#having a normal day with normal thoughts hehe

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love Pt. 10 💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. [Fem! reader]

TW: SMUT, filth, cussing, a lot of bad things in here you've been warned

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Hi everyone! A little late night post with a lot of spicy things sooooo yeah🫣 This chapter was going to go a very different direction but the image of E in a robe absolutely ruined me and now we are here🫠 Please enjoy hehe😈

❣️

The next few days were spent in solitude. You didn’t want to interact with anyone and you honestly didn’t have the energy to. Your dream a few nights ago freaked you out and made you reflect on your relationship with Elvis. This rekindled flame you two had was a raging wildfire and you were desperate for him to love you. 

You just didn’t know how to go about that. Should you confess your feelings for him and run off in your happily ever after? That’s if he remotely feels the same way for you too. But it wasn’t going to be that easy. You needed to leave John, he needed to figure out what to do with Dianne, there were a lot of messy bits to deal with.

And to make it worse, these dreams kept happening. They were not as intense as that first one, but they still involved trying to make him fall in love with you and take care of you in anyway he possibly could. You’d wake up jarred from these dreams most of the time, and to your liking, Elvis was still there, ready to comfort you and tell you to go back to sleep.

Elvis worried about you alone in your room all day. He’d check in on you every morning and bring you something to eat. And at night, when the whole house was asleep, he’d sneak into your room again and talk to you. Your spirits were lifted when he was near you. You would talk about movies and what he wants to watch next. He let you borrow a ton of books to read, the ones that were his favorites that talked about philosophy and spirituality. You found them fascinating and enlightened you. It gave you a sense of what Elvis needed; purpose.

He didn’t feel fulfilled doing the kinds of projects he was involved with the last few years but everything changed with his TV special. The world saw him for who he really was. He was an undeniable rock star who had enough talent to impress anyone of any age. 

He’d sleep in your room every night. Sometimes without saying a word, he’d just sit on the floor, his arms on the edge of the bed, looking up at you talking about whatever and acting like it was the most important topic. He was too good to you. You melted every time for him. You never wanted the night to end so you could continue to enjoy having his undivided attention. 

A part of you also didn’t want to fall asleep either. It took you a long time to fall asleep normally, your mind would wander. You’d always tell him to get in bed with you and lay on his chest, listening to his excited heart beat away for you. Every moment you had with him was so precious and you couldn’t help but feel like any moment he was going to be taken away from you. You would wrap your arm over his chest and he would usually hold your hand there, making sure you weren't going anywhere. Those wandering thoughts would keep you up longer than they should... especially if they thought about his hands... or how needy your body felt next to him...

You couldn’t fall asleep tonight and Elvis hadn’t come in to see you yet. He’s made you spoiled and couldn’t rest until he was near you in some capacity.  You hoped he wasn’t in his bedroom because you had this fear you’d find Dianne in there one day. You quickly put a silk robe over your nightgown and make your way out to find him. 

In the hallway, you see the light on in his office. You had never been in there before but really wanted to see him before you went to sleep. You turn the doorknob and crack it open before entering. 

“Elvis?”

You hear the squeak of a chair moving and papers rustling quickly. 

“Oh, come in honey,” Elvis says quietly. 

You enter the office and see him sitting behind his desk. Your poor heart shudders at the sight of him. He was pure, dripping temptation. His hair was a bit unkempt with a few strands that fell on his forehead. What he was wearing made you incredibly weak. He was in a black robe, loosely tied at his waist leaving most of his tan chest exposed. You were practically drooling at the sight. He looks at you with those needy blue eyes and sits up a bit.

“Hey baby, what are you doing up?” He asks.

“I couldn’t sleep, I wanted to see you,” you blush.

The corner of his mouth turns into a smirk and you watch as he raises his index finger, summoning you to him. 

“Come here, baby.”

You close the door behind you and go to him, sitting on the corner of the desk in front of him. You get a better look at what he's wearing and it looks like he's just wearing the long robe and nothing else underneath.

Mhmm. Quite sexy.

“Sorry, I haven’t come to see you. I was just going over some things for the show,” he says picking up a piece of paper with a bunch of songs written on it. 

“A little over a week and you guys open. Are you excited?” 

“In a way, but the other part of me is terrified beyond belief. What if I can’t do it anymore?” He asks shakily. 

“I know you can, you’ve never lost your ability to put on the best show. Someone like you just doesn’t lose that talent,” you tell him confidently. 

“Thanks for believing in me. It’s just overwhelming.”

“I can only imagine. Pretend you’re singing just to me then, maybe that’ll help,” you say lightheartedly. 

His eyes flutter up at you and he smirks again. 

“That would only make me more nervous,” he jokes. 

“What?! You used to tell me all the time that when you got a little nervous before a show, you pretended to sing as if only one friend was in the crowd."

"You're right, I used to say that," he chuckles.

"And back then, if I missed you, I'd pretend that you were singing to me when I put on one of your records. You always ease my mind when I hear your voice,” you tell him. 

He chuckles and grabs your hand, softly rubbing his thumb along the back of it. 

“I still do sing for you,” he says low, his eyes blazing with intensity. 

You stare back at him and feel your breath catch in your throat. He was too beautiful for his own good and made you want to be his more than anything in this world. It was impossible to deny him anything.

He didn't let go of your hand and it made your heart race uncontrollably. You try to distract yourself and go to pick up the setlist that was on the desk and glance over it. He made some edits from the last time you went and saw him rehearse. The show was going to be amazing, there was no doubt about that. You couldn't wait to see him back on stage doing what he does best. 

“I want you to come to Vegas with me,” he says suddenly, taking you a bit by surprise. 

“Yes of course I'll be there. I'll definitely be there for opening night and maybe stay the weekend or something,” you try to explain. 

“Yes, but we leave in a few days. I have to go and rehearse on the main stage with the whole band over there. I want you to come with me then.”

Your first instinct was to tell him no. He was always trying to cause trouble. But now you felt things were different especially because of how John was acting. You felt like you didn't have to be so careful because hell, he definitely wasn’t telling you the truth about things. But there was still apprehension. 

“Well, what would you say to explain why I'm there before the show is even opening?” you ask him. 

“Let me take care of all of that. Just tell me you're coming,” he says squeezing your hand. 

“Okay, I'll go,” you say with a smile. 

“Perfect, I feel less nervous already.”

You let go of his hand to look at the other drafts of the setlist he made. His blocky, chicken scratch writing was hard to make out sometimes, especially when he got frustrated, but you found it cute though. You see there were newspaper articles underneath all his different notes and you pull at the corner of one of them. Elvis puts his hand on top of the pile of papers and takes a sharp breath in. 

“Umm honey…” he trails off. 

