circuit the moment your hand met his.

Maybe Uerbs weren’t so bad after all.

Theo and Luna currently were at the linrary together, both of them having been sent on a mission to get snacks for a sick Blaise. Why Theo was invited, he wasn’t sure.

“How are you and Y/N coming along?”

Now he was sure.

“What exactly is meant to be coming along between us?” Theo asked curiously, his hands in his pockets as he walked.

It had only been a week since he met you at the party, but he had already fallen head over heels. It was absolutely impossible to hide from anyone who truly knew him, especially since he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

No matter where he went, he couldn’t not think of you. Drinking, partying, sleeping, or doing schoolwork, you were always there on his mind. Sometimes he’d pretend that he was talking to you in order to keep himself sane, repeating your ramble on Uerbs and Querbs and Whorpflasters in his mind for hours at a time.

Even still, he hadn’t particularly asked you anything. Just about things you liked.

“You have more Uerbs developing by the second whenever you hang out with her, I found an infestation of them near your pillow.” Luna said. “Do you dream of her that often?”

“What is it with you two and being able to read people through creatures?” Theo groaned, looking down at the floor as he spoke. “Me and her are, well, I’m working on it. I can’t see things like you do, so you’re going to have to give me a moment.”

“You are quite lost.” Luna said calmly, her hands moving to open the door to Honeydukes. “I felt you’d want to know she has Uerbs following her around too. They’ve grown quite fond of you.”

Theo sighed softly as he stomped his foot a bit impatiently, hoping that nobody else would walk out of the tower but you.

He was currently standing in front of the doors of the Ravenclaw Tower. Or at least, what would be a door. It was a statue of a bird which obnoxiously asked riddles he didn’t have any time for, so he offered to stand and wait for you.

Though that idea seemed to be wearing off completely. That was until you walked out

“Theo?” you asked, your eyes darting up and down him. He had done his hair just a bit nicer than usual. He was wearing a suit, albeit rather tame, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Along with all of that, he somehow seemed to find a limited edition of the book you had been wanting to read for ages, a signature from the author directly on the cover.

“I want to take you out on a date.” he whispered, holding the objects out to you. There was a large blush covering his face, eyes darting to the floor. “Will you, maybe, go on a date with me?”’

“Theo, I,” you whispered, looking at him incredulously before giggling softly. “Have you noticed my Uerbs too then?”

“I,” he whispered before nodding as he remembered what Luna said. “Yeah, I did.”

“I would love to go out with you.” you smiled, that whimsical smile that he couldn’t seem to get enough of. “Where did you want to go?”

“I made a dinner reservation, about two hours from now.” he whispered, smiling genuinely once you said yes. You had said yes. You had said yes.”

“Let me get ready then. Give me just twenty minutes or so.” you smiled, before turning back around to get ready. Theo chuckled at the sounds of your small yet excited squeals.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

guys. i don’t have. my fancy smancy dividers.

for some reason my phone hates downloading transparent pngs from tumblr and aleays adds a white background, which is absolutely not tolerable at ALL, and managing these lines were also really hard as well for some reason? the images always summon at the bottom so you have to drag them, which wasn’t easy with the size.

but we pulled through guys. GUYS WE DID IT YAYAYAYAYYYY

AS ALWAYS, please like, comment, and reblog! i hope you lovelies had a fantastic day, and i shall write to you some other time. bye guys!

[fratttymatty]

Remade

(All characters are 18+)

Zach Turner had always been the type of guy who found comfort in books, video games, and the occasional comic book convention. At 18, he was a senior in high school, a quiet, nerdy, and undeniably gay young man. He lived in the small world of his thoughts and interests, often accompanied by his best friend, Cassie.

Cassie was everything Zach wasn’t: confident, popular, and unashamedly ambitious. They’d known each other since middle school, and she had always been the type of person to look out for Zach, even if her attentions were often a little too intense. Their friendship had always been platonic—or so Zach had thought.

One evening, when Zach was deep into his latest role-playing game, he got a text from Cassie.

Cassie: “I’ve got a surprise for you tonight. It’s important. Be at my house at 8:00 sharp. Don’t be late.”

