#can't decide whether its cute or not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smuthospital · 1 year ago

Text

⭐️Yandere Gym Buddy⭐️

Premise: You made a new friend at the gym, and he is determined to make sure you get a good pump.

Warning: Non-con, fem reader

Minors DNI

Working out with you is almost too much. You're cute, smaller body is too much. The way you look up at him and thank him when he takes the weight off you when you push your body to failure. The way you whimper when you can't do one more rep. He first saw you looking at a machine for biceps and you seemed ok, but your form could be a bit better so he decided he'd help you by correcting it.

The next time he saw you, you were trying a bicep workout, but you were lifting too heavy and it was messing up your form. Proper form is essential to any excersize and without it, you could risk pulling a muscle. He couldnt just stand by and let you do that so he became your gym buddy whenever he spotted you.

You always look so nervous when he talks to you. You can't even maintain eye contact, but when you do, you look up at him and smile sheepishly. It warms his heart. You thanked him for helping you with your workout and walked on your mary way.

He smiled and continued on with his until he saw you patiently waiting for him to finish his set from the corner of his eye. You're blushing all cute and averting eyes again. He takes out his earbud and looks over at you. "I-I feel like I didn't properly thank you before so thank you again. I really appreciate your help," You say, becoming cherry red by the end.

He wants to just pick you up and take you home. You're like a cute little bunny. He's a respectful guy so he's only ever looked at your body in the places he needs to for your form, but he'd be lying if he said they never drifted to other places. From your sweet-looking neck to the curve of your back, all the way down to your cute butt.

The way your workout clothes fit your body so tight in all the right places. He wonders if you want the attention. When you wear crop tops...or when he's lucky and you wear your super short shorts. The ones that barely cover your...He shakes his head. He can't get hard in the gym again. "No problem. You're very polite, you know," He says. You knod your head in thanks.

You scamper off to go do cute girl things, probably. He hopes you don't have a boyfriend. Actually, theres no way you do. No man would let a girl like you out of their site. Especially in a testosterone filled gym. And talk to other guys? No way. If you had a boyfriend, your boyfriend would be fighting him right now.

If you had a boyfriend, your boyfriend would be laying on the ground, broken and defeated, bleeding from every orifice. He clenches his fists, his veins protruding. He'd lay the bastard the fuck out without a second of hesitation. No mercy and no reasoning. He finishes his workout with more vigour than usual.

The next time he spotted you at the gym, he saw some guy about to walk up to you. They're like fucking flies. This is the third one this week. He speeds up his pace and gets to you first before the fly could get its chance. The other guy turns tail immediately, confusing you because it looked like he'd wanted to talk to you.

"Hey, nice to see you again," he says, smiling that usual charming smile. 'The ladies probably go nuts for this guy,' you thought. "Nice to see you too!" Your voice is so sweet. It's like honey. He's memorized the texture of your sound. "Your arms look really good," you say, your face completely red. That came out of nowhere. He wonders how long you've been working up the courage to say that to him. He chuckles and flexes. "Thank you, I'm very proud of them."

He swears he could eat you up. Just the way you look at his body, whether it be in admiration or otherwise, it's all the same to him. "Do you want to get protein shakes after this? I can make them really tasty." You're going. Whether you like it or not.

"Oh..uhm, you don't have to! I don't know much bout protein anyway," you say nervously. Bingo. "Protein is incredibly important for helping you repair your muscles after you work hard at the gym!" He knows he's gonna convince you.

"O-oh, really? I didn't know that. If it's that important, ok then." You look off to the side, unsure about going to a mans house. He's feeling cuteness aggression. He wants to hug you and squeeze you so badly. His hands twitch, fighting the urdge to do so. He has to look away when you're doing a tough workout.

Watching sweat drip down your face is captivating. He imagines that face when he's alone in his apartment at night, his cock in hand. He just wants to lay you down on your back with him in between your legs...his thoughts wander too much. "Great, you'll love it!" He could'nt be more pleased with himself.

After you both finished, he waits for you outside the changing room. He was so giddy. He loves looking down at you..and seeing your cute little wonderous eyes looking up at him, like a confused little bunny. He takes your hand and leads you out to his car. You blush furiously at the contact. You get in the passenger seat and he drives you back to his place.

It's a really nice and expensive looking apartment building. Modern and well kept. It even has a gym inside. You wonder why he travels to yours. He takes you up to his apartment and you gasp. "It's so big!" He closes his eyes for a moment, imagining those words in a different context. "I'm excited to try the protein shake," you say, snapping him out of his fuzzy daze.

"Ah yes." He takes you over to his spottless kitchen and takes out a blender, some bananas, protein powder, peanut butter and milk. You lean over the counter to peer at what he's doing. Hes really good at making protein shakes. You wonder if he can cook aswell. You wouldn't be surprised. While you're lost in though, he has the perfect view of your cleavage. He bites his lip. Fuck. He feels his dick twitch to life.

He groans. He's been trying not to get hard this whole day. Good thing you're behind the counter. He pours the smoothies into two cups, his being larger because you dont need as much protein as he does. He manages to hide is boner well enough to make his way over to his living room with your cups.

He hands you yours after taking a seat, making sure to place a pillow in his lap. You take a sip. He loves the way your mouth opens and the way you lick your lips of the sweet drink. Fuck. He downs his and watches you. "Hey, so I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to hang out..outside the gym again sometime?" he asks, looking hopeful.

"Oh..uh," you thought he wasn't interested in you! You were sure of it! He's too handsome for you! He's way out of your league. You've never been romanticaaly interested in him. You know your place. You just get really nervous and shy around pretty people. He's an extremely athletic man and you're a snail in comparrison! You're not even looking for a relationship right now! This is a nightmare! You just wanted to focus on yourself. That's why you started going to the gym.

Oh god, what do you do!? You stare at your drink for a while, the silence thickening by the second. "I...uh...." You want to go home and hide under your sheets. How will you ever face him again? It's over. No more gym buddy. He looks down at you, his smile and hopeful eyes fading. You... don't want him. You don't want him!? But...he's perfect for you...and you for him!

He doesn't understand why you could possibly ever not want to be with him. He wordlessly puts his cup down. You just need some convincing is all. You look up at him. He can see emotions swirling around in your eyes. He stands up to his full height, casting a shadow over you. "(Y/n),... change your mind." His tone is eerily calm.

"But...I wanna focus on.. myself-" He cuts you off. "No! I will focus on you. That's what you need. I will take care of you. I'm dedicated to you. It has to be claer by now that I want you." He takes the cup from your hands and sets it down before pulling you up by your arm and forcing you deeper into the apartment.

"Huh? What? N-no, where are we going? Stop! I wanna go home!" You cry, trying to struggle out of his grip, the grip of the arms four times the size of yours. You notice now just how big he is. Hes...massive. Taller than most men...broad shoulders, a large frame, and incredibly muscular. Your face pails. You... can't stop him. You were right to be nervous to come here!

He drags you into his room, making you sit on his bed. He doesn't open the lights, but from the moonlight shining in from the window, you can see the glinting of his hungry eyes looking down at you. His chest heaves. He feels fuzzy and lightheaded as he looks down at you...all his blood...has shot right down to his cock.

He can't think of anything but the way your thighs meet at that special crevice that he wants to explore. You're probably still sweaty from the workout... he's trembling at the thought of your soft body pressed against his toned self.

He pushes your upper body down a bit too hard and splits your legs apart, settling himself between them before leaning down. Your faces so close. You turn your face away, which just makes him get even closer to you, his nose touching your cheek, his breath fanning over you. With him in between your legs, you can feel the heat emanating from his crotch as it presses into yours. You whimper under him and he groans a bit. His cock has never been so engored before. Its unbarable.

"Please...take off your clothes...I don't want to hurt you on accident," he breathes, using all the remaining blood in his head to think straight, trying to control himself. You shake your head. "I-I can't!" Not a second after you speak, his hands grip your poor clothes and rip them to shreds like paper. He's wanted to do that to your workout clothes for a long time. They were always taunting him with the way they squeeze your ass or the way your pussy shows through the crotch area a bit when you're bent.

You suck in a breath to scream, hoping one of his neighbors would hear you, but he covers your mouth with his palm just in time, muffling your cry. "Shhh shhh... it's ok shh. I've got you," he coos, trying to calm you. Your chest heaves up and down as tears stream down your cheeks. Your face feels like its burning.

He replaces his hand with his lips and kisses you gently. You continue sobbing quietly into the kiss, not wanting any of this. He doesn't cover your mouth after he lifts his lips from yours. Hope for getting another opportunity dies within you as he stuffs your underwear into your mouth and ties it shut with the drawstring of his shorts tightly behind your head.

He kisses your cheek and stays right there for a moment, just breathing in your scent. You decide now is a good time to at least try fighting him with everything you've got. You headbutt him in the face, sending his head back a bit. He grunts in pain and looks back at you with a blaze in his eyes. A trickle of blood escapes his nose. He wipes it off with the back of his hand. He shuts his eyes for a second, trying to maintain his patience. He sighs. He's trying his hardest to be nice with you.

He places a finger on your chin, turning you to face him. When you refuse to face him and turn your head in defiance, he grips your cheeks roughly and forces you to face him. His eyes are stern. "Bunny, I don't want to hurt you." Is all he says. You dont take his threat lightly. He looks more than happy to actually hurt you. You don't believe for a second that he's being honest about not wanting to hurt you.

He lowers his shorts with his free hand, taking your silence as compliance. You see the bulge in his shorts reveal itself to be a monstrous size when free. It's..scary. It slams against your bare pussy lips. It's heavy, thick and demanding attention. It's veiny underside is burning you.

You swallow hard, trying to wiggle out from underneath it. You don't make it far trapped beneath him with nowhere to go. Your hands are free, but every time you try to do anything, he swats them away and.. after his previous threat, you don't want to know what will happen if you annoy him enough.

His hand comes down to your cunt and plays with your lower lips. He releases your face, knowing you'll behave. You writhe underneath him, pathetically kicking and pushing at his hand down there. His other hand grabs your wrist and and squeezes it and a painful grip, looking dead in your eyes as he continues to play with your cunt.

Another tear slips down your cheek. He softens his grip a bit before leaning down to kiss your tears away. Your tear-stained face, the way you whimper and your face scrunches in discomfort..is doing things to him. He's learned something new about himself just now. He wants to be inside you so bad, but he knows he'd tear you in two, even with all his precum.

Your gasp as he flicks your sensitive pearl. He can't help but chuckle. Without any warning, he slips his index finger inside your cunt and relishes in the warm wetness hugging it tightly. He just wants you wet enough to take him without too much pain. He just needs to be more patient, but... it's so hard with you making all those cute expressions.

"Pleath shtop..I..." The muffled words you were trying to produce disappear in a cloud of smoke as he curls his finger upwards into your spongy walls. Fuck. He loves when you beg him to stop. You moan so cutely. Your pussy twitches around him. He bites his lip. You're.. wet enough. It's fine, it'll fit. He can't wait anymore.

He lines his fat cock up with your cunt and slides it up and down your shimmering folds. "W-wai-" He cuts you off by sliding the head of his cock in. It's so fucking tight. He grunts and can't help but sink himself further in. He feels like he's going mad.

He bucks his hips forward, meeting resistance. Your cervix. He pushes forward still, eventually managing to bottom out, the shape of his cock making an appearance in your lower stomach. Your cunt needs to know his shape for next time. It's a good thing he stuffed your mouth because you've been screaming and crying like crazy. "I'm sorry, bunny. I didn't mean to hurt you. I got a bit ahead of myself. I'll be more gentle." He kisses your nose, his cock driving in and out slowly.

You're sopping wet now, the two of you can hear your insides gushing when he pushes in. You're so embarrassed. The pleasure is undeniable. You scratch his back as he pressed in again, his hips meeting yours snuggly. You can't hold it anymore! you let out a long whine as you cum, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He moans, driving his cock in and out, rapidly pounding your cunt into a fine paste. You come down from your high as he's still churning your insides and cry out again. You're too sensitive now!

You tap on his shoulder, but it garners no response. He lifts your legs and presses them back into your chest, getting even deeper. He's pounding into you like a wild animal. You feel the familiar knot in your lower stomach tighten. Your nails dig into his back, your eyes crossing as you come again. He grunts as you tighten around him once more.

He thrusts into you so deep that you can see the imprint of his cock in your lower stomach even more than before. Your cervix needs an ice pack. He grips your waist, emptying the largest load he's ever cum. You're so tired. He continues pumping himself into you lazily. He rests his body weight on you, squishing you and pressing his still-hard cock against your stuffed insides.

Cum leeks past his cock onto the damp bedsheets. He pants, looking down at you. "I love you (y/n)," he says with the most love struck expression you've ever seen. You look like an angel to him. All you can do is twitch and bask in the afterglow of what he did. His cock began to completely re-harden at the beautiful sight he created before him.

You're no longer gym buddies, that's for sure. Thanks to him, you might be parents. You should have just accepted his feelings when you had the chance. Now your guts are filled and you're trapped under him with your knees by your head. What a workout.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #gym buddies #lovesick

3K notes · View notes

monstermommie · 1 month ago

Text

awwh, look at you, all flustered and squirmy. poor little bunny, can't decide whether to keep your fluffy lil legs open or to hop on away. i’m so cruel, aren’t I? a shiny toy bound to your thigh with silky pink ribbon, its intensity set to max, rubbing you just right. awwh, y’know, sweetheart, it's hot watching you struggle like this, really gets me going. such a sweet, pathetic, needy thing. all on display for me, trying to hold it together. those pretty little whines just slip right out, don't they? shh don't worry, love, you’ll be done soon. keep those legs open, exposed little cunt, looks so cute spread just for me. awwh, it's overwhelming? shut up and take it.

#lgbt nsft #topposting #monstermommie #nblm nsft #nblw nsft #t4t nsft #bunny pl4y #bd/sm bunny #ftm bunny #domme mommy

228 notes · View notes

jhilsara · 1 month ago

Text

Of Bookstore, Coffees, and Late Nights

Sunshine!Reader/Southern!Reader/Plus Sized!Reader

Summary: After Spencer is shot he can't do much in the field for a while, being stuck to the offices in Quantico. His insomnia starts to amp up and instead of an urge for McDonald's at 1 AM he finds himself desperate for a new book and a coffee. Somehow, he finds the Midnight Owl, the late night bookstore/cafe open at weird hours with a cute southern co owner who probably gets the same amount of sleep as he does.

She also makes the best coffee that is disgustingly sweet. Exactly how he likes it.

