#but then I get this little moment of 'oh I did good tonight' and I feel like its the only time I ever actually acknowlege that

[moonstruckme]

As promised: more roommate!james

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Thunder crashes. A branch from the tree outside smacks into your bedroom window, making you jump. You smile a little at your reaction, and a frisson goes up your spine, giddy. 

You’re kind of in a euphoric state tonight. 

The storm came in early, darkening the sky hours before its time and bringing torrents of rain down upon your home. Immediately, your windows had been opened, your candles lit, and you were curled up on your bed with a book in your hands. 

Downstairs, you can hear the familiar buzz of the TV playing one of James’ sports games. The whole apartment smells like the cookies you made earlier, which you have a small plate of next to you and which your roommate had moaned as he’d bitten into upon you offering some to him. Sweetheart, keep spoiling me like this and you’ll never get me to leave. 

Suffice to say, you’ve been having a fairly good evening. 

Your book is just starting to pick up when the TV quiets. Everything quiets. There’s a thud, followed by a hissed curse. 

You laugh a little. Pick up your phone. 

Alright down there? You text James. 

More thudding sounds. You think about picking your book back up, but decide to wait.

If I were bleeding out on the living room floor, do you think I’d be able to text you back?

A moment later: If you wanted to do a thorough job of seeing I was alright, you should have come and seen for yourself.

Then: And I heard you laughing.

You smile to yourself, a quiet chuckle escaping you. Sorry, can’t, you reply. Too cozy. 

You hear his heavy footfalls coming up the stairs, and you have only a few moments to brace yourself before he’s swinging open your door. 

Lately, your body has been doing this thing where he looks at you and it’s like the ground softens beneath you. Luckily, you’re already on a bed, so it’s not really possible this time. 

James shuts off the flashlight on his phone, looking around your room with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Woah. Are you having a seance in here?” 

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way the candlelight plays prettily over his features. “You’re just jealous that I was prepared for the power to go out and you weren’t.” 

“It looks like you were hoping for it.” James grins. He starts to cross the room, and you’re like a sunflower to your light as you tilt to face him. 

He lays down next to you on your bed, on his stomach with his forearms propping him up. It’s a somewhat tight fit, but James doesn’t seem to mind the way his hip and shoulder are touching yours. His shampoo smell wraps around you like a hug. 

You pick up your tea as an excuse not to look at him, blowing softly before taking a sip. James watches you consideringly. 

“You really are thriving in here, aren’t you?” he teases softly. “Look at you, you’ve got your fuzzy socks on, your tea, your book. You’re in paradise.” 

You smile sheepishly as you set your tea down on the floor. “Sorry you couldn’t finish your game.” 

“Oh, it’s alright.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’d rather hang with you anyway.” 

You feel your brows furrow, a confusing mass of emotions knotting in your chest. “Don’t say that,” you tell him softly.

You can feel James’ gaze warming the side of your face. His voice is just as quiet. “Why not?” 

You look over, and his eyes don’t flit away like a sane person’s would. They’re steady and warm as the flames around you. Instantly the room feels too small, him a little too close. 

James’ smile is almost tentative. “Look, I know you drew the short stick with this roommate agreement, but I plan to soak up as much roomie time as I can get. Sorry.” 

“I did not,” you murmur. 

“Didn’t what?” 

“You drew the short stick.” Your face burns. You know James too well to think he’d be making fun of you, but it’s difficult to imagine an alternative. He can’t really think you don’t like having him as a roommate after all the ways he’s been a friend to you, the times he’s stepped in to help, when you’ve only been a burden and a drag. “Not me.” 

His eyebrows twitch closer to each other, and his lips tilt bemusedly, as though they’re unsure of what else to do. The lenses of his glasses reflect the candlelight, brown eyes molten behind them. 

“I’m inclined to disagree,” he says. The air between you feels thick and sweet. Your heart seems to know something you don’t, quickening its rhythm in your chest. Then, because it’s James, he flicks up a brow. “Truce?” 

You laugh quietly, turning your face down towards your book. There are goosebumps going all down your arms. “Sure,” you say. 

“Good,” he murmurs. “Glad that’s settled.” 

You don’t respond this time. You’re not sure you can. The words on your page blur by, unnoticed and unimportant.

Lightning cracks outside. You gasp and turn to see it, and James’ lips meet you there. 

You should have known he would be soft like this. You’ve kept yourself from thinking about it, but you could have guessed. The first gentle, warm press of his mouth is so lovely you get lost in it, but when it lasts for too long and he starts to draw back, you remember that you can move, too. 

He takes in a tiny inhale when you part your lips for him, his hand finding your waist and his body curving over yours. Your arm falls out from under you, and James follows you down. He tastes sweet and familiar, like home. 

You bring your hands up to his face, one resting tentatively on his cheek while the other toys with the idea of slipping its fingers into his hair. The sky rumbles outside. Your heart pitters. 

“It’s okay,” James mumbles. His voice buzzes against your lips. “It’s okay, sweetheart, please.” 

You grasp at the roots of his hair, palm settling more surely on his cheek, and James makes a sound low in his throat. He breaks the kiss to pull off his glasses. You take them from where he sets them on the bed, placing them more carefully on the floor where they’re not so likely to get crushed. His lips curve over yours. You think that if you were to detour to either side, you might find a dimple in his cheek. 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Oh, it’s James again now, is it?” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “What is it?” 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s a nonsensical question, but in fairness you think all the blood that’s supposed to be in your brain has gone to your lips, and James seems to get what you mean anyway. 

He chuckles quietly. “I am, yeah.” He makes a sound that’s almost like a sigh, hand climbing up your back until it’s trapped between your shoulders and your bed. “I don’t ever tell you how lovely you are, but I’ve…I’m sure. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I think so.” 

“That’s okay.” James kisses your chin, the curve of your jaw. 

“You’re lovely, too,” you tell him somewhat desperately. His lashes tickle your cheek. Your fingers are still burrowed in the hair at his nape. “I never tell you. I like when you’re here.” 

You feel his smile bloom against your skin. “I like you too, sweetheart,” he says, voice light with teasing. 

You frown, wishing he would take you seriously. “I do. I really like you.” 

“I think I like you more.” 

You scoff. He nips at your jaw, surprising a laugh out of you. “You can’t always win,” you say. 

James makes a happy humming sound. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

[taurasiluvr]

can u write a fic where paige and reader is on the phone and paige starts touching herself to readers voice? and then reader eventually notices and asks to facetime and yk… this is just a suggestion u don’t have to do it 😭

YES YES YES YES MA'AMMM

away games were the hardest on you and paige, you both thrived on being physically near each other and the separation always felt like an eternity. the long nights apart were filled with longing texts and video calls that could never quite bridge the gap. you missed the feel of her arms around you, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, and the way she made you feel safe and loved.

while you were incredibly proud of her, the distance was a constant reminder of how much you relied on her presence. you would watch her games on the screen, cheering her on from afar, but it never felt the same as being there in person.

tonight was one of those nights.

paige's team was playing an important match out of town, and you found yourself alone in your shared apartment. the space felt emptier without her, the silence almost oppressive. you tried to focus on other things, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her.

the game had just ended, and UConn had won. your phone buzzed with a call from her, and you eagerly answered, a smile spreading across your face at the sound of her voice.

"hey, baby," paige greeted, her voice warm and full of excitement. "we won!"

"i saw! you were amazing out there," you replied, feeling a rush of pride. "miss you so much, though."

"i miss you too," she said, her voice softening. "i hate being away from you."

there was a moment of silence, the connection between you palpable even through the phone. you could almost feel her presence, the memory of her touch lingering on your skin.

"tell me about your day, what'd you do without me?" paige asked, a breathless laugh coming from her lips.

you laid on the bed as you recounted your day. "nothing too crazy, just went to my classes then did some grocery shopping for us," you paused, trying to think of whatever else you'd done. "oh! well, i also did some online shopping, i splurged a new bikini."

"oh?" paige's breath hitched at the thought of that. "yeah, you deserve that, especially after midterms. can't wait to you see wearin' it, looking all pretty..."

paige trailed off and you could tell she was feeling the distance, maybe even more than you. you smiled at the thought and you couldn't help but tease her a little more.

"maybe i'll give you a little fashion show when you get back," you teased, your voice playful and sultry. "just for you."

paige let out a low groan, her breath hitching again. "you know what that does to me, baby. you're killing me here."

you giggled, enjoying the effect you had on her. "good, want you to think about it all night."

"god, i will," she murmured, her voice husky. "always know how to drive me crazy."

you bit your lip, feeling a surge of warmth at her words. "i miss you so much, paige. i wish you were here with me right now."

"miss you too," she replied, her voice softening. "more than anything. but hearing your voice makes me feel like i'm right there with you."

you could hear the sincerity in her voice, and it made your stomach ache with need. "tell me what you'd do if... if you were here," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

paige let out a slow, deep breath. "if i were there, i'd kiss you. slow and deep, just the way you like it. let my hands roam over your body, feeling every inch of you."

you closed your eyes, letting her words wash over you, imagining her touch.

"i'd kiss your neck, your shoulders," paige continued, her voice growing more intense. "i'd make my way down to your chest, kissing and sucking on your nipples until you're moaning my name."

a soft moan escaped your lips, your body reacting to her words. "paige," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i'd move lower, kissing your stomach, your hips," paige said, her voice thick with desire. "i'd spread your legs and taste you, licking you slowly, teasing you until you're begging for more."

you could feel the heat building between your legs, your hand slipping under your clothes to touch yourself. "fuck, p, that sounds amazing," you gasped, your fingers mimicking the sensations she was describing.

"i'd suck on your clit, making you moan my name," paige continued, her own breath growing ragged as you heard her shift on the other line. "slide my fingers inside you, feeling how wet and tight you are for me."

"yeah, just for you," you moaned, your body trembling with pleasure. "need you, p. need you so much."

"i'm right here, baby," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion as you heard her breaths coming in staggered. "i can feel you, hear you. fuck, don't cum, wanna cum together,"

"oh yes," you panted, your fingers moving faster.

"i'd fuck you with my fingers, curling them just right," paige groaned, her voice low. "keep sucking your clit, making you scream my name as you cum for me."

a few moments pass and you feel the pressure in your lower stomach tighten, and you bit your lip to try and hold off cumming until paige tells you to. you could hear her own breathless moans on the other line as you tried to focus.

"gonna cum, baby, oh fu-fuck," paige groaned out. "cum for me, fuck, cum for me," she rambled as she felt her own orgasm crash over her.

"o-oh, fuck, paige!" you cried out, your body shuddering as you reached the edge. "'m cumming, 'm cumming!"

you let out a loud moan as the orgasm washed over you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. paige's voice was there, guiding you through it, her words a soothing balm to your pleasure-wracked mind.

as the pleasure ebbed, you lay there, breathless and spent. paige's breathless voice came through the phone, soft. "i love you so much," she whispered.

"i love you too," you replied, your voice filled with emotion. "can't wait to have you back in my arms."

"soon, baby," paige promised. "soon."

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[inkdrinkerworld]

hiiii bae bae!!! you asked for softdom! remus/causal dominance remus and boy oh boy am i all earsssss

i’d love to see a softdom!remus and reader out in public maybe at the (bar or a house party?) and he always has a grip on her just to make sure she’s safe but she slips away for a moment or maybe someone comes up to her as she’s alone and remus has to tap into his protective mode but does it in such a nonchalant way as to not worry the reader?? if that makes sense?? if it doesn’t no worries!!❤️❤️

love ur work bae so excited to all of ur works w thisss

You’re in your prettiest get up and Remus hasn’t been shy of letting you know that.

You’re in a backless, red top and a black mini skirt with boots and Remus has probably at least once since you’ve been to the bar tried to take you to the bathroom.

He was successful and your hair looks even better now than it did when you’d just arrived.

“M’going to get a Jack and coke, Remmy.” He nods, his hand rubbingover your bum as you slip off his lap and make your way to the bartender.

Remus’ eyes trail behind you, unable to stop himself from being drawn to the expanse of your back and the freckles that dot your skin like one big constellation.

“You know if you weren’t together it would be a little pathetic how lovesick you are.” Sirius comments with a smile as he drains the last of his beer.

Remus rolls his eyes. “What’s pathetic about being in love?” It’s James that asks what Remus was thinking.