This reaction only furthered your curiosity. Now you had to see what he was reading. You move his hand and pull the rest of the newspaper out. It took you a second to realize what you were reading but it was an article about the first movie you were in. The article highlighted your performance in a few sentences but it was still a huge deal for you! You're not sure where you even had a copy for yourself but Elvis had it. 

You look underneath and find more articles and pictures of you in magazines too. Your curiosity heightened and were surprised by this discovery. These pictures of you were from various promotional stills you did for a movie or TV show. Some of these had you in costumes that were more revealing than you remember. There was one where you were playing a cocktail waitress in a strapless short dress. Or another where you were in a bikini for a beach movie. 

“So, what do we have here?” you tease. 

Elvis looks away from you, blushing with embarrassment. 

“Are you my fan?” you giggle. 

“Hmm, I would say a bit more than that,” he chuckles. 

“You have quite the collection of me,” you quip. 

“Yeah well back then… it was the only way I could see you so I would save any article or picture you were in. It’s cowardly now that I say it out loud but that's how I went about it,” he says shyly. 

“Mmm, I see,” you say softly. A realization hits you though, “Well what were you doing with all of these out tonight? I'm just in the other room.”

He flashes his eyes up at you, making your heart stop. 

“I’d rather not tell you what I was doing.”

Your eyes can't help but drink him in right there in front of you. He made it impossible to think clearly and the way he was looking tonight made your inhibitions even murkier. 

“Show me what you were thinking then.” You murmur. 

His eyes blow wide for a second, making sure he heard what you just asked of him. He shakes his head and you feel the overwhelming desire for him take over your body. He begins to pull the silk ties of his robe. You see the material lifted up from his hardened length and you pause. You wanted to have him ravage you tonight. It had been too long but you wanted to watch him before you asked him for that. To your delight, as he pulled back the material from his body, he was naked underneath and his cock was throbbing with need. 

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan you wanted to let escape from seeing him naked again. He leans back in the chair, letting you admire him a bit more. Dear lord he was so perfect and you couldn’t help but want him desperately. 

You look back up into his eyes and let a shaky breath out. 

“What were you doing in here with all these pictures of me?” You ask quietly, knowing you might pass out if you heard the answer come from his lips. 

“Honey, I don’t think you understand what you do to me,” he says low and sultry. You watch as he lowers his hand and wraps it around his length. His head was leaking with precum and he glides it down his shaft. 

You felt your body tremble, unable to breathe or respond to what he just said. You secretly loved that he wanted you, just how you wanted him, but hearing it from his mouth was like a dream. He slowly rubs his cock as he takes his time looking at what you were wearing. Your cheeks were beginning to burn as you watched him pleasure himself in front of you.

“I’ve missed being with you,” he groans, letting his head fall back a bit. The sound of his low guttural tone sends a bolt of lightning through your body, causing your arousal to pool. 

“Me too,” you say in a breathy sigh. 

“I wanted to go to your room tonight but I know it was going to be difficult to get in bed with you.”

“How so?”

“You have no idea how hard it is to lay next to your whimpering body at night, clinging onto me for dear life, and somehow not make you satisfied,” he suggests. 

You hold your breath, realizing your fear has come true. He heard you whimpering for him, dying for him to love you and never leave your side. It was embarrassing you couldn’t keep that to yourself even when you were asleep!

“Are you dreaming of me?” He asks mischievously. His hand moves slower and waits for your answer. You can’t say it out loud, it was too damming. You feel your cheeks burn even more and can barely look at him. 

“I-… I’d rather not tell you,” you breathe, your eyes trailing down to his cock. You bit your lip to hide the way you wanted to cuss his name. Watching him like this was so damn hot.

“Then show me. Show me what you want, what I do to you in your dreams,” he commands. 

You feel your head spin and your heart flip by his tone. Oh God, this was so bad, so lewd of what you two were asking of one another. You sit there frozen, unsure what to say. You would never do something like this in front of a man. Elvis was no regular man though. He had you in the palm of his hand and was able to make you succumb to him with the slightest breath. 

You carefully untie your robe, showing the silk nightgown underneath it. He grabs you by the hips and slides you over on the desk so you’re right in front of him. His eyes are heated and serious, too much for you to handle. His fingertips pull your nightgown up, revealing your uncovered core. He sucks in a sharp breath, not expecting for you to be naked underneath.

“Jesus baby… comin’ in here lookin’ like this?” He coos, his hands squeezing around your thighs, making you tremble.

“I always sleep like this, you’ve never seemed to notice,” you spat proudly.

“How lucky am I,” he smirks, as his hand slowly spreads your legs apart and begins to trail up higher until his thumb finds your clit. Your eyes roll back and let him give you this undeniable pleasure. 

“Come on, show me what you want. You’re so nice and wet,” he groans softly.

He’s made you so breathless and wanted to give him anything he ever wanted.

Your hand lowers and finds your throbbing clit. He was right, you were already so wet from just watching him and needed more. You lightly rub it and jolt from the sensation. You were so sensitive and could barely put more pressure on it, let alone, look up into his needy eyes. But you do it anyway and it nearly knocks the wind out of you. God those piercing blues were killers. You so badly wanted to please him.

“I-I’m usually the one to beg for you in these dreams… wanting you to hold me or… to make love to me,” you whimper as your fingers gather more slick that’s dripping out of you. He bites his lip momentarily, liking the thought of that.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can handle you begging for me… it seems too good to be true,” he says with a groan. You watch as his hand lowers again and his eyes are heavy with lust as he watches you. An airy whimper escapes your throat as you rub your clit more, wanting him to be giving you this pleasure instead of yourself.

“Tell me what else happens? Do I give you what you need?” He asks, licking his lips slowly and biting his bottom lip.

“No, I always wake up before… well, you know,” you say slightly embarrassed. “I’m just desperate for your attention Elvis.”

He groans at that sentiment, loving to hear that you need him so badly.

“I know honey, you’re just too stubborn to let me take care of you.”

He gets up from his chair and slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. Your heart races uncontrollably and grab a fistful of his hair with your other hand.

“I’m not stubborn,” you hiss at him. 

“Yes you are, you would rather pull me into bed every night and pretend to be sleeping even though I know you’re wanting me to take care of that wet pussy,” he says confidently. You are about to protest but you feel his lips kiss the inside of your thigh and you feel on fire. The heat inside of you blinded you from saying anything else.

You answer him with a breathy moan instead, your fingers moving faster and the lower half of your body trying to get his lips to move higher. He teases you instead and doesn’t give you the satisfaction right away. You’re falling apart quickly, wanting him to give you so much more pleasure.

“Elvis,” you softly cry.

“What baby?” He says in between kisses.

“Please… I need you,” you sigh, pulling at his hair tighter.

