#he has no clue how to feel about her at this point.

[thedeskofaltoclef]

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

[jams-sims]

I understand Octiva so well and feel bad for her. I think she getting some unneeded heat. Stolas did abandon her, shes not the audeince memeber. She doesn't get to see how he struggled. All she knows is her dad was deeply unhappy, was on medication she had no clue about. She knew the marriage was bad but whos to say, she doesn't just see that as normal rich parent bullshit.

Then without warning on national tv he rennounces his money and status for his boyfriend. An shove you onto the back burner- this is where stolas piss poor commuication skills doesnt just start with Blitz but extends to other relationships in his life.

Because from Via point of view thats fucking insane. The guy your dad has been in an off again on again relationship is now his boyfriend for real. You've known this guy as your fathers body garud, and you had ONE conversation with this guys daughter and that was pretty cool. But otherwise ypu have no idea the shit your dad is going through. She basically watched her father in court say fucking everything and everyone take all of it. Stella can have all of my money and take the house. Then a month later realized he should have added an asterick and went

'Stella can have everything but i want custody of my daughter.'

Would it have been messy to lowkey invite your daughter over to your new mans house right after the divorce aYES but ya'll are already messy to begin with.

Also Stolas should have just talked to his daughter at some point, any point, to explain to her his situation better. Should he have told her everything NO god no. At least telling her that he was unhappy in his marriage earlier on would have saved him a lot of grief. Could she have come up with the same mindset, that she is just a burden, yes. But at least then he has a stepping stone foundation, to prove her wrong by coming to get her.

Also I think next season, there should be maybe a few episodes dedicated to Blitz showing up for Stolas daughter. Octavia is younger than Luna and she's very much still connected to her parents and Blitz wants someone he can be a father to fully. Loona Loves Blitz but she is still almost a grown-ass woman. Clearly not as young as Octivia- I think if Blitz had a connection, with her it would null out the narrative that he stole her father from her. I think Blitz would be more upset that a child thinking, he would hurt them than anything else. Especially, someone so close to the man that he is in love with.

[henke-penke]

I See London...

Most of this episode stays relatively the same. Courtney and Gwen work really well together, Heather is salty about it, Sierra and Cody get lost instead of her trying to kiss him and that's how they get captured.

However, here it's Izzy who questions Noah and Eva when they make a snide comment about Alejandro, and the two decide to spill the beans like in canon. Mainly because said eel is nowhere to be found. Tyler doesn't say anything, but Izzy will give a very... Izzy response, meaning only those who know her can tell she believes them.

Tyler gets captured in the torture room and Team E-scope wins the challenge. In canon Owen is the one to solve the last clue, here it will be Izzy. (Courtney and Gwen get the last clue wrong and comes back empty handed.)

And as she realistically should have in canon, Heather is eliminated. You will be missed queen.

Greece's Pieces

Alejandro is a bit on edge. He's managed to secure Tyler's loyalty but he's very much aware they're two against three. His plan for the day is to make sure they win so he can avoid elimination, and get a headstart in securing the Amazon's vote for when the merge hits.

Because of this, he'll volunteer for the scavenger hunt alongside Sierra, who he believes he was able to manipulate back in New York (oh you dumbass). Anyways, yay newbies get a duet !

At the same time, Team E-scope are not at all worried, and the only reason they aren't throwing the game is because Eva is genuinely excited for the challenge.

(In my head she's insisting on doing everything herself, and it is a little because she doesn't think the others can do it, but mainly and most importantly she's just having the time of her life. Good for her.)

Without Duncan (and Heather), Team Amazon loses a major point of tension like they had in canon, so this might be the first time in history that they're legitimately a functional team. There's still going to be some bumps, not all is perfect, but in the end they win.

This is a reward challenge though, so they get to enjoy some greek play or sum

The Ex-files

I don't know exactly what they'd sing about but Team Chris gets the solo in this episode !

Actually wait, Team E-scope gets it, and it's them sublty roasting Alejandro. Tyler will be wholly unaware where as Alejandro is all "Aight, I gotta break those three up"

Which is what leads to his plan of convincing Izzy to vote herself. I believe he can do this because 1. their canon talk in Paris shows he has an understanding of getting her to listen, and 2. he is a master manipulator.

Because they still believe they've got majority vote, Eva and Noah throw the challenge, and are met with a fucking jumpscare reveal that it is Izzy who will take the jump. Uh-oh, the votes are tied now. (Alejandro gets to be so fucking smug about it too)

As for the Amazons, this is where Courtney and Gwen become allies.

Picnic At Hanging Dork

Alrighty, Eva and Noah, time to get your butts in gear. You have the charisma of a wet paper bag, but that's still some charisma. They basically have the same plan as Alejandro in Greece; win the challenge while trying to convince Tyler to vote for Alejandro.

Alejandro for his part will continue his plan on securing merge votes, this time turning his attention to Courtney. This goes much better than it did with Sierra, although Alejandro is under the impression she's on his side.

Yeah, no. Sierra only pretended to go along with it, when in actuality she's been thinking it over. She might join him, but she's unsure because she doesn't really trust him.

While on Hanging Rock, when Tyler and Alejandro are bungee jumping or something, Eva opens up a bit with Noah. She vents her frustrations with their failure to vote out Alejandro and their plan in general, alongside feeling like she can't do anything without being aggressive or turning to threats, perhaps citing her behaviour in Greece where she was just excited, but most just saw her as unnecessarily assertive. And to circle back to the talk she had with Owen all the way back in the Yukon, she'll indirectly, or maybe even directly, compare herself to Alejandro, (Again, she wants to be a good leader, something he can do naturally but she struggles with).

Noah does his god damn best to comfort her, dropping a line in the style of "I think you're a good leader, and I know Owen and Izzy do too. You've made it this far. That's gotta be something, right?"

Then they hug because I said so.

Team Chris wins, and Cody is eliminated. (Gwen and Courtney agreed he's only really good for a vote, which Sierra already covers and then some)

Sweden Sour

Team Chris continues their respective plans, with Tyler just being here for the ride (bros got no thoughts in his head).