Zach, curious but not thinking much of it, agreed. After all, Cassie had a flair for the dramatic, and he was used to her pulling pranks or making grandiose plans that never quite panned out.

But that night was different.

When Zach arrived at Cassie’s house, he found the lights dimmed and a strange, almost eerie atmosphere. Cassie, dressed in a sleek black outfit, was waiting for him in the living room, a small, mysterious device in her hands.

“Cassie?” Zach said, looking around nervously. “What’s going on?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” she replied, her voice unnervingly calm.

Without any warning, Cassie pulled out the device and pointed it at him. Zach barely had time to react before the world around him seemed to blur, and everything turned dark.

When Zach woke up, he felt strange. His body was heavy, as though he had been asleep for hours, but there was an unnatural weight to it. His chest felt tight, and he groggily blinked his eyes open.

Cassie stood in front of him, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Well, well. You’re awake,” she said, her voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and triumph. “Let’s begin.”

Zach tried to sit up, but found himself restrained. He looked down at his body—his limbs, his torso. Something was wrong. He felt... different. His fingers, once delicate and pale, were now broad, tanned, and muscular. His whole body had an unfamiliar strength to it.

“Cassie,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What did you do to me?”

“I’m making you perfect,” Cassie replied simply. “The boyfriend I’ve always wanted. You’ve always been my best friend, Zach, but I’ve realized something: you’re not quite what I need. You’re too... soft.”

Zach’s heart pounded in his chest. “What do you mean? This isn’t me, Cassie! I don’t want this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” she said coldly, before flicking a switch on the device.

A surge of energy washed over Zach, and before he could protest, his body began to change in ways he couldn’t comprehend. His limbs elongated and thickened with muscle. His once pale skin darkened to a rich bronze, and his face began to reshape—his jawline sharpening, his cheekbones rising, his eyes shifting to a deeper brown.

Zach cried out, but the sound that escaped his lips wasn’t his own. It was a deeper, more masculine tone.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he gasped, trying to tug at the restraints, but he was too weak. His entire body felt alien to him, as though it belonged to someone else.

“Just relax,” Cassie said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “It’s all part of the process. You’ll get used to it. This is who you’re meant to be.”

Zach couldn’t understand what was happening. It wasn’t just his body that was changing. His mind seemed to be slipping as well—like his thoughts were becoming clouded with confusion, slowly overtaken by the growing sense of strength, dominance, and something else—something he hadn’t felt before.

“Cassie, please,” he begged. “You can’t do this!”

“I can, and I will,” she said with a flick of her wrist. “You’re the perfect foundation. I’m just making you the perfect guy for me. You’re going to be everything I want in a boyfriend.”

Zach’s panic grew as she activated the device again. His body buckled, and with each passing second, it morphed more into something he didn’t recognize. His muscles swelled, his shoulders broadening, his chest growing more defined.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that changed. He could feel it—the shift in his mind. His thoughts, once filled with video games, books, and a quiet, nerdy existence, were starting to fade. In their place were thoughts of power, sports, and girls—Cassie, in particular. He was becoming someone else entirely.

And then, a strange sensation began at the top of his head. His hair. He could feel it shifting, like something pulling at it from the roots. His thick curls—once unruly and wild—began to flatten, the familiar texture becoming straighter and sleeker by the second.

It was as if his hair itself was being reshaped, straightened, darkened. The soft curls he had always worn with pride now transformed into a neat, short, dark brown mane that laid perfectly against his scalp. The thickness remained, but now the texture was different—smooth, sleek, and controlled. His hair fell just above his forehead in a stylish, masculine cut that complemented the broadness of his face.

He reached up, instinctively running his fingers through his hair. It was... perfect. His new hair felt like it was made for him, as if it had always been this way.

When the transformation finally ceased, Zach—no, not Zach anymore—looked at himself in the mirror Cassie had placed in front of him.

Gone was the skinny, pale, awkward white boy he had been. In his place stood a tall, athletic Latino young man, with broad shoulders, defined muscles, and a confident, cocky grin on his face. His eyes, once soft and nerdy, now gleamed with a sense of self-assurance, and his name... it wasn’t Zach anymore.

Cassie’s grin widened. “Meet your new self. This is Alejandro. Your perfect self.”