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: Mentions of Season 5 100 episode and canon typical BAU themes

|Next

The one with the late night bookstore

If Spencer could pace, he would, but his new semi-permanent crutch situation was impeding his mobility. He hasn’t been able to sleep, much less relax with the knowledge of Hotch being stabbed by George Foyet in his own home. Or how it’s clear that Foyet is playing an extreme game with the BAU, but mostly Hotch. Spencer didn’t even want to think about poor Haley and Jack being thrown into witness protection. These were scenarios Spencer knew came with the job he does, but seeing it happen to people he knows and cares about, makes his stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine if it was his own mother being threatened. It sends a cold chill down his back. He needs a distraction.

Spencer’s eyes drag over to his used and abused bookshelf. Looking through his collection trying to find something to read. Even for a distraction he’s not very interested in rereading any of the texts on his shelf. His go to comfort of Sherlock Holmes doesn’t even seem all that appealing at the moment. He needs something that isn’t about criminals or detectives right now. Too bad nothing else on his shelf seemed to catch his eye. Spencer eyes his clock and the analog clock on his wall tells him it’s two in the morning. He’d be lucky if anything besides a dingy twenty-four-hour cafe was open, much less a bookstore.

He sighs and looks over at his discarded laptop on his desk. He boots it up to see if maybe he could at least check how early the library opened. He could try to sleep but his insomnia was eating away at him, trying to focus on anything else but work seemed harder and harder. Spencer had to get out of his apartment. He looks up the library hours as well as a few bookstores. Just trying to see how soon he could sit down and avoid the never-ending running of his brain. He’s surprised when he finds a bookstore that was advertising its hours as open. Surely that was wrong. He spots the phone number on the webpage, and he decides to call to double check.

The line rings for roughly two seconds before it’s picked up, a melodic voice on the other line states, “Midnight Owl, this is Y/N how can I help you?” The cadence of the woman’s voice much too chipper for the middle of the night.

Spencer’s shocked into silence for a moment before he responds, “I thought the hours posted were wrong...” He finds himself stating.

“Nope!” She replies, unbothered by his blunt response. “We’re open 24/5, only closed on Fridays and Saturdays!” She tells him brightly, “You wouldn’t be the first to call thinking we posted our hours wrong though. More common than you think.”

He coughs awkwardly and finds himself nodding even though she can’t see it. “Okay, great, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem, swing by some time we have the best drinks crafted by yours truly!” She jokes with a soft laugh trailing her sentence. She drawls out the end of her words in a way that has them twisting together as sweet as the tea he’s almost positive she drinks.

“Have a good night.” He states before hanging up the phone.

He looks at the address listed and finds that it’s just up the street, barely a block away.

Spencer eyes his crutches for a moment debating on whether he should go or not. His good leg shakes in anxious movements as he sits on his couch. What were the odds that there was a bookstore up his block that was open at odd hours that catered to him? He knew the odds; they were incredibly low . He shrugs to himself and hobbles to grab his crutches, he’ll check it out. Why the hell not? If it’s too good to be true he can add it to the list of places he’ll never visit again like that one coffee shop downtown that burns everything he’s ever ordered.

He desperately needs to get out of his apartment.

Y/N’s night at the Midnight Owl was going slowly. You had a few regulars wander in, which you were happy about since the store had only officially been open for four months. There was a couple that sat on the loveseat in the cafe every Thursday night reading their books together and drinking the cafe’s famous homemade lavender lemonade. Not that you could brag about it, your co-owner makes pastries and premade drinks. All homemade family recipes. On the opposite side of the store was the guy who came in every other day to check for anything new. He grabs a coffee and roams the stacks for an hour. Sometimes he buys, sometimes he doesn’t. He comes in at the same time though, so you’re pretty sure he works a graveyard shift.

There were a couple of students at a table in the cafe section clearly up studying and writing papers. The semester for school had only just started a month ago, but the influx of students coming and going was increasing by the day.

You loved your little bookstore, and during the day it was popping. A rising trendy place for local university students. You preferred the quiet of the nights though. It gave you time to make orders for books, restock, and change out displays. It was methodical cleaning and sorting that kept you sane. Your daytime life was overly complicated and having your own corner of the world was nice. It felt like a safe bubble that didn’t necessarily feel like work.

You’re in the middle of compiling a list of books to reorder that have already sold out when the front doorbell chimes telling her someone just entered. You are behind a stack finishing what you're writing on your notepad when you calls out, “Be right there!”

You bound around the stack to the counter to meet the newcomer, “Welcome in! How can I help you?” you asked happily pushing your hair behind your ear nervously.

You scan the guy from head to toe, he’s definitely new. He looks like a grad student, probably around your age. His mousy brown hair is tied back into a low ponytail and he’s in a well-worn Caltech shirt and sweatpants. The oddest thing about him is the crutches he’s sporting as he comes in. You send him a warm smile.

Spencer looks at the woman standing at the counter and finds you’re not what he expected you to be. You look like the moon; you have features that are soft and delicate, and your eyes shine with the bright ambience of the bookstore. Spencer almost loses his train of thought as he takes in the bookstore worker’s features that just made you seem so inviting.

It takes a second before he registers that you asked him a question. “Oh, yes,” he rushes out awkwardly. “Is the cafe still open?” He questions, tilting his head to the empty-looking bar on the other side.

You nod happily, “It is! I’m the only one who works the night shift, so I run the register and the cafe. Would you like something?” you ask him, already walking toward the counter that holds the cabinet of pastries and coffee machines.

“A latte would be great actually.” He says in a much clearer voice.

“Can do.” You grin at him radiantly and it’s so infectious he finds himself returning one. You turn and almost have a skip to your step as you walk, far too awake for him to deem reasonable for two in the morning.

Spencer watches her as he slowly moves forward on his crutches, she almost dances around the machines as she makes his latte. She’s humming to the music that he’s finally registered playing in the bookstore. She’s radiating a warmth that Spencer doesn’t get to see much day to day except for the one and only, Penelope Garcia. Garcia looked and acted like the sun, one giant ball of pink and blonde energy. He watches the worker move around her workstation making his latte and it’s seamless how she moves, it’s her second nature. She’s just at ease here, which settles his uneasy nerves about trying a new place out in the middle of the night. He looks around and sees a few people mingling about.

Spencer takes time to look around the store and notices how it feels much more lived in than any box stores he’s been to. The overhead lights aren’t fluorescent like a normal store but a few well-placed wooden chandeliers that are carved to look like vines. Every other light is a floor light or table lamp that has mismatched covers and stained glass. He turns to the large windows, and he guesses the store probably gets great sunshine when it’s daylight. The multiple house plants by the window and on the empty tables being a good indicator. The ambiance is so inviting, not to mention the amount of comfortable faux leather seating he sees.

He could imagine spending a lot of time here, it was just so cozy. Spencer can’t imagine he would have missed this place opening but with all the cases they’ve been busy with, he actually isn’t surprised at all.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by her placing the drink on the pickup bar, “So what ails you?” Your voice carries to him, and you tilt your head waiting patiently.

“Excuse me?” He finds himself stuttering out.

You shrug nonchalantly, “Well, it’s the middle of the night and I’ve never seen your face in here before.” You state the fact like it's so obvious.

“So, what’s buggin’ you?” Your voice drawls out sweetly as you look at him expectantly.

It’s almost like the lights in the cafe frame her from behind, bright and dazzling. She’s clearly personable and Spencer isn’t used to people with Y/N’s personality being overtly kind to him. He’ll see how long it takes her to dismiss him like most people do. It doesn’t annoy him like it used to, he expects it really. Especially when his own team and friends do it almost regularly.

You are waiting patiently for his response with unwavering kind eyes.

“Insomnia,” He settled on admitting to you, he gave you a tight lined frown. “I needed a new book; I’ve read through my catalog.”

Your eyes light up, “That’s my specialty! I mean, I make a mean latte, but my favorite part of this place is the books.” you whispered conspiratorially.

“So,” you come around from the back of the bar and put your hands on your hips, “What genre were you looking for? Or was it a specific book?” you ask him.

“Fantasy, preferably. I’ve read all of Tolkien and Gaiman’s works.” He tells you.

You nod in understanding your eyes giving a quick look of him from head to toe, “You look like a man who’s read The Hobbit and American Gods .” You said, almost more so to herself.

Spencer gives you a quizzical look, unsure if he should be insulted or not. You read his face and your own cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your hands start moving exaggeratedly as your voice pitches, “Not in a bad way! I promise, I’m here for a well-read person! Not that you have to have read those two authors to be well read, I just-” You take a deep breath and stop yourself.

“Sorry, I just mean, you look like you’ve probably read some of the most popular titles in that genre.” Your voice grows smaller, and your face is bright in a flush as you rush through your words, drawling them out in that voice that sounds like sugar. You bite the inside of your cheek forcing yourself to stop talking.

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head, “I get it, you’re good.” He tells you reassuringly.

You sigh in relief, pushing your hair out of your face nervously, “Sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant you probably want something different and not recommended every time you ask for fantasy.”

Spencer just gives you a smile, “I appreciate it.” He shifts his weight on his crutches to awkwardly sip his latte.

You usher him over to one of the comfortable chairs with a nice side table lamp that has beautiful green and red stained-glass roses on it.

“Here sit, I’ll grab some recommendations, and you can let me know what you think.” You don’t even give him a chance to rebuttal before you’re off and disappear into the stacks.

The silence that followed her absence was overwhelmingly loud, except for the soft music playing from the speakers. Spencer takes his time drinking his latte and it’s delicious. Better than the place the BAU grabs coffee from, and much better than whatever was in their coffee pot at the office.

You pop back out from the stacks within ten minutes holding at least five book options for him to sort through.

“These all have different sub-genres but are fantasy in nature. Let me know if any look good to you.” You hand them over to him happily. He notices you biting the inside of your cheek again, as you watch him look over the books.

You’re rocking on your feet, as you watch Spencer thumb through the books, reading the summaries keeping his face neutral. You start picking at your nails trying not to seem like a dog waiting for its owner. You should busy yourself with something else besides trying to gauge Spencer’s reaction to the books, but you can’t help it.

Spencer pauses on a book with a bright colorful cover that was in the middle of the stack. It’s the only one he pauses on and your face lights up.

“I loved Howl’s Moving Castle !” Your voice pitches up in enthusiasm. You start talking with your hands again, “It’s fun, and the cast of characters who, in a magical world, feel so relatable. The two leads also have great dialogue! I was genuinely laughing out loud.” Your face splits into a grin as you explain the book to Spencer without spoiling anything.

You are so filled with joy as you talk about the book, it doesn’t take him but a second of listening to you to know he’s sold. He’s reading this, your genuine joy selling him on it. He doesn’t have to look through the rest of the stack, though he’s sure you’ve likely read all the books you offered him.

“I’ll take it.” He said, moving to stand up to purchase it at the counter.

You move to stop him, “Don’t worry about it! You can pay on your way out. You look like you’ve been struggling with those crutches.” You tell him waving him back down to sit.

“Just relax, drink and read. It’s what the Midnight Owl’s for.” You chirp happily shooting him a triumphant look as you move to walk back to the counter.

You go back to working on creating an order for books back at the checkout counter. You have the work desktop open back to the list of books you were cross referencing for prices. You go back and forth from looking at your handwritten list to researching prices from different distributors.

The couple who was there earlier finally get up, waving goodbye to Y/N.

“Have a great night y’all! See you next week.” You tell them with your own wave that’s brief as you make the order.

The only noise in the store is some shuffling and the music playing overhead and you humming along to it. It’s a mix CD you burned a few years back and most of the songs are still your favorite. You keep meaning to make a new one, but you just haven’t had time. Your eyes wander from your computer to check on your new customer reading in the corner. You don’t want to hover, but you try to gauge if he’ll be a regular or not. You hope so, he seemed nice enough.

Spencer can feel her eyes on him occasionally, he can see her fidgeting behind the counter. Every other song he can spot her leaning out of the corner of his eye to look over to him. He tries to hide his grin; he knows that look well. She’s trying to see if he’s enjoying the book. Spencer tries to read at a normal pace, even though he can read twenty thousand words per minute, that defeats the purpose of him trying to get out of his apartment to just devour this book. Plus, he kind of enjoys watching the store clerk.

She’s full of energy and he has no idea where it comes from, but it’s almost a nervous energy. She’s constantly moving, either fidgeting or walking through the stacks to check or tidy the books. She’s also passed in front of him a few times to check the cafe machines or even grab a pastry he’s sure has been there for too long, and she feels bad about selling it.

Spencer stays there for a few hours; he really doesn’t notice how long until the door opens and the bell chimes again.

“Morning!” The new woman cheers sleepily.

You wave at her, “Morning Josie. There are still a few pastries left from yesterday, but I put them in the back fridge for you.”

The new woman, Josie, waved back, “Thanks, I’m going to prep for today.”

Spencer finally looks at the time and realizes it’s five in the morning, he sighs standing up. He grabs his crutches and pushes himself toward the counter to pay for his book. If he’s lucky he could get an hour or two of a nap before work.

He gently slides the book over to you and your whole face brightens, “Have you liked it so far?” you asked him.

Spencer grins “It’s charming. You were right about the cast; it’s a great blend of characters that shouldn’t fit as well as they do together.”

You nod excitedly. “I don’t know if you’ve gotten to a certain part, but I won’t spoil it, I loved how they explain the magic that affects Sophie! It was a fun book.”

Spencer hands over some cash to pay for his book. “I’ve liked it so far. I’ll have to ask for another recommendation.” He tells you.

If you were a dog, your ears would be pointed up and tail wagging, you cannot contain your pure joy.

“Absolutely! Anytime, it’s one of my favorite things.” You push your hair back and you look down at the table nervously pushing his book back toward him with his change.

“I’m always happy to see a returning face.” You said looking up at him, your eyes sparkling. “I’m Y/N by the way, I don’t know if I introduced myself.”

Spencer takes the book and his change; you smile brilliantly at him, and he feels a little enchanted by the bookstore clerk. He returns it. “Spencer. It was nice to meet you.”

He gives you a small wave before walking out, crutches pushing him forward.

The one about Halloween

You have decided that you do not care if it’s only September, you are decorating for Halloween. Maybe it’s that you’re festive or maybe it’s from growing up in a southern community that went all out for decorations, but you are determined that the Midnight Owl will be the place to be for October. You’ve also planned a few events for the spooky month for all ages.