Alejandro and Noah has a moment where the latter sorta accuses the former of throwing the game. "You know Eva can beat you both in a tiebreaker, right?" "I know. But can you?" (uh-oh)

Team Amazon are being so functional it's actually kinda insane. Gwen and Courtney get to have a more serious conversation about stuff, which Sierra will eavesdrop on and learn about their plan on joining forces with Alejandro once the merge hits. Sierra has still not decided on what she will do.

("Stick with the majority led by a guy nobody knows, or do my own thing? Hmm...")

When picking a captain, Alejandro and Eva will beef a bit about it, but Alejandro gets it. If only so that Eva can rub it in his face when she gets them the win, doing something similar to Owen in canon.

("Scared to get your hands dirty, captain?" and it's so derogatory.)

Like in canon, there is a cargo hold scene before the elimination ceremony. Eva and Noah have been called down by, you guessed it, Sierra, who after all her observations of the day has made her decision; she's going against the majority. She let's them know about Alejandro's work with the rest of her team, and also drags them a bit about having not thought of something similar.

Anyways, Sierra has joined the alliance !

Quickly about the aftermath

When Leshawna is made to fight the kangaroo, Blaineley will swap it so she has to fight Heather (because it's Blaineley).

Both Leshawna and Heather are tired of it, and the fight goes like Bridgette and Geoff's and Gwen and Courtney's in All-Stars. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. You were right about Alejandro." "I shouldn't have been so pushy." it's not that clean or self-aware but they acknowledge where they did wrong and apologize, leaving the ring as sorta friends.

Blaineley is fuming.

Fuck it,

World Tour but with Eva instead of Duncan !!!

Some plot points I conjured up while procrastinating my illustration

Eva ends up on Team Chris Is Really Really Really Really Hot.

She's almost immediately wary of Alejandro, but will write it off since she's not good with people, so it's likely just her reading into things wrong.

However, this changes in Germany, when Noah makes note of his own suspicions.

Owen is the one medically evacuated in Jamaica.

Team E-scope wins the challenge in London, and because there is no Duncan to capture, Team Amazon loses. And realistically, Heather would be voted out, sad but true

This means that Alejandro is in a bit of a situation, because Noah and Eva are both onto him and they along with Izzy have the majority vote on their team. (Which, they've technically had since day one, but Alejandro wasn't aware of their suspicions of him prior, he didn't see it as a threat)

His best strategy is then to take away that advantage. Because of his interaction with Izzy in the Paris episode, I'm going to say that Alejandro manages to convince her to vote herself, and Izzy leaves in Area 51.

Because of this Team Chris now has to stay on a winning streak where Eva and Noah will try their damn hardest to get Tyler to vote with them. Which will be a fucking task because he and Alejandro are friends.

And quickly for the Amazons. Because there's no Duncan, Courtney and Gwen can properly establish a friendship. Absolutely not without a handful of hiccups along the ride, but it'll be much more stable without him being there and they can actually talk out any issues they may have.

If we're rolling with the canon of Team Victory being eliminated in the first half of the season, then the players making the merge will be; Alejandro, Eva, Noah, Tyler, Courtney, Gwen, and Sierra (Cody is eliminated in Australia I have my reasons trust). Which means that with the addition of Blaineley, we get an f/f couple in the wedding challenge hell yeah !!

Oh and Eva makes final four because she's awesome like that

[thesugarchanotaku]

Let's talk about Octavia

With the newest helluvaboss episode out and season two cming to an end there was a lot of discussion about Octavio even before the epsiode dropped. That's why i decided to look at her a little more in depth. Spoiler ahead (duh)

My realtionship with Octavia is kinda rookie. I love this asexual queen as much as her dad but find myself a little annoyed at her behaviour sometimes. Let's recap what we know about her.

Octavia is a royal teen, deeply loved by her father, troubled by the divorce of her parents and 17 years old. But if we look past the more obvious characteristics there is a lot going on in subtext.

Octavia is oblivious: Octavia grew up quite sheltered and as much as it is understanable (since they tried to assissinate stolas at loo loo land) that she is well protected the problem is that she has little to no clue about the outside world. Much like her father in the recent episode she is seen being scared of the world in seeing stars. She is THAT unaware that she was walking around without a disguise in broad daylight.

Octavia loves her father: So you might ask where the problem is for that point. She sees Stolas as JUST her father. She fails to see Stolas as a person with needs, wants, dreams and wishes. We have to point out that Octavia is never seen with any other people despite her parents (not counting loona in seeing stars). So it's save To assume that she is quite isolated and ultimately fixated to on her parents.

Octavia lacks comparission: As we grow up we compare. We always do. It helps us to decern right from wrong. The outside world helps us contextualize. Octavia probably never had that. Growing up with mostly her parents she has no other love relationships to look at and compare. Therefore she might not see Stella as an evil person like we do. For us the audiance it is hard to understand why she always puts her mother next to her while talking to Stolas and about the broken "family". But forOctavia Stella is an integral part of her life. (As a mother should be) She has no chance to see the behaviour of her mother as toxic and harmful, because that is how her mother ALWAYS was. Its the only thing Via knows. She cant understand why her father was "fine" with the antics of her mother until a certain point and "suddenly" isnt anymore.

Octavia is a child: That point kinda put me at odds a long time. My parents divorced when i was 12 and I could understand the situation better than her. Octavia is nearly an adult. Most children her age don't want to be that close to their parents, they want to be free, start their own live. Octavia doesn't. She clings to memories, to promises her father made to her and she just feel so so SO young. She tries to be that edgy teen but she feels way more like a child. Which isnt exactly bad but plays a huge part in her character.

Octavia and Stolas

The relationship of father and daugther hit a fallout and it was important that it happened because both characters need to GROW up.

While Stolas never had the chance to grow into his very own charcater due to the fact that his life was planned out for him, he tried to shelter Via from the same fate by protecting her and sacrificing for her. He did basically the other extreme of what he experienced.