“Mhmm, I know baby, what do you need? Have to be specific,” he tells you with a sly smile. You then feel his tongue lick the inside of your thigh, all the way to your weeping core. You cover your mouth with your hand and try not to let out the loud moan you need to. You spread your legs wider and push your hips into his face. You hear him hum amused, liking that this is the reaction he’s gotten out of you.

“Yes, oh God,” you cry. 

He groans softly as he eats your pussy with elation, starved for you it seems. You gasp at every flick of his tongue, making you come unglued as each second passes. You let your head fall back and struggle for air. 

He stops suddenly, looking up at you with a devilish stare. 

“Tell me what you need from me,” he growls, squeezing your thighs tight. 

You place your hands on the desk and lean back momentarily. You swallow harshly before speaking, unable to get the words out the way he’s looking at you. 

“Fuck me,” you gasp. 

He quickly stands up, unable to denounce the command you gave him. He sloppily kisses you, tongues and lips crashing into one another. You feel him rub his tip against your core and groan into your mouth. You whimper in agony, too sensitive to be teased. 

“Please,” you beg him. 

He smiles against your lips and hums pleased. 

“Say it again, beg for it,” he whispers out of breath. 

You whine and pull at his hips, wanting him to be inside of you already. 

“Elvis please,” you cry. 

He lets out another groan and he’s rubbing his tip at your entrance. 

“One more time baby,” he breathes in your ear. 

“Mmm Elvis please, I need you. Please fuck me,” you cry. 

He pushes the papers off the desk and with a grunt, he pushes his cock inside of you, stretching your entrance around him. You whimper at the feeling of him and hold onto his arms. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to the size of him and making you even wetter than before. Pleasure seared through you and can’t get enough of him. Your eyes flutter close and let him take over. He was so overwhelming and so addictive. You loved having every ounce of his attention on you. 

“God baby, fuck you feel good,” he groans. 

He grunts with every thrust, going deeper and deeper inside of you. You gasp for breath and look into his heated eyes. You could feel the heat in your belly grow, pleasure building with every second as he looked at you like he was beckoning you to fall apart for him. 

You let your head fall back and hold onto him tighter, never wanting to let him go. His hips pound into you faster and his hands squeeze and caress your breasts, bringing another bit of pleasure to you. Just the way he sounds makes you want to fall apart. He sounds like he’s been deprived of you. He was taking his time and enjoying every inch of you. 

His lips are doing some of the work too, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, starting at your breasts. You arch your back into his mouth, loving how this feels. He works his way up to your neck too, licking and sucking at the most sensitive part of your neck. He likes how he has you reeling for more. 

You then feel his hands slowly wrap around your neck, making your eyes pop open. 

“Let me look at you. I want to see your face when I fuck you,” he says low, his cock buried deep inside you. You gasp at the feeling of him and try to muster up the courage to look at him. You could barely take any more, you wanted to fall apart on him and then beg him for more. 

You look at him once more and nod your head. 

“Yes baby, don’t stop, please. I’m going to cum,” you whine. 

He smirks at your pleading face and moves more, sliding his hand down your body until he finds your clit. You think the last time was the best he possibly can make you feel but he just continues to prove you wrong. You move your hips with him, feeling your orgasm loom and about to come crashing down. Elvis glances at where you two are connected, making a mess all over his desk, and groans. He looks back up at you, his forehead damp with sweat and his eyes blazing into your skin.

Your muscles tense with each thrust and you come crashing down. You bury your face into his neck and hold back the cry you want to let out. Your orgasm blinds you and gasp for air as he relentlessly fucks you into the desk. He lets out frustrated groans as he feels your walls squeeze around him and your slick pools out of you. He was close too and couldn’t hold back from seeking his own release. You pull your head away from his neck and stay close enough to where your noses are almost touching. Elvis was struggling to keep the pace he set and something about looking at you in the eye was making him come unglued. His jaw clenches and slowly pushes you down onto the desk. He pulls your legs up and has you wrap them around his torso. He watches you get blissfully fucked out of your mind here, taking each inch of his cock and moaning for him to keep going. His hips stutter and you can feel him pour his warm release into you. You both cuss each other’s names, loving how you are making one another feel. You look helplessly at him, watching him come down from his orgasm and groan with each movement he makes.

“Fuck I missed you,” he groans, slowly pumping his cock in and out of you. Your entrance was becoming too sensitive, you could barely handle anything else from him.

“I missed you,” you gasp. You try to sit up on your elbows and watch him move. You grab his wrist and he sees you’re exhausted. He slowly pulls his cock out of you with a grunt. You watched how it came out of you wet and still a bit hard.

He leans down and kisses you with need like he hadn’t just gotten enough of you.

His fingers are back at your entrance, rubbing your arousal along your folds. You hiss at the sensation, you need a break but you know he’s not going to give you one.

“Baby please,” you whimper.

“What honey?” He says slyly.

“I can’t, I need a second.”

“I’m not done with you, I know you want more. I have other ways of making a mess of you.”

You tremble at the idea and nod your head at him, liking that idea way too much.

*

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Tagging:

@loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley@chasingwildflowers

@idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11@that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley@cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen

[rosicheeks]

🥺💋☠️🎧💝

[skitskatdacat63]

And here is the bull himself >:)

+ lore notes

I was like, ah I should make the shadow something interesting, and then I'm like GIVE HIM BULL HORNS???? OKAY SURE !!!!! I'm glad such thoughts can strike at 7 in the morning....thanks brain. But hehehe I'm glad bcs now this matches up super well with the Nando one!

New ship dynamic: who's the bull and who's the matador :)

I think, in this AU, Fernando is generally pretty fond of Seb when he first meets him. Like "ah yes my very own protégé, very nice, I shall mold him in my image." But then Seb starts veering off that course. Bullfighting is all about being dramatic, but Seb maybe has a bit too much(🤏) flair for the dramatic. This escalation starts while he's still Fernando's assistant but he keeps it generally at bay. But god when he becomes a matador himself, he's just off the rails insane.

Bullfighting, to me, is a sport about reckless endangerment of one's self in the pursuit of drama and performance(its literally described as a tragedy in three acts.) But Fernando thinks Seb endangers himself *too* much, not because he cares or anything, but he's making a mockery of the sport!! Especially when Seb starts doing that bull hand symbol(seen above), Fernando just keeps become more enraged with him, not anything to do with the fact that Seb is threatening his records and threatening his own wellbeing, nah of course not.

Seb's gesture is making a mockery of the sport, he's disrespecting the culture, the very nature of it, blah blah blah. Jenson once asks Fernando, after noticing him seething while watching Seb do his gesture, "Which bull are you really trying to defeat?" One could also describe Fernando and Seb's relationship as a "tragedy with three acts."