There are a few reading hours planned for children during the day, costume contests, and some trick or treat candy lined up to buy. Your shopping list was filling up quickly. For the nighttime events you’ve gotten together with Josie to throw a movie night every Sunday night at eight in October. You’ve already planned a lineup of movies to play and popcorn to order. You still can’t decide on having two movies or not, a family friendly one first and then a scary one. She’ll figure it out.

To say that you are bubbling with excitement is an understatement.

You're in the middle of dragging out one of the boxes of decorations from the attic when the door chimes open.

“Welcome in! Help yourself to shop or if you wait a few minutes, I can fix you a drink at the cafe!” You shout from behind the large box you’re carrying. It’s not heavy, filled mostly with paper and plastic decorations. The box itself is just quite large, and it blocks your view when you walk.

“What are you doing?” A soft chuckle passes through, and you recognize it immediately. It’s your new favorite regular.

You set the box down in a huff behind the counter and look at Spencer exasperatedly.

“If you must know, I’m preparing for Halloween.” You said matter-of-factly.

Spencer’s hazel eyes light up, the same way he gets when he’s about to tell you a long list of facts about something. You love it when he gets excited. It’s contagious.

“Oh, please continue then. It’s never too early for Halloween.” He said happily.

You let out a burst of laughter and it echoes in the room, “Thank you! Finally, someone who understands.” You tease him.

Spencer’s been coming in almost every night since his first visit. It’s only been a month, but you love talking to Spencer. He’s full of endless information and he loves to read just as much, if not more, than you do.

He has an unfair advantage though. He had admitted how quickly he could read to you in passing a few weeks ago and your jaw dropped. You didn’t believe him at first.

“Okay, that’s the fifth book you’ve finished in like two days Spencer. Are you even actually reading them?” You had teased him, when he returned to the shelves looking through the selections.

“Of course I do. I just happen to read twenty thousand words per minute.” He said easily running his fingers along the spines of the books as he pursues.

You scoff, “Yea right.” you rolled your eyes. “Just say you skim through them.”

Spencer shakes his head, “I’m serious, I have an eidetic memory too.” he said.

You blinked at him a few times in disbelief before just bursting into a fit of small giggles.

“Wow, I wish I could read that fast. I’d get through my TBR so much faster!” you said impressed.

Spencer pauses looking at you, trying to assess if you're trying to make fun of him or not. Your face is split into a wide grin, and he realizes you are intrigued by this little tidbit. You didn't think it was weird, that he’s weird.

Spencer felt his face flush a bit, and he just shrugged it off. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s just a really cool fact about you.” You said, like it was obvious.

Spencer mouth tighten into a fine line, and he shook his head, “That would be a first.” he had mumbled under his breath.

You didn’t press him, but you did file away in the back of your mind his response for later. Clearly Spencer wasn’t used to someone reacting positively to this tidbit about him.

You look at Spencer as he stands there watching you. He’s in his work clothes, which you're used to by now, but it’s the opposite of what he wore when they first met. He’s in a purple button up shirt that he’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. His cardigan is hanging off his faded brown leather satchel sitting against his hip. He’s leaning on his crutches as she assesses him.

“C’mon,” you said waving for him to follow. “Let’s make something fall flavored to get rolling with the season.” You suggest a small smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer just nods and follows you toward the cafe section.

“Are you a fan of pumpkin flavors or do you prefer other autumn flavors?” You ask him as you walk around the counter to the coffee machines.

The pickup counter for the cafe doubles as a normal place to sit and Spencer grabs a stool to sit in, leaning his crutches against the counter.

“I only like my drinks sweet. Flavor isn’t too important.”

You hum in acknowledgement and get to work on making him a drink. “I’ll just surprise you then.”

Spencer brings out a few books he’s reading and places them on the table. While you make his drink you ask, “What’s your favorite book to read to get into the spooky spirit?”

He perks up, “There’s plenty of options, I think I prefer something classic like The Shinning or maybe even an old compilation of ghost stories. Those are always good.” he said passionately.

“Ooh! I’m obsessed with the paranormal!” you gasp in excitement.

Spencer feeds into the enthusiastic response, “Did you know there are a multitude of categories of the paranormal? Most people only associate it with ghosts or demons, but ufology and cryptozoology are also subcategories. Personally, as interesting as ghost or demon possession stories are, I’m far more fascinated by cryptozoology and the creatures that different areas of the world claim to see and state they have proof of.”

Spencer realizes he’s rambling and tries to cut himself off, but your eyes are wide as you actively lean against the counter giving him your rapt attention.

You notice his abrupt stop and you tilt your head, “Keep going, you have my full attention! I’m trying to get into the spooky spirit!” You drawl out, your rich accent seeping through.

You turn to grab his drink and hand it to him. It's in a nice burnt orange colored mug, “It’s a maple chai latte. Felt like fall to me.” you said quietly, having a matching mug with him. You lean against the counter and bat your hand at his forearm.

“C’mon tell me more!” you giggled.

Spencer stared at you in awe for a moment, before he tried to hide his expression through drinking his latte.

“Ghost hunting became popular in the early 2000s, but it’s been around since the 1920’s and even before then there were popular ghost stories told throughout history! Humans have always been interested in the afterlife which is why we’re probably so fascinated by looking for proof of the afterlife.”

You nod and sips from your own mug, “Have you ever watched those ghost hunting shows before?” you asked curiously.

Spencer shook his head no. “I don’t watch a lot of television.”

You hum in thought, “Yeah, that checks out. Well, they’re super cheesy and trashy. Love them to be honest.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asked, leaning closer against the bar.

It felt like it was only the two of them in the bookstore. Inside their own bubble, the world moved slowly inside the confines of the Midnight Owl.

“This is gonna sound so awful!” you laughed lightly shaking your head, “There’s a show called Ghost Adventures, and the main guy, Zak Bagans, he’s such a dick to the ghosts! He instigates all the time, and I mean, regardless of if ghosts are real, he goes in hot ! Not to mention he always throws his costar Aaron into the worst places! It’s just insane, absolute trash.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“But you love it?” Spencer asked.

You gave him a deadpan stare, “Oh absolutely, it’s the best kind of quality trash.”

You burst into a fit of giggles and Spencer couldn’t help but find it contagious.

“Aaaaaaanyway~” You drag out, moving to grab your box of decorations.

“Wanna help me decide how to decorate?” you ask him, grabbing a pumpkin garland out of the bin and tossing it dramatically over your shoulders like a scarf.

Spencer brushes his loose hair out of his face and nods. He may still be useless on crutches, but he could help... Kind of.

You empty the containers of the bin on the counter where Spencer’s sitting and he quickly grabs his mug to lift it up to avoid being knocked over from the avalanche of orange and black. You smile at him apologetically before trying to dig out your favorite decorations.

Spencer’s face is twisted in a look of frustration as he sits in the corner reading. He came in a while ago and besides his drink, he hasn’t spoken much to you.

Which isn’t a bad thing, tonight was one of the busier nights. It was mid-October, and the festivities had been nonstop. Tonight was vampire night, which upon entering the building Spencer was already grimacing. There was a special drink deal on the board hanging above the cafe for anyone buying a vampire related book. Twilight , Dracula , Carmilla , Interview with a Vampire, just pick a title it was an option with its own fun themed cafe drink that was absolutely red.

It wasn’t like you knew he had just finished working on a case that involved vampirism, but the odds weren’t in his favor for finding an escape from the most recent case. Halloween season had its ups and downs he supposed.

There was no way of explaining his slightly irritable mood. Spencer hadn’t mentioned his work to you. You never asked, and he didn’t feel like explaining that he spent most of his waking hours profiling serial killers. In the past it hasn’t made the best openers in conversation. It’s also nice to have this small corner of his life not be coated with unsubs, victims, and death. It’s just his favorite bookstore.

Spencer looked up to see you making more drinks, the cafe was popular tonight. Your chatting up another woman who’s laughing at the joke you told her. The other woman is holding a book that Spencer is positive is a vampire novel.

“And I have one raspberry mocha for a Carmilla lover!” your voice rang out and you handed over the drink to the customer.

“Come back Sunday for our movie night, we’re playing Beetlejuice !” you said and waved goodbye to the customer.

For eleven o'clock at night the shop was busy. Busting out drink after drink and ringing up books at the cafe register. It was your idea to do a deal with a themed book and drink combo, but you didn’t expect to still be busy into the night. You hadn’t even had a break in customers to say hello to your regulars.

For business, this was great, for your own mental health, you were struggling. You just needed it to slow down enough to catch your breath. You should have scheduled someone else on shift with you, but you weren’t about to call for help now. It was your mistake, and you'll live with it. You made a note to make sure someone is on shift with you tomorrow night for a different themed deal.

After another round of five more customers there is finally a break. You sighed leaning against the counter and took a grounding breath. You don’t move for a minute, just catch your breath before you look up and catch Spencer from his chair looking at you. You shot him a shaky smile that is supposed to be reassuring but actually looks like you’re about to cry. Spencer’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he decides to get up and come over. The cafe was still bustling but no one was sitting at the counter. Spencer shoves his book into his bag, grabs his crutches and hobbles to the counter.

“Busy night?” he asked, already knowing the answer but trying to see how you were doing.

Your eyes look up into his hazel ones and you look worn. “In my head, the whole vampire boom and Halloween themed event seemed like a good idea. For profit, absolutely. For my sanity? I never wanna see another Twilight shirt or raspberry flavored item for a while.” you said in a groan placing your head against the counter.

“What is Twilight ?” Spencer asked.

He doesn’t know anything except that it has something to do with vampires and its popular enough that the victims of the latest case were also obsessed with it. He knows it’s a book, but besides that, he has no clue.

You slowly move to look up and blink at him for a moment, trying to deduce if he’s being serious or not. “Very funny Spencer, I know you’re not asking what the pop culture phenomenon Twilight franchise is.” you replied with a laugh.

After a moment of looking at Spencer’s confused face you realize he was in fact, unaware. Your eyes widen.

“Wait, wait, wait, you seriously don’t know? I mean it’s like everywhere. The second movie is coming out in less than a month. I don’t think I’ve sold so many copies of a book in my life. I can’t keep New Moon on the shelves.” you said almost exasperatedly, but the smile on your face gave it away. If Spencer didn’t know any better, he’d think you were getting a kick out of it. He knows by now you won’t make fun of him; you're elated for a completely different reason.

“I just know it’s popular and about vampires.” He replied with a shrug.

“Oh my god, I get to explain Twilight to you.” your face splits into a massive grin, your energy returning quickly.

Spencer quirks an eyebrow, “I thought you were over hearing Twilight ?”

“No, no, no, no! This is totally different!” you're almost vibrating with excitement. “I’ve read all the books, I’m gonna let you borrow my copy next time you’re in! Actually, I’ll give you the first two since you read so fast!” her words are running together in a run on sentence she’s talking too fast. Your accent came through stronger than ever with your eagerness.

He doesn’t have it in him to turn you down, you're just so thrilled. Spencer just finds himself too caught up in your joy to tell you he had no interest in the book series. He finds himself agreeing to borrow your copies.

“I can buy them if you need me too. I don’t want to take your copies unless, you’re sure.” He offers.

You shake your head, “I can’t keep them on the shelves long enough for you to buy them. Just go ahead and take my copies.” You move to make Spencer a drink that isn’t one of the red blood themed drinks on the menu. “It’s not a big deal. I do have a lot of sticky notes in there though, my friends and I read it for a book club night.”

He sits up a little straighter, suddenly becoming more interested in reading these books. Not because of their pop culture relevance but because he could read your commentary. There was something special about that, sharing a book with annotations.

“I’ll bring one too.” He finds himself offering before he can think.

Your face glows as you hand him a chai latte. “I’d love that! It’ll take me a bit longer to read than you will.” you joked lightly.

“It’ll be worth it; I haven’t had someone to talk to about books since my mom.” He said looking down at his drink, his eyes growing distant for a split second.

You open your mouth to ask but quickly shut it, biting the inside of your cheek to stop. You might be nosy, but you knew when to not pry. It was how Spencer seemed to be somewhere else in his mind, if only for a moment. It was enough to know that you had no business asking him to open a can of worms he maybe didn’t want to. Instead, you turn around to grab a set of fake vampire teeth to put in your mouth. They were small and awkward and not cute by any means, but if you could get him to smile, that was all you needed.

You patiently wait for Spencer to look back up at as you rest your head in your palm and keep your face neutral. The fake teeth are making your mouth uncomfortable, but you’ll survive.

When Spencer does look up and sees you dramatically batting your eyes at him and grinning madly with children’s plastic vampire teeth, he can’t control the bubbling laughter that takes over him. His shoulders shake with the full body movement, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Where did you get those?” he asked through his fit.

You turn to spit them out into the trash, your mouth disgustingly filled with drool from the uncomfortable teeth. You cover your mouth and grab your own drink to flush out your mouth.

“They were a gimmick for the themed drinks tonight.” you finally replied. “Good for a quick joke not for actually wearing.” you said groaning.

“Pretty sure they are made for children’s mouths.” Spencer teased.

You shrug and sigh, “Well, being a vampire for Halloween is off the list of options this year. I don’t want to wear those for a whole night.”

“Probably better off.” He said trying to not immediately focus on Dante and his manager coercing a mentally ill young woman into committing vampire ritual like murders.

“Yeah, the whole thing with that celebrity kinda left a sour taste in my mouth.” you mentioned grimacing.

“Dante?” Spencer asked for clarification.

“Yeah, it was all over the tabloids,” you pointed to the magazine stand by the main register. “Got them in this morning.”

Spencer tries to not make a face as he sees them, “You read that?”

You let out a loud snort of a laugh. “No, no, no, oh god!” you stand up a little straighter and push your hair back. “I don’t trust a TMZ article as far as I can throw it, but those murders are real. Making it look like vampire bites...” you shudder, “that just skeeves me out.”

Spencer drinks from his mug but nods his head in agreement. He didn’t peg you to believe paparazzi reports. The magazine articles would be wrong anyway; they didn’t make the arrest until that afternoon. It was refreshing to see someone not believe everything they read.

“If vampires are off your list, what other costumes are you thinking about?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“No idea.” you groan out in irritation. “I usually do group costumes with my friends but, kind of hard when they live 600 miles away.”

“South?” he asked.

You snorted with a roll of your eyes, “Aw geez what gave it away?” you tease with an exaggerated drawl, making your accent thicker than normal.

Spencer shakes his head in amusement. “Very funny. Why move here?”

You tense up, avoiding his doe eyes. You look down biting your lip nervously. “It’s uh, a long story.” you said quietly.