Stolas slowly grows into himself, making decisions for himself and realizes that while having the freedom to make decisions for yourself is great, the consequences are yours to bear too. And he just realized how overwhelming these consequences can be in the recent epsiode.

Via on the other hand still needs to grow up. The fallout with her father is over due because stolas isnt JUST her father. She tries to remind him of his role on every step he takes further to himself - his true self.

Octavia needs to finally learn about the world, how healthy relationships look like, and what her father truly did for her. Right now she is angry and dissapointed and from her perspective she has every right to be but she lacks the understanding for her own father. It shows how little she truly knows about the relationship of her parents. She need to question why her father took pills rather than judging him for it. She needs to ask why her mother is so degrading towards him rather than accepting it as a given. She needs to see the true intentions of her uncle and mother rather than overlooking it.

and there clearly is hope. She protected her dad, still called him dad and i belive that if both of them grow and want to mame an effort it can work out. If Via learns more about her parents and the world - if she manages to grow up both father and daughter can grow into a healthy relationship. And if it takes a bruning bridge for now, than so be it but I'm certain that they will find each other again sooner or later.

[bayetea]

seeing non-black people critique rick's portrayal of black characters is interesting sometimes. only like 30% of the critiques I see make any sense to me to be honest

[princessconsuelapark]

no no but hang on, the veteran clone trooper in the Kenobi show ! being from the 501st ??? that floored me !!!

because that clone was one of Anakin's! (and isn't that straight in the heart, right when Obi-Wan is trying to rescue Anakin's child, while thinking his Anakin-thoughts, living through his Anakin-guilt, trying to survive his sad little Anakin-centric nightmare life) and being from the 501st, Obi-Wan can assume that this clone: either went to Mandalore with Ahsoka (already a complicated mess of emotions right there, let's not even touch the topic of Satine and Maul, wonder how much and if Obi-Wan knows they all died when trying to order 66 her, while wearing her face on their helmets) OR he marched on the Jedi Temple with Anakin, murdering Obi-Wan's entire family.

so yeah. that's some heavy shit right there.

and how does he reflexively answer it (once his 6 million different trauma flashbacks pass)? with kindness.

[daily-lea-crosscode]

doodle on the same canvas

friend: )

[pyrrhiccomedy]

The last time we were on a long flight, my wife and I invented a game we call "Little Guy."

You start a game of Little Guy by saying, "I'm gonna hand you a little guy." The little guy is some kind of baby animal you are imagining. "Oh," she might say in response, "Okay," and hold out her hands for it. I will then mime handing her the animal. This provides some clues as to the little guy's size, weight, and general ungainliness.

She then gets to ask questions about what kind of little guy this is, BUT NO QUESTIONS ABOUT HIS ACTUAL APPEARANCE OR SPECIES ARE ALLOWED. Qualitative questions, or questions about his behavior, are the only ones permitted. She can ask "Is he soft?" or "Does he seem nervous about being held?" or "If I put him in the bathtub, does he seem okay with that?" or "Would he like a lil grape?" or "Is he the sort of little fellow who would wear a vest in a children's book?" but not "Does he have fur," "Is he a reptile," "Is he from Asia," etc. Some questions are in a grey area so you have to follow your heart, but the point is not to identify the animal as fast as possible: the point is to guess the animal purely based on vibes + how he would act if he were in your living room right now.

And I'm not limited to yes or no answers! If she asks, "Would it feel appropriate to see this little guy in a propeller hat?" I can reply, "Oh no, he has a gravity to him. A bowler hat would be a more appropriate hat." Or if she asks, "Does this little guy have protagonist energy?" I can say something like, "he probably wouldn't be the main character in a children's cartoon. He'd probably be the main character's ditzy best friend who's always eating sandwiches, or something."

We're big Twenty Questions to kill time in a waiting room people, but Little Guy is more about the journey than the destination. It's got a different kind of sauce that's nice if "killing time" and "lowering anxiety" need to happen hand in hand.

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ … 99% NOT LOVE ! | kinich x gn!reader

— in which two people notice what two people don't .

— i've gone absolutely batshit over him your honour. im going to now start writing for kinich like a crazed man dying of thirst in the desert. let it be known that streamer!au kinich, enemies to lovers with poacher mc and other ideas are coming up (no im not cheating on xiao shush)

mualani notices it.

"hehe."

and you hear it.

"so! there's a little..." she stares at you with the most serious face you've ever seen on the girl, acting suspiciously unlike herself. gesturing at you with exaggerated hand movements, then pointing toward who knows where, she eyes you. mischievously. "something that's 'going on', yea?"

and at first, you have absolutely no clue what she could be referring to. mualani is a sociable person, after all. her definition of "something" could range anywhere between a particularly cute baby saurian to an out-of-control-bonfire turned wildfire.

with the only eventful thing today being a brief morning surf session with sharky, you just sat there, never having felt more lost.

mualani grabs your shoulders in an iron grip, leaning forward to the point she's almost beginning to seem menacing. you can see the moment where she tries to think over something (which she never does quite successfully) before she straight up shouts:

"ah!! i'll just spell it out for you!! you. and kinich. bestie. spill."

.

.

.

ajaw did more than just "notice" it.

"you..! kIINICH, did you seriously have to-"

"noisy."

"selfish assh- ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE DISRESPECT! TIME AND TIME AGAIN, yOU'VE-"

"once again, ajaw. be quiet."

"sure sure, and pretend i didn't see you and that someone do a little smoochy-smooch, huh?! UGH, now you've asked for it- KINICH AND LOVEY DOVEY, SITTIN' IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

ajaw was what you would call a "witness". though, most would use that term in regards to one seeing a crime or heinous event take place — this event was nothing of that nature.

well, as far as kinich was concerned, the matter was simple. you'd ventured all the way to scions of the canopy to give him a gift, (claiming it was for the time he'd helped you after a couple of yumkausarus hadn't enjoyed your fruit offering and instead decided to off you), and he'd refused to accept it. he wasn't one to receive reimbursement for others, and he didn't particularly like talking either — it was a well-known fact, almost law in natlan, that if the malipo ignored your words, all you need do was apologize and continue on.

well, you did exactly the opposite.