“Oh you wouldn’t see anything wrong with it Prongs, you’re worse off than our Moony here.”

James shrugs, not really caring. So what him and Remus are devoted the way they are.

Remus doesn’t last in the conversation much longer, moving in search of you when he notices the way you’ve stiffened up at the counter.

He finds you with little trouble. His hand falls to the small of your back, ringed fingers slipping past the band of your skirt. You don’t even turn back to look at him, you just lean right into him.

Remus’ stomach does a flip and clenches at the way you do it so effortlessly.

“Taking too long, pretty girl?” Not once has he looked at the guy that had been trying to chat you up. Instead, he’s all focused on you.

“Mhm, I changed my mind when we got here. Got a cherry vodka instead.” You turn to look at him then, Remus notes that the man walks off and smiles down at you.

“Did you actually?” You nod, eyes wide as you look up at him. “Have I told you that you look really, really good tonight?”

You beam, “Two really’s?” Remus smiles, nodding as the bartender brings your drink out.

“Two really’s, lovely girl.” You take a sip and giggle.

“Taste?” You raise your hand to offer him the glass, instead Remus hooks his finger beneath your chin and kisses you.

“Delicious.”

[forzalando]

what if?

unrequited love, best friend!lando blurb request from @foreveralbon! liyah gave me the choice of which side the unrequited love came from and unfortunately, i chose to break lando’s heart. please forgive me. i tried to find a pic where he looked a little sad but i don't want him sad so i strayed completely from the vibe of this blurb. also yes, if anyone was wondering, i named the male oc aaron because of aaron hotchner. can't tell if i love or hate this so go easy on me lol pairing: fem!reader x best friend!lando (platonic), fem!reader x oc male word count: 2.1k summary: it’s finally time for your friends to meet someone special. you’re in love with him, and lando has to come to terms with that. tw: unrequited love, heartbroken lando

Your phone buzzed from across the room, a familiar ringtone echoing through the air letting you know that Lando was finally returning your call.

“I sincerely hope you haven’t been avoiding me because you’re planning on ditching my dinner party tonight,” you scolded as soon as you picked up the phone.

“I would never,” Lando gasped. “I was on the sim and had my phone on silent – do you need me to bring anything? How many people will be there?”'

“Oh, not too many at all, I’ve got everything I need. I asked Max, Pietra, Carlos, Rebecca, Charles, and Alex. Oh, and Maxie is coming and bringing someone, can you believe it? I’m so glad he’s finally moving on from Kelly. Oscar and Lily can’t make it – he’s got a family thing, but he promised a double lunch ‘date’ when they’re back in Monaco next week.”

“Geez, why are all of our friends in loving relationships or dating except us, huh? Look at us, the old spinsters!”

You didn’t miss the sadness in his voice even though he tried to mask it with a joke, which made your next admission even harder than you thought it would be.

“Actually, I have someone I want you to meet,” you said quietly.  “His name is Aaron and he’ll be here tonight.”

“Really?” Lando coughed, hoping to mask the sound of himself choking on air. “It must be pretty serious for you if he’s meeting all of us – how, um, how long? Have you been seeing him?”

You knew he’d ask and you didn’t want to answer, afraid that he would be upset you’ve kept this from him for so long. You’ve always shared everything with him for the past five years, but for a few subjectively good reasons, you’d kept this a secret until now.

“Please don’t be mad,” you mumbled. “I’ve been seeing him for about seven months but I wasn’t hiding it on purpose or anything, I swear, I just didn’t want to ask you to prioritize meeting my boyfriend during the season. It was too soon to introduce you over summer break, now was just the best time.”

You heard Lando exhale on the other end of the line – whether it was a sigh of annoyance, relief, or anger, you couldn’t tell.

“I get it, don’t worry,” he forced out. “I know I’m never around. I’m excited to meet him, I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

Before you could say anything else, Lando ended the call.

Lando hadn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire evening – introductions had gone perfectly, all of your friends seemed to love Aaron, conversation was flowing smoothly, but it was painfully obvious, at least to you, that something was up with Lando.

You’d barely gotten through dessert when the onslaught of relationship questions started coming your way – mainly from Charles, if you can believe it. Aaron had started on cleaning up the kitchen and Charles didn’t hesitate to bombard you as soon as Aaron had left the room.

“So, how did you guys meet? How did he ask you out? Tell me everything.”

“Charles!” Alex scolded. “Don’t interrogate her, she’ll tell us if she’s ready!”

You smiled in thanks at Alex, although you knew she was just as eager to hear you tell the tale.

“Actually, I have Lando to thank,” you smiled at Lando, turning your attention towards him for a brief moment. “The day we met, I was supposed to be having lunch with him but he got caught up in a meeting and was running way late. Aaron saw me sitting alone and thought I’d been stood up, introduced himself, and then gave me this cheesy line about how someone was missing out on a date with the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Rebecca sighed and fixed her gaze on Carlos – “why aren’t you that romantic?”

“I’m perfectly romantic,” Carlos countered. “Remember when I – ”

Pietra interrupted and shushed him abruptly, “Y/N isn’t done talking, you can defend yourself later.”

“Anyway,” you laughed, “I told him that I was waiting for my best friend and he offered to buy me a drink while I waited, but Lando had texted about five minutes before that he was on his way. So, I turned him down, but he left a note with the hostess and asked her to give it to me when I was on my way out. It was just the next day’s date, a time, and the name of a wine bar nearby signed with his name. I showed up and the rest is history, he charmed me.”

“I didn’t know it was Lando you were waiting on,” Aaron chimed in, walking into the dining room. He stopped next to Lando’s chair, holding his hand out for a handshake. “As a lifelong McLaren fan, I never thought I’d be thanking Lando Norris for arriving late, but thank you. You changed my life that day.”  

Lando slowly shook his hand and with gritted teeth responded, “Yeah, man, no problem. Glad I could help, seriously.”

From the looks on everyone’s faces, it was now clear to you that you weren’t the only one who noticed something was wrong with Lando.

He’d barely said a word all evening, and from the tone of his voice, it definitely was a problem and he was not glad he could help.

“It’s a little stuffy in here, I’m going to get some air,” you announced, rising quickly from your chair. “Lando, come with me? Aaron, I’ll finish up in the kitchen later, why don’t the rest of you get comfortable in the living room?”

Begrudgingly, Lando followed you out to your patio. It was surprisingly chilly for mid-December and the sudden gust of wind that pulled a shiver from you wasn’t helping at all. You had barely stopped shivering when you felt Lando’s jacket drape across you, his hands smoothing the shoulders down before he took his place next to you against the balcony.

“There he is,” you crooned. “My kind and considerate best friend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You turned your head to face him rather than look at the view, your eyebrows furrowing together and a sick feeling creeping into your stomach.

“Do you not like Aaron?” You asked quietly, the frown on your face deepening. “Everyone else seems to love him, did he say something to you? You were a little…off just now, are you mad he’s a McLaren fan? I promise you, he is not dating me to get to you or any other crazy idea you may have concocted. He didn’t even know we were friends for the first three months.”

Lando didn’t answer you, his eyes still trained on the Mediterranean Sea in the distance. He was picking at his fingernails – something he only did when he was anxious or upset.

“Please say something,” you pleaded. “I, gosh I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I'm in love with him, Lando. If you have reservations or concerns, please be honest with me. Your opinion means a lot to me, more than I thought it would.”

The silence was deafening – still no response for what felt like ages, the sick feeling in your stomach growing more prominent with every passing second.

“You love him?” Lando finally spoke, looking down, out, away – anywhere but at your face.

“Yes, I do. Like, a scary amount. I’m terrified, actually, but in the best way. I never thought I’d find love like this, Lan.”

“Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it?” Lando laughed, a humorless laugh, and backed away from the railing to sit on one of your deck chairs – his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

Before you could voice your confusion, he looked up at you, a sadness in his eyes you’d never seen before.

“He’s annoyingly wonderful and perfect for you, Y/N,” he began. “As soon as I walked in tonight, I knew. He barely let you lift a finger, remembered facts about everyone in there and was sincerely happy to get to know everyone. He gravitates towards you, smiles whenever you speak, always wants to be near you, and holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him. He treats you how I would treat you if I were lucky enough to be in his shoes. And the way he looks at you? I know that look,” he paused, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s the way I look at you.”

The sick feeling in your stomach turned to dread and you felt your heart squeezing in your chest, a mix of a gasp and a sob climbing out of your throat.

“Lando, I – ”

“It’s ok,” he smiled, staring directly at you with watery eyes. “I love you. I know it’s one-sided, and that’s ok. I promise you, it’s okay. I just needed you to know, and not because I thought it would change your feelings for him or to confuse you, you just deserve to know. I’ve kept it from you for far too long and I wish this wasn't how or why I finally told you.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, your hand shaking as you reached for Lando’s, gripping it so tight you thought you might leave a bruise.

“I’m sorry, Lando,” you cried. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I – I never would have made you come or said those things if I had known.”

Guilt crawled its way into the mix of emotions swirling inside you. Some of your friends and family members had alluded to his feelings for you over the years, but you always ignored them, insisting that you were just friends, best friends, but you secretly sometimes felt that there may be some truth in it. You wished more than anything in that moment that you had taken that feeling more seriously.

“I didn’t want you to know, it’s my fault you didn’t know,” Lando insisted. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“If you need some time, some distance, I can respect that,” you offered, though the thought of Lando agreeing to that was unbearably painful.

“No, no, I’ll be ok. It’ll take some time for me to move on but I’d rather deal with the pain of being close to you while I get over you than not have you in my life for however long it takes. All that matters to me is that you’re happy, and if Aaron makes you happy, I can live with that.”

Selfishly, you sighed in relief, squeezing the hand you were holding before pulling away from him. Your friendship would feel different for a while, but you could manage different; you could manage anything as long as Lando remained a fixture in your life.

“I think I’m going to go,” he whispered, rising from the chair and sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’ve made things awkward enough for one evening, don’t you think?”

You started to assure him he did no such thing, but when you saw the smirk on his face you knew he’d said it to try to relieve the heaviness that had settled over you. You handed him back his jacket, smoothing the shoulders down once he’d put it on just as he did for you earlier. Small, tentative smiles graced both of your faces before you pulled him into a gentle hug, hesitating just enough to allow him to back away if it was too much for him.

He squeezed you once tightly and then let go – the quickness of it expected, but the fact he accepted it at all gave you hope that everything would be ok.

You watched him as he reached for the door handle to go inside, but he paused and turned around just before he grabbed hold.

“Would it have made a difference? If I had told you before you met him?”

You weren’t sure which answer would hurt him more, but you were always honest with him and that wasn’t going to change now.

“No, Lando, it wouldn't have. I do love you, I always have and always will, but I'm not in love with you. I've never thought of you in that way, I'm sorry.”

He nodded once, accepting your answer, and then he was gone. You were being truthful, and Lando knew without a doubt that you were, but he also knew in his heart and soul that you would always and forever be his biggest “what if?”.