Zach—Alejandro—barely registered his former name as it left her lips. He looked at himself in the mirror, and for the first time, he didn’t feel out of place. He felt right. His old self, the timid, shy boy, seemed like a distant memory—one that he no longer cared about. The nerdy, insecure parts of him were gone, replaced by someone confident, strong, and desirable.

Cassie stepped forward, her fingers brushing over his now chiseled chest. “You’re perfect,” she said. “Now, we can finally be together. The way it was always meant to be.”

Alejandro didn’t object. He didn’t feel the need to. Everything that once mattered—the books, the games, the quiet life—was far behind him. His mind was entirely focused on Cassie, on the life they could have, the adventures they could share. His identity was new, but it felt like it had always been him.

And as he looked down at Cassie, he smiled, his heart pounding with excitement.

Yes. This was who he was meant to be.

[whiteferraristurns]

𝒲𝒜ℛ𝒩ℐ𝒩𝒢𝒮! Smut, pet names, She/her pronouns.

🐻ྀིྀི - i personally think this sucks this is my first time writing smut so please bear with me. I made this so long ago so i’m sorry if it’s actual ass

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬ღ

Chris had never ordered an uber so fast. You had texted him saying that you were finally ready to let him have you.. All of you. You two had been together for almost two years now and you had never gone past heated makeout sessions or some light touches. You were so nervous he wouldn’t like what he saw even though you knew that he worshiped you and he always reminded you of that. He was always so patient with you. He wanted you to be ready and he waited until you were. 

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow through your window as you waited for Chris to arrive. you glanced at the clock for the third time in five minutes, anticipation bubbling up in your chest. He had texted you a few minutes ago, saying he was almost there. You couldn’t wait. You were finally ready to give that last part to him. It was a scary thing to think about but you trusted him with your life.

A few moments later, there was a knock at the door. Your heart skipped. You sighed running a hand through your hair before rushing to open the door, your face lighting up as you saw him standing there, his signature grin already on display. “Hey, pretty girl,” Chris greeted, leaning in to give you a quick, soft kiss on the cheek. He looked comfortable and laid-back, wearing his favorite hoodie and a backwards hat that kept his unruly hair in check. You loved that about him—how he always looked so effortlessly good.

“Hey handsome.” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in. "You made it, I thought you’d get lost or something." Chris chuckled, slipping his shoes off. “Oh, please. I could find my way here with my eyes closed at this point.” you smiled and closed the door behind you. You walked up to your room. You sat on the bed looking up at him with your big eyes and innocent looking features. Chris had always loved how pretty and innocent you looked. He was ecstatic that he was the one going to take your virginity. You were the purest not really understanding the jokes he’d thrown around, or how to really do anything.

Part of Chris wanted to bury himself deep inside you as soon as possible and the other part wanted to savor every moment. Your chest rose and fell with every breath. Nervousness bubbling in your chest. “Do you know what it means when we do this baby..?” Chris mumbled. You shook your head. “Words.” he rubbed a hand down your arm. His eyes took in every detail of you and imprinted it into his mind. Your skin glowing beneath the dim lights. “No..”

“It means you won't be the only virgin in our group anymore.” He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip smirking at his own joke. You rolled your eyes and pushed his hand causing him to chuckle.  “Lay back f’me..” you nodded and moved your head onto the comfort of your pillows. Chris kissed your cheek. 

He grabbed the hem of our shirt looking at you in approval. You nodded once again. He pulled your shirt up over your head. The light orange bralette that sat perfectly on your chest displayed everything. His face lit up. “When did you get this?” he asked, his fingers ran over the lace.. “Yesterday.. I thought you’d like it..” you sheepishly smiled. “No, I don't like it.” your face dropped. “I love it ma.” Your face filled with obvious relief. “I’m just messing’ with you.” 

he chuckled, running a hand down the side of your body leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Lift your hips for me love.” you did exactly as he said. He pulled your shorts down. “Matching panties too? You tease.” you smiled. He kissed your stomach. “Okay once again.. Are you one hundred percent you want to do this?” You nodded. “Yes chris. I’m one hundred and 10 percent.” He smiled up at you and ran a finger over your clothed clit. A gasp left your lips. 