"no thanks."

"...sorry?"

"i don't need it."

"haha, so 'malipo' kinich's rumored no-nonsense nature really proved to be true! now come over here so i can give you my fucking gift!"

you were rather adamant about giving it to him. the reason? you'd bought the gift on a whim after seeing it being sold by a passing merchant, advertised as "80% only today if you buy within the next like 4 minutes" and you'd immediately dropped every mora you had. it was the most useless little thing ever, and you didn't want it at this point, but.. the deals. how could you return such an item???

naturally, you handed it off to the man you'd seen for a good two minutes before he flew, or did whatever his thing was, away. the man had remembered furrowing his brows the slightest, listening to ajaw's persistent yellings of "IT'S AN OFFERING TO ME, TAKE IT" and feeling an oncoming headache. "i said i didn't.."

as he turned to walk away, three unfortunate(?) things occured.

a rock under your shoe and a very graceful process of falling to the ground

kinich looking back (his mistake)

a kiss...?

oh, and two extra.

4. ajaw had saw it all. 5. and mualani, who had saw you from a distance and was coming to greet you, was faced with a sight she could not process.

...Now that he thought over it again, was the matter really "simple"? kinich's job was what he considered simple — split 70% to investigation, 10% to final decision, and 10% to execution, well portioned and planned out.

then, this...

.

.

.

"girlie, you've seriously got the wrong idea. i'm telling you, we aren't dating!"

"mmmokay. of course! because not-dating people kiss allll the time!"

you paused for a moment, remembering kinich's even tone, stern gaze, and... ah, a face that deserved a gold medal.

"it's only 99% not love, okay mualani? but if it wasn't..."

.

.

.

"... and it's 99% not love, ajaw."

(a/n) darling im back from jail part 2. daddys home part 2. not funny? ok. HIHIHIHI ive bene really built like a sun dried raisin lately but kinich is the healing holy water that has saved me i will write more for him in the future because i love him a stupid amount its like the first time in a decade I've written for just ONE character and AND AND

I THOUGHT HE WOULDNT OCME HOME BECAUSE I ONLY HAD 68 WISHES OUT OF MY ORIGINAL LIKE 100+ AND RUINED MY CHANCES BECAUSE OF REALLY REALLY WANTING MuALANI (i love her sm) BUT. BUT BRO CAME HOME. ON THE FIRST 10 PULL AND WON THE 50/50 JUST LIKE MUALANI DID (or is it 45/55 now idk) LIVE LAUGH LOVE KINICH !!

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ FALLING ALSEEP ON JJK BOYS

ft. satoru gojo, yuta okkotsu, suguru geto, yuuji itadori, & megumi fushiguro

tags. gn!reader, all fluff ! / author's note. second thursday without jjk i think im going insane…. leaks are back tomorrow though im so scared.

SATORU giggles and coos in his head because of how cute you look with your head on his shoulder. (a few slip out loud though) pulls you in a little closer by the waist and gently places his head on top of yours. he sighs contently before taking a few photos, and maybe or maybe not setting it as his wallpaper. after a while, he gets worried about the strain on your neck since you'll probably be asleep for the night a while, he carefully moves your head onto his lap. satoru then covers you up with a blanket before running his fingers through your hair as he closes his eyes.

YUTA is terrified to move. (even to breathe, matter of fact) not because he's uncomfortable, but because the poor boy is scared to wake you up on accident. after calming himself down, he then nearly stops breathing again when he realizes you're wearing his hoodie. a few minutes later after he actually calms himself down, he carefully pulls you closer and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. sooner or later, yuta gets sleepy himself and tucks the two of you under the warm covers with the soft patter of the rain in the background. (he takes like a solid 10 minutes to place a pillow under your head because he's doing it so slowly and carefully)

SUGURU presses soft kisses all over your face to further lull you to sleep. he simultaneously rubs circles on your back to further assure that you're comfortable. brushes any stray pieces of hair that go in front of your eyes, (not that you would care or know anyways since you're asleep) and just admires your face. he cups your face with his hands and fights the urge to kiss your face this time to make sure you don't wake up. when it gets late into the night, he ever so carefully carries you into the bedroom. he feels terrible when he has to wake you up to change into your pajamas or to do your skincare. when he has to though, he insists on doing your skincare with gentle care. and hands

YUUJI squeezes you impossibly close to him. your head is rested on his chest, with his steady breath soothing you. you had fallen asleep while you, yuuji, megumi, and nobara were having a movie night in yuuji's dorm. nobara immediately starts wiggling her eyebrows and starts whistling before yuuji decides to kick her and megumi out of his room. (megumi has no clue why he's being kicked out too since he did not participate in nobara's activities, but he's used to it at this point) with you in his arms and head on his chest, and the remote on the opposite side of the bed from him is a recipe for disaster. after multiple attempts of trying to grab the remote to turn off the tv, (he even tries using his foot) he huffs and eventually gives up and closes his eyes, hugging you tight.

MEGUMI is not phased at all. numerous people have told him his shoulder was comfortable to lay on. (those people being yuuji and nobara) the second that you tell him this, he declares to not let anyone lay their head on his shoulder but you. he immediately puts his phone down and slowly pulls you into his arms, and lays you down on the couch since he knows sleeping sitting up isn't the ideal napping position. he is always a little hesitant to stroke your cheek or touch your face whenever you're sleeping, but he always ends up doing it anyways because of how cute you look, and thankfully you never wake up. (at least he thinks and hopes)

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

��Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears. 

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood. 

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog. 

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

���I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

[aamircoeur]

kissing, i hope they caught us ー Ken Sato.

wherein ken sato finds himself waiting for the calls of his fuck buddy.

SMUT, read at your own risk. one-shot. female reader, UNEDITED.

"same time, uh, tomorrow?" ken said from behind you. you slipped into your blouse and turned to him, who was currently topless and fastening his belt, his hair pointed in all directions.