Your body almost looks like it’s trying to shrink in on itself. Spencer doesn’t need to be a profiler to understand your body language. Whatever it is, you’re not ready to share it.

Instead, he tries to be reassuring that he’s not prying for information.

“I’m a transplant too. I grew up in Las Vegas.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I’ve never been, is it really just the strip filled with casinos or are there nice pockets of peace and no tourists?” you asked.

You sigh, “It is a lot of tourists. There’s plenty of local places, ones that are only there if you’ve grown up knowing how to get to them.” he told you in a quiet voice, almost conspiratorially.

Your mouth splits into a smile that reaches your eyes, “So you’ll be my tour guide, right?”

Spencer’s face heats up from the suggestion and your giggles fill the room.

“I’m just teasing you,” you pat his arm reassuringly before going to grab a pastry from the front display.

“Come on and split this last cookie with me, I know I'm not going to sell it.” you said grabbing a chocolate chip cookie and warming it up before cutting it in half.

Spencer’s face is still tinted pink but the soft cookie and the way it melts when he bites into it and seeing you look happier than earlier, is enough for him. A small corner of peace in the world inside the Midnight Owl.

The one after Haley’s funeral

You’re sitting at the checkout counter reading the book Spencer most recently traded with you. It’s one of the Sherlock Homles books, which you had admittedly never read before. You've watched plenty of films and shows but reading it never really crossed your mind.

You joked about making Spencer watch The Great Mouse Detective when you finished so you could explain your first introduction to Sherlock Holmes. He had no idea what you were talking about, which you found charming in its own way. You loved introducing Spencer to the pop culture media that just filled your brain. Even if it was trashy. You had promised him The Great Mouse Detective was anything but trash. A childhood classic for sure.

You take your time reading the books Spencer lent. He started leaving small post-it notes for you in them with commentary and questions. It was like you two had your own language, and it was books. Even if he let you borrow a genre you had no interest in, you suddenly were invested. It was a way to get to know him, and in turn he took your books happily. Your annotations were way more scattered brained and filled with tiny commentary to yourself.

You saw Spencer reading one of the books you let him borrow and he laughed, loudly, in the middle of the store. You both flushed in embarrassment. It was a busy night, filled with university students studying late at night, so it was mostly silent besides the music that was playing through the speakers. You knew you had written something insulting about one of the characters in that sticky note. You were creative with your insults, and you had completely forgotten to take that out before giving it to him. Spencer teased you about your comments on Gale from The Hunger Games for the rest of that night.

You’re in the middle of The Hounds of Baskerville when the door opens. You look up to greet them but your face falls when you see Spencer, he looks terrible. You slowly close the book and move to walk toward him.

His eyes were hollow and the normal dark circles under his eyes seemed impossibly darker than usual. Spencer just seemed sad and defeated. You hadn’t seen this side of him and all you wanted to do was press your thumb to his forehead and smooth out the furrow of his brow. To get him to relax, if only for a moment.

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” you asked gently walking toward him. You reach out to rub his arms affectionately, “What happened?”

Your voice is soft and sweet, the way you said honey with your southern drawl feels like a hug. Spencer just needed a minute. One second of peace. The image of Haley’s body unmoving with blood still fresh behind his eyes.

“It’s been a long week.” His voice comes out a little rough. He’s haggard from the flight from Nashville and he really didn’t want to go home.

The only comforting place he could think of immediately was the Midnight Owl, of you. Your warm voice and comforting drinks were the only things he could stand to be around.

Your face softens at his words, and you tilt your head, “Do you need a hug?” you asked softly.

There’s a shaky sigh that escapes Spencer’s mouth and he just nods his head, unable to form the words.

You pull him into your embrace gently, your arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly. You rub soothing circles into his back and Spencer holds onto your waist. Your body radiates heat and it's comforting as he shoves his face into your shoulder. You smell like vanilla, cloves, and parchment paper and his whole body relaxes into you. You hold onto him until Spencer pulls away, not wanting him to feel like he was a burden. The store was empty anyway, it's been a slow night.

He takes a deep breath before peeling himself off. He moves his hands to hold your arms so he’s supporting himself. Your eyes soften as you look him over, her hand coming up to cup his face.

“You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to, but I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” You whisper softly.

Spencer relaxes against your touch and doesn’t say much, just hums in response. He eventually finds his words, “My friends wife died recently, and it just, it was a shock.”

He doesn’t want to get into how Haley died. That his job makes him and his coworkers targets. The people they love. George Foyet died at Hotch’s hands for killing Haley and attempting to kill Jack. Spencer watched Hotch’s face crumble, fall and lose what he loved the most. He knew Hotch didn’t want to divorce Haley, he loved her and his son with his whole heart.

That love had cost him Haley’s life.

“Oh hun,” your voice brings him back, “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’ll be fine. I’m just processing it.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, you’re allowed to process and grieve, especially if you knew her.” you tell him firmly. “C’mon, go sit down and I’m gonna make a delicious warm drink and we can just relax alright?”

Spencer gives a tiny, tight smile and lets you grab his hand to pull him to one of the nicer chairs. He sets his cane against the arm rest and is floored by how easy everything is with you.

You don’t push or pry for information, let him ramble, and Spencer doesn’t think he’s had a real friend outside of the BAU in a long time, much less someone his age. As much as he loves his team, there are times where they don’t understand him. It’s a lot easier to be himself with you. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what he’s doing most of his days, and he could argue with himself that you don’t know him. Almost 90% of his life is the BAU, and who is he if he isn’t Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI agent in the Behavioral Analyst Unit? A small part of him hopes he could be the person he becomes when he enters the Midnight Owl.

He’s too lost in his thoughts to notice you walking over with two steaming mugs.

“Here, it’s just tea but I think you need a relaxing drink. No caffeine.” you said with a sweet tone looking him over.

You sit on the arm rest of the chair cradling your own mug. “Can I try something?” you ask him.

Spencer drinks from his mug, but he mutters an agreement under his breath.

“Lean back fully in the chair.” you instructed.

He does as he’s told, he lowers his hands to his lap, mug still warmly pressed into his hands. Spencer isn’t sure what you’re trying to do until your hands are running through his hair, feather light. You’re not massaging his scalp, just the lightest of touches as you card your fingers through his long hair. Spencer’s eyes close and he almost moans from how the tension leaves his body immediately.

You let out a tiny snort but continue the motions.

“My momma used to do this when I was little.” you whisper to him, keeping a low voice.

“I would be asleep in an instant.” you emphasized with a quiet snap of your fingers.

Spencer’s eyes flutter open to look up at you, his big doe eyes looking up to see your soft features be highlighted in the warm glow of the lamps. You look down at him and tilt your head.

“I might pass out like this.” he murmured in a low voice.

“You can if you want. Promise I won’t let anyone bother you... not that anyone’s coming in anytime soon.” You drawl out looking around at the empty shop.

“Just a quick nap, twenty minutes.” he told you, voice already fading and his eyes growing heavy.

You don’t respond to him, just continue stroking his hair until he falls asleep. He felt the warm mug leave his hands and he heard ceramic clank onto the wooded side table next to him.

You watch Spencer sleep, giving him much longer than twenty minutes. His dark circles told enough; he needed this nap more than he was letting on. It takes less than five minutes for Spencer to pass out. His body relaxed into the chair with all tension leaving his body. You slow down your movements until you feel safe enough to stop. His small snore a sign he was asleep.

You moved to stand and went back to your duties, which wasn’t anything more than inventory tonight. Mondays were always slow.

You moved about the bookshop, filing away books, crossing off things on your checklist, and beside the few customers that came in for less than twenty minutes each, the night was quiet. Enough so that you let Spencer sleep much longer than twenty minutes.

Spencer sleeps peacefully for most of the night. You check on him occasionally, and besides the few snores, he’s sound asleep.

Around four in the morning he stirs awake, blinking blearily and looks around the store. You hear him and poke your head out from behind a shelf.

“Good morning sunshine!” you teased in a chipper tone.

Spencer looks at you confused before looking down at his watch. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked, tone not accusing, just confused.

You shrug and make your way over to him, “You looked like you needed the sleep.”

You gently reach your hand up to smooth the furrow of his brow. “You’ll die young from all that stress you’re carrying on your shoulders.” You tell him softly. The way you’re gently touching his forehead is like you’re trying to erase the stress and pressure.

Spencer sighs into the light touch, “For sleeping on a chair, it was pretty peaceful.” he murmurs.

You snort in amusement. “Well, at least I know they’re comfy.”

“I sleep on planes frequently, so this is much better.” he said.

“Travel a lot for work?” you asked.

Spencer just nods. Not wanting to explore too deep into his job. The job that was leaving him sleepless most nights.

“Do you feel any better?” you ask quietly.

He nods solemnly. “Better than when I arrived.” he said with a shrug.

You frown but don’t press, you push his hair back again giving him a reassuring smile.

“I’m a good listener if you ever need to talk. Promise.” You hold out your pinky finger in the childish gesture of a pinky promise.

Spencer finds himself smiling, finding it charming. Regardless of his problem with germs, it doesn’t feel so intense with you. You’re not a stranger anymore. He hooks his pinky with yours.

“Not now.” He whispers. “But someday...”

“Someday.” you reaffirm.

The one about family

Spencer’s surprised to see that you’re not working one random night in November. He knows that, of course, You can’t possibly be working every single night he comes in. It just throws him off when he doesn’t see you immediately. The sunshine woman behind the bar making him a new sickly-sweet coffee to try. You’ve only ever missed one day max two, so he doesn’t think much of it. Just a blip on his night.

One night without you suddenly turns into half a week. Every day Spencer walks in and it’s not your bright bubbly voice greeting him. It’s one of the handful of people who work the late-night shift. They aren’t strangers, Spencer’s ran into a couple of them occasionally. So, when Spencer comes into the bookstore to see, yet again, Robert, manning the front desk lazily flipping through a magazine, his mild frustration turns to worry. You've been gone for four days and none of your coworkers seem to know why.

What if you’re sick? What if something happened to you? Did you take a vacation? What if you’re in danger?

The thoughts consume Spencer so much he almost calls Garcia to track you down. Or at least give him your address to check on you. He pulls himself together and realizes that it would be a bad idea and an invasion of your privacy. He’ll just have to wait it out.

Spencer does wait, mostly because he’s forced too. The BAU never truly stops working.

When he finally sees you again it’s near the tail end of November and way too close to Thanksgiving for his liking. He feels like you've been gone for ages, but it’s only been two weeks. The door chimes behind him as he walks in, he’s expecting to see your eyes light up with a smile on your flushed pink cheeks. The way you’ve always greeted him.

Instead, he sees a side of you that he’s not used to at all. You look tired, exhausted. The dark circles under your eyes could compete against his natural ones. You’re wearing glasses which he’s never seen on you before. Her hair is haphazardly tied up, and You're in a large well-worn sweater that reads, ‘Read Banned Books’. He doesn’t think you've slept much, if at all, since he last saw you.

You look like a zombie, barely functioning.

You don’t even register Spencer enter; you're standing at the checkout counter finishing a transaction with a customer. You're swaying on your feet the whole time.

Spencer lets you finish the interaction before coming over to the counter, concern clear on his face.

“Y/N?” He says your name softly as he approaches.

Your eyes fly up to him and widen a little in surprise, your body reacts with a small flinch. “Oh god Spencer!” You give a soft laugh, your hand coming up to clutch your chest, “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.” you try to calm yourself down.

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and Spencer can tell. It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re not yourself. Her eyes are only half open, your hands shaking from what he can only assume is the obscene amount of caffeine you probably have in your system. Everything just seems muted, not the bright colors he used to see you framed in.

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve been gone for a while.” he prompts, trying to get something out of you. A clue to what might have happened. Anything.

You shake your head, “I’m fine, everything’s fine.” You said it a little too quickly.

Spencer doesn’t buy it, but he’s kept enough secrets to himself to know he probably shouldn’t go looking into friends’ private lives. Some things he knows he’d rather keep to himself... but seeing you like this, he wants to help.

You avoid his eyes and start to play with your hands on the counter. “I-” you open your mouth but promptly shut it again. You bite your cheek with a frown plastered on your face.

“Sorry, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” you said quickly before turning to grab some books from behind the desk to busy yourself with.

You don't want to talk about or think about it. It’s been a long two weeks, and you just need some normalcy. Something that you know you can do and enjoy.

You feel Spencer’s eyes burning into you. You try to keep your usual high energy, you truly do. Everything has been so rough this month; you just need a break. The bookstore was your one solace. The Midnight Owl wasn’t just a job, it was your home. Your safe haven.

You didn’t want to bring your real life here, not when sometimes your only highlight is seeing Spencer and sharing books back and forth. If he starts asking about your life outside the four walls of your shop, you don’t know if you can hold yourself together. Not today.

“Y/N,” he opens his mouth trying to get your attention again.

“Really Spencer, it’s fine, I’m fine!” you tell him, a short tone to your voice.

You spin on your heels to walk somewhere, anywhere, else. “You know I have your book actually, let me return it. I left some notes in there.” You make it five or six steps before you falter and sways again. Spencer reaches out to grab and steady you.

“Forget the book, you don’t look fine.” He makes you face him. “You look exhausted.” He chastises you.

You deflate immediately and let Spencer guide you to a chair. He gently sets you down and he pries the book out of your hand and places it on the side table.

“Sorry, you don’t have to take care of me.” you murmur feebly swatting him away. “I just...” You take a deep breath. “I had to take dad to the hospital on Tuesday and it’s just been downhill all week...” you admit timidly. You pushed your glasses up to your hairline and pressed the heels of your palm to your eyes.

“I haven’t gotten much sleep.” you admit.

“You’ve run yourself ragged.” Spencer lowers himself to be eye level with you. “Is he home now?” he asks gently.

“No, they’re keeping him one more night.” you said with a heavy sigh.

Your arms fell in between your knees, and you lean your head back exhausted. “It’s just been hard this past year...” your voice is small and lingers with sadness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked hesitantly.

Spencer maybe doesn’t like talking about his hardships, but he’ll listen to yours if you let him. He wants to desperately ease your mind, see you smile.

You look up at him, eyes wide as you assess him. “I don’t want to put my problems on you Spencer.” you give a tight smile. “I’ll figure it out.”

Spencer reaches out to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Talking about it doesn’t mean that you’re inconveniencing me. I'm just worried.”

You sigh, already feeling him chip away at you. You didn’t stand a chance against his big doe eyes looking at you like you were fragile.