-----------

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[lovingache]

— cockwarming nanami brainrot! | 18+ f!reader

not proofread! honestly, super tame compared to my other stuff LOL. just really sweet (one mildly spicy) hc about everyone’s favourite blond <33

nanami who’s so big and so thick that he always has to help you adjust to his size by stilling inside you after he bottoms out. doesn’t matter what position— though his favourite is you on your back in a mating press because he loves to watch the way your nose scrunches while your brows furrow, wide eyes begging for more, as he bottoms out. loves to watch you squirm and quiver, feel you clenching around him as your tight, wet heat sucks him in desperately. he holds you still as you squirm and attempt to push your hips up to him for some friction, your mouth fallong open in a desperate plea for more, please, more. tsk’ing at you when you try to get him to move, when you insist that you’re wet enough for it not to hurt, that you can take it and to just please move, ken— “I’m not moving until I feel her tell me she’s good and ready.”

he thinks it’s comforting, honestly. to have your weight pressed on him, feel you clench around him every now and then when you’re inevitably jostled on his cock. he thinks it’s sweet that he gets to have you like that, to have you squirming and panting on his cock, whining so adorably when he teases you with the smallest thrust. he loves how you trust him so completely to let him do this, sometimes nodding off in his lap from the boring paperwork that you both are staring at while cradling you in his arms.

his heart swells when you ask him one day to let you do it because you miss him, he’s been so busy and you haven’t been able to just feel him, you said; an adorable pout jutting out from your bottom lip that he can never say no to. his heart flutters as you get on top of him, facing him as you sink down and kiss his neck, whispering how much you love him, how much you need him, and god, he could cum just from you saying that you love him over and over while you milk his cock with your tight pussy— “God, my angel. I love you so much, my sweetheart. My only one.”

you held still for him so well that day that he was the most productive he’d been all month. he rewarded you, of course, by making you cum on his cock so many times that you couldn’t even remember your own name— but you did remember his and he was absurdly proud of that.

would you believe me if i said this was how you found out that he was proposing to you? you’re gasping and mewling all over him one particularly long session, clawing at him and begging him to move, to use you. promising him anything and everything when he murmurs something into your hair that has you stilling better than his hands could in that moment. “God, you’re so perfect begging like that, my pretty wife. My gorgeous wife. Can’t wait until I make you my wife.”

he groans when he realizes his mistake but nearly cums when you kiss him deeply, clinging to him even harder before whispering— “yeah? is my husband gonna make me cum all over his thick cock tonight? fill me up and remind me who you are in my life? my husband. god, i love you, ken. can’t wait to marry you.”

he also uses it to punish you though. if you’re being bratty or pushing his buttons too much that even his patience can’t handle it. he’ll simply look at you sternly as his jaw sets with determination, taking you to the bedroom as he gives exactly what you want, his attention, until you’re rutting your hips against the air and whining for his cock.

he’ll lean down to your ear as his fingertips tease and trace your nipples and thighs— leading his fingers down to circle your swollen, aching clit and tease that needy hole, “Yeah? You want my cock? Alright, baby.”

he’ll thrust into you a little rougher than usual, groaning as he holds your hips to his, loving how you can take him in so well, how you’re pleading for him, and chuckling darkly when you try to move. “Oh? Why are you still whimpering? You can have my cock, doesn’t mean I’m fucking you with it though.”

but above all that. he loves having you on his cock, wet and willing and mewling oh-so-prettily for him, because it means he gets to spend as much time with you as possible. it’s silly and, when he tells you this, you chuckle at his earnestness but quickly quiet down as you take in the way he looks at you— like you hung the moon and stars, like you’re the reason the sun rises each day— you can’t do much but kiss him and remind him how much you love him.

[arionawrites]

1. it’s my 24th birthday today, so my goal of being published by the time i’m 25 is now a one year looming monster, but i never specified what kind of published and am currently looking in various literary magazines that are recommended for writers who have yet to be published, so i’m surprisingly confident that i can make it work? and tbh even if whatever i write isn’t officially published before my 25th birthday, if i have someone in the process of being published then i’ll be happy!! no matter what though, i’m gonna try to be proud of myself for at least giving it my best shot!!

2. i honestly love that my birthday is on the ides of march because the ides of march meme shitposting is only a thing on tumblr but it also being my birthday makes it easier to like. be excited about the ides of march outside of tumblr. like even in person i can be like “it’s my birthday! i’m an ides of march babe (:” and if someone is like oh what’s that? or if they say something along the lines of oh like julius caesar? i can be like yep!! and even if it’s a small thing outside of tumblr it brings me immense enjoyment and amusement being able to bring it up off of tumblr

3. transportation situation has been very rough since june 2023 when i totalled my car, my gap insurance are being assholes and i ended up putting my foot down on the phone with them yesterday which i’m pretty proud of because i am NOT a confrontational person (something i’ve been working on this past year, so seeing some improvement with my ability to hold my ground and not be a pushover yesterday was very cool!!) i was told i’d get a response from them by friday next week no matter what, and if i don’t then friday of next week i will continue to wreak havoc upon them. but my moms car which i’ve been using since my accident broke down yesterday, hopefully it’s fixable but my parents were saying it might be done for, so trying to think of how i’m gonna get to work next week is kind of stressing me out lmao, but for now i’m just gonna focus on enjoying my birthday the best i can because i don’t want to start off being 24 with an overwhelming anxiety for something that won’t be a potential issue until monday. plus i already messaged my boss today to let her know that i’m going to do everything i can to make it work out but just so she’s in the loop and knows of the potential of me not being able to make my morning shifts (one of my coworkers said she’s more than happy to give me a ride for our afternoon shifts which does help relieve some of the stress!) and i told her i’d let her know for sure sunday so that if necessary she can have time to figure out someone to fill in for me in the mornings!

overall: life is weird and i ended being 23 yesterday with a shitty situation but a positive outlook and i am going to enjoy my first day of being 24 no matter what because honestly i fucking earned it. happy friday everyone, i hope it’s a good day for you and me both!

[freckleslikestars]

I kinda want to do some writing to celebrate getting my tumblr back, but also a whole tonne of shit went down at work tonight and I’m physically and emotionally drained, and my head is starting to hurt.

[irndad]

oh, but you're good to me -s.r.

a/n: i continue to not know the word count- but here's pining!spencer x sunshine!reader!! very hozier coded <3

The team has gone out for drinks after a stressful week, and this is a moment where Spencer finds that his willpower does not so easily overpower his desire. They’d chosen a kind of kitsch place, the kind where there’s couches where waitresses could bring you your drink under dimmed lights and music with cozy acoustic music played. Emily and Morgan were comparing conquests at their trip to the club the week prior, Penelope chiming in with warm support on either end. On the opposite table, Hotch and Rossi were discussing criminology in serious, even tones. 

And Spencer, well. He was well-occupied. 

His best friend is on the team, and he does not say that lightly. She’s earned her place in his heart, as hopelessly romantic as that makes him sound. But she did. He remembers the day he met her, warm tone seeped in patience and understanding. 

He remembers the sight of her like its engraved crystal, carved into the basis of his mind. Her delicate features distinct in their warm kindness. She’d offered her hand, shook it and giggled a sweet sound when he’d said it’d be safer to kiss. He’d blushed enough that his lack of flirtation in his intent was clear. 

On the jet, that first case, she’d listened to him talk about Russian literature and other obscure topics he couldn’t remember now, because now, all he can recall is the color of her doe eyes meeting him in intention. 

He’s pretty sure he’s in love with her. 

Which, right now, feels a bit like a drug- both painful and exhilarating. She’s a cuddly drunk (only with him, it seems) and he’s got a lanky arm tugged over her shoulder. It’s lovely in a way words vex him, the weight of her against him. 

“You look nice today, Spence,” she muses, looking up at him. His heart is going to stop.

“You do too,” he breathes out. This is nice. She’s touchy, and he likes when she touches him. It’s a pleasure, like sipping expensive wine or decadent chocolate, sweet and a little bit sad, because you know you can’t have it forever. 

She plays with his scarf, and he is hopelessly endeared by the sight of the fabric in between her delicate fingers. 

“This color is nice,” she muses, and god,  he wants to kiss her. This a thought Spencer has often, oftentimes at inopportune times. On the jet, in the office, at her house, in the car- always, really. 

Except now, no one’s looking at them. If loving her was enough to make her love him back, then he could. 

But it isn’t. 

He chokes back the emotion rich in his throat. He brushes her hair out of her face, a tender motion that betrays his intentions with her. 

“You always look lovely,” Spencer says earnestly. I love looking at you, he thinks.

She smiles back earnestly and warmly. 

“I didn’t think you noticed things like that.”

“I always do, when it’s you.”

He doesn’t know why this is what he’s allowed to have. She’s so close to him, pinned up against him and he can feel the curve of her waist against his side. He doesn’t get it, why he’s not her boyfriend but he still gets moments like these, where she’s pinned to him like velcro. He’s addicted to them, really- craves the moments where she falls asleep on his lap on the jet, where they’ll be walking together somewhere and she’ll lace their fingers and tug him along when she’s excited and the destination in sight.

Maybe this is just how she touches her best friends- he tries not to question it, because he doesn’t want to loosest. 

But tonight, under the low-light of the bar, shadows of her lashes thrown across the slope of her cheek- he wants to ask her.

“Are you like this with everyone?” He muses. He immediately regrets it, sees her face harden and feels the shift away from him, and the space leaves a gap of cold air. There’s a swoop f nerves in his stomach.

“I don’t know, I think I just thought- you know, we’re like this. We’re touchy, you and me.”

He’s not touchy. Everyone knows this, but she’s the exception to a rule that has held true his entire life. But he loves this, loves the feeling of this.

“I like this,” he says, intentional eye contact trained on her shaking irises. He reaches out and laces their fingers in an act of bravery that rivals some of his most intense moments, “I’m wanting inf you want more of it. Because I do.”

“You do?”

She’s back close to him, now, and he’s so immensely grateful for it. She smells like lilies and her, and this might be the only time he’s brave enough to do something like this. 

It turns out he doesn’t have to, because before he can answer, she kisses him. It happens fast, and his response is all instinct- pulling her into him closer, his hands around her waist and her soft sigh into his mouth that threatens to kill him. It’s better than his fantasies at night could have made him expect. 

“Hi,” she says, barely above a whisper when she pulls away. She looks a little adorably off-guard, in a way he’d like to create- like to instigate. 

“Hi back,” he says, a beaming grin threatening to spread over his face. He tries to memorize the feeling of this, the weight of her in his arms in case this is not something he can keep- he wants to remember it, what it felt like for her to kiss him, to be wanted by her. 

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

“Like out of here? It’s kind of cold outside-“

“On a date, Spencer.”

Instead of a response, Spencer kisses her again. It is absolutely the right choice.

[bigfatbimbo]

any fics of fucking Vox so hard the power completely goes out in the making? i looove what you've written for him already, would be really cool if the glitches were visible in the writing too!!

warnings — Pegging, small use of ‘mommy’, Vox being a whiny bitch

summary — Vox takes it in the ass so hard Hell has a power shortage because he’s just a whore like that.

a/n — OMG I LITERALLY LOVE THIS !! god any excuse to write Vox getting absolutely wrecked is a YES.

“Fuck,” Vox’s back arched and his hands went to grip the top of his screen, “Fuck ju—zzs—st like that.”

His voice buffered as you pushed your strap deeper into him. He was on his back with his legs wrapped around your torso so your plastic dick would have easy access to his ass.

You had to hold your hands on his chest to keep him from squirming too much.

“Needy tonight, aren’t we, Vox?” you snickered  as you moved the strap inside him.

“God, fuu—ck you, bi—tcc—tch,” he hissed before you cut him off by aggressively forcing pushing deeper into him.

He yelped and moaned, throwing his head back on the pillow.

“You’re in no position to be saying that, sweetheart,” you start moving the strap faster and rougher.

He let out a glitched out whine and stared up at you with pure hatred, and desperate arousal.

Your hands that rested on his hips now dug into him hard enough to break skin.

“A—ah,” he whined, “What’s wr—oo—ong with you? S—slow down.” he whined at how rough you were being but then followed it up with a long drawn out moan.

“Aw baby,” you leaned down and caressed his screen, “Your going to have to learn to be nicer if you want me to slow down. For now you’ll just have to take my cock like the slut you are.” 

He surprised himself by whining at your harsh words. Your fingers glided down and brushed over his nipples. He then shocked himself even further with the fact that, despite this humiliating position, he arched into your touch, craving any and all attention he can get from you.

You noticed how desperate he was, and smirked. He looked pathetic, sweaty and panting, covered in markings from your teeth, and looking up at you with a dark clouded expression, waiting to see what you do next.

To his delight, you continued to roughly ram into him, going at a rapid pace, nails once again digging into his hips.

“ohmygodohmygodoh—tsk tsk,” he moaned loudly as his hands clung to the sheets. At this point he couldn’t get one sentence out before glitching.

“Wow, look at you” you remark, rolling your hips, “what a little attention whore you are.” 

He whined and threw his head back. At this point, there was a low static-y humming coming from him. 

“‘m not—bzz— ‘m not a whore,” his protests were weak at this point. If he wasn’t being interrupted by malfunctioning mid-sentence, he was being cut off by his own whimpers.

“Oh, but you are, sweetheart. Only a whore would be taking mommy’s cock so good,” you coo down at him.

The implication that he was doing good, especially because that meant approval from you, made his brain feel funny.