"tomorrow? we just fucked, ken." you laughed light-heartedly. "i'm a busy woman."

kenji looked at you while he sat at the edge of his bed, rubbing his shoulder. "n-next week?" he offered.

you sighed and smiled at him. finishing the top button of your blouse, you walked towards him and grabbed your purse from his nightstand. "i'll call you." you said, kissing his cheek as goodbye.

ー

liar, kenji said to himself. it has been well over two weeks since your last interaction, and he has been anxious to meet you again, to feel you. to touch you, to have you on your kneesー god damn it.

sighing deeply, he ran his hands through his jet-black hair and slouched on his couch. he had his phone on his couch with his tabs revealing your, [name] [surname], japan's hottest supermodel, social media accounts. he had his television opened and has been playing various movies over the past hours, but he seemed to pay no mind to them with how often he was refreshing your accounts for the hope of any updates of your whereabouts.

shit, he even stooped to a new low, stalking multiple fan accounts of yours on twitter to see if they had any clue. the opened laptop in front of him was stuck to his direct messages with you, revealing how he replied a thumbs up to your message saying, "thank u for tn ;)".

he felt stupid. should he have been more open? maybe he should've responded differently. who even responds to a girl with a thumbs up? real mature, kenji.

he was anxious, bouncing his leg as he kept sighing over and over. why weren't you messaging him? he was the ken sato. did he kiss you too hard? did he fuck you too roughly?

leaning back into the couch, he ran his hand once more for the nth time this evening. he was overthinking. he couldn't have all these thoughts with the upcoming tournament that he's been looking forward to for the past two months. but lately, all he seemed to think about was how good it felt to be inside you.

sighing again, ken had his phone in his hands and went back to refreshing your account. to his absolute surprise, you had a new post on instagram, uploaded sixteen seconds ago. it was an image of you with a bra that fit you so perfectly, baggy jeans that rested on your hips, and underwear that seemed to grip on your waist with the brand's name on the garter.

the baseball player stared at his phone with a blank face before knitting his eyebrows together and groaning, adjusting his pants with the sudden uncomfortable feeling. this is bad.

—

"my scan tells me that your blood circulation has been increased at a certain area—"

"i did not need a scan, mina!" ken gritted, frustrated. "i'll be back late!" he shouted as a way to drown out whatever mina said next as he shut the front door on his way out. ken walked towards his motorcycle, fitting into his black helmet before quickly driving to a nearby bar.

upon arriving, kenji took off his helmet and gave it to the valet parker, with along with his keys and some cash. "take care of her, alright?" ken said, referring to the bike. the valet nodded. kenji held the sunglasses that he hung on the front of his shirt and put it on before walking towards the entrance.

seeing the long line behind the stanchion, kenji smirked and walked towards the bouncer who blocked him from coming inside with his arm. "name?"

ken raised an eyebrow and lowered his sunglasses. "sato." he said. the bouncer gaped and got his arm out of the way and opening the doors for him instead, apologizing for not recognizing him earlier.

ken was met with beaming lights within the darkness of the place, the air smelling of alcohol and the loud sound of the song that the dj played bouncing off the walls. ken took a deep breath in and sighed, and after a few steps in he was immediately accommodated by a blonde hostess, handing him a glass of champagne before latching on to his arm as she giggled and guided him to an empty table.

it was already past midnight and ken surprised himself by not drinking to his limits this time. there were women holding on to both of his arms, some handing him fruits while one held the bottle for his drink. he was also accompanied by strangers that seemed to need a breather. "hey, pretty, care to get me another glass?" kenji said to the brunette on his left with a sly smile.

the brunette giggled and pulled down her skirt before standing up "sure thing, ken." she smiled.

"there's no need for that, sweetie." he heard someone say from behind them. almost immediately, ken sato turned his head and his eyes widened at the sight of you. fuck. it was you. "hey, kenji. what brings you here?" you smiled and walked around the couch and made your way towards him. everyone at the table stood up and walked towards another unoccupied table, knowing the protocol.

"[n-name]?" ken stuttered, his hand running through the side of his hair as he fixed his posture. you giggled at him and took the brunette's former seat, taking the almost-empty tall glass of champagne that he held and sipped on it. "what, what're you doin' here?" he slurred, tipsy.

"oh, nothing. just here with some friends." you smiled and placed the glass to his lips, making sure that it was the same spot that you drank from. taking a deep breath, ken leaned into the glass and sipped, some slipping from the corners of his mouth. you placed the glass down to the table and wiped the trail of champagne on his chin. kenji only stared at you. flustered, you looked down at his hands and held it. "i missed you, kenji." you said.

kenji stared at you. he forgot how beautiful you were. how could he ever forget that?

kenji held your hand and interlocked your fingers. "yeah, well, you didn't seem to wanna let me know that little fact of yours over the last two weeks." he said, his cheeks reddening as he avoided eye contact.

you laughed at his shyness and held on to his hand tighter. "'m sorry, baby." you smiled and leaned in to his ear. "but, i can let you know just how much i missed you, baby." you whispered. "my place?"

—

it has been yet another two weeks since your last night together. kenji was one week into the tournament that he has been preparing for and he has been busy as ever. coach shimura has confiscated their cellphones to give the yomiuri giants their well-needed concentration on their trainings and game days.

after a weekend long of back-to-back games, coach shimura has finally given back the players their phones to reward them of their zero losses so far. upon unlocking it, kenji was met with multiple messages from you, telling him how much you miss him, telling him how good he looked in the field, letting him know of what you did while thinking of him . . .

he was flushed after reading everything, and in between messages he also received missed calls from you, and one voicemail.

"baby, can you call me back? it's so lonely in my mansion."

taglist: @boomboom-tanjiro2019 @ttulipwritezz

[ellecdc]

HIII, I wanted to know if I could request a poly marauders x festy slytherin reader.Something of how they started or whatever you have inspiration for.I would love another part of that, if you feel up to it. Hope you are taking care of yourself <3

feisty/slytherin reader x poly!marauders is actually my favourite thing to write (followed closely by any ship with whimsical reader) so I was more than happy to whip this up for you! Thanks for requesting! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem, Slytherin!reader

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: werewolf prejudice, making fun of possible birth defects due to Pureblood's being terribly inbred, swearing

Remus felt that generally, he was a very understanding person. And not just in a compassionate way, but also in a sense that he just understands a lot of things.