Anyways Fernando gets very tied up with this rivalry. Even after suffering a severe injury(I have yet to decide, but y'know mchonda electrocution core), he quickly returns to the sport, loath to let Seb get any more headway. And then Seb gets injured, poor little sweet Seb, and neither of them can handle it. Though I already covered this in my prev lore post 🤭 and I think I put it pretty viscerally there so!! I digress.

They're both matadors, but the bull itself is not the only bull Fernando wants to conquer. Conquer as in death? Hm.

[sysig]

The heart grows ever fonder ♥ (Patreon)

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <333

[thedeadthree]

V? Or if it's already been asked, L? 💕

hi alyssa i hope ur well!!!!! ty tyy sm <3

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐜 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥.

𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐃𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀 / 𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖 — my (likely!!) second playthrough after irulanne in veilguard and my emmrich appreciator!!!!!! <33 a evoker mage that uses the orb and dagger weapons!!!! born as one of the bastards of king fulgeno ii of antiva and an elven bard, making her the younger half sister of viago!! like all of fulgenos bastards she was given a choice to go to the crows or exile, vethari chose exile (initially) and went to orlais to study as a bard like her mother and older twin. veth was okay at it, especially the lessons involving espionage and getting rid of someone ofc hskdjk. but haated everything else (also she thinks she sounds like a dying cat when she sings jdkhkj). her twin was a far better bard then her anyway so she….. just left lol. then the breach veil tears open in places right triggers her dormant magic it was a TIME learning she had that *wheeze* and went on wacky hijinks for a wee until eventually (begrudgingly) realizing maybe the crow life is the life for her and she joined the crows (to be honest she missed her brother really bad 🥀🤧 they were thick as THIEVES) and the rest will be history!!!!!! shes my girlboss girlfailure and purple leaning bbg and i am SOO stoked to see what is in store for her in datv <3

𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐑 — dragon age (adjacent <3) the namesake of lhysas daughter lorien! ancestor of lhysa, feanorian, linnae, and irulanne and a biiiiiig player in a pre veil/arlathan thingy i am toooootally not in the planning stages working on HEHE. redacted/wip on the lore for now hehe but she was very close to solas :)) (some say more than close but ykyk right person wrong time something something lost love always finds its way to what is meant to be red string of fate youll never get away from the sound of the (one) who loves you or something!!)

[astrxealis]

classes are Over ... suspended as soon as my classes were done earlier lol ecks dee BUT ANYWAY fun day tbh :3 if slightly annoying

[foxmulderautism]

this post really is the blueprint for RR felix vs lover boy felix 

[s4pphoiduser]

microdosing coming out by macrodosing "ooo i wanna look Just Like Him. HIM. HE HIM HIM HIM. JUST LIKE HIM." like oh look at the broad shoulders and wide, flat chest. oh, oh, so interesting, isn't it? wouldn't it be fun if i were a guy? imagine That!

[noxtivagus]

listening to a lot of songs rn n i'm just thinking of how much i love my music taste

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI

fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words

“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss. 

he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live. 

cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.

he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.

“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.

“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.” 

a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.” 

“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."

normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks. 

levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”

you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice. 

levi makes his way towards the door. 

“levi?” 

he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him���if he’d be mad if you didn’t. 

but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought. 

you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.” 

he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting. 

he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter. 

no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle. 

levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess. 

their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say. 

his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first. 

“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.

armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”

levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red. 

he should've known.

“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.

“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."

levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you. 

“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”

eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice. 

or so he thought, anyway.

historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness. 

“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”

levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.

eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned. 

it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety. 

“how long have you been together?”

“does she actually like you?” 

“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.” 

“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.” 

“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.” 

"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.” 

“five—” 

a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.

levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.

even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.

he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.

[tiny-space-platypus]

Everyone sees Danny looks like Tim but I raise you Adult buff as shit, tall as shit, Fenton genetics™, Danny looks like Jason even down to the white tuffs which lead to the most horrified reactions from the Bat family to find a very smiley very well rounded and absolutely no violence Jason just about.

Like,

Dick out and about doing normal daily life shit suddenly sees his brother baby brother 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺. Not dressed how he normally scrolling on his phone. There's a part of Dick that wanted to run up and tackle his brother into a hug because OH DEAR LORD HIS SWEET BABY IS SMILING. He hasn't seen him so happy in so long. Dick snaps a photo and moves on.

Tim heads to his normal coffee before heading into the office. He picks up the coffee (he technically isn't supposed to have) only to stop dead where he is when he sees Jason not only outside of Crime Alley, not only drinking coffee, but tinkering with a little device 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙘. Tim walks over to and sits down in the seat across from Jason. Work can fucking wait, what in God's name is his brother doing in his coffee shop tinkering like a mad man. Tim kicked him pretty hard under the table causing the man to jump and look at Tim which was a weird as fuck reaction for Jason. Till was about to say something when the other man spoke first. "Can I help you?" That- That wasn't Jason's voice. Tim looked at the man in front of him surprised as he looked at the scars on the muscular fake brother. Time then stammered as he took in this man's scars which he had plenty of but taking a closer look they weren't Jason's either. "I- um sorry. I thought you were my brother-" The man just laughed warmly and smiled which was so unnerving from a face that looked almost identical to his brothers. "It's fine man, don't worry about it" Tim put a tracker on him just in case.

That night in the group chat.

Dick: (sends photo of Jason smiling) HE'S SMILING :DDDD

Tim: Is the world ending????

Bruce: (saving the photo of his smiling son)

Jason: THAT'S NOT FUCKING ME. I was in Crime Alley all day but that's creepy.

Babs: Can confirm Jay was in the alley all day.

Bruce: (sad dad deleting photo of fake son)

Part 2

[satoruxx]

pairing: wolf!toji fushiguro x reader summary: wolfhybrid!toji, grumpy x sunshine again, animalistic behavior, bickering rheya’s note: man i couldn’t stop thinking about guard dog toji so it turned into a hybrid au! i can’t see him as anything but a wolf/dog tbh. anyways i will def be writing more for this au hehe <33

you’ve been hearing noises.

it sounds strange, but you’re sure that there is something lurking in the normally deserted alleyway next to your apartment. at first you brushed it off as people traveling through, but now you've noticed the sounds are constant—every night.

you’re eating dinner when you hear the sounds of scuffling, followed by the yowl of a cat and realize you’re probably dealing with a stray looking for food.

so after you finish your meal, you put a bit of leftover fish in an old plate you seldom use, and take it outside. when you peer into the dark alley you don’t see any cat—it’s empty and quiet. you do notice a few scrapes on the walls and a couple of trash bins overturned, which means there definitely was some animal here.

maybe it’ll come back, you think as you bend down and place the plate on the pavement. with one last backward glance at the deserted alleyway, you head inside and go to bed.