“See?” your hands move up from his hips and caress the sides of his screen, “your so pretty when you don’t argue with me, baby.” 

Oh, that did something to him. He wasn’t around a lot of positive people, so the idea that your attention could be shown with something as kind as praise, made his throat tighten.

His moans turned into choked out broken sobs and all the brattiness from earlier drained out of him. You were sure that if he had tear ducts, he would be crying right now.

You hammered into him harder than ever, leaning over him to occasionally pepper kisses on his neck and screen. 

“Nngh— mommy ‘m— bzz— ‘m sorry,” he moaned out, slinking his arms around your neck, trying desperately to bring you closer to him. To make sure he was the only thing catching your attention at the moment.

Your hips rolled fast and rough inside him, and he could feel his climax approaching. 

“Sorry for— wait, you’re sorry?” You were sure you knew what he was talking about, his attitude earlier. Still, for a moment you were thrown off by the idea that this cocky, power-hungry asshole was apologizing unprompted to you. 

After a moments consideration, you came to the conclusion that he must have been slowly easing into subspace. He was probably apologizing because he wanted you to, what, praise him?

All though it seemed slightly out of character for the usually pretentious, bratty man, his half lidded desperate eyes seemed to convince you. 

Your grip on his hips once again tightened as you drilled into him, rougher than before.

“You’re so perfect, baby,” you panted, earning a loud whimper. His arms tightened around your neck and his nails started to dig into the skin of your back.

“So good for me, taking mommy’s cock so well, looking so pretty for me too.”

He whined loudly and the frequency coming from his head started to get louder. You were ramming into him with such concentration that you didn’t notice the lights started to flicker around you.

“c—ccl—close—,” he tried to speak but only uttering a glitched out moan. Luckily, you picked up on what he was trying to say.

“Of course, sweetheart, whenever you want,” you said, rolling your hips once more to make his orgasm even more pleasurable.

“So good for me, Vox, apologizing for being a brat, telling me when your about to cum,” you speak softly into his ear, except you don’t think he comprehends a thing except for ‘so good for me.’

He let out a choked pathetic sob and whined for more. His audio was glitching out more than ever, making him almost unintelligible.

Now the flickering of the lights around you was undeniable, even producing a low buzzing sound reminiscent of the one Vox’s head was currently making.

“So perfect, my pretty baby, ‘m so lucky to have such a good boy.”

All of the praise sent him over the edge. With one loud moan, he came.

But in a moment, the buzzing light bulb beside you exploded, and all the illuminated buildings outside your window went dark, causing a full blackout all across the city.

Vox was still clinging to your neck, breathless, panting against you. 

“Shit. Was that, like, too much, Vox?” you ask, clearly concerned as you go to pull out of him.

He pulls back slightly from your neck but stops you from moving your strap out of him. 

“Please— tsk tsk,” he breathes, still buffering slightly, “Please more.”

a/n — I was too nice to him at the end of this fix but DONT WORRY GUYS I got another sub!Vox request that will literally destroy him

also, i saw someone say that since vox is around so many toxic people, an actual compliment would fuck with him super hard.

so as you can see i agree with them

[rafeandonlyrafe]

mexico

words: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, soft!rafe, established relationship, overbearing/annoying parents, proposal, marriage talk

“and why would i not want to come?” rafe questions, a soft smile on his face as he looks over to you.

“my family can be… a lot sometimes. i wouldn't blame you if you couldn't be around them for a whole two weeks.” you explain softly.

“but then i would have to be away from you for two whole weeks.” rafe hums. “i can put up with them if it means being with you.”

“stop it.” you whine out. “you're gonna make me all blushy.”

“i love how easily i get you all flustered.” rafe laughs, pulling you onto his lap.

you've purposely only let rafe around your parents in small doses. they can be overwhelming, intense, and if they get on your nerves, they'll certainly get on rafes.

rafe holds you closer to his chest, his mouth finding yours. you allow him to kiss you for a minute before you pull away, much to rafes dismay as he frowns.

“okay, so to prepare you for them-”

“kiss first.” rafe interrupts. “prepare later.”

you can't argue with that logic.

--

“rafe, did you remember your socks and underwear?”

“mom!” you gasp. “he's a grown man, oh my god. you don't need to announce that in a crowded airport.” you hiss out the last part, a warning against any of her antics, not that it does anything to dull her.

“oh, relax sweetie.” she laughs. “i just don't want your boyfriend to have to get to mexico only to have to buy a pack of undies.”

“oh my god.” you grab rafe, pulling him a bit farther away from your parents, hopefully meaning they won't talk to either of you as much. “im so sorry about them.”

“hey, it's fine.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head. “just think about mexico. we're going to get there and lay out on the beach just the two of us. ill take you shopping and we'll spend all our money on tourist traps.”

“yeah, when my dad isn't forcing us to go to museums or cultural sites and my mom isn't snapping 1,000 pictures of us.” you look over at your parents only to realize your mom is taking a picture of you at this very moment.

your groan is drowned out by rafes laughter.

--

“mama, we are going out to the beach!” you call.

“oh, goodness!” she quickly rushes into the living room, the back patio opening up right onto the sand.

“be back in time for dinner, dears!” she says, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen and adding it to your bag.

“we'll be just outside, mom.” you say, allowing her to kiss both your cheeks. despite finding your parents overwhelming at times, you love them and know they love you too.

“rafe, she burns easily. make sure you reapply for her.” your mom says, pressing a kiss to his cheek as well.

“yes ma'am.” rafe nods.

you make your way outside before she can say anything else, walking until you're closer to shore.

“let me know when you need more sunscreen.” rafe smirks at you as you both lay out towels. “im always down to get my hands on your body.” 

“perv.” you laugh, making rafe growl and reach over to tickle your sides, ending up lying on the same towel in a heap.

--

your hand in rafes is the biggest solace as your dad continues on about the history of the town, deigning himself an honorary tour guide.

“sorry about this.” you squeeze rafes hand. it was interesting at first, but now that you're on the third hour of explanation about the architecture of one building or how the streets were made, it's becoming boring and manatonis.

“no problem.” rafe hums. “seriously you gotta stop apologizing, baby. your parents aren't that bad, plus, they made you, so i kinda have to thank them for that.”

“oh you're so sweet.” you whine, leaning in to turn your voice into a whisper. “you are absolutely getting laid tonight.”

“and you are absolutely getting treated to a beautiful and private dinner. i already talked to your mom about it. she called me a little romantic.” rafe smirks.

--

“you are a little romantic.” you giggle, reaching across the table to hold rafes hand, the flame of the candle flickering in between the two of you, appetizers and entrees finished, waiting for a dessert to split to be brought out to you.

“have to tell your mom she was right.” 

“hopefully they're asleep when we get back.” you can't help the smirk that stretches over your cheeks.

“oh, you are desperate for it, huh?” rafe laughs, sitting back as the waiter brings you out a chocolate cake dripping in fudge.

“it's been like four whole days, of course im desperate.”

--

“oh fuck.” you whisper, head tilted back against the sheets, rafe between your legs, thrusting mercilessly inside of you.

“god, you're so warm.” rafe hums out, burying his cock inside of you repeatedly.

“to-touch me.” you whine out, rafe instantly knowing what you're really asking for. “i need it.”

rafe drops his hand to your clit, rubbing it as he feels you pulsing around him as your high builds.

“nice and tight for me baby. and so wet.” rafe hums out, struggling to keep his voice low since your parents are asleep not far away.

“gonna cum- rafe!” you let out a gasp. “gonna cum, please.”

rafe moves as fast as his tired legs will allow, wishing he wasn't so worn out from the very long walk around the city with your father.

he makes up for his lack of pace with his thumb on your clit, rubbing and flicking over your bud until your high breaks.

your back arches off the bed with a moan as you cum probably a little too loud, rafe releasing inside of you only a moment later with a moan of his own.

--

“some mama and me time would be nice.” you smile, looking at the spa package your mom laid out in front of you.

“mhm. and your dad has something planned for him and rafe.” she says, looking over to your boyfriend.

“are you okay with that?” you ask, looking over at him as he eats his bacon.

“sure.” he nods. “would be nice to get to know him. one on one, ya know.”

--

“where are we going?” rafe questions, looking out the taxi window as it takes him further into the city.

“a shop.” your father just hums out, leaving it at that.

“okay.” rafe allows the silence to settle until they reach the store. he understands exactly why he's been brought here as he sees the storefront, advertising glittering bracelets and diamond rings.

“sir, i should let you know-” rafe clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to pull out the velvet box. “i already have what i think you brought me here to influence me to buy.”

your father's eyebrows raise in surprise as rafe continues.

“i haven't asked your permission yet, but i know i want to marry your daughter. i love her very much.”

“we would be honored to have you become part of our family, son.” your dad says, clearing his throat as tears well in his eyes.

--

“last night.” you hum, looking out onto the the water, the moonlight glittering over the waves.

“actually-” rafe smiles, tucking you further into his side. “we are extending our trip by a week. your parents are going home, though.”

“really?” your eyes widen.

“they insisted, actually.” he chuckles. “on one condition.”

“what's the condition?” you question as rafe sinks to his knees pulling out a box.

“that you say yes.”

[reidrum]

wine or wine not | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: i think i love writing buildup to smut than actual smut, but i hope you guys like this lmk what you think. this was requested with the prompts "look at me when you come on my fingers" and "muttering compliments kissing down their body" and it was so much fun to write aaaaahh, my requests are open so please send more!!! guidelines in pinned <3

summary: you're hopelessly pining after spencer at a rossi party, and when you run into him in the kitchen when you're getting a refill and he asks if you want to explore the mansion with him, who are you to say no?

cw: 18+ minors dni pls, fingering, p in v, nipple play, soft!dom!spence, spencer being ridiculously hot its criminal, ooc penelope but it was for the plot, pining idiots, wine cellar sex wine cellar sex wine cellar sex, public sex, morgan and prentiss being dumb, rossi being a smug lil shit, a dumb ass title sorry i didn't know what else to name it lol

wc: 4.1k

★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★

these days rossi was always finding some reason to throw a party at his mansion. you’re not exactly sure what it was tonight, a birthday? an anniversary? regardless, you and the team appreciated the excuse to unwind, dress up, and have non murder related fun.

the sun is setting over the rolling hills the mansion is perched on, and you’re sat at a table with the girls— penelope, jj, and emily discussing penelope’s latest dating escapade. you’re trying hard to pay attention, you really are, but it proves to be difficult when you’re focused on the man showing magic tricks to the kids across the room.

you look on yearnfully as spencer pulls a coin from jack’s ear, all the kids are laughing and cheering and he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hellooo?” penelope waves a hand in front of you dramatically, “i’m getting to the good part and you’re off in space!”

you jolt back to the present, “sorry pen, i’m listening i promise. so he shows up to your door with maple syrup and feathers?”

“YES, anyways so then he’s like i have a proposition for you…” penelope continues her story but you can’t help but zone out again. your eyes drift back to boy genius as he finishes another trick for little henry before rising up to his full height. it’s in that moment his eyes meet yours and softens as he offers you a small wave. 

you return the gesture back which causes the girls at your table to look in the same direction and they come to a glaring conclusion too quickly.

“ah, that’s why you’re not paying attention. too busy ogling mr. houdini over there.” jj remarks.

“i am not!” you scoff.

“oh you so are,” emily says, “when are you going to let yourself feel your heart’s full content.”

“first of all, i can’t stand you. second of all, it’s not worth it. he would never feel the same about me.” you say as emily rolls her eyes.

this time penelope interjected, “oh don’t be so cynical. you haven’t even tried how could you even know?”

but you did know. it’s not that spencer didn’t like you, he treated you the same as any team member, but that was just it. you wanted him to see you as more. during cases you would try to impress him or make breakthroughs in the hopes he would tell you ‘good job’. a couple times you brought him coffee when you got yours, just to hear him say your name and thanks. work conversations rarely seemed to move past small talk, but you’re a little sure that’s on your part because he just made you so nervous. and like, he’s a profiler. so you’re sure to some degree he knows how you feel, and it just makes you regress into your safe hole even further because you think he’s being nice by not acknowledging it and saving you the embarrassment.

the girls knew about your harbored crush for a month now, since the last bau drinks night you got a little too truthful during truth or dare. you were much younger in comparison to your colleagues, so they offered their sympathies at your unrequited love and tried to get you to come out more and let loose.

which is one of the reasons you’re sitting in rossi’s living room, wine glass in hand, as morgan recounts the craziest date hes ever been on. the other reason, which you wouldn’t admit to anyone, was so you could admire your (not) lover from an acceptable distance and not risk embarrassing yourself.

so here you are, two glasses deep, rising up from your spot on the floor telling everyone you’re going to get a refill. your heels click against the hardwood floors all the way to the kitchen where you just so luckily run into the (your) man of the hour.