You take a deep breath before answering him, “My dad has ALS, he was diagnosed a few years ago... I’ve been taking care of him.” you admit.

“Where we were, the doctors just weren’t cutting it. So, I did some research and of course there were stellar doctors in DC... plus my baby sister came here for university so I just thought... maybe it would be easier. On all of us.” The tone of your voice gives your worry away.

“Anyway, he just, he had an accident and fell down the other day. His legs are finally giving out and he’s being so stubborn about needing a wheelchair.” Your voice shakes and you close your eyes.

“It’s been a long week.” you finally admit looking up at Spencer with watery eyes.

Spencer understands. He’s spent most of his life taking care of his mom because of her own illness. While your dad is suffering from something different, he understands. Probably more than you realize.

“I get it, I do.” he said. You go to retort, but he cuts you off. “I took care of my mom for a long time. She...” He pauses looking at you, debating for a moment on if he should tell you.

“My mom has schizophrenia, and I committed her when I was eighteen.” he tells you with a tight frown.

“It’s hard to take care of your parents, especially when it’s their job to take care of us.” He tells you sincerely.

You have tears pricking your eyes, “Oh Spencer, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’m telling you this because I understand. I promise I do, it’s not easy.”

You take a shaky breath; your heart feels like it’s a thousand pounds. “Does it ever get easier?” you ask softly.

Spencer squeezes your hand, “No, it doesn’t. There are happy moments though. Moments where you know you’re doing the right thing, even if it’s difficult.”

You sniffle and wipes your face, “Thanks, I uh, I needed that.” you said with a small smile.

It’s getting closer to Christmas. The bookstore is decorated and busier than ever. There’s a handful of special events but between people coming in to buy presents and university students staying all night to study for finals, you have your hands full.

There’s a second staff member working nights with you this month until the holiday break starts for the store. You and Josie were adamant about closing the bookstore between Christmas Eve and New Years. If someone needed a book that badly they could go to a big box store.

What you really don’t need right now is your baby sister coming to your place of work and harassing you about Christmas and your dad.

“Bridget, I don’t have time to discuss this with you right now!” you hiss out at your younger sister. “You didn’t spend Thanksgiving with us and daddy really wants you to come home just for Christmas.” you chastised your sister with a frown.

You have a pause in customers for the moment, but you know that the large study group is coming in half an hour like they have been for the past week and half.

“That’s not fair Magpie!” your sister groans in frustration using your nickname to try and be sweet. “I made these plans months ago; Mark really wants me to spend Christmas with his family.”

You cross your arms and look at your sister sadly. “Birdie, we don’t know how much time we get with dad-” you start but is cut off.

Bridget’s face scrunches in disgust at her sister’s words and huffs exaggeratedly. “Good god Y/N! He’s not gonna die over the holidays, stop fucking guilt trippin’ me over every decision because it doesn’t revolve around dad!”

Bridget’s annoyed and you can tell, she always tries to skirt around her problems when she’s frustrated. She thinks you’re trying to back her into a corner.

“Birdie-”

“It’s Bri. I go by Bri here.” Her sister crosses her arms and looks at you in annoyance.

“Look, I know dad’s sick, I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were Bridget.” you said defensively.

She rolled her eyes, “I didn’t decide to pack everything up and move dad out to DC. Just because you’re closer doesn’t mean I’m going to stop living my life to take care of daddy.”

You bite your tongue. Trying to not fight with your sister, but your irritation rises in your throat. Burning words of resentment linger in your mind.

“Fine. Would you please just call him on Christmas and please come by after the New Year. He really misses you.” You try to plead with your sister.

Bridget just waves goodbye as she walks out the door, “Will do. See you next year Magpie.” she almost ran out the door.

You deflate, your shoulders dropping. You almost don’t hear Spencer walking up next to you holding a gift bag in his hands.

“I didn’t know your sister visited you.” he said.

You look up at him and smile at your favorite regular. Your friend. You think they’re allowed to call each other friends now. He already saw you cry and that was a big step.

You shake your head, “Yeah, we’re not as close as we used to be.” you mumble under your breath.

Spencer nods his head. He never had any siblings, but he can read your face well enough to know you’re not thrilled.

“Still close enough for nicknames, Magpie?” he asked, biting back a smile.

“Childhood nicknames, Birdie and Magpie. Cause we were birds of a feather.” You said looking down at your hands sadly.

“It’s fine.” you shrug it off and give a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. You lean against the counter. “What’s that you got there?” you asked, changing the subject.

You’re pointing to the gift bag in his hands. You tilt your head curiously.

“Oh, this is,” he flushes for a split second rushing his words out. “This is for you. I know you’re closing for the holiday soon and I don’t know if I’ll have a last-minute work call or not so., I brought your Christmas present.” He fumbled through his words quickly, but he held out the small bag.

You light up immediately. Your eyes shimmer with excitement. “Aww, Spencer! This is so kind thank you!”

You bend down below the counter and grabs your own item, “I actually have your present too.” you said shyly, handing him a wrapped package.

Spencer is quiet as he gently takes the gift from you, a tiny smile on his face. He brushes his hair back out of his face as he looks at you softly.

“This is so kind thank you.”

Giddy giggles consume you, and you hold the gift bag. “Should we open them together or do you want to wait until Christmas?” you asked.

Spencer shakes his head, “No no, you can open it now.” He reassures you.

You smile, biting the inside of your cheek and open your present. Under the tissue paper is a sweater that’s twice your size and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever felt. You pull it out and it’s a purple crocheted sweater with a beautiful sun right in the middle. It reminds you of one of the tapestries from the late nineties that would have been in Practical Magic or something like that.

“Oh Spencer, this is perfect.” you say quietly holding it tightly to your chest. “Thank you so much, I love it.”

You pull off your cardigan and immediately shove the sweater on. You nestle yourself inside it and grins widely, “It matches your scarf!”

Spencer just takes in your joy and how you light up, and he’s happy he could make you feel better.

“Well go on open yours!” you said excitedly pushing your wrapped package toward him.

Spencer gently peels back the wrapping paper and uncovers a white box; he opens the box to find a ceramic mug. It's custom made, with some uneven texture. It’s glazed a speckled purple and wrapped around the bottom is a quote, “Some books are so familiar that reading them is being home again.” -L.M. Alcott

Spencer is quietly inspecting it, and you start explaining. You push your hair behind your ear, “I uh, I took a pottery class in my free time this past year. Since you’re here so much I thought you would like your own mug.” you said hesitantly.

Spencer’s eyes widen, “You, you made this? For me?” he asked in surprise.

You nod, looking down at the counter nervously.

Spencer makes his way around the counter and pulls you into a tight hug. “This is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me.” he whispers to you.

You return the hug holding Spencer tightly. You press your face into his shoulder, and you feel infinitely better than how your night started.

When they pull apart you play with the edge of the new sweaters' sleeves, a small blush on your face. “Do you go visit your mama for holidays?” you asked him.

Spencer shakes his head, “Not all the time. My job doesn’t usually care if it’s a holiday or not.” he tells you.

You nod, “Well, I hope you get to this year Spencer. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

He takes a shaky breath and nods in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll try to see her soon.”

You nudge him lightly, trying to keep the tone light, “Want a fresh drink in your new mug?” you tease.

Spencer chuckles but nods his head. “I’d love that.”

“We’re about to test run if I’m actually good at pottery. So, fingers crossed it doesn’t leak.” you joke moving to the cafe counter at the back of the store.

Spencer watches you walk away, with a skip in your step like the first night he came to the Midnight Owl. The way you easily glide through the crowd and chatter with customers and giggling.

You shine bright like a star, like the sun.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #x reader

180 notes · View notes

getosbigballsack · 10 months ago

Text

#rebellious boyfriend Gojo vs Pregnancy hormones:***

You both were about to have a baby at such a young age, barely eighteen, and you're already pregnant with his child. It wasn't a mistake. You've both made that part very clear when you had this conversation with both your parents.

Luckily for you both, your parents were supportive, though they were disappointed. They ensure that you and your boyfriend have all the emotional and mental support. A little apartment, just so you both could have a bit of privacy for yourselves and financial aid in the meantime while you both finished off your final year in high school and college.

But let's not divert from the main storyline at hand here.

Now, this piece is called sexy time featuring rebellious boyfriend Gojo Satoru and pregnant Nerdy Shy Reader-chan.

Only a few weeks away from graduation, and two months more until you can finally deliver your sweet baby. Things were going smoothly for you and Satoru. The students in the school are yet to find out that you're pregnant due to the fact that your uniform was a bit larger than you were and also because your pregnant belly was really small for seven month.

Today was a very special day. Your boyfriend had just received his acceptance letter from the university you both planned to attend to. Also, it's been a while since you were intimate with your boyfriend because he fears that he'll hurt the baby.

You know he doesn't really understand how horny your pregnancy has made you. It's simply the reason your parent bought the apartment in the first place. They knew how high a pregnant woman sex drive can be.

With all that said, you both decided to shower together. Unbeknownst to him, you wanted sex and he was going to have sex with you whether he wants to or not.

...

He watched you, eyes half lidded as he stared down at you fully on your knees in the bathroom on the wet cold shower tile with his throbbing dick in your hand. Your eyes batting up at him so beautifully, he swore you took what little breath he had left in that moment. "Baby girl the Doctor said not..."

"Fuck the doctor, I'm horny Satoru. Don't you wanna do it with me?" You asked him, lips pouting so cutely as you continued to stroke his throbbing hot cock.

"Of- of course, but I- I fuck! I just don't wanna hurt the baby. We're seven months pregnant Y/N. I can't risk anything happening to our baby," he said to you, fighting to urge to moan out. It's been a while since you held his cock like this as you stare up at him with you big beautiful eyes, pouting lips while on your knees.

It's a precious sight to see. Your naked and heavily pregnant body on your knees with the tip of your boyfriend's cock in your mouth. "Just a taste, Satoru. I promise I won't swallow anything," you said, and he shook his head no.

"Fine have it your way then," and with that said, you squeezed his cock before taking the entire length in your mouth, and a moment if sloppily sucking his cock like your life depended on it. Slurping and gurgling, spit bubbles forming at the corner of your mouth and drooling down your chin.

Its have been a while since you had sexy time like this and with the way how you were just staring up at your boyfriend as you practically swallowed his cock,that's all it took before he yanked you up by your arm and braced you against the shower glass.

"Let's go to the bedroom and I'll give you a proper fuck."

And you smiled, knowing that your boyfriend has finally gave in to you.

#gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru

870 notes · View notes

ghostofhyuck · 7 months ago

Text

NCT Dream reacts to your manicure!

Mark Lee

Thinks that it's interesting how you change your nails from time to time. It'll be short manicures then the next time you see him, your nails will be long with cute designs. He just thinks its interesting that you change your nails from time to time, probably paid for your nails at some point too!

Huang Renjun

Renjun would be the type of boyfriend who's obsessed with your manicures, especially when they're detailed ones! He'll just stare at it for a long time and would even tap on the charms glued there. He probably suggested one time what theme you should try and when you show it to him, he was astonished because they were able to visualize what he wants. <3

Lee Jeno

I feel like Jeno likes it when you have manicures. I think he leans on more on the simple, colored manicures rather than the long and detailed ones. He does thinks it looks cool but I feel like at some point you accidentally scratched him that's why he's a bit intimidated by it. But nonetheless, he still loves holding your hands. (He just becomes more careful.)

Lee Donghyuck

Haechan doesn't have any preferences when it comes to your nails. Whether you have it manicured or not, he doesn't care as long as he gets to hold your hands. But if he's bored and decided to play with your fingers, he'll stare at your nails and just observed the design. I feel like he'll be the type who'll be surprised that you changed your nails after a month.

Na Jaemin

He loves it! Would accompany you at the nail salon and just sit there and watch the process of your manicure. Would even gossip with your nail technician too! You sometimes let him choose a design for your nails but it always end up him just choosing a basic color like red or pink. Can't be trusted with the nail colors but if he found a cute nail design on pinterest, he would send it to you as your next nail set!

Zhong Chenle

Of course Chenle would pay for your nails! He doesn't care if you do it monthly, he thinks that it's for you to pamper yourself and you deserve it! He sometimes would be the one to bring you to the salon so that you can do your monthly manicure and he'll just way there like a patient boyfriend he is until your done. He got to make sure his money is worth it too!

Park Jisung

He thinks that it's interesting that you change your nails every month, so he would anticipate on what your next design would be. It wouldn't be until two or three weeks, he'll ask you when will you change your nails. You'll only laugh at him but you'll answer that you'll do it when you have a spare time. Sometimes you choose cute designs like sanrio characters and Jisung will be in AWE at how your nails are.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream reactions #nct mark #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

393 notes · View notes

two-white-butterflies · 1 year ago

Text

jasmine wind | c16

Description: Being in love with an f1 driver was supposed to be easy - but for some reason, your father doesn't like him.

Pairing: charles leclerc/wolff!reader

"Bebe," Charles giggled while staring at your new profile picture. He was only joking when he replied to your tweet - he was pleasantly surprised to see you take it seriously. "It's a cute picture, no?" you narrowed your eyes teasingly while pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Very cute, now I'll have to change my profile into your picture." he chuckled, quickly opening his twitter to change his icon.

You were surprised to be awoken by the sound of your phone ringing. A groan escaped your mouth - slowly adjusting to the artificial light of the lampshade. You reached for your phone - accepting the call without looking at the one calling. "Hello," your voice sounded hoarse from the rude awakening. "Schatz," you heard your father's voice.

A louder sigh escapes your mouth - you already memorized his lines. He'd start off by asking about your wellbeing - then the conversation would drift towards Charles. "How are you?" he inquired in a polite tone, you could hear the coffee pot from the other side of the call.

"I'm fine," you decided to be civil - turning to the other side of the bed where your fiancee was peacefully sleeping. Gods, you didn't even tell your parents that the wedding was happening in a few months.

"Are you eating your vegetables?" Toto asked, taking a sip of his coffee. "Yes," you replied in a whisper. "How's uhh - Charles?" he asked with reluctance, seeing that he was a sore topic. "He's alright, Pa. He's sleeping." you chuckled - closing Charles' mouth before he could turn into a mouth breather.

This was the perfect time to tell him about the wedding.

"There's something that I want to tell you," you take a deep breath - praying to Jesus that he'd approve. Praying that your relationship returns to its old form.

"What is it?"