He spread your thighs open more.  A soft whimper left your lips. “Chris don’t tease..” He frowned. “That’s the best though.” You shook your head lightly. He slowly pulled the panties down your legs. He almost drooled at the set of your dripping wet folds. “You are so wet fuck.” 

He cursed. You suddenly got self conscious. You went to close your thighs before Chris stopped you and pushed your thighs open again. “Baby that’s a good thing.. You're gorgeous.” you bit your lip. He leaned down and kitten licked your clit. Causing you to whine. He maintained eye contact. He flattened his tongue against your clit, alternating between long, slow licks and slowly but surely fastening his flicks. He was so fucking hungry for you, for your taste, for the innocence shattering beneath him at this very moment. “Oh fuck- chris,” You gasped, placing your hands in his hair. “I need—oh God.” you threw your head back when he shoved his tongue into your dripping hole. 

His hands dug into the fluffy flesh of your thighs.“You taste so fucking good.” He mumbled against you. The unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in your stomach. “Chris i-”  you gasped he pulled away slightly rubbing his finger over your sensitive bud. “Just let go Ma.” he breathed, leaning back down and continuing his pace. He sucked and licked and till you started to shake under him. Your thighs closed around his head, he quickly pushed them back open. You bucked your hips against his face. 

 Chris pulled away with a big smirk on his face. He licked his lips. “You did so good f’me”  you looked at him with a blushed out face he leaned up and kissed you shoving his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue. He pulled away and dropped his head into your neck sucking dark marks into your skin. He trailed down your neck onto the cleavage of your tits. 

He continued to suck dark marks. He pulled the bralette off you and dropped his head instantly sucking onto your perky nipples. You moaned softly as he kneaded your left one. He switched and gave some attention to your other one. You ran a hand through his hair. He pulled off with a small “plop” which caused you to flush. He smirked up at you. “Your so pretty baby.”

He stood up pulling his shirt off and then his sweatpants. An obvious wet spot was forming from his boxers. He discarded his boxers quickly after. Your eyes darted down, you couldn't help it. You had always imagined something like this but it scared you. “baby..” He chuckled. 

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He rolled on a condom and got up back on top of you hovering over you. “I wish I could say this isn't gonna hurt but if it becomes too much you tell me okay sweetheart?” He reassured you. “Okay.. I trust you..” He nodded and rubbed his throbbing head against you. You whined. He slowly pushed into you. You grabbed his bicep. 

He wasn't even half way in and it hurt. It hurt so bad you almost called it then but Chris kissed your cheek. He completely stopped his movements and looked at you with scared eyes.  “You can continue..” you mumbled. He nodded and pushed more in. He hissed at how tight you squeezed him. Once he was fully in you you looked up at him with tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “I’m gonna move okay..?” He asked. 

You shook your head, eyes glossy. He soothed your hair out slowly moving out and then back in. The pain slowly turning into pleasure. “You can go faster.” He bit back a smirk and picked his pace up. Everytime thrusted into you the more that feeling bubbled back into your stomach.

 “Fuck mamas your taking me so good.” He grabbed your hips. “Chris!” you screamed as he pushed himself deeper into your gummy walls. He repeatedly hit your G- spot. Yours and his orgasm ripped through you both. Your moans and his groans mixed together as you both came undone on each other. 

As he pulled out you whimpered at the loss of contact. You felt so full with him in you. He disappeared into the bathroom. You sighed with a huge smile on your face. He came back out with a warmed washcloth cleaning you up. His face seemed so focused on making sure you were clean.

He brushed the sweaty pieces of hair off your face. “Arms up.” You lifted your arms up as he slipped his shirt over your body then slipped your underwear up your legs and over your hips. You two slipped under your covers as you laid on his chest listening to his soft heartbeat. “Was it just how you imagined..?” he mumbled, rubbing small patterns into your hip. “Even better. Thank you, handsome.” You mumbled back. He smiled like a kid in a candy store and pulled you closer. “I love you pretty girl.” you hummed back and drifted off into sleep in the comfort of your boyfriend's arms.

🐻ྀིྀི shatter me reference? (Iykyk..) ALSO PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU GUYS FEEL ABOUT THIS😓

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