“hi.”

you were looking down at your feet as you walked to the kitchen, your head snapping up to meet the voice, “hi spencer.” you said softly.

“if you’re looking for more wine, i think emily just grabbed the last bottle,” you must have outwardly deflated as he continued, “that bad out there?”

“only so much wine can get me through penelope’s sexcapades and derek’s crazy one night stands.” you joke.

he chuckles back, “oh i know, why do you think i’m hiding out in here?”

you laugh again before an uncomfortable yet strangely comfortable silence falls between you both. unknowingly you both take turns gazing at each other, indexing the others features as if this moment would be the only chance you got.

you’re about to take your loss and leave when spencer speaks up again, “you know, i wouldn’t put it past rossi to have a secret wine cellar somewhere.”

“honestly, you’re probably right. what kind of italian just runs out of wine.”

spencer pauses slightly before saying, “do you want to see if we can find it?”

you look at his eyes again and catch a glint of mischief? concern that you’re wine-less? whatever it is, you take the bait.

“i’m game.”

—

rossi’s mansion was humongous. it was well known that he was loaded from his years in the bureau and multiple book deals, but holy shit, the rooms just seemed never ending, and none of them were a wine cellar.

“i don’t know spence, i'm starting to lose hope, and debating to revoke rossi’s italian card.”

you’re both in one of the many studies and are about to leave to find another room, when spencer notices a smaller door next to the study. he slowly opens it and peaks inside to find a descending wooden staircase. he looks at you with a smirk, “i think we just found it.”

he holds the door open and gestures you to enter first, following shortly behind you as he shuts the door. he makes sure to check that it’ll still open even after it’s shut, and you both relax a little seeing it still unlock. you move down the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying you don’t trip over your heels and fall to an embarrassing demise.

spencer descends a step behind you, trying so hard not to let his eyes wander down your bare back to the curve of your hips. once he steps off you both go in opposite directions to explore. you take in the vast amount of shelves and wine racks, taking note of how it seems to be separated by year and by type. running your fingers over the labels, you’re intrigued by a shelf with the year you were born, and pause in front of it. you reach up to a shelf that is just a smidge taller than you, hoping to grab the neck of an old wine bottle.

even in your heels you’re struggling, attempting little hops to try and reach. you’re about to give up when you feel a warm hand on your right hip, while an outstretched arm on your left seamlessly grabs the bottle and brings it down to you, “careful sweetheart, don’t wanna break that pretty head of yours.” spencer says lowly.

excuse me, what the fuck did he just say.

you inspect the bottle he so kindly brought down for you, but it’s a futile effort. you can’t even remember why you wanted to see it. all you can think about is your hands clamming up, sending threats to the wine bottle it’s holding. your mind is fogging up fast, and you’re trying to order your brain to say something instead of going mute while he’s still an inch behind you. with his hand on your hip still.

“oh god,” you start shakily, “you scared me spence.” you angle your body to the left so you can attempt to show how unbothered you are and look at his face.

good save (not).

he’s staring down at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret from you. his eyes are intently focused on you when he speaks again, “just didn’t want you to get hurt. s’all.”

with his close proximity, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating through both of your chests, hell it was so loud they could probably hear it upstairs. he’s still got you caged in front of him when he continues, “any particular reason for this bottle?”

“yeah no, i just, wanted to see what bottles of wine he had from the year i was born.” you answer, watching as spencer moves back to give you space when you turn to face him.

he nods, “did you know that wine is associated with the greek god dionysus?”

“no i didn’t, actually.”

“it’s really interesting,” he moves forward a tiny inch, “they call him the patron god of wine, but a lot of people often forget that he’s also the god of fertility and ecstasy.”

oh. “ecstasy?” you whisper confusingly.

“yes, he believes when you drink wine it gives you emotional and physical pleasure.”

“how does that even work?” you nervously laugh.

spencer reaches his arm above your head, never breaking eye contact, and grabs two wine glasses by their stems, “you wanna find out?”

with only so many words, you give another nod. he uncorks the bottle with ease and pours out two glasses, with his having a little less than yours, most likely due to his slow but steady return to drinking casually. clinking your glasses, you take a big gulp hoping it’ll satiate the building nerves. but you’re watching the way his fingers wrap around the glass, his veiny hand showing prominently and you’re unable to focus on anything else.

“you know, i’ve been running something of an observation the last few months.”

you take another small sip, starting to feel less nervous, “oh yeah, what about?”

“you.”

it took everything in you not to spit your drink out all over his suit. 

“me?”

he nods after another sip, “i’ve been watching you, and not in a creepy way i swear. but i’ve been keeping track of your habits; how you take your coffee, your tells when a case gets too much, things like that,”

that didn’t seem overtly terrible to you, you knew spencer was an observer of his environment, always seeking out patterns to aid his predictions. you’re about to speak when he cuts you off.

“i’ve also been noticing how you seem to change, when i’m in your presence.”

you feel like the sweat and nerves are just oozing out of you at this point, and he continues his verbal taunt.

“i’ve seen your breathing rate get faster,” he moves a step forward, “how your cheeks rise with the faintest red, kind of like right now,” another step forward, “and how you try to avoid looking directly at me because you think i’ll find out everything if you do.”

the room has to be at least a thousand degrees at this point, heart beating so fast it’s probably gone to the moon, and your brain just unable to have any coherent thoughts at the realization that maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

he takes one final step to close the gap between you and delicately places two fingers on the pulse point of your neck, “i couldn’t figure out your heart rate from afar,” he pauses to count, “but now that i know it, i can come to my conclusion.”

the air in your lungs has all but escaped, nowhere to be found. “and wh- what is your conclusion d- doctor reid?” your voice betraying you by dripping with anticipation.

“that i make you nervous. do you agree? do i make you nervous?” he says while you feel the hot breath of his whispers ghosting on your lips.

your mouth opens to say something and then shuts, because what the hell are you supposed to say? any and all logic has left the room, but the last working neuron works to make an unthinkable conclusion of your own. there is no way.

spencer moves his fingers to grip your chin between them, guiding your face to look directly into his copper eyes, “i asked you a question angel, do i make you nervous?”

you’re cornered, “y- yes.”

“why’s that?”

“spencer..”

“is it because you’re thinking of me the same way i think i about you?” his thumb starts tracing the outline of your lower jaw. he’s pressed right up against your chest, his other arm covertly moving to snake around your waist. the way you lean in subconsciously towards him, paired with your silence is all the confirmation he needs.

the pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, dragging it downwards a little. there’s a hitch in his breath when his eyes flicker from your lips back up to meet your eyes again. he quietly mumbles, “can i?”

your eyes widen slightly, relishing in the way his arms are holding you firm and steady. this was about to really happen. you’d been pining after him all this time, believing you were destined for unrequited love. but as spencer stands in front of you, looking at you as if he’d been poisoned and the only antidote is your lips, you can’t help but wonder if there’s been a similar weight on his side that’s been holding him back too.

so you nod once again, and trust your voice this time, 

“yes.”

you’re fully expecting him to go into it full force, and kiss you like a man starved. but he lets the premonition bubble for a little longer as he so agonizingly leans down and closes the gap, teasing you with the ghost of his lips on yours without making contact. he waits a moment, and just as he predicted your subconscious betrays you again and you impatiently lean up in an attempt to meet your lips together. spencer can’t help but smile before he softly pressed himself against you.

the feeling of his mouth on yours is something you can only describe as cosmic, like a star exploding into a supernova, emitting a powerful and luminous show of energy. it’s all consuming, the light reaching every neuronal end of your body and electrifying it ten times over. your hands reach up to tangle in his curly hair and he lets out the faintest whimper, spurring you on to grab it more earnestly.

spencer loses all restraint. his hands begin furiously mapping out your body, running up and down your back, reaching down to grasp a handful of your ass. he moves his hands down further to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you to sit on the counter behind you. spencer slots himself between your legs and continues kissing you, his mouth marking a hot trail to your neck as he mutters between, “is this okay?”

“please don’t stop.” you moan softly.

his fingers move to deftly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulder, mirroring the movement on the other side while continuing to work his down your neck. he slides the dress far enough down to expose your chest, immediately taking the swollen nub into mouth and running circles around it with his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp at the sudden warmth, whimpers leaving your throat. he repeats the motion to the other one as you cradle his head closer in an attempt to keep him there, as if spencer had any plans of leaving.

he moves his mouth back up to meet yours again, in a lust filled attack sending shock waves straight to your core. you move your fingers to work the buttons of his dress shirt and spencer moves his hand further south and under the hem of your dress, something you don’t notice until his thumbs are rubbing circles onto the plush of your inner thighs. it makes you falter on his last button as he pushes your legs farther apart,  inches closer to where you desperately need him.

spencer looks directly into your eyes as his thumbs reach up to hook onto the side of your panties and slowly move them down your legs. he groans outwardly at the resistance caused by your slickness, “all this for me, baby?”

you’re rendered speechless watching spencer and his ministrations but he continues, “you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?” his fingers are less than an inch away from your cunt, “i see you walk around the office in those tight pants, your hair and makeup all done, and those blouses jesus,” he reaches your entrance and dives in to collect your wetness, you brokenly moan as he begins to spread it all over. “couldn’t tell if you hated me for the longest time.”

“c- could never hate you.” you whine.

“i know baby,” he slides his middle finger into your hole, “just imagine the fun we could’ve had if we figured this out earlier. but it’s okay, we have all the time now.” he sets a steady rhythm before inserting his ring finger, actively working you towards a barreling orgasm.

“spencer, fuck, oh god.”

“you’re so fucking wet, bet you’re gonna come soon, right? gonna make a mess on my hand?” he baited.

you’re in shambles, one hand deathly squeezing onto one shoulder the other turning white from the grip you held on the counter. the moans won’t stop falling out of you, he works his fingers so skillfully within you it’s impossible to hold any resolve when he curves upwards and hits that spot.

your head tilts back, reeling from the intense pressure coil building inside you, the peak about to hit you any moment now. spencer uses his free hand to move your head back down, “look at me when you come on my fingers.”

that was all it took for the white hot to ravage through you, engulfing every sense and leaving you breathless. he continues moving his fingers through your orgasm, watching as you come back down to him. you don’t waste a second reaching for his belt to unfasten it, slipping your hand down to palm him through his boxers. he moans in your ear as he feels you slip inside, your small hand moving up and down, and getting impossibly harder when you take your hand back up to spit on it to then return to your movements.

you take the moment to lean into his neck and leave bites of your own, finding his sweet spot right behind his ear and sucking hard. spencer’s hands have taken a spot on your lower back beneath your dress, pressing so hard with his fingertips you know there’ll be evidence of this night tomorrow.

“spence..” you mutter in the crook in the neck.

“yeah baby?” he whispers back.

“can you fuck me now?”

he preens at your boldness, and wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down enough to fully free himself. he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter before pulling his length out and giving it a few strokes. he lets it glide between your folds, gathering your wetness as lubricant as it hits your clit. both of you are panting hard realizing the anticipation has led to this moment. spencer positions himself at your entrance, never breaking eye contact with you, and watches your face drop into a perfect ‘oh’ as he pushes in.

spencer is absolutely wrecked as he hears your breathing pick up, reveling in the vice grip your cunt has on him. you’re no better above him as you’ve broken eye contact to stare at where the two of you connect, watching as he disappears into you and the feeling of being so full overtakes you and you’re letting out soft expletives. he bottoms out and stalls for a minute, waiting for you to signal that you’re okay for him to move. in the time he’s waiting, he takes a moment to really look at your face, how absolutely ruined you look, your cheeks are deeply flushed, hair flying in every direction, and he can’t help but tell you, “you look so pretty.”

your eyes soften as you gaze back at him and nod slightly, and he pulls back all the way to ease in again experimentally. once he hears you moan out loud at the movement, and feels you tighten even more around his cock, he loses any and all restraint he’d been holding onto this entire night.

his hips pick up the pace in harsh snaps to your core, sending ripples of pleasure all over you. your arms are wrapped around his neck attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you, “spencer…fuck…” you drawl with a whine.