He understands Sirius’ need to defy his family whilst simultaneously looking after his brother as if his life depended on it.

He understands James’ need to make sure everyone around him feels as loved as humanly possible, even if it’s at his own expense. 

He understands that Gryffindor’s hate Slytherin’s, but he also understands that not all Slytherin’s are horrible, prejudiced racists.

He understands everyone makes fun of Hufflepuffs for being soft and emotional, but he also understands that Hufflepuffs can be some of the most heartless, ruthless friends you can have.

What Remus has had a hard time understanding, however, was his boyfriends’ sudden interest in you.

Remus could admit that you were quite attractive, but you were also sort of…terrifying?

“What have you boys done?” Lily murmured in quiet horror (quiet awe if you asked James).

“We pranked Slytherin!” Sirius said jovially, as if Lily had somehow missed that key piece of information. 

“I can see that, Sirius.” She said like one might speak to a small child who was quite dumb. “But on portrait day?”

Sirius smiled smugly as he watched Slytherin’s enter the Great Hall for their school portraits. As they passed through the door, they were unknowingly walking under a charmed mistletoe (which was very difficult to find this time of year, thanks James very much) which turned their green and silver robes and ties to a beautiful red and gold. 

The best part is some students still hadn’t noticed yet, and another amazing part was that those who had noticed couldn’t figure out how to turn it back.

“Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, Mr. Pettigrew, and Mr. Lupin. I suppose the four of you have no idea who may be behind this prank?” Professor McGonagall challenged as she looked down her nose at them sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Sirius smirked as he responded “Why, not a clue Minnie. But I’ll keep my eye out and let you know if I see any mischief makers.”

McGonagall let out a long suffering sigh as she took five points from Gryffindor for improper address of a professor. 

“You rotten dugbogs.” Remus heard you screech before he saw you. He had the good sense to cringe as you stormed up to their table whilst Sirius and James grinned enthusiastically. 

“Why hello Y/N, my beautiful angel.” James greeted as Sirius let out a sultry “Don’t you just look smashing in red.” Accompanied by a wink.

“I don’t know what you sods have done, and quite frankly, I don’t care about the rest of them; but you will fix this.” You spat angrily gesturing to your faux Gryffindor uniform.

“But that would be such a crime, dollface.” Sirius lamented.

“You can’t expect us to mess with perfection.” James added.

You shot your hand out and grabbed James’ collar, pulling his face to yours until your noses were nearly touching. 

“I swear to Salazar himself, Potter, if you do not change my robes back, I will cut your dick off and charm it to your forehead so you walk around looking like a limp-dick unicorn. Change. It. Back.”

Your voice was low and threatening, and Peter actually gulped as he hid behind Remus. But looking at James’ face pressed up to yours, you would have thought you had just serenaded him with the greatest love song known to man.

“You have such beautiful eyes.” He murmured in awe. Remus was certain he could see steam forming behind said beautiful eyes, but before it could shoot out of your ears, Sirius came to your rescue.

“Very right, Prongs. She does have beautiful eyes. Unfortunately, I believe her usual green does compliment them better than the red.” Sirius said lasciviously as he cast the counter charm to return your robes to their rightful colour.

You looked down at your form before looking back at the boys skeptically. You seemed only then to realize you were still holding onto James’ collar like a vice and dropped it. Remus almost chuckled at the look of loss that crossed James’ face.

“Right.” You said and cleared your throat, backing away from them as if you weren't fully trusting what just happened. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ head actually reared back in surprise at your thanks and James beamed.

“Anytime angel, truly.” 

James’ pet name seemed to snap you out of whatever trance you’d been in as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Terribly sorry, my love.” He relented.

You groaned in exasperation and carried on towards the Slytherin table.

“Isn’t she lovely?” James whispered in awe, eyes still glued to your form as you bodily shoved Evan Rosier out of what Remus could only assume you had dubbed as your seat at the Slytherin table and sat down. 

“Try bloody terrifying.” Peter shivered in horror as he finally extricated himself from behind Remus. 

“Oi! Don’t talk about our future missus that way, Wormy.” Sirius squawked and swatted at the poor sod with his copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Is he wrong, though?” Remus asked as he let out his own breath of relief.

“Don ‘t worry moons,” James murmured into Remus’ cheek as he pressed his nose into the werewolf’s hair line. “She’ll win you over soon.”

Remus wasn’t so sure.

You were the only Slytherin photographed in proper uniform that day. 

A few weeks later found Remus sitting horrifyingly uncomfortable in Defense Against the Dark Arts as they moved on to the unit featuring Werewolves.

James sat on his right, and though the shaking of his knee under the table gave away his nerves, he spent the entire class rubbing soothing circles along the back of Remus’ hand with his thumb.

Sirius, sitting on Remus’ left, was incredibly stiff and clearly poised to fight if given the chance which did nothing to ease Remus’ discomfort. It also didn’t help that they shared this period with the 6th and 7th year Slytherin’s.

He just wanted this day to be over.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Mulciber sneered, interrupting the professor as they discussed elements of the Wolfsbane potion. 

“What is your question, Mr. Mulciber?” The professor drawled out in a bored tone.

“Why bother discussing werewolves? The lot of them should be culled anyway; euthanize them on site for all I care.” He spat, earning snickers from Avery, Goyle, and Snape. 

Sirius sucked in a breath in preparation of a verbal (and possibly physical, should he be so lucky) spar when Remus dug his nails into Sirius’ thigh. “Please, Pads.” He begged quietly; voice taught with emotions.

Sirius let out a pained sigh and leaned back further into his chair.

“Funny, Mulciber.” A bored tone commented, “I was just thinking the same about you and your lot.”

Remus, James, and Sirius all turned to see the majority of the eyes in the room already on you, though you never bothered lifting your head from your textbook.

“Care to repeat that, L/N?” Mulciber sneered, sitting up in his chair as if ready to lunge at you if necessary.