"Charles and I are getting married - after the race in Monaco." you informed, and he replies with a deep disappointed sigh. "Did he propose to you?" he questioned and you nodded - mind not working properly to understand that he couldn't see you.

Judging by the silence, he knew that Charles did.

"- and he didn't ask for my permission, or your mother's?" Toto began to scold you. A frown formed at the top of your forehead - yes, Charles was wrong for not asking him - but it wasn't like he'd approve. "We're in the 21st Century, I can't believe you're about to start a fight over this." you scoff.

"Bye, Pa - I'll see you after Spa." you hang up.

"I don't want to think about that right now," you continued cooking the fried rice. "He's your father, and he was right. I should apologize." your boyfriend replied - placing his homemade ice cream on the fridge. "No." you responded firmly.

If Charles apologizes now then Toto would believe that he'd be right all the other times. "It could've gone better, but I'm glad that it's over. I gave him an invitation so he's the one to decide whether or not he attends. I don't care." you groan - he wraps his arms around your waist. He could read you like an open book.

Deep inside he could see that you were hurting.

"I'm here for you, alright." he whispered.

He'd know the truth in due time.

(AFTER MONACO, THE DAY OF THE WEDDING)

yn_leclerc: ready for married life.

maid of

29 comments 124,390 likes

Charles_Leclerc: already changed the last name 💗😂 - yn_leclerc: in advance too

ganggangchiken: all the other celebs do lavish weddings but they're the only ones who's driving to court with 5 guests 😭

You couldn't stop the tears that threatened to fall. It just flowed endlessly at the sight of your father. "Did you really think that I'd miss your wedding?" he raised an eyebrow, standing up from the bench right outside the courthouse.

He was clad in blue suit - smiling at you and Charles.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #c16 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc social media au

1K notes · View notes

harunayuuka2060 · 11 months ago

Text

MC: Ortho, isn't this a marriage certificate?

Ortho: Yes.

MC: ...

Idia: ...

Idia: Ortho-

Ortho: Marriage is a social and legal union between two individuals that creates kinship. It is a formalized commitment and relationship typically recognized by law, society, and often religious institutions. The specifics of marriage, including its rights and obligations, vary across different cultures, religions, and legal systems.

MC and Idia: ...

Ortho: You being best friends is not an excuse to decline marriage to one another!

MC: That is true.

Idia: Yeah. You've got a point there, Ortho.

Ortho: So are you going to sign it now?

MC and Idia: ...

MC: Ortho, will you let us discuss it first?

Idia: We're going to tell you once we have decided on it.

Ortho: ...

Ortho: *frowns* I will give you a one-week deadline. *leaves the room*

MC: ...

Idia: ...

Idia: Why is he so excited for us to get together?

MC: I don't know. But I think he would feel disappointed if we ignored this.

Idia: I can just talk to him.

MC: Are you sure?

Idia: Yes. Anyway, let's just continue gaming.

MC: *nods*

Vil: Ortho, you can't force marriage onto two individuals only because you want them to be together.

Ortho: I won't listen to your philosophy, Vil Schoenheit.

Vil: *frowns* What?

Rook: Monsieur Doll, I completely understand your frustration.

Rook: However, Roi de Ta Chambre and MC have created a pure bond and it's their choice whether to climb the staircase of marriage or not.

Ortho: They have a sense of kinship and that's enough!

Vil: Ortho, people change. Are you sure MC or Idia won't find someone who they will like more in the future?

Ortho: ...

Ace: Sorry, dude. But I agree with Vil-senpai and Rook-senpai.

Ace: You can't just force people to get married.

Deuce: Yeah. And that would put pressure on them.

Epel: Yes. Like if you convince Idia-senpai and MC hard enough, they might agree later on.

Epel: But then, that wouldn't be good for their friendship.

Ortho: So I don't have any choice but to watch them to stay friends? *sounds sad*

Epel: Y-Yeah...

Ace: Ey, don't be sad! You can still wish for Idia to get a love interest-

Deuce: Dude!

Ortho: *cries*

Ace: Wait- You're crying?!

Ortho: *looks gloomy as he enters Idia's room*

Idia: Ortho? Is there something wrong?

Ortho: I'm sorry, Idia. I shouldn't be forcing marriage to you.

Idia: ...

Idia: About that, here. We already signed it.

Ortho: Wha-

Idia: MC and I talked this through. If we need to divorce someday, which I think would never happen mwehee, we can just file it ourselves.

Ortho: ...

Ortho: *goes to hug him* Thank you, Idia!

Idia: Yeah. So, uh, we'll not be wearing rings.

Idia: But promise bracelets.

Ortho: Hm! That would be cute! *giggles*

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst idia #twst ortho #twst vil #twst rook #twst ace #twst deuce #twst epel #twst moderate mc

801 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months ago

Text

Demon-haunted computers are back, baby

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

As a science fiction writer, I am professionally irritated by a lot of sf movies. Not only do those writers get paid a lot more than I do, they insist on including things like "self-destruct" buttons on the bridges of their starships.

Look, I get it. When the evil empire is closing in on your flagship with its secret transdimensional technology, it's important that you keep those secrets out of the emperor's hand. An irrevocable self-destruct switch there on the bridge gets the job done! (It has to be irrevocable, otherwise the baddies'll just swarm the bridge and toggle it off).

But c'mon. If there's a facility built into your spaceship that causes it to explode no matter what the people on the bridge do, that is also a pretty big security risk! What if the bad guy figures out how to hijack the measure that – by design – the people who depend on the spaceship as a matter of life and death can't detect or override?

I mean, sure, you can try to simplify that self-destruct system to make it easier to audit and assure yourself that it doesn't have any bugs in it, but remember Schneier's Law: anyone can design a security system that works so well that they themselves can't think of a flaw in it. That doesn't mean you've made a security system that works – only that you've made a security system that works on people stupider than you.

I know it's weird to be worried about realism in movies that pretend we will ever find a practical means to visit other star systems and shuttle back and forth between them (which we are very, very unlikely to do):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

But this kind of foolishness galls me. It galls me even more when it happens in the real world of technology design, which is why I've spent the past quarter-century being very cross about Digital Rights Management in general, and trusted computing in particular.

It all starts in 2002, when a team from Microsoft visited our offices at EFF to tell us about this new thing they'd dreamed up called "trusted computing":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The big idea was to stick a second computer inside your computer, a very secure little co-processor, that you couldn't access directly, let alone reprogram or interfere with. As far as this "trusted platform module" was concerned, you were the enemy. The "trust" in trusted computing was about other people being able to trust your computer, even if they didn't trust you.

So that little TPM would do all kinds of cute tricks. It could observe and produce a cryptographically signed manifest of the entire boot-chain of your computer, which was meant to be an unforgeable certificate attesting to which kind of computer you were running and what software you were running on it. That meant that programs on other computers could decide whether to talk to your computer based on whether they agreed with your choices about which code to run.

This process, called "remote attestation," is generally billed as a way to identify and block computers that have been compromised by malware, or to identify gamers who are running cheats and refuse to play with them. But inevitably it turns into a way to refuse service to computers that have privacy blockers turned on, or are running stream-ripping software, or whose owners are blocking ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

After all, a system that treats the device's owner as an adversary is a natural ally for the owner's other, human adversaries. The rubric for treating the owner as an adversary focuses on the way that users can be fooled by bad people with bad programs. If your computer gets taken over by malicious software, that malware might intercept queries from your antivirus program and send it false data that lulls it into thinking your computer is fine, even as your private data is being plundered and your system is being used to launch malware attacks on others.

These separate, non-user-accessible, non-updateable secure systems serve a nubs of certainty, a remote fortress that observes and faithfully reports on the interior workings of your computer. This separate system can't be user-modifiable or field-updateable, because then malicious software could impersonate the user and disable the security chip.

It's true that compromised computers are a real and terrifying problem. Your computer is privy to your most intimate secrets and an attacker who can turn it against you can harm you in untold ways. But the widespread redesign of out computers to treat us as their enemies gives rise to a range of completely predictable and – I would argue – even worse harms. Building computers that treat their owners as untrusted parties is a system that works well, but fails badly.

First of all, there are the ways that trusted computing is designed to hurt you. The most reliable way to enshittify something is to supply it over a computer that runs programs you can't alter, and that rats you out to third parties if you run counter-programs that disenshittify the service you're using. That's how we get inkjet printers that refuse to use perfectly good third-party ink and cars that refuse to accept perfectly good engine repairs if they are performed by third-party mechanics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

It's how we get cursed devices and appliances, from the juicer that won't squeeze third-party juice to the insulin pump that won't connect to a third-party continuous glucose monitor:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

But trusted computing doesn't just create an opaque veil between your computer and the programs you use to inspect and control it. Trusted computing creates a no-go zone where programs can change their behavior based on whether they think they're being observed.

The most prominent example of this is Dieselgate, where auto manufacturers murdered hundreds of people by gimmicking their cars to emit illegal amount of NOX. Key to Dieselgate was a program that sought to determine whether it was being observed by regulators (it checked for the telltale signs of the standard test-suite) and changed its behavior to color within the lines.

Software that is seeking to harm the owner of the device that's running it must be able to detect when it is being run inside a simulation, a test-suite, a virtual machine, or any other hallucinatory virtual world. Just as Descartes couldn't know whether anything was real until he assured himself that he could trust his senses, malware is always questing to discover whether it is running in the real universe, or in a simulation created by a wicked god:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

That's why mobile malware uses clever gambits like periodically checking for readings from your device's accelerometer, on the theory that a virtual mobile phone running on a security researcher's test bench won't have the fidelity to generate plausible jiggles to match the real data that comes from a phone in your pocket:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/01/google-play-malware-used-phones-motion-sensors-to-conceal-itself/

Sometimes this backfires in absolutely delightful ways. When the Wannacry ransomware was holding the world hostage, the security researcher Marcus Hutchins noticed that its code made reference to a very weird website: iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com. Hutchins stood up a website at that address and every Wannacry-infection in the world went instantly dormant:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#the-matrix

It turns out that Wannacry's authors were using that ferkakte URL the same way that mobile malware authors were using accelerometer readings – to fulfill Descartes' imperative to distinguish the Matrix from reality. The malware authors knew that security researchers often ran malicious code inside sandboxes that answered every network query with fake data in hopes of eliciting responses that could be analyzed for weaknesses. So the Wannacry worm would periodically poll this nonexistent website and, if it got an answer, it would assume that it was being monitored by a security researcher and it would retreat to an encrypted blob, ceasing to operate lest it give intelligence to the enemy. When Hutchins put a webserver up at iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com, every Wannacry instance in the world was instantly convinced that it was running on an enemy's simulator and withdrew into sulky hibernation.

The arms race to distinguish simulation from reality is critical and the stakes only get higher by the day. Malware abounds, even as our devices grow more intimately woven through our lives. We put our bodies into computers – cars, buildings – and computers inside our bodies. We absolutely want our computers to be able to faithfully convey what's going on inside them.

But we keep running as hard as we can in the opposite direction, leaning harder into secure computing models built on subsystems in our computers that treat us as the threat. Take UEFI, the ubiquitous security system that observes your computer's boot process, halting it if it sees something it doesn't approve of. On the one hand, this has made installing GNU/Linux and other alternative OSes vastly harder across a wide variety of devices. This means that when a vendor end-of-lifes a gadget, no one can make an alternative OS for it, so off the landfill it goes.

It doesn't help that UEFI – and other trusted computing modules – are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which makes it a felony to publish information that can bypass or weaken the system. The threat of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine means that UEFI and other trusted computing systems are understudied, leaving them festering with longstanding bugs:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#que-viva

Here's where it gets really bad. If an attacker can get inside UEFI, they can run malicious software that – by design – no program running on our computers can detect or block. That badware is running in "Ring -1" – a zone of privilege that overrides the operating system itself.

Here's the bad news: UEFI malware has already been detected in the wild:

https://securelist.com/cosmicstrand-uefi-firmware-rootkit/106973/

And here's the worst news: researchers have just identified another exploitable UEFI bug, dubbed Pixiefail:

https://blog.quarkslab.com/pixiefail-nine-vulnerabilities-in-tianocores-edk-ii-ipv6-network-stack.html

Writing in Ars Technica, Dan Goodin breaks down Pixiefail, describing how anyone on the same LAN as a vulnerable computer can infect its firmware:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/01/new-uefi-vulnerabilities-send-firmware-devs-across-an-entire-ecosystem-scrambling/

That vulnerability extends to computers in a data-center where the attacker has a cloud computing instance. PXE – the system that Pixiefail attacks – isn't widely used in home or office environments, but it's very common in data-centers.

Again, once a computer is exploited with Pixiefail, software running on that computer can't detect or delete the Pixiefail code. When the compromised computer is queried by the operating system, Pixiefail undetectably lies to the OS. "Hey, OS, does this drive have a file called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope." "Hey, OS, are you running a process called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope."

This is a self-destruct switch that's been compromised by the enemy, and which no one on the bridge can de-activate – by design. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

There are models for helping your computer bust out of the Matrix. Back in 2016, Edward Snowden and bunnie Huang prototyped and published source code and schematics for an "introspection engine":

https://assets.pubpub.org/aacpjrja/AgainstTheLaw-CounteringLawfulAbusesofDigitalSurveillance.pdf

This is a single-board computer that lives in an ultraslim shim that you slide between your iPhone's mainboard and its case, leaving a ribbon cable poking out of the SIM slot. This connects to a case that has its own OLED display. The board has leads that physically contact each of the network interfaces on the phone, conveying any data they transit to the screen so that you can observe the data your phone is sending without having to trust your phone.

(I liked this gadget so much that I included it as a major plot point in my 2020 novel Attack Surface, the third book in the Little Brother series):

https://craphound.com/attacksurface/

We don't have to cede control over our devices in order to secure them. Indeed, we can't ever secure them unless we can control them. Self-destruct switches don't belong on the bridge of your spaceship, and trusted computing modules don't belong in your devices.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/17/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

Image: Mike (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/stillwellmike/15676883261/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

#pluralistic #uefi #owner override #user override #jailbreaking #dmca 1201 #schneiers law #descartes #nub of certainty #self-destruct button #trusted computing #secure enclaves #drm #ngscb #next generation secure computing base #palladium #pixiefail #infosec

576 notes · View notes

justpenguin · 6 months ago

Text

Chemicals & Bolts

Notes: Boothil & Dottore x You; not proofread; smut fic; minors dni

From this brainrot that @catscidr responded with

Dottore and Boothill with lil' ol' you squished between them, their sharp shark-like teeth each grazing one side of your neck and marking you up as theirs and licking up the blood trailing off, oh how they both adore how flustered you get like this, your red face is too cute for them to handle

Dottore who would personally give Boothill a few adjustments during his check-ups customized just for you, whether that may be giving him new features such as vibrating fingers and cock to ease into your little cunt and really make you squeal. Or maybe its a few small adjustments such as making him produce a lot a bit more cum just to bloat your little belly and see it leak out of you as you whimper and cry

Dottore who'd get jealous of Boothill when he sees you liking the new features that he added, and decides to mess with his little additions causing Boothill's joints to lock up

Dottore not give you any attention until you're begging on your knees in front of him praising about how much you love him more in front of Boothill who can't do anything but curse (or try) as he gets cucked and has to watch you cry out on your other boyfriend's dick

Boothill who would swear his revenge and get it when he finally gets to take you again and works extra hard just to make you whine and moan louder on his cock, and might even consider breeding you at this point just to fully make you his

Dottore and Boothill who'd have competitions on a daily basis on who could please you better whether in or out the bedroom, from making you come faster on their cock on to who can gift you the prettiest trinkets and write you the sweetest notes, all just for you

Dottore and Boothill who'd still absolutely love you through all your highs and lows together despite their dislike for one another 🤍

so yes i did it.

#boothill x reader #dottore x reader #genshin x reader #honkai star rail x reader #genshin impact x reader #hsr x reader #genshin smut #hsr smut #i know theyre not from the same fandom but plsplspls

183 notes · View notes

tranceinnumerabletabs · 4 days ago

Text

When Johnny Comes Back pt7

Howdy! I'm really proud of this one! Please enjoy! it gets funny

idk if you wanted to be tagged in this one too but, @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl, and of course @beelzebee

I think I should get those tumblr dividers. Also, sorry if you can't understand everything that's said here. You'll know it when you get to it. Its not the end btw.

part1, part2, part3, part4, part5, part6

It’s a quiet night once more, this time you’re in bed, unable to sleep.

It’s been too long. He’s gone. Shot by some guy. Just like in your nightmares

You sigh and look at your clock, 1:26 AM.

ugh

You get up, your cat waking up due to it, and decide to just….pace

You do just that, trying to find reason within your rhyme. You feed makes thudding noises on the cold hard ground.

thud thud thud thud

he’ll be fine

Thud thud thud thud

he’s just recovering

Thud thud

he’s gone

Thud

no he’s not

Thud thud thud

you’ll never be able to see him again

Thud thud thud

you’ll never tell him I love you

Thud thud thud

there’s no more Mactavish finesse

Thud thud thud

he’s reduced to ashes in an urn like in your nightmares

Thud thud drip thud

you look down and realize that a tear has fallen from your face.

sigh

you told yourself that you wouldn’t end up like this. If he’s alive then this is for nothing and if he’s dead….well…then this was just added misery.

You go to the bathroom and wash your face, sniffling a little.

he’s fine

You stare at your face in the mirror, blood rushed to your nose and cheeks, puffy eyed. You didn’t look so good.

You looked tired. You’ve been holding yourself up well right?

Yeah…

Yeah you are!

You could’ve been so much worse but you held up. Even if your eyes look tired and the steady drip of water from your face to the sink makes it unclear whether or not your crying. You weren’t. you’re fine

Ugh. This is why you try not to think of him! You feel so stupid and naive and sensitive and lost and-

“mrow?”

You feel Simon brush up against your leg, stopping your train wreck of thoughts. You smile, he’s so cute no matter how grumpy he is.

“Simon” you say fondly. You lean down and pick him up into your arms, swaying him like a baby as you walk out the bathroom.

Simon’s presence helped but it can only do so much.

You rock him, pet him and scratch him as you continue to pace.

Thud thud thud

you’re so cute Simon

Thud thud thud

you’re precious

Thud thud thud

you know Johnny will come back right?

Thud click thud

you know you’re a little bastard?

Thud thud thud

yeah you know you are? A bastard just like-…..

Thud Creak thud

like….

Thud stomp thud stomp

like……

thud Stomp Thud

“Honey, I’m home!”

You stand there, eyes wide in shock.

“Johnny?” You whisper but it was too low for even yourself to hear.

“Aye Bonnie, ye miss me?”

Your legs felt frozen as you look at him. A bandage around his head and a few new scars onto him to show off. His bag in one hand.

“What’s wrong lassie? Ye look like ye’ve seen the dead came back tae life” he teases gently, but in a tone that indicates that he missed you.

he’s here

Johnny Came Back

You feel tears pricking your eyes, but he didn’t notice. He drops his bag down and starts walking towards you. Ready to spend his return the same way he usually spends it: watching a movie with an engorgement of take out and smothering you.

“Johnny” you whisper a little louder

Johnny smiles “the one and only. Couldn’t have ye sell my urn to the damn Brits” He chuckled

“Johnny” you whisper once again and this time he catches the weight of your tone and becomes more solemn and sincere. “Aye….it’s me Bonnie….it’s me. I’m home” Your breath hitches and your hand slowly raises to cup his jaw, feeling his overgrown facial hair. He couldn’t shave it to his preferred length.

He drops his head’s weight into your hand, rubbing his cheek into your soft palm, looking softly into your eyes with a smile.

“Johnny” you voice now breaks and your breathing audibly hitches, tears welling in your eyes.

Johnny's eyes widen in shock, as if that was somehow an unexpected reaction.

“Bonnie?”

He tries to comfort you. Tries to think of something to say

“Bonnie I-“

“I thought you were dead Johnny!” You break out.

Johnny looked more shocked. Did you get the wrong information? Or did you just assume the worst?

“No, I-“

“I thought I’d never see you again!” You cry, your shoulders shaking. He looked guilty, he opens his mouth to try to apologize but you do what you should’ve spent he moment he showed his handsome ugly mug. You hug him, tightly. Almost too tight for the worn soldier.

Johnny is startled for a moment before reciprocating, hugging you back with fervor. You wet his shirt with your tears “I thought you were gone Johnny!” You cry, shaking in his arms. “No no lassie don’t cry” he rubs your back as you take lungfuls of his scent, finally being able to breathe it in again after it faded from your home.

He rocks you slightly as you take him all in and muffle all your grievances into his shirt. Eventually he grabs your face and stares into your eyes, his face seeming so tired and pained. Your heart clenches. You should care more about how he’s feeling.

“I’m tae sorry fer words honey, I didn’t think tae tell someone tell ye I’m fine. I just, had a rough time in the hospital an-“

You hug him again “sit down you lug. You need to rest” you gently guide him to his spot on the couch, where he belongs

“How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” You gently ask, cupping his face with both hands and looking at his injury.

He smiles and seemed to relax more that he’s done in a while. He places his rough calloused hands on yours and closes his eyes.

“Aye Bonnie lass, ye could kiss it better” he chuckles, feeling up your hands.

he’s had a rough time. Maybe he just needs any form of affection after being hospitalized for so long

You lean in up to his temple where the bandages are and place the most gentle and delicate of kisses on it. Johnny’s breath hitches, you don’t usually kiss him why would you? You’re just friends right?

You wanted to tell him you’re in love with him, or that you wanted him and no one else. But….no. not now, he just came back and…if it’s not reciprocal you don’t want him to deal with that right now. This should be all about him and not you. No, now all you wanted was to make sure that your roommate was okay. That can….come later. If you were willing to risk it. What’s most important is that he’s here and you take care of him. Not your feelings. “Miss me that much Bonnie? I should get shot more often. Then I could get another kiss” He tries to tease but the look on your face was enough to drop the jokes. He becomes more somber, his hands on yours now stroking your forearms. He looks into your eyes, sincerity evident “I missed ye too lassie, didn’t think tae tell ye cuz I dinae think I’d be gone fer so long. Glad to hear I was missed. Nice shirt” he says but it wasn’t the usual teasing tone he had. You look down and sure enough, you’re wearing one of Soap’s shirts as pjs, his scent long done from it. You smile, sniffling a little “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried Johnny….”

“Aye, I could tell……ye dinae need to worry Bonnie lass, I’m a big strong man”

You huffed a laugh as he rubbed your eyes “Don’t be sad….your big bad sergeant is here.” You lay on top of him, face to neck, just….taking in his presence. He does the same, scratching your scalp, rubbing your back.

He’s back

Johnny came back

Johnny came home

After some time, he piped up

“Let’s watch a movie aye? I’m starvin.”

You chuckle, a much lighter and freer laugh than the ones you’ve been making for months. Free from your worries about Johnny

“Of course Johnny. I’ll order you take out”

You kiss his nose. He gives you that signature smile of his.

“Yer spoilin me, love”

“Don’t you forget it”

"how could I ever?"

____________________

It felt so good going back to an old routine. Your movements were unfamiliar and rusty as you sit and eat take out with Johnny at 2:17 AM while a movie was on. He already finished 2 meals but the soldier was still going at it like the dog he was.

“Better than any hospital slop I tells ye!”

You smile, softer and fonder than Johnny remembers, and settle in the routine you remember you had before he left. A blanket tossed over both of you legs, an arm wrapped around some part of you. This time it was around your neck while he ate, a bit awkward but you were not about to complain. He was back and that was all that mattered. He finished up his feast and went back to watching some silly movie based on a tumblr post.

It’s about a random Asian kid whose plane goes down somewhere in Scotland, and he learns traditional Scottish kickboxing. The wise old mentor speaks with an indecipherable Highland accent, Johnny somehow understands and translates for you, and spends the whole film in a full kilt for no particular reason. He goes back to China to reclaim his parent's company made in the style of those "mediocre white boy learns the secrets of ancient martial arts" movies. It’s a funny concept and a movie you’ve been wanting to watch for months but didn’t because….well….Johnny wasn’t here. You couldn’t watch this without him.

And you’re so glad you didn’t because now as Johnny has his warm arm wrapped around you, gentler than usual due to his injuries on his arm. His mouth is near your ear as he ‘translates’ English to English. It doesn’t really matter what he was saying. All that mattered is hearing his raspy deep voice reverberating in your ear. Usually you’d tell yourself you could drag yourself to bed after the movie but you knew couldn’t drag yourself to bed after all this. You wanted to fall asleep on this couch with him. But just before you resigned yourself to that wonderful fate, you remember something.

“Are you going to sleep here Johnny?” You asked

“Aye, can’t anger the sleeping tiger. I won’t move an inch wee Bonnie don’t ye worry”

You sit up and look at him while the movie was Montaging with terrible bagpipe music “No. You need to rest on an actual bed. You’re still recovering”

“Ye dinae need tae worry aboot me love. I’m fi-“

“Johnny.” You say sternly “you’ve been shot in the head don’t BS me now after all that” your voice cracked a bit when you mentioned his terrible injury.

Johnny sighs and smiles “I could get used tae being babied like this”

His tone was teasing but somehow you had a feeling he did wanted to be babied, to be treated and spoken to gently in a way he couldn’t get in a military setting.

You sigh and smile. “One movie okay? Then I’ll run you a bath, rub your back, maybe change your bandages and scratch your hair till you fall asleep in a bed sound good Johnny?” His eyes were enticed but he just had to be a goofy little guy doesn’t he?

“Cannae read me a bedtime story?” He teased. You giggled and nodded. You had a feeling he just wanted to hear your voice “I’ll tell you the story of the ugly duckling. I’m sure you’ll relate” you joke back

“Aye, sing me a lullaby too?”

“You motherfucking bastard.” You roll your eyes with a smile “yeah I’ll sing you a song about how John and Jill when up the hill to fetch a pail of whisky. John fell down and broke his crown and Jill couldn’t see him for months while he was in the hospital.”

“Dinae my fault Bonnie!”

“I know baby I know” you coo, calling him a baby but Soap seemed to be very happy being called that.

“As soon as the movie’s over I’ll show my baby just how much I missed him. Wake me up if I sleep okay? If you don’t you’ll never get that bedtime story ye hear?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Good boy”

You lay back down next to him, continuing to watch the silly movie, the Chinese kid is somehow the chosen one from some ancient Scottish texts made when during some important historical British-Scottish conflict. How did they seriously think that a dizi (bamboo flute) mixed with a bagpipe would make a good soundtrack? And how are they right?

Whatever, it’s not like you were paying much attention when Johnny was stroking your arm right next to you, leaning in and rubbing his scratchy chin against yours, murmuring comments and ‘translations’ that may not even be that accurate. God you missed him. The movie ends with a Scottish themed “Kung Fu fighter” esque credits song.

He automatically hums something about putting on another movie. “Johnny it’s like 3 and a half in the morning”

“Dinnae care Bonnie. Missed ye”

“C’mon Johnny, I’ll tuck you in bed” you tease He grips you tighter into him “I’m tucked in enough like this”

You smile, wide and so happy.

“C’mon Johnny” you whisper into his ear, scratching his scalp, careful to avoid the injury “those clothes can’t be comfortable. Let’s change into something nicer hmm?”

He sighs contently “only if ye keep that up Bonnie…..feels like heaven”

“Deal”

You leave him to turn on the bath faucet, making sure it’s the right temperature before going back to clean up the take out. He tried to help but you told him firmly to “stay” and like a good boy he does. He watches you walk around the flat like a puppy, eyes glued to your form and glimmering so fondly.

You check the bath and it’s ready.

As you turn to call for him “Johnn-“ you bump into him directly. He followed you here, unable to be away from you. You huff a laugh and lean on him.

“Take a bath Johnny. You could use one of my bath bombs too.”

“Stay with me?” He whines

“I’m not gonna watch you bathe Johnny. You clingy dog.” You chuckle and flick his nose “but I’ll be waiting for you when you come out okay?”

You walk out, feeling his lingering gaze on your back. You go get his bed ready.

It’s…not clean. You’re not proud to admit you’ve slept here on more than one occasion due to his absence. It was a mess of Soap’s belongings. A pile of clothes, some things that reminded you of him, things of the like. You clean it up, place a new bedsheet and pillow case, along with a plushie of a kitten with a mohawk, a gift from you.

(The kitten. Image description: a cute kitten with what looks like a mohawk of fur on it's head. end/ID)

(i-it looks better in the story! but the collar is still there /ID a plushie of the mohawk kitten but it looks crudely made and grumpy with a spiky collar /end ID)

You were admiring your clean up before your were startled by a strong set of hands around your waist and a head into your neck and shoulder. “Johnny! You scared me” He breaths in your scent, while being towel clad “hmm….Bonnie…”

You giggle and turn around, your smile dropping when come face to face with his bared chest. There were more bandages you didn’t see before, new scars and burns. You tsk, gently touching the bandages as he gazed at you “you poor thing…they must hurt so much….”

“…..”

you look up at him “do they hurt? Do you need me to change them or painkillers?”

“I’m fine lovie…”

You shake your head “I left some at your bedside just in case darling.”

“…thank you lassie…what would I do without ye?”

“Die in a ditch apparently”

He smiles, rubbing his thumbs on your waist.

“Never leave me…”

I blush a little at how he said that. Like it wasn’t just a roommate thing. “Never…..let’s get you to bed. I’m sure you’re so tired”

“Nae, I still got an enough for that bedtime story and lullaby”

You laugh “you're such a baby…okay get dressed”

He, being the bastard he is, decided to go “aye” and take off his towel right then and there.

You squeak in surprise and avert your eyes

“Johnny!!”

“What? Like what you see?”

You whine and mumble as he laughs “get dressed!”

You hear a chuckle and him opening the closet, a moment later he speaks “Ye can look now hen”

You turn around and low and behold he didn’t even put on anything “JOHNNY!” You slap your hands over your eyes as he laughs.

“What’s the matter hen?”

“JOHNNY I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“Aye aye, I’ll get dressed.”

You hear some movement as he wears actual clothes, not a lot of clothes but still something

“You can look now, fer real this time”

“So you’re decent?”

“Not morally but I’m wearing pants”

You turn to look and lo and behold this man only put boxers on.

You groan and roll your eyes

“How’s that decent Sergeant Soap?”

“Cannae see my tadger. And it’s Johnny to you.”

You pretty much can see it honestly but you let him.

“Lay on your stomach”

“Be gentle with me hen”

“Of course”

“I’ve been a good boy”

“Shut it”

“Yes ma’am”

You look at the tragic state of his back, pity pulling at your heartstrings.

“Tell me if it hurts too much okay?”

“You can never hurt me hen.”

“Johnny.”

“Aye aye, I will”

You sigh and pull out some oils you have along with a muscle gel that should alleviate any pain he’s brushing off in favor of seeming strong or okay. You know he's usually sore after expending himself so much during his job.

“Yer spolin’ me bloody rotten”

“Shush”

You climb on the bed and gently rub in the oil first

“Nae, could barely feel it.”

You press harder

“It tickles”

You press harder

“Das it”

You roll you eyes and do this. Feeling your face heat up every time he groans and sighs. You later put on the muscle relaxant and he sighs and groans even louder, his voice becoming even deeper due to his tiredness, making your insides mushy.

“Oh…right there…hmm…lower”

You go lower

“Lower”

Alright…

“Lower”

“Any lower and I’ll be touching your ass”

“Aye”

“Okay that’s enough time for bed” you get off him and he whines

“Nooo. I’m so sorry bonnie please come back. I’ll behave”

“Oh really? Never seen you behave once in your life Mactavish” you scold as you put away the things

“Gie me a laldy then”

“Goodnight Johnny” you turn to leave

“No! Wait!” He jumps and yanks you from behind.

“What is it Johnny?”

“Ye Haven’t tucked me in with a bedtime story yet.” He whines

You sigh but secretly you’re smiling wide at his antics, just glad to go through them again. Leave it to Johnny to overcommit to the bit.

“Aight here’s your bedtime story Ya wee sook” you reply, turning to face him. He was shocked “Ya we- where did ye learn tha’?”

“I learnt it from a very sexy Scottish lad once upon a time” you say as you start literally tucking him into bed, the bastard really has you wrapped around his finger.

His face turns red and his smile wide and bright like the sun.

“An’ do I ken this mysterious Scottish lad?”

“Aye” you mimic his accent

He chuckles “tell me about him” he lays down under the covers laying on his side away from the injury. You think for a moment, then a deeply devious and mischievous look came on your face. You grin and began describing.

“He’s sexy, charming, funny, he’s got a cute pet, he’s a like knight who saves princesses, he’s large and strong with a Scottish accent.” You list off as Soap’s face goes brighter and happier. He wouldn’t say ‘save princesses’ but he wasn’t going to really correct you. If you see him as a hero who is he to complain

“I wouldn’t say that. What else?”

“Oh but of course he was. His people were in trouble, and he went out to save them” he shook his head, adorable wee civi aintcha?

You continue “He lived alone for a very long time till he met one woman he began to live with”

“Was she pretty?”

“The fairest in the land” He chuckles and settles in more, getting comfortable as you tell this grown ass man his fucking bedtime story

“what happened?”

“They got married”

His eyes widen in shock as his face and ears turn a hot red. He clears his throat that suddenly became very dry. Did…did this mean what he think it meant?

“Tha’ right?”

“Hmm hmm”

“I like the sounda that”

“Then they lived happily ever after”

Soap looked at you with shocked eyes

“Tha’ so?”

“Hmm hmm”

He quickly put a mask of faux confidence, putting on his big goofy smile. Pride swells in your heart for making him smile so brightly. He clearly needed it.

“And who May this dashing man be?”

“I’ll give you a hint”

“Aye”

“His name starts with an S”

He chuckles

“I think I ken who it is Bonnie”

“Oh really?” You ask, your face growing more excited “who is it”

He pulls his arm out from under the blanket and wraps it around you “tis’ me, Soap. And it’s Johnny to you sweetheart”

His grip tightens as he drags you closer to him, he shoves his face into your stomach, his heart suddenly beating too fast. Is this….your confession? Did you really just say you’ll marry him? Looks like those military spouse benefits are too tempting. He looks up, eyes hopeful and ready for his dreams to come true. That you’ll become Mrs Mactavish and he’s your Prince Charming.

“Wrong.” You suddenly say.

“Wha?”

“I said wrong”

“T…then who’s the big strong sexy Scottish lad who marries the fairest in the land?”

“Shrek”

“Ye. fuckin’. right. SleEkiT bAmPOT!!”

You burst out laughing hard, doubling over and laughing so hard you collapse on the bed with him. But he doesn’t appreciate that

“Away an’ bile ye head! ye absolute weapon!” He practically yells

“Yer a right glaikit shan wee gobshite! Ye fuckin’ bastard cunt!!”

He raves and raves unintelligibly as you seem to get a six pack just from how hard you’re laughing and occasionally snorting like a pig. You’ve never heard so many Scottish insults in your life. Or at least you would hear them if you weren’t laughing!

Eventually, he shuts up and your laughs slow down. You look at Soap after wiping away your joyful tears. But unfortunately, The look on his face made you burst into laughter all over again.

“Alright alright that’s enough” he huffs and shakes his head, throwing an arm around your face to quiet you.

“Okay okay! I’m done!” You claim, your laughter lowering.

Johnny looked so done with you it was priceless. You were still in a fit of giggles as he shook his head

“Seriously hen? Shrek?”

“Whaaat?” You ask as if you could feign innocence as you’re giggling uncontrollably

“Shrek is the big sexy scott?”

“Yeah!” You laugh

“He bathes in mud Bonnie! He’s nasty” he says disgusted as if he doesn't have worse hear me outs

“And you’re not?”

“Oh that’s it ye-“ he jumps you and harshly man handles you. Pinning you with his big weight, restricting your breathing by pressing on your chest, just being an overall rough housing bastard. It’s not bad enough to cause actual legitimate harm but it’s rougher than he’s ever been with you.

“Johnnyy! Mercy I beg you!” You whine, trying to squirm away and kicking up your legs

“There’s no Johnny here now leannan! Now it’s sergeant Soap! And yer taking discipline!”

You wheeze at the lack of oxygen his man handling is doing, you didn’t have much in you anyway from laughing so much. He growls into your ear and pins your squirmy hands to your chest.

“Johnnyyy! I can’t breathe!” You wheeze out

“Shrek eh?”

You breathlessly giggle at your joke

“Shrek is the sexy charming and funny man who taught you what a wee sook is?”

You wheeze another giggle, unable to stop laughing at the joke.

“Anyone else?”

You try to wheeze an answer “s-s..”

but he doesn’t understand so he lets go. You breath in a desperate deep breath

“Answer the question lassie.”

“What question?” You tease, giggling. He growls and places his pillow on your face to quiet you

“Who’s the charming Scotsmen that makes ye laugh!”

He removes the pillow to get an answer

“Scrooge McDuck”

“You wee lil shite!” He smothers you with the pillow again, so you won’t even have a chance to laugh.

He removes the pillow as you wheeze with a smile

“Wrong answer”

“Whaaat? He’s funny!”

“Tsk. Who’s the Scottish soldier who’s strong and witty”

“James Bond”

“Leannan!!!” He wraps his arm around you in a headlock, he’s done that plenty times before and even taught you how to do it and get out of it, it almost slipped your mind due to your giggling.

You do try to get out of it but he just tightens his hold

“Think ye’re strong, do ye lassie? I’ll show ye strong, ya wee twig!” He growls

“Johnny!” You whine “mercy!”

“No mercy to the enemy bonnie.” He bites your cheek

“Eww! You dog!” You whine and squirm “okay okay you win!”

She shakes his head, mouth still filled with your cheek “Johnny! Please! You’re gross!”

He bites harder

“Away with ye ya daftie!” You poorly mimic He laughs and lets go. You rub your saliva covered cheek on his bicep.

“You’re gross. Let go”

“Nae”

“Johnny.” You try to be stern

“Nah. You need to tell me who th-“

“It’s you! It’s you Johnny! You’re the big, strong, funny, charming Scot that saves princesses!” He lets go, letting you drop on the bed with a thud.

“That’s right lass. Say it again”

“It’s you Johnny. You’re the one I wait in my tower for.”

“Tha’ right?” He says, smiling down at you

“Yeah…it is…”

He smiles and lays down once more

“Either that or Hagrid”

“Bonnie.” He asserts sternly

“Sorry sorry Johnny”

“Brat.”

“Bastard.”

“Your bastard.”

“Your brat.”

You both shake your heads. You sigh and realize how tired you are. You look to the digital clock on Johnny's bedside table. Jesus.

“I’m so sorry Johnny” you get up

“What is it?” He asks, lost

“Just look at the time! A little more and it’ll be sunrise. You need to rest after all that” you hop off the bed but Johnny grips you

“Naee. I’m fine” he whines. Truth was he was exhausted down to the bone, but this was the most affectionate you’ve ever been.

“What is it Johnny?” You sigh

“I haven’t gotten my lullaby”

You groan. You were tired too but you wanted to take care of him.

“Please Bonnie! My heart needs tae be soothed after all tha’. Ye called me nasty :(”

“You’re a big baby Mactavish”

“Aye” he shoves you back to sit on the edge of the bed. You start to lightly scratch his scalp.

“I….don’t have a song..”

“Anythin’s good”

“🎶Somebody once told me th-“

He pinches your waist

“Hahaha, okay not that one”

“…”

“Hmm….🎶we’re no strangers go love. You know the rules and so do-Ouch!”

He grumbles as you giggle

“Then what do you want baby?”

“Quit takin the piss outta me” he grunts “sing…somethin’ calmin’” You think for a bit and a song comes to mind, you think a solider like him could do some good knowing his song.

(A/N: I’m so sorry for what you’re about to sing)

“🎶There's a shadow on the wall, stay calm, stay calm 🎶

🎶There's a figure in the hall, stay calm, stay calm🎶

🎶Keep my wits and stay alive, wish I had a nine to five 🎶

🎶There's a stranger in us all, stay calm, stay calm🎶”

He relaxes and listens intently. Finally a normal song, he thinks foolishly

“🎶Every hair is on it's end, that's fine, I'm fine🎶

🎶Feeling my adrenaline, that's fine I'm fine 🎶

🎶I can keep away the creeps, safely from my swivel seats🎶 🎶Something's crawling through the vents, that's fine I’m fine🎶”

You start humming to him while scratching his head gently. He sighs and cuddles up to your waist more, rubbing his bandaged head gently against you.

“🎶In the end there's only me alright, alright 🎶

🎶 Morning sun will set me free, all right, all right🎶”

His face was calm and droopy, ready to rest his tired war used bones. He looked like he could sleep through the winter.

“🎶I spent..um…many months away from you🎶”

You hum him the tune as he falls asleep, looking peaceful.

After you’re done you sit there admiring him for a moment, seeing him home, not in one piece but home made you take the time to appreciate his presence.

You yawn, realizing that you could see the sunrise peeking from the curtains. Wow it’s late, but it’s worth it. He’s had such a rough time and deserves all the comfort you could give him. You slowly and quietly try to leave the bed, thinking he’s asleep. Only for him, the baby he is, to grip you hard and force you into bed

“Johnny!” You whine, this time whinnier than ever.

“Give me a kiss goodnight princesses”

“Johnny.”

“Please leannan? Last thing I’ll ask o’ ye and I’ll sleep” he sleepily grumbles while gripping you like a stuffed animal. You felt so….vulnerable like this. You’ve never been in his bed with him.

“Promise?”

“Aye”

“Pinky promise?” You tease

“Aye aye just gimmie a Smourich and I’ll sleep”

“Sigh”

“Please”

“Fine” you wiggle in his iron grip to lean up to him and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. He smiles, eyes still closed as he settles in one last time. “Goodnight love.”

“Goodnight Johnny” you smile, moving to get out of his grip and go to b-you can’t get out.

Johnny's grip is strong around you. “Johnny?” You pipe up and wiggle to try and move away. He doesn’t budge

“Johnny.” You more firmly and look up to see his sleeping face as if he knocked out cold within seconds of getting a goodnight kiss. “Johnny!” You whine “you bastard! Let me go”

No response

“Johnnyyy!!!” You flop like a fish in his grip but nope! Too bad! You’re stuck!

“Johnny I know you’re awake I swear to god if you don’t let me go right now!”

No response but you swear he’s doing this on purpose. You groan and struggle for a few more moments till you feel a soft furry mass lay on your side, Simon. He fell asleep on the couch after the movie and a joyful (as joyful as Simon could he) reunion with Johnny. You freeze up as Simon gets comfortable, laying on you. You wouldn’t wake up a cat would you? Especially not one so grumpy and tired. No, you sit there without moving a muscle and wait. Cat owner rules.

Welp….looks like you’re sleeping in a big man’s arms tonight. The position makes you flustered but between the unconsciousness of the bastard sergeant, the softness of your cat and your sleep deprived mind body and soul. You decide fuck it and just fell asleep in your roommate’s bed. It’s cozy like this anyway. You’re knocked out cold within the minute.

AN: This is NOT the end!

62 notes · View notes