“i got you baby, gonna take good care of you, promise,” he says back in between grunts. the sentiment causes you to squeeze on his cock again as he attempts to continue, “if you keep…fuck…keep squeezing me like that i’m n- not gonna last long.”

one hand in his hair and the other leaving dark red scratches on his back, you feel your second orgasm of the night hastily creep up on you. he can tell you’re close and quickens his pace as he thumbs your clit. you moan his name out once more before reaching your peak, feeling like your body is on fire as he continues to fuck you through it. 

spencer feels his own release building up, “wh- where should i..?”

“inside, i’m on the pill just please come inside me.”

it was more than enough for spencer’s movements to stutter as he released his hot load in you, groaning out loud as he finished.

he slows to a half, still hilted inside of you but softening post orgasm. you’re both breathing heavily as you look up at each other and take in the other’s fucked out faces. spencer presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his own on it, “that was..”

“intense,” he quirks his eyebrows at you, “in a really really good way.” you add quickly.

he smiles down at you, “i wasn’t kidding, what i said earlier. i think about you an embarrassingly high amount each day. i’d love to take you out and make this a real thing.”

“yeah?” you gape incredulously, “thought i was the one embarrassing myself if you were able to notice all those things i did when you were near me.”

he laughs, “no, no it was endearing, definitely made it easier to be as forward as i was tonight knowing you wouldn’t freak out.”

you’re about to respond when you hear the door to the cellar open, you’re both hidden from view but know it’s only a matter of seconds before someone catches you. you both look at each other in panic as spencer pulls out of you, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants. you grab your panties from the floor and begin to pull them up your legs when he notices his come dripping down your thighs. he swiftly gathers the release on his fingers and shoves it back inside you, causing you to let out a near pornographic moan as he pulls up your underwear all the way.

“did you guys hear that?” a voice sounding like emily said.

“see this is why i don’t do big houses like this, too many creepy ass noises.” morgan.

“mansion,” rossi corrects, “and for a couple of profilers, you both are stupid if you don’t know what that sound was.”

your eyes widen to match spencer’s, you’ve been caught.

“was it a mouse or something?”

“no more like, bunnies,” he joked with an innuendo, “come on, i found the bottle i was looking for, let the bunnies do their thing so they can leave and go home to do whatever it is bunnies do.”

“you’re a weird old man david…” emily muttered.

the door closes and you both let out a big breath, and burst into a fit of laughter, “how the hell are we gonna show our faces to him on monday?” you whine.

“that is a monday us problem,” he starts, “but right now, i think it’s time for me to take you home.” he winks.

two stuffed bunnies show up on yours and spencer’s desk on monday. you’re both redder than a tomato as rossi chuckles when he walks by. prentiss and morgan are still confused.

[silken-moonlight]

Double Trouble (Nsfw) | Werewolf best friend x Vampire boyfriend x You

A/N: Its based on this post. So glad to be back tonight with this little fun piece. I love doing stuff like this and I hope you like it as much as I love writing it! - Swan/Moon

Spending time with your boyfriend and your best friend has always been somewhat difficult. Your boyfriend is a vampire, and your best friend is a werewolf. Trouble is guaranteed at some point, especially since your boyfriend, despite his long life, is self-conscious. He needs a lot of reassurance throughout the day and even more so in the bedroom. Your best friend, however, a tall and very attractive werewolf, is the polar opposite. He is incredibly confident, aware that he is good in bed, and flirty to the ends of the earth. Flirting with you like there was no tomorrow, smacking your ass or doing something stupid like moaning when your boyfriend called you.

They kind of hated each other, or so you thought. Just now, you came home and were greeted by the two of them, who looked at you mischievously. You didn't even expect them to be in your flat, especially not together. You had just come back from the bookstore and had gotten some iced coffee on the way back..

“Hey guys,” you greeted them. “Hey, sweetheart, how was your trip?” your boyfriend asked and strode over to you, kissing you deeply and passionately. You were surprised by this, since he rarely showed such affection in front of your best friend. You smiled, enjoying his sudden display of affection. Your curiosity, however, won out and you had to ask, “What are you guys up to? I didn’t know you would come over.” You asked. Your best friend grinned. “Oh, Count Dracula and I talked about our feelings and are friends now.” Your best friend always teased your boyfriend with the nickname ‘Count Dracula’. "Oh, you did?” you asked excitedly and happily. You would love for the two of them to get along and not constantly fight. Your boyfriend chuckled, “Something like that…You see, my beloved, he and I just want the very best for you. You’re always so sad when we fight, so we decided to make you…happy and be together.” He crooned and suddenly your best friend was behind you. “What do you say, baby?” your werewolf best friend asked you with his typical wolfish grin. You looked back and forth between them, your heartbeat quickening and a flush becoming visible on your face.

“You…you mean…?” You reassured me, you always wanted to have a threesome, maybe this was your chance. “Yes, we want to satisfy you together, make you see stars, little love.” Your boyfriend almost purred and kissed you. You closed your eyes, enjoying the passionate kiss you two shared. Suddenly you were pulled away, your best friend wanted to kiss you too. His lips caught yours, hands were on your hips and waist, feeling their way up and down. They pulled down your summer dress, leaving you in your underwear. Suddenly you were lifted up by your boyfriend, him rushing you into the bedroom. Your best friend trailed close behind. You only had a moment to breathe before they were on you together. You laid on your back, your boyfriend was behind you and his lips caressed your neck. He sucked hickeys onto your neck, marking you and fidgeting with your bra. Arousal began to for between your legs, this whole situation was utterly erotic.

Your best friend kneeled between your legs, watching you too. His hands found your panties and he dragged them down. “Gods you smell amazing.” He growled and kissed up your ankle, calf and thigh. You gasoedm watched him as your boyfriend began to massage and grope your breats. Your nipples stiffend at the attention, waiting to be played with. Your boyfriend stopped and grabbed the head of your best friend:”Stop teasing her and start pleasuring her.” Before pressing your best friends face into your pussy. Immediatly your werewolf best friend began to lick and lap at your pussy. Your lips parted as moans spilled out. You grinded slightly on his face, feeling so good at the attention. “Do you feel good?” Your boyfriend asked and you nodded, he grinned and leaned down to suck on your nipples. His other hand ravished your free nipple, teasing and twisting it. You whimpered, whined, moaned… Your best friends fingers teased your entrance before he sunk one finger in you. You arched your back, closing your eyes as he fingered your firstly with one and then adding a second finger.

“Does he do it better than me?” Your boyfriend asked. Such a mean question:”No, the same…” Were you able to say. Your boyfriend chuckled and returned to caress your breasts. Your best friend looked up at you: “Oh come on, you can say if I am better.” You shook your head and moaned when he added a third finger. “I’m close…!” You whined and shivered slightly. The mouth and fingers in and on your pussy as well as the thorough dedication to your sensitive nipples brought you to your first orgasm. “Such a good girl, cum for us.” Your best friend said, you came all over his face.

Then they changed positions, the whole thing starting anew. “oh gods…” You said when your boyfriend kissed your sensitive pussy tenderly. You had time for one breath before his tongue fully develed into your cunt. You threw your head back. Your best friend chuckled and kissed you. You tasted yourself on his lips. His hands also teased your nipples. He kissed down to your erect nipples. They were already sensitive and he assaulted them with his skilled mouth and hot tongue. You moaned, writhing in pleasure and trying to close your legs. Your boyfriend held your legs apart, making room for himself to fuck you properly with his mouth. His fingers joined the came, through routine he curled his fingers directly into your g-spot, making you see stars and jolting up. You whined: “Cumming!” Before you came all over his face as well. Your werewolf best friend growled something about it being unfair. you could feel his cock rubbing against your back and see how hard your boyfriend was too. “Who was better sweetheart?” He tried to coax out of you, but you refused to answer. “Well then we have to continue.” He said with a grin. Once again his fingers delved into your cunt, abusing the sweet spot that made you see stars, shortly making you cum a second time. You whimpered and held onto your best friend for support, not even able to tell them you were reaching your orgasm again. “Such a good girl.” Your best friend crooned before he reached between your thighs, he was now to finger you. Firstly he rubbed your swollen clit, making you jolt up, but your boyfriend lent him a hand and held you down. You were loving every second of this, you were overstimulated but didn’t want it to stop.

His fingers rubbed circles over your clit, making you moan softly. He did that faster and faster, until you loudly came from his hand action, leaving you trembling. It had become a competition for them, and both of them were eager to win. They kissed your body all over, marking, sucking and biting. So many sensations you sometimes didn’t know who was doing what.

“Show me if its true, that wolves fuck the best.” Your boyfriend said to your best friend. The werewolf chuckled and quickly undressed himself. Your eyes went wide when you saw his dick for the first time, you reached out. Wanting to jerk him off a little, but your best friend scolded: “No baby, let us pleasure you.” Before he stroked himself a few times. He repositioned you into doggy style, ass up and face down. He rubbed his tip ud and down your slit. His precum mixed with your slick before he slowly and carefully sunk fully into you. You whined and moaned, feeling so full by his cock. After a short moment he began to move, his slow thrusts turned into a mad pounding. Tacking you like a wild animal. his cock was rubbing in all the right areas, making you tremble and push your back through. “Fuck!” You screamed and held onto your boyfriend who stroked your hair and praised you. Your best friend and you came together. He creampied you and you sank down onto the bed. But there was no break for you as your boyfriend turned you around on your back. Gently he sunk his cock into you, placing one of your legs over his shoulder. It was his favourite position. His hand found your clit, rubbing it while he thrusted in slow and hard thrusts. The cum of your best friend oozed out of your pussy, making a lewd squelching sound. “Such a good girl, letting us settle our fight over you by fucking you…” He praised you. “Maybe we should tag team her more often together. I mean look at her.” Your best friend said. “Dream on, wolf.” Your boyfriend said. You whined, wanting them to stop fighting. Instead your best friend said: Quit it and fuck her harder.” Your boyfriend obeyed, fucking you faster and harder. You whined and shivered. Coaxing another orgasm out of you. He spilled his seed inside of you, but you knew he was still hard.

Just when you thought it was over, they decided for something else. “Lets fuck her togehter.” Your best friend suggested, your boyfriend agreeing. “I think she deserves to cum out of her mind, I mean she has been our plaything and deserves at least one more orgasm. You whined, feeling like jelly. They lifted you up, using the combined cum and your slick as lube. You had done some anal stuff with your boyfriend before. Your best friend lubed up his cock with it and gently took you from behind while your boyfriend took your pussy. They held you up in the air, your feet not reaching the ground. You held onto them for dear life. “Please…” You pleaded, not even knowing what you were pleading for. They began to move. They synced their movements, you saw stars, it felt so good. Their big cocks rubbed the right places, a hand was at your clit rubbing it and you could feel your boyfriend bite your neck. While he sucked your blood both of them fucked you like their life depended on it. Grabbing your hips, surely leaving bruises, making you cum and fucking you through it to a far bigger orgasm.

They moaned, held onto you and when they came you saw black for a moment. You screamed your pleasure out, overstimulated, fucked out of your mind, happy. Their cocks left your holes, making you feel empty. You whined and they gently placed you on the bed. They got some water for you and cleaned you up with a towel. You were so fucked out that you let them pamper you, you whined until they finally came to bed to cuddle you.

Maybe they could be friends, at least when it comes to pleasuring you…

Taglist: @kyoko-neko

Divider Credit: @thecutestgrotto

[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

cinnamon girl // theodore nott x fem reader

"violet blue green red to keep me at arms length dont work"

playlist : cinnamon girl - lana del rey

summary : everyone knows you have a crush on theo , even he knows! so when you randomly start avoiding him one day , theodore cant help but go crazy.

sunshine reader , y/n used , hufflepuff reader

masterlist

"theo!" you called out happily , running to the boys side and catching his wrist to stop his strides down the corridor, "hi, ive been meaning to talk to you!".

he looked at you , seeming displeased and just grunted in response , turning away and not even looking at your smiling face that admired him so softly.