You lifted your bored gaze from your book and stared at him head on. “Do I need to repeat myself, Mulciber? Mummy and daddy kept it too close in the family tree, huh?” You murmured in faux sympathy. “I was just thinking, most of the Sacred Twenty-Eight ought to be culled. That would save the wizarding world a whole lot of trouble.”

“How dare you compare me to some filthy half-breed. My family is royalty compared to those disgusting creatures.” Avery shouted.

“The only one acting like a disgusting creature here is the likes of you tossers.” You shouted back.

“Alright.” The professor tried (not very hard, albeit) to quell the quickly spiralling discussion.

“I could hardly look at myself in a mirror if I’d been tainted with a curse like lycanthropy.” Snape sneered, pointedly facing the Marauders across the room. Sirius burned with shame and protectiveness, being the reason Snape knew Remus’ secret and the overwhelming need to defend his lover. Remus took that moment to dig his nails into Sirius' thigh again, pinning him to his seat.

“Are you sure, Snape? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather live a life with lycanthropy than have to look at that mug of yours in the mirror every day.” You drawled.

“You insolent little bitch.”

“Hey!” James finally shouted from across the room, far more stern than Remus can ever remember seeing the boy. But you carried on, completely undeterred. 

“I’d bet ten thousand galleons that not one werewolf ever asked to be a werewolf, yet you wake up each and every morning actively choosing to be the ugliest, most hateful, vile, disgusting beasts known to mankind. That is what is despicable. That is what should be euthanized on site.” Your voice grew louder and louder with each word until you were standing behind your desk and punctuating each word with a slam of your fist against the table in front of you. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” The professor finally called; tone booming across the lecture hall intoning no nonsense. 

“Mr. Mulciber, Mr. Snape, and Miss. L/N. Detention with me this evening.”

The Slytherin boys all scoffed and cursed under their breath whilst you offered a bored shrug of your shoulders, returning to your textbook as though this was just a run of the mill day for you.

The boys had been absolutely right; you just won over the affections of one Remus John Lupin.  

[dragondawdles]

ok so I feel like I should preemptively apologize because I'm not sure what you had in mind when you expressed interest in seeing/hearing ideas from me on this but it probably wasn't me just taking that and running and ending up with my own draconified rough designs (+notes) for the three of them but uh! I may be a little silly

hi sending this ask as a free pass to draw as many dragons as you want forever

BUT if you want a specific direction may I propose lizzie joel and/or jimmy? :0c

Omg thanks for the free pass, so generous!!

And sure!! I havent had too many amazing ideas for Jim or Joel... other than canary characteristics for Jimmy, obvs, and something swampy and threatening for Joel (because he is a goddamn menace). I imagine Lizzie as some water blorbo because of the sailor skin and her whole thing in Empires that I have only approximate knowledge of. And thats all I got! If you've any ideas I'm very excited to hear/see them 👁

[aperrywilliams]

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

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

The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

-

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

-

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

-

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[jasvtsc]

diet pepsi

warnings! age gap. dbf!dean. innocent!reader. female!reader. smut. unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it). graphic language. grammar mistakes.

word count! 1.9k

dean winchester was the forbidden fruit you so desperately craved.

he was your father’s friend. your dad helped him during a hunt when they were younger and in exchange, dean helped your family quit the hunters' life. despite that, he still found a moment to come over from time to time for dinner or other stuff like that.

however, lately, his presence has begun to affect you more and more prominently. every time he’d come over for the annual dinner, you’d be sitting quietly in front of him, your thighs squeezed together as you felt the heat pooling in your core, slowly seeping into your panties and making them stick to your skin. he’d ask you things about college and other stuff and you’d just murmur, digging your food with a fork to distract yourself from the infuriating tension in your body.

you needed him.

badly.

but he was your dad’s friend. and the fact that he was feeding into your desires didn’t help.

he would smirk at you, clearly noticing how hot and bothered you were by his presence and behaviour. at this point he could easily recognize when women were attracted to him and you were just so innocent, trying your best to hide your arousal that it didn’t take him long to pick on the visible clues. so he’d tease you discreetly, right in front of your parents. he was playing a dangerous game and you just fell right into it. but you were just so attractive now that you were all grown up, and he couldn’t control himself around pretty girls.

so, he’d caress your leg from your ankle to your calf under the table, making you shiver. as well as brush his hands against your body while passing by, especially against your ass or hands. and you were eating it up every time, trying to prevent yourself from pouncing on him altogether. your body was going through all these new things that kept building up and you didn’t know how to relieve yourself. but you knew who could help you.

dean fucking winchester.

so when you were leaving back to college and he offered to drop you off at the bus station, you were ecstatic as if you won a lottery or something.

cause honestly? you kind of did.

however, as soon as you found yourself in winchester’s impala, your hands clasped together on your lap, you tried your best not to look at him. you could feel the way his gaze was burning your skin even though he was only stealing glances from the corner of his eye. damn, it was actually kind of intimidating, being with him on your own.

“you know, you grew up real pretty, sweetheart,” he hummed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel.

you looked at him hesitantly, the heat wave striking you ten times harder.

he just complimented you.

“thank you,” you responded with a shy smile, fiddling with your fingers.

he turned his head slightly more towards you and fuck, he just wanted to ravish you. his lower lip was caught between his teeth as he took in a sharp breath, at this point, shamelessly ogling you up and down. it was so weird, cause he knew you since you were a child but now you were a grown woman���a very attractive one on top of that. damn, these curves of yours. only recently did he begin to notice that and it’s been hell ever since. but since he was already there once, what’s there to lose?

he could feel his pants significantly tighten, his dick beginning to stir to life, hardening against the inside of his thigh. he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

i’m just supposed to drop her off at the bus station, he thought to himself when suddenly your voice brought him back to reality.

“you just missed the stop,” you hummed, pointing your finger at the passing parking lot, slightly leaning forward.

dean cursed and turned his head to look at the station now disappearing in the side-view mirror. with a sigh, he turned back towards you, however, he didn’t expect your face to be so close to his. his eyes widened as your lips almost brushed in a kiss. but he quickly pulled away, almost swerving the car off the road. he uttered a short ‘fuck’ under his breath, quickly getting back in the lane and then clearing his throat.

“well, it looks like i’m gonna drop you off myself,” he quickly gave you that cheeky grin and you just nodded your head obediently, a small ‘oh’ escaping your lips as you weren’t sure if you even had it in yourself to protest. after all, that meant more time with him.

and well, it certainly did.

you’re not sure how the situation resolved to you kissing aggressively in the back of his car after he pulled over on the side of the road where cars barely passed. everything up to that point felt as if it was behind a thick fog of lust that clouded your brain and only now was getting released.

“jesus christ, your ass looks so good in those jeans,” he groaned appreciatively, cupping your butt and squeezing it through the denim of your pants that tightly clung to your skin, only accenting your curves. you blushed heavily and hid your face in the crook of his neck, playfully nipping at his skin.

he let out a guttural growl, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back so you were facing him, and then he smashed his lips on yours once again. his other hand was splayed on your hip, holding you tightly as you straddled him, your clothed core rubbing against his hard bulge with every little move you made.

“baby, keep doing that and i won’t be able to control myself anymore. you’re literally my friend’s daughter. what we’re doing now is already bad enough,” he sighed, slightly pulling back so he could stroke your cheek with the pad of his calloused thumb.

“but no one has to know,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

“baby—” he started but you quickly cut him off.

“please, i need you,” and the way you said it would be enough to kill him. you practically whimpered in such a pleading tone, your hips softly grinding against his erection. at first, he wanted to be strong and resist the temptation, but he simply couldn’t say no to you.

“fine. but not even a word to anyone about it, ‘kay? you’re a big girl, so i trust that you will behave like one too, right?” he hummed, cocking his brow up as he rubbed your lower lip with his thumb.

“yes. i promise,” you nodded eagerly, your eyes immediately lighting up. and the way he smiled at you all proud that you listened to him, was enough to make your pussy ache for his dick.

“good girl. such a good girl,” he whispered breathlessly, pulling you in for another kiss as he turned you around, so you were lying flat on your back, on the backseat.

his hand snaked down between your bodies, easily getting rid of your jeans, and lowering them down enough for him to snuck his fingers onto your panties. he groaned and bit on your lip as his digits were met with a soft fabric dampened with your juices.

“already so wet for me, huh? you were waitin’ for that, baby? waitin’ to be touched like a good little girl?” he chuckled into your lips, the vibration of his voice sending chills through your body and then straight to your core.

he started rubbing your folds with his fingers to which you whimpered, pushing your hips up to meet his hand. however, he stilled your movement, keeping you down with just one hand, his fingers gripping your side and you knew there’d be bruises from them the next day.

“nuh-uh. patience, sweetheart. no rush,” he cooed, slowing the rubbing movement of his fingers.

you huffed out an annoyed breath but nodded, submitting yourself to his will. he grinned and moved his thumb through your slit, stopping on your clit. he pressed on the sensitive bud, making you let out a soft moan. you closed your eyes and bit your lower lip, letting out a needy whimper. dean quickly pulled your panties to the side and while his thumb kept skillfully working you up at your clit, his other hand moved to his hard cock. 

he unbuckled his belt smoothly and tugged his pants down along with his boxers, freeing his throbbing length. it hit his stomach, precum already leaking from the tip. you widened your eyes and basically felt your mouth water at the sight of his massive dick. before you could even say anything, he rubbed the head of it against your folds, spreading them apart as he slowly gathered your juices. you panted heavily, holding onto his shoulders as he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance.

and it hit you at that moment—you were about to lose your innocence.

but then again, why did it feel so exciting and your stomach was fluttering so funny?

as soon as he entered your tight passage, you almost screamed, jolting up. dean slowly eased his way inside your wet pussy as it squelched around him, cradling the back of your head as he pulled you close.

“shh, baby. shh, it’s fine. just relax. it’ll feel good,” he soothed you, stopping for a second so you could get used to his thick cock practically splitting you open.

and soon, you relaxed, your muscles giving in and familiarising themselves with each vein that throbbed, deliciously caressing your heat, only making you more aroused.

when he finally started moving, you were making sounds out of the adult movies, windows beginning to fog up with how hard both of you were breathing. at first, dean was slowly rocking his hips back and forth, not really pulling out that much, so you’d get used to how it felt. but as soon as he saw you enjoying yourself, he picked up the pace and started thrusting into your pussy more vigorously, his muscles flexing as he supported himself on one hand, the other holding you close to his body as your cunt sucked him inside eagerly.

“so fuckin’ tight, baby. just for me. you’re such a dirty girl, letting your dad’s friend fuck you in the back of his car. shit, you’re a desperate little thing. but i like it,” he panted and chuckled, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your skin as he nipped at it, making sure to leave hickeys and mark you properly.

as soon as he felt your walls began to clamp down on him, he picked up his pace intending to make you cum on his cock.

“dean, i—”

“i know, baby. i know. just let it go. come for me,” he reassured, connecting your lips in a kiss and soon, your pussy squeezed him tightly as your body shuddered, convulsing in an overwhelming pleasure accompanied by your loud moan.

dean groaned and pressed his forehead against yours as his thrusts grew sloppier. he wanted to help you come down from your high, but when he felt the coil in his stomach tighten, he quickly pulled out and came on your stomach, painting it white with his scorching hot and pearly cum.

“fuckin’ christ. that was so good, sweetheart,” he praised, chuckling breathlessly as he kissed your lips again. “and remember…”

“...don’t tell anybody,” you finished, trying to catch your breath.

“good girl,” he smiled and moved a strand of hair out of your sweat-covered forehead.

a/n: dedicated to my lovely and amazing girlie @titsout4nicholas mwah !!

a/n2: lets ignore the diet coke in the picture i couldn’t find aesthetically pleasing one with pepsi💀

༄♡tags: @frosttbitessam @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @figthoughts @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @artyandink @10ava01 @abellmunsonmovie