a fond smile stretches across your face when you notice the empty plate as you’re leaving for work the next morning.

it becomes a daily routine after that. every night before you go to bed you go out and leave a little plate of fish for the poor cat. and every morning you’re met with a licked clean plate.

even though you never do see the cat, you do feel a strange combination of accomplishment and affection for the poor thing. and your little routine runs smoothly for a couple weeks—you have no complaints.

and then one night, when you’re going to drop off your little ration of the day, you see him. despite being hunched in a corner, he looms infinitely large—heavy shoulders and muscles straining as they fill with tension at your presence. his eyes are strangely bright, crystalline jade narrowed into slits as they appraise you, teeth bared in feral anger. they snap and snarl at you in warning, and you freeze almost immediately.

he’s terrifying—in a strangely gorgeous way.

dark furry ears are pointed up straight, twitching with the sound of your movements, and a warning growl bounces over the walls.

you raise your hands, ignoring the tremble, the instinct to run. “i just…” you keep your voice low, choosing to lightly shake the little plate you have in your hand. green eyes dart over—another snarl, a flick of a tail.

you slowly crouch and place the plate onto the ground, before backing away—you’re not trying to get attacked by a clearly feral hybrid.

he snarls and growls until you are well out of sight.

when you’re back in the safety of your apartment you almost laugh, heart pounding with disbelief. you thought you’d been feeding a stray cat—but no, it’s a hybrid. a big one, predatory in all aspects. you couldn’t see much in the dark lighting of the alley but the ears looked distinctly canine—with the addition of the teeth, claws, and tail, you’re almost sure he is some kind of dog or wolf or whatever.

dangerous for sure.

sensibly, you should probably stop feeding him so he doesn’t stick around. but stupidly, you can’t help it.

the next night you leave another plate. he’s not there this time, but you leave it just in case he’s lurking.

the following night his green eyes remain narrowed on your figure as you return—still snarling as he watches you.

you’re not fazed.

(tell that to your racing heart.)

over the course of the next few weeks, you repeat this process, not really sure what you’re expecting. you suppose you should be grateful that he doesn’t growl as much anymore, seemingly becoming accustomed to your routine presence. it becomes clockwork, so much so that you can always expect him to be sitting in the alley, ears flicking at the sounds of your footsteps.

the plate has now been saved for his little nightly meals, something you don’t necessarily mind. you notice that he is always clad in the same tattered clothing, a dark shirt that is far too loose even on his large body—it is littered with dirt and holes and you wish it was easier to offer some more comfortable items to him.

but you’ve only just gotten him to stop viewing you as a threat; you’ll take it slow.

you don’t notice that he gradually waits closer and closer to where he knows you leave the plate, the distance diminishing in a display of semi trust.

you think that this is all you’ll really get from him. which is fine—you’d rather he remain silent and alive than dead from starvation in your alleyway.

he surprises you one night.

“no more fish.”

you pause in your tracks, a few measly centimeters away from putting the plate on the ground. your eyes dart upward to see him already staring at you, jade slits narrowed. his tail flicks lazily in the shadows. your voice is breathless when you ask, “w-what?”

“fish,” he repeats. “no more of it.”

his voice is a low rumble, deep in richness and timbre despite its evidence of not being used in a while. you glance down at the plate in confusion—he had eaten it all for these few weeks?

he reaches for the plate, digging into the fish with practiced ease. you watch his canines dig into the flesh and tear away like it’s mere paper.

(should you be scared that the fish could also be your throat?)

“you uh—” you clear you throat, staring at him. “you don’t like fish?”

“i can survive off it,” he spits out in between bites—his pupils find yours. “but it’s not great.”

you don’t know why you’re so eager to make him happy. “then what would you like to eat?”

he quirks a brow at the enthusiasm, but answers gruffly. “meat. real meat.” he pauses to run his tongue over his lips, satiated—you can see a scar cutting over them. “like lamb. or beef. i don’t care really.”

“i can do that!” you’re seriously embarrassed at how keen you are, but the progress you’re making excites you. “i should’ve considered what you’d naturally like to eat. you’re a…?”

“wolf,” he grunts, still focused on his meal.

“right.” you nod, grateful to have confirmed the species. “makes sense you’d prefer real meat.”

he doesn’t answer. you don’t mind.

“then i’ll get you something different tomorrow.” you turn to leave. once again he doesn’t answer, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your back.

you don’t tell the wolf hybrid that you stayed up researching his species just to figure out what he’d like. you just place the plate down the next night, hoping that it is enough to make him feel a little more comfortable with you.

(you’re sure he could kill you with just one bite, but you try not to think about that.)

the wolf watches you present the plate of lamb meat, some pieces cooked and some raw—his tail slowly thumps against the ground.

“i um…know that wolves like deer and stuff, but getting deer meat nearby is a little difficult. i can probably go find some places over the weekend,” you say hesitantly, watching his expression. he reaches a large palm out, claws tugging the plate closer, and digs in. you’re not sure about the taste, but you can see the rise in enthusiasm as he gobbles the meat down—a smile twitches at your lips.

“it’s fine,” he mumbles in return. “deer’s expensive. i like lamb and chicken. beef too.”

you nod, surprised at the consideration for the money you’re spending.

“do…do you prefer it raw or cooked?” you wait for him to click his tongue or indicate he’s getting annoyed by your presence, but he’s feeling forthcoming tonight.

“either’s fine.” he licks up the pinkish liquid that has dripped down his chin while biting into the raw pieces. “i’m used to raw meat.”

you nod, slowly taking a seat on the pavement. his eyes flicker up to watch what you’re doing, but he doesn’t protest. he just picks up another piece of lamb and takes a bite.

“you cook this?” he grunts, waving one of the cooked pieces. you grimace, nodding sheepishly.

“yeah. i wasn't sure if you'd like raw meat or cooked so i brought both. i can just bring raw pieces from now on.”

he peers at the cooked meat in between his claws, before shaking his head gruffly. “it’s pretty good.”

“the cooked meat?” you ask in surprise. he nods.

“yeah. tastes good.”

you can’t help the grin that stretches across your face.

“the fuck are you smilin’ about?” he narrows his eyes at you, ears pointing upright. you drop the smile hastily, shaking your head with a start.

“nothing!”

he snorts, continuing to eat. you watch him do so, strangely content. he doesn’t comment on how you’re seemingly inspecting him, eyes unblinking. he keeps his mouth shut because the taste of meat is heavy on his tongue, and at this point you’re a godsend to an animal like him.

so if you want to observe him like he’s in a fucking zoo, he’s fine with that.

you do have horrible survival instincts though. he wonders why on earth you seem so comfortable around a predator like him, especially a species that is so known to be violent. you’re just sitting there, a mere five feet away, watching him tear into raw meat with stars in your eyes.