"so you have a match on saturday and i was just wondering wether i should support you or hufflepuff? i always try and do my best in encouraging you but when youre against my house it becomes difficult-"

"i dont care do whatever." he said simply , finally turning to look back at you with an annoyed face.

your expression dropped for a split second , a moment so small it was hardly detectable but for that single second your smile dropped completely. and theo noticed. he thought that was probably the first time in your whole life youve stopped smiling. and the first time youve dropped your delicate hold on his wrist.

but you quickly regained composure , smiling up at him although not as sweetly as before , it almost seemed strained this time , "right , thats fine. ill just see what i can do closer to the time. bye theodore"

theodore. ouch. theo watched as you walked away silently , not turning back at all. he tried not to read too much into you , he didnt want to think he cared enough to, but hearing you call him by his full name and not theo? he hated to admit it stung a little more than he thought it would.

----

"hey!" you said enthusiatically as you sat down besides your close friend hannah , she looked up from the desk and greeted you back.

usually in charms you found yourself sat besides her , talking all lesson or admiring theodore , but you could help but avoid his side of the room like its the plague.

the plague being the pretty ravenclaw girl that for some reason was sat next to him as they discussed something civilly. usually theo sat with mattheo or alone since mattheo wasnt regularly spotted in charms , so to see him sat next to a girl youve never seen him with? you felt your heart shatter right onto the ground around you.

"y/n? are you listening?" hannah tried to ask you until she followed where you stared and saw theodore with the ravenclaw , "oh".

you nodded besides her , forcing a tight smile onto your lips and finally dragging your eyes from them , "its fine , everyone knows he doesnt like me back, i guess i was just in denial about it."

hannah saddened at the forced laugh that you let out , pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back , "he was never good enough for you anyways. youre a whole galaxy and theodore nott is the moon , nothing compared to you."

"i love the moon," you said softly as your eyes began to well up with tears.

hannah pulled back and scanned the room before grabbing your hand , "professor flitwick isnt here yet , leave now and if he asks ill say you were sick. go to our dorms and ill get snacks from the kitchen and we can stay in tonight , sound good?"

you smiled happily at her , "thank you hannah"

she returned the smile with a light nod before handing you your bag and shooing you away , watching as you left the classroom hastily.

failing to feel theos eyes that burned into your fleeting figure.

---

the next few days were odd for theodore nott. something felt missing but he couldnt quite place his finger on it...

that was until he made eye contact with you in the hall and watched in suprise as you looked away and practically sprinted down the corridor , rather than coming up to him with a bright small and a new topic to rant about.

and he didnt like it. not one bit.

for the rest of the week he picked up on the things that you did - or didnt do.

how your smile would drop when you made eye contact with theodore. how youd talk happily to lorenzo and then make an excuse to leave as soon as theo tried to join the coversation. how you stopped sitting next to him in potions and instead sat with hermione , chatting away to her and not noticing the glare theodore sent towards the both of you.

but the one thing that pushed him over the edge was when he flew out onto the quidditch pitch and immediately searched for you in the stands , only to spot you waving at diggory , wearing his jersey?!

theodore had never felt jealous before -lies- but in that moment he held onto his broom a lot harder than before , his whole body felt hotter and his eyes glared holes into cedric diggorys back.

lets just say that throughout the match he made sure to shove diggory with every chance he got , eventhough none of it was necessary as they had completely different roles in the game.

"nott get off diggorys fucking broom and do your job!" adrian shouted at him from across the pitch , making theodore roll his eyes before giving cedric a last shove and flying away.

from the stands you watched theodore in confusion ,along with the rest of the audience , staring as he yet again flew in the path of cedric and shoved him to the side before contiuing to chase the hufflepuff chaser.

"it seems like nott is more concered in giving the golden boy diggory a good push rather than actually fulfilling his job , typical slytherins playing dirty in my opinion-" lees comentating was cut off by professor mcgonagall clearing her throat , "sorry professor."

----

the match had ended and purely because of the rest of the slytherin team , they won , however the poor performance of theodore threw the whole teams goal points off.

"what the fuck is wrong with you theodore!?" draco shouted as the team entered the changing tents , "if i hadnt gotten that golden snitch we wouldve lost AND been the comedic relief of all the other houses!"

theodore let out a heavy sigh before sitting down on one of the benches with his head in his hands , pulling his hair aggresively, "shove off malfoy im not in the mood".

"all this because of some hufflepuff mudblood wearing diggorys jersey-" draco started again , before being pushing harshly by a now infuriated theodore.

"the FUCK did you say malfoy?!" theo screamed in his face , being pulled away by lorenzo who tried to calm the situation.

"guys we won and thats all that matters!" enzo tried to reason with the furious boys.

"barley , berkshire! theo over here nearly fucked everything up because of childish jealousy!" draco shouted back , venom dripping off his words.

"who said i was fucking jealous?" theo shouted back as majority of the team turned to him with disbelief.

"you nearly dropped the quaffle twice because you were too busy figuring out how you could shove cedric on the way to the goalhoops-" mattheo started before being cut off by the curtain of the tent being pulled back.

revealing a girl covered in bright yellow , covering her eyes and trying to walk into the tent without falling, "c-can i look?".

the whole tent gaped in shock before lorenzo finally spoke up , "yeah..yeah you can look y/n dont worry."

you quickly uncovered your eyes and blinked as they adjusted to the light , looking at the scene before you which showed theodore being held back from draco by lorenzo and a disapproving mattheo stood in front of the lockers.

"theodore what are you-" you started before being cut off by the boy shaking his head rapidly.

"stop - stop calling me theodore i cant stand when you call me that."

you stared in suprise as theodore shrugged off lorenzos hands and walked over to you, this was possibly the most emotion the boy had shown to you.

"oh uh right sorry , i just wanted to say well done for the match. i was rooting for hufflepuff but there isnt any other team that deserve it more than you guys!" you smiled awkwardly as the team thanked you a short silence following , "anyways , theres a certain hufflepuff thats a bit gutted about his loss so im gonna-"

"diggory?" theo asked with a sour tone as he stepped closer to you , not breaking eye contact.

"yeah , hes upset but i said if he lost id make him a crochet blanket to make him feel better so-"

"but you only make me crochet things." theodore said coldly as you stuttered again , unfamiliar with this behaviour from theo.

"ha , yeah i do but um , i didnt think you liked them so i thought id just put my efforts elsewhere!" you laughed awkwardly.

"the blanket you made him's on his bed , he takes it home aswell because he cant sleep without it-" mattheos teasing was cut off by a sharp glare from theo.

"shut up riddle!" theo seethed before turning back to you.

"no dont be embarassed theo - its nice to know you love it!" you said , finally regaining a comfort in theos presence at this news.

"i love you." he stated simply as the whole room fell into a dead silence.

your mouth hung wide open , as did his teamates before they were ushered out of the room by enzo , your moment with theo requiring the upmost privacy.

"you- you what?!" you asked in pure shock as the final player exited the tent.

"i love you," theo stated again as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"but- but you like hate me , you dont even reply when i talk or smile at me-" you ranted.

"youre right, i hate you. i hate how you love me more than anyone else has before you... i hate your hair and your perfect smile.... and i despise how you make me feel," he stepped so close that your bodies touched and his hand rested on your cheek firmly , "but theres a very thin line between love and hate."

you gaped up at him in suprise , "theo-"

he quickly took a step back and walked to his locker , pulling out a top, more specifically his jersey that he now handed to you.

"take that god awful jersey off i dont think i can handle looking at it for one more second" he said bitterly , staring down at the yellow top you wore with distaste.

"i love you too." you said , still frozen in place and staring up at him.

"i think everyone knows that princess." he said with a laugh , the first laugh youd heard from him in a long time.

a blush spread to your cheeks , both at his words and the addictive sound of his soft chuckle.

"why have you always ignored me if you love me?" you asked still being slightly unpleased with his random confession.

his smile dropped as he frowned and looked at you sympathetically , "i just thought you were doing it all for fun , maybe to mock me or something. i tried to shut out the fact i like you and it clearly didnt work , i was just ...scared." he confessed in a moment of complete vunerability.

you admired him with care and empathy as he spoke from his heart so purely , before your face cracked into a teasing smile , "you know i wasnt actually rooting for hufflepuff?"

he smirked wrapping arms around your waist and pulling you in closer ,"oh really?"

you nodded and pulled the braid in your hair over your shoulder , to reveal the dark green bow that wrapped around the end of it.

theodore grinned upon seeing this as you both giggled , a sweet first kiss following the heart to heart.

[pathologicalreid]

gemini | S.R.

two emotionally wrought people collide at a wedding, and a sexual escapade ensues.

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: softdom!spencer, use of the term "good girl" (i couldn't help myself), unprotected sex, reader on bc, alcohol, spoilers for 14x15 truth or dare, lowkey idiots in love, fucking against a wall?, fingering, heavy petting, r has an oral fixation, r is wearing a dress and makeup, explicit consent (hot), public sex, i think that's all word count: 3.42k a/n: this is a little self-indulgent and i don't care! based on literally just the first line of the song gemini by del water gap. probably not ever gonna get a part two. i've never done angsty smut (smangst?) before, so this was fun.

so, here's the setting, we met fucked up at a wedding

Swirling the drink you held in your hand, you watched your friends as they chatted. The pink liquid in the cup, concocted by Penelope Garcia, was far too sweet for your taste, but you needed the liquid courage to make it through the wedding.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for Krystall and Dave. It was that weddings oftentimes left a bitter taste in your mouth – one so bitter that not even Penelope’s drink could offset it.

In your periphery, you saw a blur of purple in the corner, looking up to see Spencer. His hand still bandaged from his most recent brush with death, he used his free one to grip a glass of water. Raising your eyebrows, you gave him your best attempt at a smile before you greeted him, “You look good, Dr. Reid.”

He was fully donned in his favorite color, and you tried to pretend that you didn’t notice that your dress matched the purple hue of his suit. “Thanks,” he said shortly, not quite meeting your eyes.

Noting the way he was looking past you, you demurely leaned your head down, glancing over your shoulder so that you could see what he was looking at, only to see JJ. She looked gorgeous in her red dress, laughing at something her husband said before her eyes caught something.

She was staring back at Spencer, and not for the first time, you found yourself wondering what happened in that pawn shop. Bringing your eyes back up to Reid, you watched the confused look in his eyes bloom as he peeled his eyes away from JJ.

Sick of it, you spoke up, “Alright, I had dibs on being the mopey one tonight. What’s wrong?” You had wanted to brush it off as long-lasting nerves from the hostage situation, but he was acting strange.

You knew you weren’t his best friend, that was a title that JJ had been the reigning champion of since the beginning of time. Yet, you still noticed the rigidity in Spencer’s shoulders as he displayed a clear discomfort with his surroundings. You tried to think of something to say to him. How could you ask him if he wanted to get out of here without it sounding like a sexual proposition?

“JJ told me she loved me,” he said, his voice so low you weren’t even sure you had heard him correctly.

Your head snapped up, “Oh.” Swallowing thickly, you tilted your head curiously, letting loose hair tumble to the side. “Do you love her?” Likely not the right conversation for the wedding of everyone’s favorite right-person-wrong-time couple, but you were desperate for a rope to pull yourself out of your wallowing.

He took a sip of his water before setting the empty glass on the bar counter, “I did.” The admission hit you like a ton of bricks, until her continued, “but now…”

Filling in the blanks, you shrugged, “She’s married. They have kids.” Spencer was always doing the right thing, so pushing his feelings aside for the sake of JJ’s family made the most sense.

Furrowing his brows, he pondered this for a moment before speaking, “It’s not just that. I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh,” you repeated, and somehow the thought of him being in love with an unfamiliar figure hurt more than him being in love with your mutual friend.

The both of you let the conversation lag, watching as Penelope came back up to the bar and poured more drinks. After she accused you of being boring for not wanting another drink, everyone returned to the tables. “Have you dated anyone since him?”

You choked on your newly acquired water, cupping your hand underneath your jaw in an attempt to stop water from getting on your dress. “Uh, no. I’ve kind of sworn off dating ever since,” you replied, shaking your hand out and letting water droplets fall to the floor.

Sighing, you slouched in your seat, remembering that all you’d ever be was a jaded bride. Left by your fiancé on the day of your wedding, doomed to never love again. Until you met Spencer Reid.

“For everyone?” Spencer asked, and you cursed his natural curiosity.

His question caught you off guard. Despite yourself, you shook your head, “I have like… one person who, if they asked me, I’d say yes.” Your skin started to feel warm, and you weren’t sure if it was your proximity to him or Penelope’s drink coming back with a vengeance.

Spencer stepped a little closer to you, leaning casually on the counter as if he wasn’t affecting your ability to focus. “Who’s your person?” The question was innocent enough that it made your heart ache.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s into someone else,” you told him, reaching behind your neck to pull your hair up, haphazardly twisting it. You didn’t have a hair tie, so you let the locks fall once you felt some semblance of relief.

This statement seemingly bothered Spencer because he looked into his glass, “Did he tell you that?”

Nodding, you chewed on the inside of your lip. “Yeah,” maybe not in so many words, Spencer was rarely crass enough to say he was into someone, but you understood well enough.

The conversation lagged between the two of you once again, your own private thoughts were only interrupted when the music changed. It was a slow song, one for the couples of the night to dance to.

You took a chance, “Do you want to go explore the building with me? It’s getting stuffy in here,” you said, taking one final swig of your water before jumping up from your stool.

He looked back at JJ, who was there with Will, and then forward to the girl who was asking to take him away, “Yes.”

David Rossi had spared no expense for his second wedding to his third wife, and the manor that you found yourself meandering within felt never-ending. Something about following Spencer as he led the way and told you facts about the history of the building felt so normal, and you wondered if it would hurt when the night was over. Maybe this would just end as another memory to loathe about weddings.

Trailing him into another room, you stumbled into his back. Quickly, Spencer spun back and caught you before you could fall to the ground.

Steadying yourself, your heart thrummed at the way he was touching you, tightly holding your waist so that you wouldn’t trip. Once you were no longer wobbling, Spencer reached up and gingerly lifted the fallen spaghetti strap of your dress back over your shoulder. Before you had fully thought out your actions, you leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him.

It was hesitant and gentle, but once you registered that you were kissing him you soon realized that he was kissing you back. What started out as a small peck on the lips quickly morphed into full, open-mouthed kisses.

You thought Spencer might eat you alive, and for a moment, you thought you might let him.

Without separating your lips, he herded you over to the wall, pinning your hips to the wall as you felt heat grow between your legs.

Pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth, Spencer pulled away ever so slightly, your faces just inches apart. “Is this okay?” He asked you, his eyes flickering down to your lips like he was holding himself back from kissing you again.

There was fear. A fear that if you moved forward tonight, nothing would ever be the same, but you took a chance  and nodded quickly, “Yes.”

Your answer acted as a release as Spencer dropped his head back down and the two of you reattached your lips. Despite your attempts to ignore it, you felt his hardened length pressing into you through several layers of clothes.

Twisting your head away, you gasped as Spencer took the opportunity to place his lips on your neck, gently suckling on the tender skin as you tried to catch your breath. “Are you sure about this?” You breathed, running your hands underneath his suit jacket, wanting nothing more than to push it off of him.

“Yes,” he answered, giving you the same consent that you had already given him, and it was enough for you to reach for his belt buckle. No matter how badly you wanted to see him entirely bare in front of you, this just wasn’t the place for it.

Gently, you slid your hand down his front, savoring the way his breath hitched against your neck as your fingertips precariously lifted the waistband of his boxers. He gently nipped at your earlobe as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock.

You let your head fall backward, allowing him better access to your neck as you moved your hand. Moving your hand up so that you could swipe your thumb over the tip.

You dragged your other hand down, pulling his boxers down so that you could get a good look at what you were working with, and biting your lip at the sight of it. Slowly, you started to pump his impressive length, noting how his breathing patterns changed with your movements.

Dragging a knuckle up the underside of him, he dropped his head to your shoulder as you collected his pre-cum on your index finger on your way up, bringing your hand up to your mouth and licking the droplet off, peering up at him.

“You’re so good at that, baby,” he told you, sighing as he reached up and placed his hand on the side of your neck, skimming his thumb over your jawline as his free hand started to make its way up your dress, pausing when he only met bare skin. “No underwear?” He questioned, furrowing his brow at you as you bit your lip, trying to refrain from pressing into his hand.

Whimpering almost indiscriminately, you shook your head, “Couldn’t, panty lines would show under the dress.”

Spencer hummed in recognition, moving his hand up to cup your sex so that you could feel your own wetness on his hand. A pathetic whine escaped your throat as your walls clenched with need, still stopping yourself from grinding on his hand. “What do you need?” He asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, “Come on, you can tell me.”

“You, please,” you answered, your voice dangerously bordering on pleading. “Your hands, anything,” you squeaked out, breathing heavily as you awaited his next move.

Gently, he slipped a finger inside your wet hole, causing you to release a satisfied sigh. “You’re so wet,” he whispered in your ear as you tilted your head back and pressed your lips to his.

As his hand picked up in pace, so did your breathing. With each movement of his hand, you struggled to keep your volume at a respectable level, small whimpers continued escaping you even as you bit down on the inside of your lip. “Spence,” you whined, moaning aloud as he slipped a second finger into you, “Oh, god.”

The silence of the room around you only exacerbated the wet sounds that were emanating from your sex, and if it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve been embarrassed. In fact, as you felt a familiar coil winding in your abdomen, you found that you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure.

Crying out, you nodded as Spencer continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, “Fuck,” you said, caring less about your volume levels. Even less so when he responded by pressing the heel of his hand against your clit, the pressure proving to be enough to send you over the edge.

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispered in your ear, “Let it go for me, baby.” His words continued as you felt your walls spasming around his fingers, his ministrations had slowed, but he worked you through your orgasm before withdrawing his fingers and lifting them up to your mouth.

Accepting the invitation, you leaned forward and sucked the sweet juices off of his hand, slipping your tongue between his two fingers as you looked up at him. You half expected him to be watching you with lust-blown eyes, but he was watching you just as attentively as he had when you started this escapade.

He retrieved his fingers from your mouth with a satisfying pop and reached down to ruche the fabric of your dress up around your waist. “Wait,” he said suddenly, gripping the silky cloth, “I don’t have a condom.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “I don’t mind.” Still breathing heavy from your previous orgasm, you shook your head again, “I mean. I’m on birth control – and I’m good at it. I mean I keep up with it.” Now babbling, you hoped he’d say something. “I’m clean. I trust you.”

Nodding in understanding, he placed a hand on the side of your neck and looked at you intently. “I’m not going to do anything until you catch your breath,” he told you, taking up an authoritative tone.

Blinking rapidly, you evened out your breathing as he ran his hand up and down your torso, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking another deep breath as you looked up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “Don’t be sorry.” He leaned his head down, pressing soft kisses down the side of your neck as you finally pushed his jacket off of his shoulders. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, leaning down to grip the backs of your thighs.

“It’s okay if you can’t lift me,” you rambled quickly, getting his attention as you aired your concern.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, pressing his hips into yours and lifting your feet off of the ground. The leverage that he had, along with the support of the wall behind him, allowed him to get both of your feet off of the ground. You would’ve spent more time being impressed by this feat if you weren’t so distracted by his painfully hard cock that had now slipped between your folds.

Leaning down, you desperately kissed his lips, wanting him to give you those open-mouthed kisses that you had started out with. Instead, you cried out when, without warning, his full length slipped into you.

Placing gentle kisses on your collarbone, Spencer murmured, “Are you okay?” He whispered, seeming like he was using all of his self-control to just stay still.

You nodded, feeling his cock throbbing so deep in you that you were almost afraid you’d come from just that pressure alone. “Been a while,” you murmured, taking a deep, shaky breath.

He hummed in understanding, “I’ve got you, take your time.”

His words filled your stomach with butterflies, and it wasn’t just because he was fully sheathed in you. “Spence,” you whimpered, “Move.”

On your cue, Spencer gave a tentative thrust, permitting your resulting moan to mix with his grunt. “Fuck, baby,” he said, continuing to thrust in and out of your cunt, filling the room with the crude squelching of your actions. “I’m not going to last long,” he informed you.

Throwing your head back in ecstasy, you moaned helplessly when Spencer dropped one of your legs to the ground, hooking his arm underneath your other knee, providing a new, deeper angle. You swore as the sensations started to feel overwhelming.

The new angle gave him more control over his movements, enabling him to use his free hand to pull at your breast through the fabric of your dress. As you tugged gently at his hair, you tilted your head back, “Spence, I- shit,” you cursed, recognizing the tell-tale signs of your second orgasm approaching.

If it weren’t for his words of encouragement, you would’ve been embarrassed by coming too quickly, and if anything, the words only spurred you closer to the finish line. “Come for me,” he said, thrusting harder into you as he tried to reach the same point. “Let me know how good I make you feel,” he said, continuing his thrusts until his hips stuttered.

“Coming,” you whimpered, dropping your head forward onto his shoulder as you felt your walls tightening around his hard length. Crying out as he continued to pound into you, you buried your face into his neck and nipped at the skin to muffle your sounds.

Now he was solely working toward his own orgasm, having given you two of your own. “You’re such a good girl,” he panted.

Suckling gently at the skin on his neck – not hard enough to leave a mark, you littered kisses on his sensitive skin. “Come in me, baby,” you murmured, trying to spur him on.

Your success was apparent as his movements faltered and his cock started throbbing, feeling the pulses of his cum as it filled you, your eyes rolled back at the feeling while Spencer slowed to a halt, waiting for a beat before he pulled out of you entirely.

Shuddering at the emptiness you now felt, you leaned against the wall once both of your feet were on the ground. As your legs trembled, you watched as Spencer crouched to fish something out of his jacket, leaving you with your mixture of fluids running down your legs.

As he grabbed the handkerchief from his breast pocket, you gasped slightly as you realized his intentions. “Spence, you’ll ruin it,” you insisted.

“Would you rather go back out there with my cum dripping down your thighs?” He asked, knelt in front of you with his brows raised in mock innocence.

Swallowing thickly, you shook your head, “Jesus.”

He chuckled, using the handkerchief to wipe up the mess the two of you had made on your legs before carelessly tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Noting the way your legs were still shaking, he lifted your chin ever so slightly, “Are you alright?”

Nodding, you offered him a tired, but genuine smile. “I’m great,” you told him, wiping underneath your eyes where you were sure there was a mess of mascara.

Taking your hand in his, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, Spencer led to toward the French doors that led to the balcony, taking you out into the fresh air.

As you leaned up against the railing, Spencer shook out his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, doing his best to keep you comfortable. “Hey,” you whispered, “I really am fine. Are you? How’s your hand?” In all of the hormones, you had forgotten about his injury.

Spencer nodded, looking over the property that Rossi had rented. “I’m good, Y/N. I feel good.” You wished he’d call you baby again, but maybe that was too much to ask for. His eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him, recognizing the look from years of working together.

He hummed, reaching up and sweeping a strand of hair off of your forehead. “That guy? The one who told you he’s into someone else? I can confidently say he’s an idiot.”

Flushing, you smiled to yourself at the fact that Spencer was calling himself an idiot, especially when he was anything but. Shrugging, you waved him off anyway, “Nobody’s perfect, Spence.”

“No, I suppose not, but even so…” he told you, allowing his voice to trail off like he wasn’t totally sure what he wanted to say to you. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, then maybe you need to turn your attention elsewhere.”

Sighing, you leaned your chin in your hand, “Thanks, but I don’t know. Maybe there is better out there, and I’m just not worth it.” No, after tonight, you’d likely never get over him. It might’ve started as a workplace crush, but you felt in your heart that it was now something deeper.

Spencer shook his head, “Now, that’s where we disagree.”

“Spencer, I can’t-“ Your voice is cut off when you hear someone calling your name from inside the building, smoothing out the front of your dress one more time, you step back into the room, coming face to face with JJ.

She smiles in recognition of you, but the grin immediately fades from her face when Spencer walks out behind you, “Hey, we’ve been looking for you guys,” she said flatly. “They’re about to cut the cake.”

Nodding, you took another quick look at Spencer before following the blonde out of the room, leaving your secret in the room behind you.

part two

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.