(he could tear you apart in a second if he wanted to.)

he doesn’t leave a morsel on the plate, and you give him that same silly smile again.

“i have a little bit more cooked lamb leftover if you want?” you question him, and his eyes lazily roam over you. he thinks about telling you that he could devour meat for much longer if the supply was endless, but instead he huffs.

“did you eat?”

you blink. “me?”

“yeah you,” he replies harshly, rolling his eyes. “did you eat?”

you awkwardly scratch at your arm. “not yet. i was gonna eat some instant noodles later.”

“why the fuck are you worried about a stray like me then?” he snarls, crossing his arms—you’re so fucking naive. “go eat the cooked lamb and worry about yourself, for fuck’s sake.”

while his harsh tone would’ve definitely scared you on day one, this time, you feel more ticked off than afraid.

“i’m a grown ass adult. don’t tell me what to do. if i wanna worry about the noisy stray in my alleyway, i’ll do that,” you shoot back indignantly, mirroring his crossed arms.

the wolf’s demeanor changes, hackles rising. his ears go erect, straight and tense with frustration. he bares his teeth at you, a warning growl coming through them. “lot of talk for someone so damn tiny,” he barks. “don’t you have any self preservation instincts? i could just fucking eat you instead.”

you go a little slack jawed at that, a flicker of hesitation, but then you retort. “maybe, but i bet humans don’t taste as good as lamb or deer!”

“i’ll make do,” he growls back, canines pulling into an evil smirk.

your bravado dies down, and then he has to deal with the disturbingly wounded pout on your face. you don’t say anything more and he sighs heavily.

“i’ll eat more if you eat,” he grunts, glaring at the pavement. even then, he can feel the way you perk up.

“i’ll be right back!” you grab his plate and hurry into your apartment, eager, and all he can do is sigh, wondering what on earth he’s doing interacting with a fragile little human like you.

you come back with more cooked lamb in his designated plate, placing it in front of him before taking a seat on the floor again. he watches you stab at the pieces with a fork and chew on them, so dainty compared to the way his canines dig into his own share.

he can feel the curiosity thrumming through your veins, no doubt burning with questions—the need to talk to him. but you stay quiet as you eat, the sounds of chewing echoing through the alley. he concedes.

“you make it a habit to feed strays?” he mutters. you look up, once again sporting that silly look of surprise at his attention, but you recover quickly.

“no not really. you were just…really loud.” you sheepishly grin when he pins you with a glare, raising your hands innocently. “i just heard a lot of rattling around out here. i thought you were a stray cat.”

he takes offense to that.

“i ain’t no damn cat,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he bites into the flesh of another piece. your grin widens.

“clearly.”

the rest of the short meal passes in silence. he finishes up before you do, and for the first time you see him stand to his full height—he’s tall and hulking.

“well,” he grunts, shoving his clawed hands into his dirty pockets. “y’should go inside and finish that.”

he nods at your bowl before turning away. you briefly wonder where he sleeps; perhaps the park nearby so that he can rest on soft grass rather than cold stone. the thought makes you pity him more than you did.

his retreating form suddenly pauses, and he turns to stare over his shoulder—his jade eyes glow in the darkness. “see y’tomorrow.”

a wide smile stretches across your face, and you wave back, giddy. “sure! see you tomorrow…” your voice trails off at the end. the wolf rolls his eyes heavily, before turning around and continuing his walk.

“toji.” he finishes for you, voice low and yet still clear.

you bite back a laugh of disbelief. “toji,” you repeat, and it rolls off your tongue like butter. his ears twitch at the sound, surprisingly pleasant, and he grumbles in return, vanishing into the night.

he ends up keeping his promise.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

DOCTORS ACROSS THE HALL

Spencer Reid x psychiatrist!reader

Synopsis: Sleep-deprived and traumatized, Spencer Reid attempts to pin the blame on his innocent new neighbor (he can't). Word Count: 2k+ Warning: meet cute-ish(?) fluff(?) i'm not sure anymore, lol. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. not proofread !!!! A/N: inspired by S2 x E14 & 15, we all know what i mean hehe

Spencer Reid's eyes are dry.

Each blink is a terrifying journey. Afraid that he'll go back in the past—in that hut—in between the millisecond of closing his eyes.

He's seeing nothing but blurry darkness, and yet he can still feel Tobias Hankel's shaky palms across the skin of his arm.

"It helps."

"Trust me."

The same four words ring in Spencer's ears, encouraging pain—paranoia.

"It helps."

"Trust me."

With every breath Spencer takes, they hitch in the middle of his throat. Forever stuck and dies there with no trace of hope for the next generation of traveling air.

Hope that he'll be able to breathe without tugging aches all over his chest is long gone.

No man would ever be the same had they been in the situation he went through. He can't help but feel weak. And it's eating Spencer alive to the point of deliberate insomnia.

He doesn't remember the last time he'd ever slept like a normal person.

"It helps."

Knock, knock.

"Trust me."

Knock, knock, knock.

Spencer opens his eyes. He's not sure when slumber took over his mind or if he even participated in sleep at all. Chances are he was too dissociated from reality that he's left his body frozen for a while. Nonetheless, in the little time he spent in serene blankness, only one emotion brews in him.

Anger.

Who in their right minds would go out knocking at—Spencer glances at the clock on his nightstand—2 AM?

Knock, knock, KNOCK—

It stops.

A creak echoes in the hall as muffled voices scratch Spencer's ears. He can't make out the words, only the wave of the softest and gentlest whispers he's ever heard.

On a different day, he may have let it go. Hell, a different him would have let it go.

The Spencer from one week ago would have let it go.

The Spencer who never felt so nauseous at the sight of his own blood along the canvas of his temple. The Spencer with an awkward grin without the baggage of Tobias Hankel's torture over his shoulders.

The Spencer he used to be.

But despite everyone's loving support. Despite the bragging rights he gained for surviving a serial killer. No one can loosen the throttling chokehold of trauma around his neck. Not even him.

Spencer catches himself clenching his fists too tight. Crescent indentations sting on his palm—nostalgic and unsettling. He only grits his jaw at the thought. And comes in the invigorating vibrations all over his chest.

There it is again.

The useless anger.

A loaded gun with no target.

The man is dead. Tobias Hankel is dead.

Spencer wonders about the use of his boiling anger when the person he loathes is already rotting in his grave.

Without any other outlet to unleash the colossal mass of suppressed rage brewing inside of him, Spencer makes good use of one of the most common defense mechanisms: displacement.

Maybe screaming at someone will deflate the tightness across his chest and clear his mind a bit in the form of self-loathing after he realizes the grave immaturity of his plan.

He lifts his body off his mattress, swinging his legs on the side of his bed as he methodically rubs his eyes against the lamp's brightness. Strands of his hair go array around the vertical circumference of his head like an electric halo.

A huff pulses off his lips. He swallows a lump of thick air as he weighs his next moves.

Part of Spencer died in that cemetery. What difference does it make if he screams at the world? If he screams at—

His brows furrow, eyes narrow, and ears perk.

It's different this time.

Irritating knocks. Opening door. Muffled whispering. Closing door. Then quiet for an hour.

That has been a constant for the past five days. A constant routine that he felt indifferent about but somehow grew annoyed by.

But it's different this time.

The door across the hall didn't close.

And it's been five minutes.

Before Spencer knows it, his hand turns the knob and swings the door open.

Two women across from him. They are in the middle of what seems to be a tight hug before one bids her goodbye and lightly runs down the stairs.

Spencer watches as the other disappears down the lower level. Anger morphs into confusion.

"Did we bother you?"

He jolts back, snapping his gaze to the woman across. "What?"

You smile apologetically, "I'm sorry about the noise—"

"Dr. Spencer Reid," He spits. Spencer's forehead creases. He wonders what prompted his mouth to openly provide his full name to a stranger, specifically when the information was not asked for.

"Oh," You blink, lightly jumping on your toes. An unseen glint sparks in your eyes. You introduce yourself as a response, a lot less threatening than he did but equally awkward. You smile again. Sweetly, this time. Like you're looking at a puppy.

Spencer's brows bounce over his forehead as the hand over his doorknob loosens. "You're a doctor?" He inquires.

You nod, "Mhm, what are the odds, right?" You chuckle. The sound echoes around the quiet hall.

"11.76%."

"What?"

"The odds—" Spencer scratches the back of his neck, "—it's 11.76%. There are fourteen tenants in this building, including you. We both found out we're doctors, and I know none of our neighbors are. Most of the neighbors are living alone besides the old couple on the first floor, but I know none of them are doctors. That's two in fifteen people. So 11.76%. But now I realize you weren't being literal about it..." Heat rushes against the skin of his face.

Silence hovers between the two of you. He feels more awake than he was minutes ago for an entirely different reason—embarrassment. Spencer wishes that some sort of earthquake would open up the floor and swallow him.

"Interesting," You finally speak, changing the leg where you placed your weight. "I tried calculating it myself and got the same result. You were right."

His mouth falls agape. A surge of warmth strikes his chest. "You were calculating?" Spencer squints, rubbing an eye out of habit due to his current predicament and baffled by your antic all the same.

You nod again, "Just cause you're my neighbor doesn't mean I'll just take your word for it, you know. But I have to admit, it was cool that you figured that out in a second. You have my respect." You flash a playful smile, hugging your chest at the sudden draft.

"Ahh," Spencer steps back into his apartment. The tinge of giddiness is quickly replaced by sleep deprivation and anxiety. A hand throws itself into the cavity of his eye socket, pushing it close to remove the pain that's settling in.

Flashes of bright light blind him in the dark shade of his eyelids. Frustration swiftly creeps over his shoulders. Like he's drowning above water, tied down, and has no air to gasp for. Panic begins to paralyze him. All seems lost, and darkness slowly—

"Would you like some tea?"

Spencer blinks, lifting his gaze back at you as your soft smile slowly adjusts his sight.

"I have a new brand of tea I've been dying to open. Would you like some?" You repeat, tilting your head a bit as you await a response. When you don't get one, you add, "I promise I don't bite." And your heart flutters at the little twitch at the ends of his lips.

He concludes you're roughly two weeks fresh from moving in. Here you are, inviting a stranger in the middle of the night to enjoy tea inside your home.

Seems reckless.

Idiotic.

But Spencer doesn't say no.

He walks towards you like he's leaving a world to explore another. Anxiety slowly dissipates with each step he takes. A contrast of what he feels each second that passes while he lies awake.

You step aside to give him way. "Grab a seat—" you gesture towards the kitchen -island-slash-dining-table, "—The girl you saw usually stays longer, so I already heat some water. Is chamomile okay?" You talk as you maneuver around your small kitchen.

Spencer finds a seat closest to the door. For all he knows, you're the serial killer on your end of the skeptical assumptions in his head.

"Nice apartment," He says out of the obligatory guest etiquette. Spencer takes in every bit of your reflection in your home.

It's inviting. Warm and cozy. The hint of oat and lavender whiffs past his nose. Your place is adorned with small, warm lights, brightening each corner with sunset tones.

Your chuckle brings his attention back to you. "Don't be shy, Dr. Reid," You glance at him over your shoulder. "It's messy. You can say it."

"If a couple of books on your table is messy to you, you should see my side of the building."

Spencer straightens up as confusion spreads over his face.

How do you do that?

Make him feel comfortable with words and a gentle voice. Everyone on his team has been doing the same exact thing, but somehow, you get something out of him without further prompting.

The image of your coffee table pops in his head. Cultural Psychology. Learning Psychotherapy. Trauma and Dreams. And a few more books that clocks his interest in you further down the rabbit hole.

"You're a psychologist," He announces into the air.

"Psychiatrist, actually," You place a mug in front of Spencer, finding a seat across from him. "But what gave it away? The tea or the messy apartment?" You ask into your mug that says 'you're purrfect' in pink lowercase and has a cat’s paw under the lettering. A playful smile is curving your lips.

Spencer accepts the blue mug, brows rising at the police box outlined image over the blue stain. He wouldn’t have expected you as a fan of Doctor Who, but who’s he to judge? A part of him wants to discuss common interests, but he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to change the subject.

"T-the books." He says hesitantly, uncertain whether the art of observation has marked him a creep right at that moment.

You hum, "Thought I would've been more mysterious than that." You chuckle, pulling a leg against your chest. "And you?" You inquire back.

"I have three PhDs," Spencer shares shyly, breaking eye contact masked as drinking your quite tasteful tea. He notes to ask the brand you're so enthusiastic about later on.

"Three?" Your eyes glisten under the warm light.

He nods.

"Let me guess, 190."

"190?"

"Your IQ," You lean back against the table, "My guess is you graduated young. Went to high school, college, and graduate school as a puppy." You add, amping with adoration over the new information.

"A puppy is a strong word, but yes," Spencer blushes now, hoping the small lighting leans in his favor to hide the red tint over every bit of his skin. “And just 187, not that big of a deal.”

"Just 187? You're just being humble, right?" You giggle, "I bet some prestigious agency hired you at a young age, and you're called the genius kid." You jest, genuinely interested in him more than ever.

More like the boy genius. But can’t possibly expose himself more than you already did out of sheer lucky guesses. Spencer avoids meeting your eyes like it's the plague. "You awfully guess a lot..."

You gasp, placing your mug on the table, "Shut up! I was close, was I? Oh my gosh!" You're laughing now, utterly comfortable to show quirks that people you just met shouldn't see yet. "I'm good at this. I think I'll be okay later, then." You say to yourself, nodding in satisfaction.

"For what?" Spencer chimes, troubles slipping away to the back of his mind and the sound of your hush laughter lulling him. It might be the tea or the possibility that you'd drugged him, but his body felt light for the first time in weeks. He doesn't have any complaints.

"I moved here for a job," You start attentively, making sure that you don't share too much. "But I have people. They'll search for me in case you turn out to be a serial killer."

His brows jump, "How do I know you're not the serial killer? Women can be one, too. And statistically, women who are serial killers are attractive."

"Are you saying I'm attractive, Dr. Reid?"

"I—" Spencer freezes, heat flowing to his ears. "I-I was making a point—" He cuts himself off. He wonders when the earthquake he's wished for earlier is coming to save him from embarrassment.

You stay silent, reveling in his stuttering voice.

"Is that coffee? I thought you made tea." He changes the subject—poorly.

You don't mind it one bit, indulging at the sight of his pinkish ears covered by his unruly hair. "I invited you for tea. I didn't say I'll drink one with you." You take a sip of the caffeine, rubbing the idea on his face.

Spencer responds with a subtle roll of his eyes that makes you chuckle more than intended. "Why coffee at three in the morning?" He asks gently, not wanting to step over any boundaries.

"I'm supposed to start my job later. I heard my patients need a lot of assistance, so I need to study and make sure I give them the right help."

"That sounds noble," He yawns, the first of many.

Spencer never thought your smile could get any sweeter, "I haven't officially met them yet. So, I really wish it goes well."

It might be the chamomile tea with a hint of honey finally working in his veins, but Spencer thinks you're beaming like an angel descending from the skies.

He yawns, and you giggle once more, "I think you should go to sleep, Dr. Reid."

“Yeah, yeah, I should,” Spencer’s eyebrows collide at the sadness in his chest. His body feels comfortable in his seat. Getting out of it feels like torture. 

You both stand from your seats, walking him towards the door. 

Spencer turns around before he closes his, a sleepy smile on his face. "Thanks for the tea," He yawns, a hand covering his mouth.

“You’re— hold on, give me one second,” You turn around and back inside your apartment. He can’t see you but can hear your light footsteps on the floorboards as you run to your coffee table and back inside the frame of your front door. 

Spencer patiently waits as you walk to his end of the hall, take his hand out, and hand him a heart lollipop. 

“Take this. They help with the bad craving,” You advertise as you walk backward. Before he completely shuts the door, you call for him, "Oh, and Dr. Reid."

Spencer swings the door open back wider, "Yes?"

"I think you're attractive too."

reid masterlist | masterlist

[fuxuannie]

Hey girl, I LOVED YOUR HEADCANONS. Specifically abt Ken x Reader. If you can write about headcanons abt maybe when he's jealous? You covered literally almost everything in your headcanons, so I have nothing to request except this 😭

❥﹒kenji sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — part 2 of the kenji sato headcanons because i am totally normal <3

✦. love mail — i swear i promise ill post hsr guys 😞 just let me have my moment w sato i beg. i’ve decided to just do this req + add some more hehe. thank you sm requester for enabling my brain rot! (pls more ppl do so)

✦. tags — NO SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, non-intimate/sexual kissing, kenji sato x reader, i wrote this w my brain off again ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ;; pls

Jealousy was not fun for the Kenji Sato. Before Emi came along and changed him, I can see him being the type to get jealous easily. Why would you need to talk to other people anyway? You had him, he was the best. He’d make it real obvious too, suddenly wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close, or the following days he has you wear his iconic jacket while you’re out with him so everyone knows exactly who and what you two are. If it gets to the better of him, he’ll get all pouty about it. He wants all your attention, your eyes all over him and him only. Maybe even hands but that’s a different thing. But I think after Emi’s influence, it’s less possessive and he’s grown to trust you with others instead of letting his feelings get in the way. Of course he’s not immune to jealousy, but you notice it a lot less. It’s less suffocating for you and you’re grateful he’s grown. You did love the pouty face he’d make though, it was cute.

Now if you were jealous, which is really no surprise.. Kenji had thousands of admirers, he had gifts on his doorstep like every other day. He’ll do everything to prove and reassure you that you’re the only one who has his heart. He’ll post you on his social media, take you out on dates, all those things to wash your worries away. Lastly, he’ll hold you in his arms at night and whisper everything he loves about you. Everything you were silently insecure about, he loved. Every date you thought he forgot, he remembered. And to meet a guy like that? How lucky can you be? (He tells you he’s luckier of course. <3)

I think he’s a messy kisser for the most part 🧐. (Forgive me in advance for this part. I am not very good at these things.) When he can take his time, he’s slow and gentle. Genuinely just trying to show you that yeah, he loves you, so damn much. And he’s going to show that through his passion by taking things slow so you can really feel his devotion. Other times, because he’s always in a rush, he’ll do a messy but clearly desperate kiss. He doesn’t like leaving without one, and you can describe him kissing you like it’s his last, (because it’s really not a far-fetched guess considering his line of work) his hand behind your head and pressing your lips against his in an almost ravenous manner. He does give you a very quick kiss on the forehead and runs off after finishing, leaving you a little dazed.

He LOVES to take you out on night rides. If ever you get a little nervous/have a fear of motorcycles, he’ll talk you all the way through via the cardo he put into your helmet. He’ll take you to some nice cafes or restaurants around Tokyo, other time’s he’ll bring you to some favourite childhood spot of his. When you arrive, he’ll tell you about his mother and the memories he’s made in this very special spot. It warms your heart to see his expression be so fond when he talks about his childhood – he truly misses it.

Before you knew of Kenji’s identity, I think it would be funny if you hated Ultraman. You just LOATHED the guy, Kenji asked your thoughts on Ultraman on the first date and you went on a rant about how he threw your car at a Kaiju only to miss. (He felt so embarrassed). It would be funnier if afterwards, he began to actually do his job as Ultraman properly.. and avoided cars on your street and avenue. He wanted to make sure you didn’t utterly hate Ultraman before revealing that he was him.

It would be cute if you and him knew each other like, much earlier. And you called him Ken. And then he made that his alias while he was becoming an All-Star baseball player. :) He’ll brag about it all the time in interviews too, that you’re the reason he uses it. <3

He’s the typa guy to have a picture of you in his room, behind his phone case, in his wallet, in his car and literally anywhere he can get his hands on. He bought a polaroid camera just to take pictures of you, he could care less about the price of film or the camera itself.. he just wanted to have as many pictures of you as possible. He’ll brag about it to his baseball teammates too, considering he also keeps one in his pockets for good luck. :)

You're his goodluck charm. <3

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <333