#his side profile in the third gif

[sparrowstarsandsorrow]

Today's Jcs 2k scene that I can't get out of my mind is glensus dramaticly sliding down the wall in a sense of feeling an overwhelming despair, yet the way he does it makes him look like a damsel in distress. His head tilted backwards, eyes closed, hair flowing, the way his hand brushes past it and a curl falls back in his face, buttons undone exposing his CHEST, one arm up in the air and placed on his forehead to emphasise stress. Overall making it look hella alluring, and I'm obsessed with it.

[januaryembrs]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?

Length: 8k

Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.

main masterlist.

author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!

He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression. 

He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul. 

Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl. 

Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.

“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”

She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek. 

She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.

Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie. 

“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not. 

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before. 

“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his. 

“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,” 

She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them. 

“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”

She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,” 

But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t. 

“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word. 

Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him. 

“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,” 

Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.  

Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.

–

Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together. 

Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice. 

Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.

Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning. 

“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”

He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask. 

“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee. 

“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her. 

“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,” 

“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable. 

“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating. 

Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel. 

Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue. 

“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question. 

His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?” 

Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly. 

“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him. 

“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair. 

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror. 

“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy. 

“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her. 

“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her. 

“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague. 

“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”

He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that. 

He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.

And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor. 

The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning. 

-

They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive. 

“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house. 

The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“ 

“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?” 

“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud. 

But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features. 

“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole. 

Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified. 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it. 

“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,” 

“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified. 

She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window. 

“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?” 

He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would. 

He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.

Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.

“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”

“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.

“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”

Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it. 

“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”

“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.

“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”

“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”

“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”

“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”

She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.

–

They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of. 

And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.

She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.

“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”

“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.

She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.

“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”

“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies. 

She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face. 

“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.

“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.

“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”

Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”

“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love. 

“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”

JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.

Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”

She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.

The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.

“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”

Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.

But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.

He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.

—

It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.

In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.

It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.

“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.

“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,” 

Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”

“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”

And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?

Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft. 

“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.

“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.

“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too. 

Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.

“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.

“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”

He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response. 

“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.

“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”

“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months. 

Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”

“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.

“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem. 

Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him. 

“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time. 

He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world. 

“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”

“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips. 

“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,” 

“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”

Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.

“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.

He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground. 

“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”

She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped. 

“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?” 

He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?” 

She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.

“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?” 

He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.  

“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”

Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right. 

He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.

He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.

He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.

“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”

Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.

“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.

And she believed him.

--

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress pt. 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a hot encounter in your car, Spencer pulls you inside your apartment hoping to give you some more relief from the heat.

Genre: Smut, with very little plot and some fluff as an appetiser. MINORS DNI

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, soft Dom, oral (M receiving), pet names, degradation, face fucking, messy sex, creampie, breeding kink (contraception mentioned), also they have sex literally against the readers front door but I don't know how I'm supposed to add a warning for that...

Word Count: 2.4K

Here's Part 1 and my Masterlist!

A/N: Welcome back! I have a week off from work and no plans for at least four days, so I'm going to be writing a lot this week, so if anyone wants to be added to a taglist pls reply and let me know! My requests are open, too. For now this mini-series is complete, but I might write a third part at some point with the shower scene. Let me know what you think!

The small moment of silence after feeling yourself die a small death in Spencer’s hands is possibly the clearest your mind has been all week. You felt the fatigue melt away from your body as you relaxed into the car seat, knowing that the man who had once again taken to tracing his fingers in small shapes on your thigh, was absolutely going to take care of you.

As he pulled up to your apartment, however, your mind started working all over again, and you cleared your throat ready to start possibly one of the most awkward conversations you’d ever have in your life.

“Thank you for dropping me off.” You opened, not really sure where you were going, but praying that the car stopping didn’t signal whatever this was between you and your coworker stopping as well.

“Y/N, it’s your car. I didn’t drop you off, I practically commandeered you.” He smiled at you now, with that soft, tender smile you’d so often wished to have directed at you and only you.

“So,” you start, your hesitation shaking your voice slightly, “were you serious about joining me in that shower? Because that is absolutely something I need right now, by the way.” You almost curse yourself for how much your vomiting out the words, but the smile never leaves Reid’s eyes as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“You need the shower or you need me to join you?”

“You know, before today, I’d never have pegged you as such a fucking tease.”

“And I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who begged your coworker to finger-fuck you in the office on full display for your friends to watch, but I guess were both learning a lot about each other today, right?”

“I did not beg.” You stared at him indignantly, finally unbuckling your seatbelt and rearranging your dress and panties so that the walk to your apartment would’nt be too uncomfortable.

Jumping out of the driver side, Spencer quickly joined you at your door as you stepped out of the car, closing the door and pushing you up against it, his hands firmly holding your waist now as he pressed his forehead against yours.

The moment was so intimate you almost forgot how to breathe, but the giggle that jumped from your stomach forced air into your lungs just as his lips curled up into a more playful smile as he responded to you.

“You didn’t beg with your words,” he emphesised the end of his sentence with an innocent kiss to your cheek, pausing to add “but we work as profilers.” Another kiss, this time to your other cheek. “And I’m very good at my job.” This time he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

It was so totally unlike the desperate kisses you shared in the elevator that you were thrown off your guard for a minute and would’ve absolutely lost your balance had he not been there holding you up against your car. Where his earlier kisses had been hot, purposeful and full of need, these were almost deliriously slow. You felt him smiling into the kiss as his hand moved up to cup the back of your head, pushing you further into his embrace as you gave each other everything you had.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air but grinning like fools, he quickly pecked you on the lips again before slipping his hand into yours and pulling you along into your own home. He unlocked your door, threw down the keys and immediately had you pushed up against it, his hands back in your hair as his mouth made its way along your neck, as if he didn’t want to leave any spot untasted, undiscovered.

“Spencer,” you moaned into his embrace, but he did not relent, finding a specifically sensitive spot at the nape of your neck and devoting all of his worldly attention to it.

“Spencer, do you remember when we met?” You breathed out, needing to force the thought out before you lost the chance. He hummed a quick affirmation against your neck, but didn’t pull away, like a child reluctant to part from their favorite toy.

“Spencer, please,” you laughed and finally managed to force him to look into your eyes, your bodies still pushed together at the hips, as if the physical contact was tethering him to the moment.

“Yes, Y/N, I remember. I remember everything, that’s my thing. Now can we continue this, please.” He dropped another kiss to your lips and lingered there for a moment too long as if to punctuate his thought.

Rolling your eyes, you continued. “I tried to shake your hand, and you gave me that speech that you give to everybody about germs and bacteria and whatever and then you said it’d be safer to kiss.”

“What’s your point, princess?”

“The point is that the very second it came out of your mouth, I wanted you to do it. Kiss me, I mean. I wanted you to do this, to pin me against a wall and make my heartbeat ten times faster than it already does, and, yes before you say anything, I know that would be incredibly dangerous for my health, but you are Spencer. You are the most dangerous thing that has happened to me, and I love you so fucking much.”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t resume your activities either. You just stood there together in companionable silence, breathing each other in. As if breaking himself out of a daze, he finally dragged one finger down your cheek, taking all of you in before replying.

“I love you. And I’m not good with words or talking so I need you to let me show you that I love you. Can you do that, Princess?” You eagerly nod, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, as if your body suddenly remembered what the two of you were there to do.

He pulls your leg into him, letting the entirety of his body push up against you, as you feel the physical manifestation of his desire for you for the first time. He returns to your neck again, but pushes your leg up higher, so he can nestle as deep between you as he can get. You let your hands trail down his body, making quick work at the buttons of that tantilising shirt, and when he comes up for breath, you don’t allow him a moment to move back in before you’re on his neck.

The sweat sticking to his skin tastes salty as you kiss and lick your way from his jaw to his collar bone, pushing his shirt down his back so you can go further down. His throaty moans are the only sounds filling the room as he rocks his hips into your thighs, desperate for friction of any kind.

Although he’s reluctant to let you go, he’s almost relieved when you finally drop to your knees and make short work of his belt, still no further into yout apartment than your welcome mat.

“God, I’m so glad I get to keep this memory of you on your knees for me forever, Princess.” He smooths your now messy hair away from your face as you pull the tops of his pants down just enough to reach into his underwear, too eager to worry about fully derobing him. When his cock finally springs out of his pants, you’re hands are on it immediately. You press small kisses on the tip and sides, your hands moving down to his base as you work your way up to kitten licks, teasing the man slowly.

“Such a little whore for me.” You know from the change in pet names and the tightened grip on your hair that he’s growing impatient, and so you finally take him into your mouth, slowly, making sure to breath through your nose as he moves closer and closer to hitting the back of your throat.

When you get as much of him inside your mouth as you’re able, you start slowly bobbing your mouth up and down, one hand on his thigh maintaining your balance, and the other making sure the rest of his impressive length doesn’t feel neglected.

“Fuck, yes, Just like that baby. You’re doing such a great job,” he moans, but he’s getting impatient again, and you pull off his cock quickly, sticking out your tongue and giving him the permission to use you the way he needs.

“Such a good girl for me,” he says, pulling your hair into place with one hand, whilst the other pumps the base of his cock and pushes it back into your mouth, ready for him to use you like the little slut he knows you are.

“Just breath through it, Princess, you’re doing so well for me.” He starts thrusting into your throat, slowly at first, but quickly building speed like a man deranged, whose only hope at solace is spilling himself into the back of your throat. You do your best to keep your jaw relaxed, and honestly he’s impressed by how long you last, but when you finally start gagging, he’s seeing stars and his groans are having a notable effect on you.

You’re soaking now, so desperate for friction and contact you briefly consider pulling his leg into you and grinding yourself against his shoe, desperate for another release. You know he’s getting closer to his own, when he loosens his hold on your hair and let’s it fall down again, his hands pushing against your front door again as he braces himself.

“God, Princess, look at what you do to me,” he moans as he finally pulls you off of him, your face covered with a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum, a whole lot of which is still trailing between your lips and his cock as you look up at him from beneath hooded eyes.

“Spencer, please,” you shudder and try to catch your breath, as he hits the head of his cock gently against the side of your face, marking you again in the places his lips touched you earlier.

“Please what, Princess? You have to use your words.”

You catch your breath again as his tip traces your bottom lip, gathering some more of your mess.

“Please fuck me, Spencer.” It comes out as a whimper, and he’d almost feel bad if he weren’t so fucking turned on right now, looking down at your innocent face, slick with saliva from choking on his dick. He pulls you up quickly, grabbing at your hips, pulling the bottom of your dress over your ass and ridding you of your panties in one movement.

“So fucking wet for me, my special baby.” He whispers tenderly, pushing your upper body into the door and pressing a small kiss just behind your ear.

He presses himself against your slit, teasing your senstive spots by stroking up and down the length of your pussy until you're dizzy with need and shaking in anticipation. Just as you’re about to scream in frustration and push back on him yourself, he thrusts himself entirely into you, and you are once again breathless.

Your mind goes blank as he pushes into you, gaining a steady rhythm as he whispers praise into your ear.

“You’re taking me so well baby, so fucking good, like you were made just for me.” You feel yourself clench around him as his breath tickles your still sensitive neck, and each time you do you're rewarded with the sweet tones of his groans in your ears.

His hands find their way down to your clit as you beg him for more, unable to form words, but the pants and whimpers you’re letting out supplying him with enough to know that you’re close to the end of your tether.

“Where do you want me, baby?” He asks, his strokes getting slower and somehow even deeper as he does his best to prolong your shared bliss.

“Don’t pull out,” you groan without even thinking. You don’t want to let him go but in this position you cant wrap your legs around him and hold him close so you have to muster up the strength to tell him what you need.

“Oh fuck baby, you want me to fucking cum inside you? Want me to breed you like the little fucking whore you are? Every word drove you crazy, the weight of his body pushing you against the door providing delicious pressure as he drove into you.

“You want everyone to see how good I fuck you? Show everyone how much you like having my cum inside you?” The wet slaps of your skin colliding with each thrust fill the room as your mouth fails to form a reply, your orgasm hitting you as soon as the word inside forms on his tongue.

You shudder around him as your eyes roll back in your head, his fingers on your clit rocking you through it as he keeps up his pace.

“Fuck, that’s it baby girl. Gonna fill you up now, gonna keep you filled from now on,” he moans, and with a final snap of his hips he’s buried inside of you letting his cum flow directly into your unprotected pussy.

You stay like that for a two minutes, panting and gasping for breath, your dress completely stuck to your body, and his pants still stuck around his ankles.

When you both finally catch your breath, he pulls out of you and turns you around, pulling you in for another tender kiss and just holding you for another minute before pulling you further into the apartment.

“Just so you know,” you eventually manage to push out. “I’m on the pill.”

“I know. I saw the pills when we shared that hotel room on the Denver case a few months back. It was still fucking hot though.”

You shared a laugh, almost embarrassed by how much the two of you had wanted each other. You make a bee-line for the bedroom, almost desperate for sleep after your vigorous activities, but Spencer paused as you passed the bathroom.

“You know,” he laughs exhaustedly, “we never did make it to the shower.”

“In due time, Doctor. In due time.”

----X----

🏷️ @spenciesprincess

[vamptizm]

PHOTOBOOTH — p. bueckers

summary — you tell paige that you love her for the first time, inside a photobooth (inspired by that tiktok trend)

pairing — paige bueckers x reader

genre — fluff fluff fluff

warnings — paige has a motorcycle lol. shitty writing.

note — this was written ages ago abt no one in particular tbh so don’t be surprised if it doesn’t live up to my usual writing i just feel like publishing this for whoever might wanna read it after the game lol

it was an unusually calm and comfortable day at uconn. for once you didn’t have to deal with the usual mountain of problems on your shoulders or unbearably long practice hours. it was just perfect, in your opinion.

“can we go to the mall?”, you asked a relaxed paige who was sitting next to you on the sofa, with your legs thrown over her lap. paige’s thumb had been drawing shapes onto the exposed skin of your thighs while scrolling through her phone, as the side of your head leaned against the backrest, silently admiring her beautifully sculpted side profile, as if memorizing each angle and curve.

paige wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of crowded malls and going out on days off, — she preferred shopping online — so it only came to your surprise when the blonde nodded her head at your suggestion. “sure, baby.”

not wanting to ruin it for yourself with any questions, you smiled brightly and lifted yourself from off of her and the couch. standing straight in front of her, you held onto both of his hands to ‘pull’ her up. paige pretended to struggle in lifting herself up without your help.

“damn, ma. when did you get so strong?”, she teased you with a grin on her lips once she was standing on her own two feet.

you simply rolled your eyes in faux annoyance and proceeded to drag her out of the apartment and towards her motorcycle. back then, you had been deathly afraid of the vehicle that you liked to call a ‘death trap’, but after countless times of riding in the back of it with paige, you learned to trust the girl and her beloved motorcycle. you were her little backpack, as she liked to call it. you knew she would never let anything happen to you, especially since she insisted that you wear the helmet at all times, despite voicing your wishes of letting the wind blow through your hair and feeling it on your face.

after visiting countless of stores and with multiple bags held by your girlfriend, you gasped once you saw an empty photobooth. you happily dragged her towards it by the hand that was less full. paige hadn’t complained a single time, the smile on your face and the way your eyes sparkled whenever you bought something that you liked was like a reward to her, especially when she was the one buying it for you. it’s as if your constant protests of not wanting her to spend money on you, went in one ear and out the other.

the chair of the booth was small, so naturally you found yourself sitting on top of the girl’s lap as you faced the camera and waited for the countdown. what paige didnt know, is that you had something very important to tell her.

“don’t make ugly faces”, you jokingly warned her.

once the countdown had reached zero, the first pose you and paige did was a normal one. two cute and happy smiles for the camera, with the sides of your faces softly pressed up against each other and your arms wrapped around her neck, while her’s draped over your waist.

in the second photo, you turned your face towards paige and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek, causing the girl to smile wider than she had before.

before the click for the third picture went off, you leaned a bit closer towards paige’s ear. “i love you so much. did you know that?”, you softly whispered.

paige turned to you in disbelief, a look of genuine surprise on her face as she stared at you with a soft gaze and hearts in her eyes.

before the last click went off, paige gently wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you in for a deep kiss, just in time for the camera to capture it.

“i love you more”.

[vanessamooney]

Heaven Above - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Draco finds you late at night in the astronomy tower, set during 5-6th year.

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

On black nights where the air stood still and the sky was littered with flashing bulbs of hope she came and sat on the highest peak of the astronomy tower. Her legs were curled against her chest, squeezed uncomfortably tight by her frail arms. It was cold; not cold enough to shiver but cold enough to sit and ponder in thoughts that swirled within them the very galaxy.

Of course, she wasn’t allowed up here so late - no one was. It was so much like a game, one of the only thrills she partook in. It was worth it for her, even if she were to get caught; but she never did, not by wandering prefects, not by professors or other misbehaving students. Never by them. 

She was caught by the moon, and the stars, and creatures watching from the forest she wasn’t aware of. But she was aware of the moon, aware of the planets and the yearning which pulled her closer, which made her twinkling eyes widen just that little bit more, made her inhale just that little bit deeper and made her nostalgic for lifetimes ago that she never really experienced. 

It was the sort of magic the professors never taught, the sort of magic which had no history books or lessons to attend or true believers. Magic from another world, so much more fragile and fussy than the magic which spouted from her wand. It took tender love and peculiar attention for this magic to blossom; the kind which granted wishes made on stars and pleas blown on dandelions. 

Y/N let her legs dangle along the edge, fighting the cold stone against her skin. She planted her palms firmly next to her hips and she pondered on her own self and the foreboding which wrapped her in chills. She imagined she was the dandelion, and her petals were blown to be forever spread across the cosmos, never to be seen again.

'Don't get too close to the edge lest you fall,' 

She heard the familiar voice of Draco echo around the tower and into the distantness of the night. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and slowly turned to see the blonde boy standing with posture so rigid and his blue gaze piercing through the darkness. 

She met his gaze, her own expression unreadable. 'Malfoy,' she acknowledged, taken aback from the unexpected company. 

Y/N and Draco had spent the entirety of their schooling at Hogwarts in the same house, exchanging glances and polite nothings. 

In second year, the glances became longing and stares became more noticeable. Polite exchanges became longer and their seats in the great hall grew closer. Their friends became mutual and late night study in the library turned into giggles.

In third year their hands brushed each others during potions class, receiving unapproving looks from Snape. Weekends were spent with butter beer moustaches and unexpected flowers plucked from gardens.

In fourth year Draco asked Y/N to the Yule Ball and she was sorry to tell him that a Durmstrang boy had already asked her and she had said yes. Draco watched that year as she danced the night away with another boy, his heart heavy with unspoken emotions.

His eyes held the same look now as they did that night and she saw his face heavy with grief as the moonlight illuminated his features, 'Y/L/N,'

She motioned for him to join her, a flicker of sympathy softening her features even more - as if he didn't melt her just by being a flame. 

Draco joined her on the cold floor of the astronomy tower, the moon bathing them in her light. For a moment, they simply sat in silence, legs swinging in the tension, taking in the breathtaking view of the night sky stretched out before them. 

'It's beautiful, isn't it?' Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a breathy whisper as she gazed to the stars. 

Draco nodded in agreement, sneaking a glance of Y/N's side profile. He noted how flushed her lips were from the cold, how rosy she was and how the scent in her long hair enveloped them in peonies and myrtle with the gentle blows of the wind.

'Why are you out here?' 

'I could ask you the same thing,' 

'That’s true,' she smiled, 'But I asked you first,' 

Draco couldn't help but return her smile, he always had a soft spot for her. 'I just needed some air,' he admitted, his tone laced with a reserve that hinted against his own words. 'Now you,' 

'I just needed some air,' Y/N parroted, a glint of mischief lighting her up momentarily as they both let out a slight chuckle. She laid her heavy head on the willing shoulder next to her and he relished in her touch.

Draco felt a rush of warmth flood through him as Y/N mirrored his words, her playfulness always brought a sense of lightness to the atmosphere and he wishes he could selfishly lock her into a box, all for himself.

'Do you remember the first time we snuck out of the castle together?' he asked suddenly, breaking the tranquil silence that had settled between them. It was a moment he had buried deep within himself, yet it resurfaced now in the stillness.

Y/N lifted her head from his shoulder, looking at him inquisitively. 'How could I forget?' she replied, her voice filled with amusement. 'It seems like life times ago now,' she remembered, of course she remembered. 

She let out a heavy sigh upon the resurgence of buried memories, her gaze faltering to the twiddling thumbs in her lap. Her watering eyes met his and she couldn’t help but let out a sob, her eyes fluttering with embarrassment.

'What happened to us?' She breathed out shakily.

Draco reached out instinctively, his thumb brushing away her tears as he met her gaze with an unwavering intensity. 'I wish I knew,' he admitted softly, his voice tinged with regret. 

With a lingering kiss on her forehead. Y/N leaned into his touch, seeking comfort in his warmth as she struggled to compose herself. She reached out to rub his forearm to comfort him too but Draco had flinched, frantically pulling the white sleeves of his shirt down. And with a silent knowing glance, she knew exactly what happened to them. 

[deanscherrypie420]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

A/N: Hi! This was third most requested on the poll! I hope you guys enjoy, it took me forever to think of a story OMG!

Characters: BAU Team, Reader Y/N

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X Reader

Warnings: Soft!Dom Aaron, description of crime scenes, antagonizing, sensitive neck area, implied smut but no actual, teasing, lots of kissing towards the end, pretty cute ending, praise kink, spitting (spits into her mouth once), getting interrupted (they were just kissing, don't worry), (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: After getting on your new boss's bad-side, you face his irritation throughout your case. When you get back, however, it seems he's a better profiler than you thought.

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

It was her first official day at the Bureau. She had been training alongside a different team for a few weeks before being sent to work with the BAU.

When she entered the conference room, she was greeted by a woman in a dashingly bright outfit. "Hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, technical analyst for the BAU. You're the new agent, right?"

Y/N nodded and shook her hand, a faint smile on her lips. "Hi, yeah. I'm Y/N Y/L/N." She stated simply, pulling out a chair to sit down. Penelope stepped out of the room for a moment, calling the rest of the team in.

One by one, they all piled in. Two other women came to shake her hand and she declined, passing it off with a joke. They didn't seem to mind, sitting down beside her and engaging in small talk.

The last person to come in was an older man dressed in a nice suit, clean cut black hair and dark brown eyes. She perked up, recognizing him immediately.

SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit chief.

"Y/L/N, good to finally meet you. We've heard great things." He complimented, reaching out to shake her hand. She gave a sharp smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Thanks, unfortunately I can't say the same about you." She set her hand on top of his, gently pushing it down to decline his offer. He noticeably stiffened, and the room filled with tension. "Excuse me?" He questioned, brows knitted tight together.

"I mean, you're practically a rogue agent. You're constantly under the microscope," She shook her head with a quiet laugh, "And from what I hear, you've always been off the rails, even with a stick up your ass."

Before Aaron could respond, Garcia interrupted, getting into the grimy details of a murder in Colorado. After the brief, everyone exited the room, leaving Y/N and Hotchner in the room alone.

His hand clamped down on her shoulder, squeezing tight as he leaned in behind her. "I advise you to stay in your lane. Keep that dirty little mouth of yours shut." He whispered in her ear.

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, heat rising to her cheeks. He patted her on the back before stepping out, returning to his office to collect his to-go bag.

She stood up and grabbed her bag from beneath her, already prepared for her first day. When she made it to the jet, she claimed a seat next to the blonde woman, who she vaguely remembered as Jennifer.

"Rogue agent, huh?" The older man in front of her asked. She studied him, his fingers in a triangle shape resting on the table, grey hair blooming within his black strands.

She grinned and nodded, leaning back into her chair. "I can't repeat what I've heard?" She prodded, tapping her foot on the ground. She knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but she didn't care.

As if he read her mind, he hunched forward and reciprocated her smirk. "Not if you want to last longer than day one. You may have heard some interesting things about Aaron, but I'm sure you've also heard that he doesn't take bullshit from anyone. Especially not from beginners."

She swallowed hard, feeling everyone's eyes on her. She tried to think of a witty response, something to drag her out of the pit she was in. Her brain paused when the same hand from before ruffled her hair, a stiff smile on Aaron's face. "I'm sure it was a mistake on her part. Right, Y/N?"

She nearly choked, reaching up to fix her hair. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." She croaked out, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Rossi just shook his head and 'tsked' in disapproval.

After another quick conversation about the case, Aaron paired everyone up. "Morgan, JJ, you check out the body. Rossi, Prentiss and Reid, set up with local PD."

After not addressing her, she raised a brow. She turned to face him, an annoyed look on her features. "What about me?" She questioned, and he gave her a smug grin.

"You're with me. We'll examine the crime scene." Was all he said, turning his attention back to the file. She slumped in her chair, glaring at Morgan when she heard him chuckle.

Dammit.

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

"So what do you see?" He quizzed her, motioning towards the crimson stained kitchen. She studied it for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thought.

"Rage fueled kill. Blood painted on the walls, clearly over-kill. He doesn't like authority figures, this is the third he's killed this week." She explained and he scoffed.

"You aren't projecting, are you?" He asked her, and she froze. "What do you mean?" Her fists balled up, biting her lip to withhold any rude remarks she might let slip.

"You have issues with figures of authority. You tried to embarrass me in front of my team, and the whole drive here you ignored everything I've had to tell you." He stepped closer to her, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"If I had to guess I'd assume parental issues. You have a sharp tongue, a defense mechanism to keep people at arms reach. Should I keep going?" He had a stern, yet calm look in his eyes. She bit her cheek and pondered, unsure how to respond.

"You're uncomfortable." He noted and she raised a brow. "Am not. You're not as intimidating as you think, Aaron." She snapped back, and he stepped even closer, his face mere inches away.

"I didn't say intimidated, but thank you for letting me know that's how I make you feel." He smiled down at her, making her stomach churn. She turned on her heel and hurried out, slamming the front door behind her.

He chuckled and shook his head, walking out behind her. "Where are you going?" He asked and she crossed her arms, stopping at the end of the road. "Away from you." She muttered and he stopped a few feet in front of her.

"You're acting like a child. Get in the car, now." She huffed and brushed past him, ramming her shoulder into his as she went. He had to hold back from grabbing her and slamming her onto the car.

She slid into the passenger seat, throwing her feet up on the dash and sinking her teeth into their spot in her cheek. Aaron got into the driver seat and stared at her.

"I understand this is your way of defiance, but it's not amusing. Legs down." He ordered and she unwillingly obeyed. "Sorry." She spat, sarcasm creeping in her tone.

"Being a brat isn't gonna work for you, not with me at least." He warned her and she barely nodded, glancing over at him. She didn't know why, but she kind of liked it when he talked to her like this.

However, she couldn't help but want the softer side of him too. He felt her staring as he drove to the local police department, finding it cute when he looked at he and she turned away.

"You're a lot more shy than I expected." He told her, making her look away again. "Pardon?" She croaked, heat rushing up her neck. He set his hand down on her knee and his thumb rubbed circles against it.

"Nothing, just keep your act together."

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

After the case, Y/N was waiting in Aarons office. They had tension all throughout the trip, getting her in trouble and now having to have a mandatory "behavioral conversation."

When he entered the office, he closed the door quietly and turned to face her. His face was stone cold, unreadable and harsh. She bit her lip and fidgeted in her lap, picking at her nailbeds.

He sat down in front of her and cleared his throat. "Is this what you wanted?" He questioned her, catching her off guard. "I don't understand?" She responded, her tone rising at the end a bit too high for her liking.

"I'm a profiler, Y/N. It's my job to study behavior. What did you think you would get by throwing tantrums?" His words made her squirm, understanding what he was referring to.

She didn't respond, looking down at her legs and trying not to drown in humiliation. He chuckled and stood up, making his way behind her. He slowly started to knead her shoulders, earning a quiet gasp from her lips.

"I know, Sweetheart. You just want to be a good girl, yeah?" He cooed, adding more pressure and making her moan. She nodded and squeezed her thighs together. "Th-this is inappropriate." She mumbled between quiet groans and he smiled down at her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"You don't seem to care about what's appropriate or not, don't start pretending now." He whispered and she melted, her hands clawing at her knees.

His thumbs pressed into her neck, pressing nerves within and making her recoil, an unexpected moan bellowing out of her. He quirked a brow and raised one of his hands around the back of her neck.

"Well, that was interesting." He remarked before squeezing down on the pressure points, forcing her to curl up, such an intense reaction from such a little gesture.

Incoherent whimpers and whines escaped her lips, her hand buried between thighs as she tried to gain friction. He chuckled and shook his head. "Needy girl."

He jerked her head back, forcing another moan out of her. Her mouth hung open, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed. He loomed over her, spitting into her mouth.

He took his hand away from her neck and spun her chair around, crouching down in front of her with a small smile. "Swallow, pretty girl."

She obeyed, nodding mindlessly as she did. He kissed the top of her knee and then stood up, gesturing for her to do the same. He cupped her cheek and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Go to your office, get all your paperwork done, and then come meet me back here." He looked so comforting, and he felt that way too. "Okay.. I can do that." She spoke barely above a whisper, still flustered from the situation.

He smiled and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. She wanted more, but didn't say anything, just carefully pulled away and walked towards the door.

He grabbed her arm and brought her back to him, her chest flushed with his. "Use your words." He prompted her, and she bit her lip, a small smile of her own growing.

"Kiss me, please."

He leaned down and their lips met, a slow but passionate kiss. His hands slid around her waist and he crossed his wrists above her hips, bringing her impossibly closer.

Her hands cupped his cheeks and he smiled, the warm feeling of her palms making his shoulders relax.

Suddenly, Penelope and Emily barged through the door, David, JJ and Morgan not far behind them. "Dinner at Rossi's-" Penelope started in a cheery voice, but froze when she saw them.

Quickly, Y/N broke away from Hotch, her back to him as she smiled awkwardly. Emily's jaw was practically on the floor, and Garcia gasped.

"Oh my," She whispered, and Morgan glanced over her shoulder, quickly catching on to the situation. "Aaron. Hotchner. Gettin' some lovin' from the newbie is not something I expected." He teased and Y/N felt her face warming, something she was getting used to now at the BAU.

"Guys, it's not-" Aaron started but was quickly cut off by JJ. "This was not something I had on my bingo card this year." She joked as she sped away with Reid, who was quickly mumbling some facts about business hook-ups.

Following in suit, Penelope grabbed the door handle and apologized repeatedly. "Just come find us when you two are done." She said quickly as she slammed the door.

Aaron leaned down and snaked an arm around her, pulling her closer once more. "We'll catch up on this later." He said as he kissed her temple.

"Do I still have to do my paperwork?" She asked in a fake-innocent voice. "Absolutely," He said before leaving soft, bruising kisses down her neck. "But you can wait until tomorrow."

She rested her head back on his chest, breathy moans parting her lips. "That's not fair. I should get special privileges now." She pleaded and he sunk his teeth into her neck, making her gasp.

"You're a smart girl, you can do a little bit of work. I'll even reward you if you do a good job." He teased, squeezing her hip with his free hand. She giggled and moved his face up to kiss him, their lips easily melting together.

"Hurry up you two! This is Y/N's first cooking lesson!" Garcia yelled through the door. Hotch let out a quiet groan as he finally pulled away, placing a few more quick kisses all over the side of her face.

She giggled and hollered back, "We're coming!" He gave a playful tap to her ass and she waited for him to grab his coat before leaving. "I didn't expect that sleeping with my boss would make my co-workers like me so much." She joked and he raised his brows suggestively, collecting his stuff from beside the desk.

"We haven't slept together yet, but that's a great idea for dessert."

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

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! I finished this at three AM so I'm sorry if its a bit rushed or messy. This is my first Hotch fic so it took me a bit longer to get a decent idea.

Feel free to send in requests! <3 Like, comment, and follow :)

[cherriesncinnamon]

stress reliever / spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis: your fellow profiler at the bau is stressed over a case. shoulders tight and room empty, you decide to relieve some of his tension.

warnings/tags: stressed spencer, grinding, blowjob, fem!reader.

word count: 1.1k.

a/n: tell me why this is literally the first thing i've written in a nearly year?! i've been so busy but i've missed this. rewatching criminal minds for the third time so thought i should treat myself to a lil spence smut.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I just don't understand what I'm missing." Spencer announces, clutching his hair in his fists as he slumps down on a chair.

"Neither do any of us. This UnSub loves puzzles, clearly he's really good at them, too." I reassure. SSA Spencer Reid hates when he cannot figure something out. Not because he has a weak ego, but because he really should know.

"God, my head is killing me." He says, rubbing his temples gently with his thumb and forefinger.

"Probably because we've been up for over 24 hours. Hotch and the rest won't be back for at least another hour, a nap couldn't hurt." I suggest, tucking my knees up to my chest in my chair, preparing to drift off in under a minute.

"No. No, I have to figure out some of this, even just a little bit. We can't let this son-of-a-bitch roam free for another second." He picks himself up and looks at the board again, eyes squinting at the words until they're unintelligible.

I show up behind him, taking a look at the board for the fiftieth time that day to see if a few minutes away from it had altered my ability to solve the puzzles. It hadn't. I rest my hands on Spencer's shoulders, and he jolts at my touch. His muscles are tensed and knotted.

"Jesus, Spence. You need to lie down. We know better than anyone that stress does not make our jobs any easier." I urge, slowly massaging his shoulders in an empathetic way. Spencer shakes his head, turning to face me.

"Sleep will not relieve this stress." He replies, gaze fixed. He sighs deeply, looking down at me as if he's waiting for me to provide a solution I definitely don't have. If anyone has the mental equipment to solve this case, it's Spencer Reid.

I guide him over to a chair, sitting beside him. I take a swig of my cold tea and rest my head on my knees. He stares at me with those big brown eyes that are usually full of life - well, in Spencer's kind of way - that are now deadened and hollow. I rest my hand on his and he squeezes mine back with a smile.

This is the first time I'm seeing him smile in days. I look eagerly at his lips, not hesitating to reach out and kiss him. He, of course, kisses back, gripping the side of my face tightly.

There's always been a mutual attraction between the two of us, but neither have ever even thought of acting on it. Derek loves to call us Romeo and Juliet. I laugh; Spencer doesn't get the joke.

I pull his hair through my hands, tugging gently at his roots as our kiss intensifies. I'm so glad he cut that mane, swapping it out for something much better.

I feel myself drifting off to a blissful state when Spencer pulls away abruptly, leaving my lips alone. He grimaces at me, clearly fighting some internal demons I can't see. I know he's not the romantic type, so I'm not sure why I thought it would be a good idea. We don't exchange any words for a few seconds until he gives in and reaches into me. I refuse his kiss.

"Do you really want this, Spence?" I ask, to his contemplation. He thinks for a minute, breath heavily paced. I look down at the bulge in his pants, pulsating through the fabric.

"Well, it sure looks like it." I joke with a harmless laugh. Spencer sighs at me, covering himself with both of his hands. I take his wrist and remove it, lightly stroking him with my palm, much to his pleasure. He tips his head back in the chair from my slight touch, grinding his hips into my hand, eager for more.

Feeling brave, I push Spencer's chair out from under the table, making enough room for me to straddle his lap, placing myself on top of his clothed bulge. Spencer doesn't know where to look, his eyes pacing from my eyes, to my lips, to my breasts, and to my waist. I take his hands and place them on my hips for support.

He's hard against my crotch, so hard that I can tell he won't be able to hold on for long. I play on this, beginning to grind myself against him at a painfully slow pace. He moans out, licking his lips that are dry from his breathlessness. I run my fingers through the front of his hair, pushing the strands out of his face while starting to move faster.

Spencer's hands squeeze my hips, pushing me down further onto his length that is desperate for a release. His eyes alternate between open and closed, unsure whether to admire me or savour the sensation.

"Does that feel good?" I pry, peppering kisses on his supple neck. Spencer can barely mumble a mhm as he groans out more and more. I sense his closeness and remove myself, sliding down to under the table.

"What are you doing? Why'd you stop?" Spencer begs, sitting up in his chair. Looking up, I smile at him, making my way towards his zipper.

I unzip his pants and break the waistband of his black boxers, watching in arousal at his cock spring free. His tip is glazed in pre-cum, veins spiralled around his length, begging to be relieved. I'm shocked at his size, to be honest. I had always thought he would fit the stereotypes of geniuses, assumed that he was compensating for something with his intelligent. But clearly, he just hasn't had the opportunity to show anyone what he can do.

Without waiting a second longer, I lick his sensitive tip then take him into my slick mouth, observing his chest heave inhumanly fast as I move up and down his member, making sure to cover every single inch. Spencer rests his hand on the top of head, stroking my hair softly.

"God." He whispers, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and gripping the armrest of his chair. I use my free hand to stroke the delicate skin of his abdomen, sending goosebumps across his entire body. I can feel him pulsating in my mouth, so close to climax that it has to be uncomfortable.

I remove my mouth, now using both hands to jerk him. The wetness makes my hands glide on his cock, welcoming his finish.

Finishing on my blouse, Spencer takes a minute to catch his breath. He swiftly wipes himself with a tissue from the table, tucking his still half-hard length away.

"Feel better?" I ask, walking towards the door to wander to my office change my blouse before the team arrives.

"Much better."

[handdrawnverathin]

Hi. So, uh... it's been a while. And after all this time, I think it's time to be honest with myself and admit that this animatic is probably never going to be finished. I started it when I'd only watched a couple POVs of Third Life and it really shows in the designs. Some of them aren't bad - I still like how I drew Tango - but enough of them have details wrong or just weird vibes that continuing to draw them is kinda dissatisfying. That being said, I put a lot of work into it and didn't want to let it just die without saying anything, so here's a collection of GIFs from the few scenes I managed to get edited.

For the record, I am still on the Hermitcraft/Life Series brainrot train and I have some drawings that I've been working on that I genuinely like. So hopefully those will be done soon! Just as soon as I finish that one project that I started eight years ago. But it's getting there! I swear!

Also: for anyone interested, I've included the original frame-by-frame plan below the cut

SONG: Willow Tree March, The Paper Kites

Intro

Feet swinging over sandstone cliff face (0:00 - 0:05)

Lower half of Grian’s face visible, whistling (0:05 - 0:12)

The cool bit

Fade to front face view of Grian, looking up slightly (0:12 - 0:16)

Real quick zoom out to all players standing in a row looking dramatic (0:16 - 0:28)

Title card fades in as overlay (0:20 - 0:28)

Player introductions

(0:28 - 0:30)

(0:30 - 0:32)

(0:32 - 0:34)

(0:34 - 0:36)

Peaceful times

Grian walking through a forest, early morning. First frame is a footstep, then a side view of him looking around (0:36 - 0:44)

Flower Husbands meeting, afternoon. First frame is Scott peaking into the hole from outside, then Jimmy looking up at him sheepishly (0:44 - 0:52)

Renchanting looking up at the sky, sunset. First frame is a hand raised to block the sun, then a rear-view shot of them from the waist up (0:52 - 1:00)

Phantom shelter, night. First frame is a wide view of the group either hiding or fending off phantoms, then a close up of a few of them laughing with each other(1:00 - 1:08)

FIRST DEATH

Wide shot of Scar burning the tree (1:08 - 1:12)

Close-up of Grian’s face as he looks to the side. Creeper visible in the reflection of his eyes. (1:12 - 1:16)

Scar doing some smooth talking. A wisp of smoke fades in behind him.(1:16 - 1:20)

Close up of Scar’s face turning around, eyes widening (1:20 - 1:22)

Yellow heart (1:22 - 1:26)

The promise

Wide shot of Monopoly Mountain, cut to close-up of Grian swearing loyalty with a hand over his heart (1:26 - 1:34)

Close-up of Grian’s face, mostly the eyes, looking a little unhappy with the whole situation (1:34 - 1:42)

Tensions rising

Skizz looks at an enderman: over-the-shoulder shot of him looking back, then a close up on his eyes widening (1:42 - 1:50)

Cleo threatening Pizza - animated? Initial/final poses plus two in-betweens (1:50 - 1:58)

Tango’s lava game: first a close up of his smiling face, then a wide shot with his arms outstretched in front of the challenge (1:58 - 2:06)

Scar threatening Ren for the enchanter: first an over-the-shoulder shot of Scar, then one of Ren (2:06 - 2:14)

Uh-oh

Wide shot of ceremony (2:14 - 2:18)

Ren, kneeling, waist down and cloak on (2:18 - 2:22)

Low-angle shot of Martyn looking very uncomfortable. Winces a bit, axe raised and…  (2:22 - 2:28)

Swings down. We get a flash of Ren's face, grinning, before fading out. The red eyes linger just a bit longer. (2:28 - 2:32)

O_o

Flower wall burns down (2:32 - 2:40)

Rear view wide shot in silhouette

Front view, sad and also a little horrified

Desert battle (2:40 - 2:48)

Profile view of Grian with a slightly manic smile on his face as explosions go off. The camera is pretty close to him, so we can’t actually see the explosions, but add in some effects and it’ll get the point across

Siege of Dogwarts (2:48 - 2:56)

Aerial attack using slowfall arrows

Ground combat feat. Joel and dogs

 Bdubs kills Impulse, Scar kills Bdubs (2:56 - 3:04)

Interlude

Scar (right) kneeling in the water before Grian (left). We can see Scar from about chest down and only the lower half of Grian’s legs (3:04 - 3:12)

Low-angle shot of Grian looking down at Scar holding a sword. We can see Scar’s head and maybe a bit of his back depending on camera angles. (3:12 - 3:20)

Fade to the Tree in a dark void, glowing as if by firelight. Very slow pan out. Fade to a wider view before the light is extinguished, leaving us in darkness.  (3:20 - 3:28)

Ghosties (dark gray background, white outlines)

Jimmy/Cleo/Skizz (3:28 - 3:32)

Joel/Scott/Etho (3:32 - 3:36)

Tango/Ren/Martyn (3:36 - 3:40)

Impulse/BigB/Bdubs (3:40 - 3:44)

They want blood (survivors haunted by ghosts)

Grian, with chestplate and sword, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else(3:44 - 3:48)

Scar, also not having a good time, sword and shield but no chestplate (3:48 - 3:52)

Facing each other, no weapons or armor. Scar of left, Grian on right (3:52 - 3:56)

Close up side view of Grian’s face: scared, then steeling himself (eyes closed) then shouting as he runs in (3:58 - 4:02)

The girls are fighting! ;A;

(4:02 - 4:10)

(4:10 - 4:18)

(4:18 - 4:26)

We have a winner

Full body behind shot of Grian standing at the edge of the cliff before falling (4:26 - 4:36)

[its-avalon-08]

I liked those song based fics!!! Can you do one about Nico Rosberg based on Love Again — Dua Lipa?

opened my heart again (nr6)

monaco, 2013. the air crackled with the electric anticipation of the grand prix. nico rosberg, steely-eyed in his mercedes cockpit, tried to ignore the familiar pang of loneliness. a year ago, a high-profile relationship with a model had ended in a blaze of betrayal. since then, nico had thrown himself into work, building a wall around his heart.

across the pit lane, amidst the flurry of activity in the red bull garage, stood a young woman, her sunshine-colored hair bouncing with uncontainable enthusiasm. this was y/n, a brilliant f1 engineer with a smile that could outshine the riviera sun. unlike most engineers, y/n wasn't afraid to chat with the drivers, her outgoing personality a stark contrast to the team's usual stoicism.

three months later, singapore grand prix

nico and y/n's paths kept crossing. they'd bump into each other at press conferences, share a laugh in the paddock, or find themselves seated next to each other during driver briefings. y/n, ever the extrovert, would pepper nico with questions about his car, his training, anything that piqued her curiosity. nico, initially guarded, found himself drawn to her genuine interest and infectious laughter.

i never thought i'd hear my heartbeat so loud

singapore, 2014. the post-race atmosphere crackled with champagne-fueled revelry and post-race dejection. nico, having finished a frustrating third, retreated to the mercedes hospitality area, a scowl etched on his face.

suddenly, a burst of sunshine entered the room in the form of y/n, a tray of cold drinks balanced precariously in her hands.

"hey, nico! congrats on the podium, even if it wasn't the top step," she said brightly, dodging a stray ice cube as a teammate reached for a drink.

nico grunted a response, not looking up from his phone. y/n, ever the optimist, persisted.

"seriously, though," she continued, setting the tray down, "your overtake on lewis around turn 11 was phenomenal. pure guts and precision."

nico finally looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. he eyed y/n warily.

"what do you want?" he said brusquely, "do you need something?"

y/n's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a flicker of confusion. "just complimenting you," she said, her voice losing some of its usual cheer.

"for publicity or what?" nico shot back, his voice laced with suspicion.

y/n's brow furrowed. "stop doubting things that happen to you, nico," she said, her voice firm but kind. "not everyone is trying to take advantage of you or something. sometimes, people just appreciate good driving or a good person."

nico stared at her, the harshness momentarily draining from his face. he hadn't expected such genuine warmth, especially from someone on the rival team. maybe, just maybe, y/n was right.

as the night wore on, the technical talk faded into comfortable silences and shared stories. nico found himself confiding in y/n about his past relationship, surprised at the ease with which the words flowed.

i can't believe there's something left in my chest anymore

"you deserve someone who appreciates you, nico," y/n said, her voice soft. "someone who sees beyond the trophies."

nico looked into her eyes, a flicker of something new igniting within him.

a few months later

abu dhabi, 2014. the desert sun beat down mercilessly on the yas marina circuit. nico and y/n found themselves side-by-side in the shade of a catering tent, seeking refuge between practice sessions.

"ugh," y/n sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "this heat is brutal. makes me crave something sweet."

nico, still untrusting of easy compliments, raised an eyebrow. "cupcake, perhaps?"

y/n's eyes widened. "oh my god, yes! especially red velvet with that perfect cream cheese frosting. the kind my grandma used to make."

nico, who wasn't one for sugary treats, simply smirked. "sounds like pure sugar overload."

y/n nudged him playfully. "hey, don't knock it till you try it!"

the next morning, the pre-race tension crackled in the air. nico, focused on securing pole position, barely registered the commotion near the red bull garage. then, a delivery boy emerged, a giant box precariously balanced in his arms.

"uh, miss engineer?" he said, approaching y/n. "delivery for vivienne?"

y/n, who went by her middle name at work for professional reasons, looked surprised. "actually, it's y/n, but thanks!"

she peered into the box, her jaw dropping open. inside, nestled in a bed of shredded paper, were a dozen perfect red velvet cupcakes, each topped with a swirl of decadent cream cheese frosting. a small, hand-written note rested on top.

y/n unfolded it, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she read the single sentence: "hope these satisfy your sweet tooth. -nr"

i used to think that i was made out of stone

sebastian vettel, leaning against the red bull car, let out a low whistle. "someone's got a secret admirer, vivienne," he teased, a sly grin spreading across his face.

y/n shot him a playful glare, her heart fluttering. this wasn't just a cupcake delivery. it was a sign, a sweet, delicious sign, that maybe, just maybe, nico was letting his guard down a little.

five month later, italian grand prix

their friendship had blossomed. they'd celebrate victories together, commiserate defeats, and steal moments for stolen conversations whenever their schedules allowed.

one balmy italian evening, after a thrilling race that saw nico finish second, y/n found him sitting on the pit wall, head buried in his hands.

"hey," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "tough luck out there, but you were amazing."

nico looked up, a flicker of despair in his eyes. "i'll never be good enough," he confessed. "not for the team, not for anyone."

y/n's heart ached for him. "nico," she said, her voice firm, "you're incredible. don't let anyone tell you differently." she sat beside him, their shoulders brushing. "and maybe..." she hesitated, then met his gaze, a blush creeping up her cheeks, "maybe you deserve to be happy again."

but goddamn, you got me in love again

the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. nico stared at her, his heart pounding against his ribs. in that moment, under the starlit italian sky, nico knew. he was falling for y/n, and the fear was a flimsy shield against the tide of his emotions.

budapest grand prix, 2016

budapest, 2016. the champagne had flowed freely on the podium, celebrating nico's dominant victory. now, the after-race party was in full swing, a blur of flashing lights and thumping music. nico, however, found himself drawn to a quieter corner where y/n stood, talking animatedly with a group of engineers.

he approached her, feeling a familiar knot of nerves twist in his stomach. "hey," he said, his voice barely audible over the music.

y/n turned, her smile lighting up her face like a beacon. "nico! congratulations again, you were incredible out there."

nico rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "thanks, but... well, the real accomplishment is you guys keeping this beast of a car running." he gestured vaguely at a passing red bull mechanic.

y/n chuckled. "we try our best, even with you drivers pushing them to the limit."

a comfortable silence settled between them for a moment, broken only by the pulsing music. nico cleared his throat, trying to formulate his next words.

"y/n," he began, his voice dropping to a low murmur, "i, uh... you're, like, really..." he trailed off, frustration bubbling up. how could he put into words the kaleidoscope of emotions she evoked in him? her intelligence, her humor, the way she lit up a room with her smile – it was all too much.

show me that heaven's right here, baby

before he could spiral further, y/n's hand gently touched his arm. her touch sent a jolt through him.

"nico," she said softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "you're rambling."

he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "this is hopeless, isn't it?"

y/n's laugh rang out, a sweet melody that cut through the noise of the party. she reached out again, this time taking his hand in hers. it was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the calloused grip of a steering wheel.

"where were you going with that, nico?" she asked, her voice laced with a playful challenge.

nico met her gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. "i was trying to say... well, i think you're amazing. kind, funny, brilliant..." he trailed off again, a helpless smile spreading across his face.

y/n squeezed his hand, her eyes twinkling. "and?"

nico closed the distance between them in one swift movement, his heart hammering against his ribs. before he could overthink it, he pressed his lips against hers. the kiss was soft and tentative at first, then deepened as y/n melted into him. the taste of champagne and something faintly sweet lingered between them.

when they finally pulled apart, breathless and slightly dazed, y/n's smile was wider than he'd ever seen. "maybe," she said, her voice husky, "you could have just started with that."

used to be afraid of love and what it might do but goddamn, you got me in love again

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

leave a like! leave a note!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[dinozarr]

⠀ “f-f-fuckk~ please fuck me harder.”

𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐒 . . . who was obsessed with you from the moment he saw you. the way you flaunted yourself to the rest of the class, impressing your professor from your sheer intelligence. he could never take his eyes off you, always stealing longing glances your way anytime you took the notion to sit next to him. he always found himself pushing his glasses up high, gripping his pencil tighter, and shifting in his seat whenever you were around. the affect you had on him was like no other.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it didn’t help the fact that you were top of the class either, so he couldn’t use the stereotypical excuse of being your tutor in order to just talk to you. he had to go a different route. it wasn’t something he was proud of; dumbing himself down for the sake of one’s attention, yet he didn’t necessarily care since it was with you. he found himself purposely failing the quizzes and discussion boards your professor would post, expressing evident irritation at his forced grade.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀much to his dismay, after scrounging your socials, he discovered that you had your own “tutor sessions” up on a particular website called OnlyFans. he hadn’t a clue as to what it was, yet didn’t mind all of the sexual ads he continued to get when looking at your “tutor prices”. he was utterly oblivious to the fact it was a porn site, messaging you like some sort of professional customer. it was cute, you gave him that. his profile being himself with his adorable little black-framed wayfarer glasses.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you thought he would’ve changed his mind the moment he stepped foot into your loft apartment, seeing your setup and alas realizing your tutor sessions weren’t what he was expecting at all. however, when revised of the terms he initially agreed you, giving him an op-out, he remained persistent and gave full consent; practically begging for the session to start. you were startled by his assertion, not expecting to see such a side of the quiet boy that sat in the back of your mathematics class.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀nor were you expecting for your viewers to absolutely adore him. they loved watching you ride his over-average erection that had your walls practically begging for mercy with how his veins raked along them, his tip kissing your cervix beautiful with every hip roll you gave. you were unaware of how large he was, bottom lip being crushed between the brim of your teeth as you adjusted to his enlarged size. just from being halfway down his dick you could feel your lower abdomen forming a heated knot, eyes squeezing shut instantly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his eyes were literally a sight for sore eyes with how cutely he sat beneath you, trembling hands not knowing where to go as they roamed you body freely. his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, fog coating the frames with both of your breaths fanning against them. his face was on full display for everyone, thanks to the overhead camera you had. the likes and money continued to roll in the more you kept the camera on him, your viewers loving every second of it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you had your hands slightly resting on his shoulders, fistfuls of his shirt clenched in your grasp to guide you along him. it was adorable how his eyes were coaxed in tears, the dazed glint that swirled within his irises causing a snarky grin to mar your features. he looked utterly fucked out, lost in nothing but raw euphoria. his mouth was barely open ajar, whimpers and cries being the only noises to fill the wide-spread apartment. aside from the sounds of your squelches on his dick of course, your sopping cunt sucking him in farther with each thrust.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was no surprise that you were each on your third orgasm by the time it hit one hour into the session, you couldn’t get enough of it despite him being balls deep in you. and, to reward the man of such behavior, the minute he reached his climax you were already on your knees before him. he hadn’t a clue as to what you were doing until you shoved the entirety of his drenched erection into your mouth, gargling back your gag reflex with small eye rolls.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your actions had the man melting into the chair, the feeling of your cold, silver-lined tongue piercing that dragged across his base sending bone-crushing chills down the man’s back. all he could do was cry out moans of pure ecstasy with his head thrown back against the top of the chairhead. the rest of what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you kneaded with your hands; hollowing out your cheeks with your tongue gliding through the slit of his tip. saliva drooled from the sides of your mouth, coating his dick even more and causing even louder noises to extrude from the situation.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ “please let me cum, please o-oh fuck, ohmygod.”

⠀⠀⠀ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ARMIN ARTLER. ARAN OJIRO. EREN JAEGER. suguru geto. aki hayakawa. connie springer. kento nanami. NORITOSHI KAMO. CHOSO KAMO. AOI TODO. sae itoshi. shidou ryusei. OLIVER AIKU. imamura yudai. SHOUEI BARO. kuon wataru.

NOTEZ : was notttt expecting this to lead into a camgirl!reader but ay fuck it we ball

© TAKST4Z 2023 — all rights reserved. mature discretion. please do not plagiarize or steal any of my works or graphics.

[karlurbanism]

A headcanon request for Kennex, if you’d like! (No pressure!)

John meets a woman he just completely falls for, she’s smart and funny and down to earth and to him she is absolutely beautiful. (He’s also done a thorough background check which she totally understands.) Is he taking her to bed on the third or fourth date (because she’s made it VERY clear how much she wants him, who wouldn’t??) or is he waiting awhile, trying to take it slow, or something in between? 😘

Thank you so much for your request 🤗 @enchantedflameandflower

I wasn't sure if I'll be able to write this as well as I imagined it, but it turned out better than I hoped 😊

I'm already thinking about a part 2 (established relationship headcanons). This is the first text I posted in years, so I hope you like it 🫂 🫶🏻

▶ John Kennex x GN!reader headcanons

▶ warnings: John's PTSD is mentioned / insecure!John, fluff, implied smut

▶ word count: 1k

⇘ ⇘ ⇘

Do you believe in love at first sight? Well, John wasn't sure if he still did. He met Anna through an "accident" which most likely hasn't been an accident at all. He did all the background checks and found nothing. Then the incident during the inSyndicate raid happened. His partner and many others lost their lives. John lost his leg, his reputation, and the woman he thought of being the love of his life.

Then he meets you.

⇘ ⇘ ⇘

It's just a normal day in his life, boring even - until it isn't anymore. You become friends rather quickly, and as time passes by, you start flirting with each other. It's nothing serious at first. John doesn't even know if he's ready to start a new relationship, but it's getting more and more obvious to everyone around the both of you.

Even Dorian points it out on multiple occasions. He mentions how John's heart rate increases as soon as you enter the room or every time anyone says your name. John acts like it's nothing, but Dorian's right, and deep down, John knows it.

That's when he starts background checks about you. To him, you are perfect. Not flawlessly perfect, but perfectly imperfect. He adores your eyes, your smile, your personality, even your quirks.

He's relieved when your background come back clear. He isn't really surprised, but his mind still tells him to be cautious. His heart, on the other hand, already tells him to go for it. 

It might be almost unexpected for you when he finally makes the move and asks you out. You're close friends and all, but he always seems to keep his distance. You don't take it personally,  though. You know about everything he's been through. It had been all over the news for weeks.

John won't plan anything too fancy for your first date. He's pretty old-school and casual, after all. He'll take you to a restaurant, maybe a place where you can get Asian noodles, or to the cinema.

He doesn't have expectations or anything, he just wants to spend some quality time with you and get to know you better.

Your first date is almost perfect. You're at an Asian restaurant, talk and laugh, and have lots of fun. Afterward, he takes you home, being old-school and all.

When the two of you reach your front door, there's an awkward silence and you don't know if it's the right moment to kiss him already. 

You're attracted to him, both mentally and emotionally. But you don't want to rush it. And he doesn't want that either. So he hugs you. A bit too tight and also a little too long. He doesn't kiss you, though. You're a bit disappointed, but you understand him.

On your second date, you go to the cinema to watch a movie. It's an action film you don't even like that much but John's face is it all worth it. He's obsessed with the fight scenes and the expensive cars.

His wide smile and sparkling eyes could light up the whole cinema hall. He can't believe you're there with him, still by his side, and that he can share his interests with you.

You keep admiring his beautiful face profile next to you. During the final battle of the movie, you both grab the armrest between you, and it's unexpectedly pleasant when his hand finds yours.

Just like after the first date, he takes you home again. You reach your doorstep, and as you say your goodbyes, he pulls you in for a tight hug. And then, when you least expect it, he lets you go just far enough so he can look at you. He admires your face, your eyes, your lips, and your smile.

That's when he kisses you for the first time. He's almost a little clumsy for a few seconds but he puts his whole heart into it, finally being able to let his guard down and express all those suppressed feelings.

You can't help but kiss him back, fiercely. From this moment on, you two feel closer to each other than ever. One of his hands finds the small of your back while the other caresses your cheek. Things get heated and you're separating from him just long enough to gasp for air. Then you invite him in, but he politely declines.

You trust him with your life and crave him, his body, his soul. But you want to give him all the time he needs. 

It takes him until your third or fourth date until he invites you into his apartment. You're excited to finally see where he lives and you enjoy spending the evening together. You're with him on his couch, watching the movie you chose. John sips on his bourbon, and you're nipping on your favorite drink.

Halfway through the film, you both start making out. At first, it's a glance. Then a touch, followed by kisses. Things get heated - again - and before you know it, you're taking off each other's clothes while you're still kissing. Your hands exploring each other's body.

None of you holds back this time until you're left in your underwear, now fumbling with his belt buckle. That's when he gets insecure for a moment. He trusts you just like you trust him, but a part of him is still scared of showing you his synthetic leg for the first time. He barely can accept it himself - so how could you?

But you assure him it's all right and that you can stop if he doesn't feel comfortable. You give him a tender smile, your his face in your hands and your face in his.

John barely thinks about it for half a second, your loving eyes being all the reassurance he needs. His iconic smirk returns to his face, and he immediately grabs your hip, pulling you into his embrace.

John still doesn't know if he believes in love at first sight, but he does know that he loves you with all his heart - and that you genuinely love him, too.

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS SCENE BETWEEN | STAY LIKE THIS FOREVER

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 1,190

summary: the first time you spend the night at jamie’s place. this takes place between chapters three and four of distractions. 

A/N: here is the first missing scene from distractions! sorry this is posted so late but it’s still monday for me! i plan on doing a few of these here and there, and will be posting another for ted day tomorrow. please let me know if there are any other moments, either mentioned or implied, you’d like to see from distractions! because i had a busy memorial day weekend, i haven’t had the chance to get chapter seven of distractions in a perfect place, so want to make sure you guys have some small things to hold you over. chapter seven should be out friday!

distractions masterlist 

There were a lot of things that brought you to Jamie’s door that night. 

One was homesickness. You had made the mistake of going on Facebook - a mistake in and of itself - and happened upon pictures of your extended family at a get-together for God knows what. It really didn’t matter. It was just a reminder of what you were missing, even before moving to another continent. You could count on one hand the number of times you got to go home to see your dads in the last few years, and lately it's been hitting you harder how much you missed them.

The second was also Facebook's fault. As you continued scrolling through the app in a depressed haze, you’d happened upon a post from Mason’s mom. God you really needed to unfriend him and his whole family. She had posted pictures of their family; Mason and Chloe included. Without even thinking, you’d clicked on Mason’s profile and saw his updated status.

In a relationship.

He and Chloe were Facebook official. 

While this didn’t surprise you, it still didn’t make you feel good. It was embarrassing the hold he still had on you, even though you’ve long since realized you deserved better than him. It just wasn’t fair that he got to flaunt his perfect, new relationship even though he fucked up and cheated. Eventually, you knew you’d stop caring, but right now all you needed was to get your mind off of your ex and his new girlfriend immediately. 

The third reason you came to see Jamie was a bit more complicated, and you didn’t even fully understand it. The reason being that you just really wanted to see him. You chalked it up to being lonely and horny, and didn’t dwell on the swirling feelings any longer than you should’ve. 

You knocked on his door around 10PM. You were worried he might already be asleep, or out training with Roy. You felt more relieved than you should when you heard the pads of his feet approach the front door. When he opened it, his first reaction was one of surprise, before his expression became pleased. He barely had time to formulate a greeting when your lips were on his. Jamie didn’t need instructions. He immediately hoisted you into his arms and carried you to his room. 

While you were used to Jamie’s generosity in bed, he was extra giving that night. You’d quickly learned it was because he’d sensed your tension. After round three or four - you couldn’t keep track - you and Jamie were laying side by side. He’d slowly turned to face you, and pulled his sheets up to cover you both. He gently thumbed your chin, coaxing you to face him as well. 

“Are you alright?” he’d asked softly. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Jamie shrugged, “You’re quieter than usual.”

You chuckled, “What? I wasn’t loud enough for you before?”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked slightly, “No, I mean, you’re usually more talkative.”

“Are you saying I talk too much?”

You realized his hand was still making contact with your face when he reached down to lightly pinch your shoulder, “Stop it. I like when you talk, but you’ve barely said a word since you’ve been here. And while I definitely do not mind the surprise visit, you’ve never come to my place before. Just wondering if something happened.”

You sighed, no longer able to meet his eye. “It’s really nothing. Was just feeling off today.”

Jamie hummed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head, “Not right now.” 

“Okay. Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Hmm,” you basked in his attention and the way he was playing with your hair for a second, “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“What?” Jamie let out a confused laugh. 

“You know, like when you were a kid, did you always want to be a football player, or did you want to be something else?”

“Huh,” Jamie thought for a beat, “I feel like I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a footballer. After my mom got me into it, I never looked back.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you mused.

“What about you?” he asked after a few seconds. 

“I think in kindergarten I wanted to be a ballerina because I watched Barbie Swan Lake.”

“Of course.”

“And then when I was 9 or 10 I wanted to be a meteorologist. Or no, a storm chaser!” 

Jamie laughed loudly, “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. I watched the Wizard of Oz and thought tornadoes were cool as hell.”

“I think that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to think.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not like other girls,” you both laughed. “But then in middle school, I took my first creative writing class and I was hooked. I felt like I could write forever.” 

“Is that what you did before you came here?” he questioned.

“Sort of. I wrote for an advertising agency, but I wasn’t passionate about it. What I really want to do is be an author,” you admitted quietly.

“Yeah? That’d be so cool.” Jamie whispered, still twisting your hair between his fingers. 

“I think so, too,” you smiled a bit, “But I just haven’t had any inspiration lately.”

Jamie nodded, “Well I bet when you do start writing again, it’ll be great.”

“How would you know? You’ve never read my writing.”

“I just know.” After another few beats of silence, he continues even quieter, “Would you ever let me read something of yours, when you do?”

You studied him through your lashes, before giving him a tiny smile of your own. “Maybe,” you respond coyly. “You have to promise to lie to me and tell me you love it even if you hate it, though.”

Jamie huffs, “I doubt that’ll happen, but I promise.” 

“Thank you.”

You and Jamie kept chatting for a few more minutes before your eyelids grew heavy. As you drifted off, you note how comfortable and at ease you feel with Jamie. Whether it's when you’re hooking up, or just enjoying each other’s company, you feel nice and safe. It was a new feeling, and you didn’t know what it meant, especially when you were half asleep, but you liked it. 

The two of you slept soundly, wrapped up in one another, until around 4AM when you heard pounding coming from the front door. Without opening your eyes, you groan as you feel Jamie pull himself out of bed and out of your arms. 

“I’m sorry, it’s Roy,” he whispered, “I’ve got to get to training.” 

You let out another noise of protest and Jamie chuckled quietly. 

“Next time we stay at my place where Roy can’t find us,” you mumbled tiredly.

“Sounds good to me.”

You barely registered what must have been Jamie kissing your cheek before you’re falling back asleep. 

You were fully out again as Jamie quickly and quietly got ready. Before he jogged downstairs to meet Roy, he indulged himself with one last lingering look at your sleeping form. 

God, you were cute.

A/N: once again, please let me know what you think!! and if there are any other missing scenes you’d like to see! <3 p.s. anyone who asked to be on the taglist today/yesterday I will make sure you’re included in my post tomorrow!

Taglist: @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @escapismqueen @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @bcon24 @looooooooomis @queen-of-dumbasses @moseyluvs @alipap3 @amachira @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @daphneblakeswife​ @chelseamount​ @k0z3me​ @lickitandsendit3​ @miakreid​ @shimmeringfrenchie​  @meg-ro​ ​@spookysins @a-sweet-little-fangirl @optimisticsandwichgladiator @marveltg365 @ringpopdust @gcidrvsh @beardsplitter @scaramou   @ibong-adarnaaa @piper570 @eviemae263782 it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3  ​

[visionsofmagic]

⋆ ― ◜week of celebs◝ ― ⋆

DAY FOUR: christian bale x f!reader

previous | masterlist | next  

• summary: it is the third movie you and chris playing together in, and it is last time he can hide his love for you. | wc: 1.5k | tags&warnings: fluff, kissing, confessing, touching, gentle!bale, reader is kind of a brat, co-workers, friends to lovers, young-adult!bale, mentions of a little nsfw content, short. [also, so so sorry for waiting for the ‘week’ thing but I had three important tests to take and I had to study :/ but now, I have no test left so, I’m back and the other works will be on soon! Enjoy. ^^]

“Isn’t it amazing that we can work together once again?” You ask, not trying to get an answer but just pointing the fact you think of while waiting for the next scene to be filmed. Chris only nods, something isn’t right with him but you guess it is because he has a remarkable role in the movie, requiring great deal of attention and focus, and you know very well how he wants to show his best every time. You admire his hard-working. He is like a model for you – also, a dear friend.

Maybe you want to become more than a dear friend but you are afraid how he will react, so, you let it go, only focusing on the friendship you two have – a beautiful friendship; he loves making you happy, you like seeing him in peace thanks to your presence, support and fun kisses on the cheeks. You think whether it makes him feel awkward with these kisses even though he never complains. It is just a thing you both share like the sharing of food, memories, smiles, cries and even the bed –in the nights – and sometimes daylights too – when the air fills up with sadness, happiness, exciting – oh, you think inside, maybe we share a lot.

“Hey,” You hear his voice. Coming to your senses – back to reality, you wink a few times, looking up to see Bale kneeling to the front, his gazes on your face, wondering what make you daydream for a moment. “Are you okay?” He asks and you can see concern in his face expression, making you want to just grip his cheeks, caress them and saying how much you realize you love him, especially after the memories you share with him come to your mind. However, you can’t. So, with a sad smile on your face, you nod, not caring whether he can tell the truth behind your smile.

Putting a childish kiss on his nose, you say, “Better than okay!”

The moment he is about to ask another question, his personal assistant comes, saying that the screen is about to start to both of you. Nodding to her, you get up as Bale straightens his posture, hands on his pockets.

Hugging him from the arm, you giggle with excitement. Pulling him with you, you say, “I am so excited! In this scene, I will throw a glass to you.”

“I didn’t think you like violence.” He remarks, one of his hand positions on yours – a true gentleman who makes your heart go weak in a second.

“I am not,” Turning to him, to tease, you chuckle. “Well, if it is outside the bed.”

He stops in his track for a moment before coughing in fake, staring to walk again. As you look at his side profile – a perfect sight to see with his sharp jaw, freshly trimmed beard, short hair – you wait him to be shy like always because being such a brat, you like to make him shy and blushing but not today, apparently, not today. He smirks instead of showing any sight of shyness, telling you to be more sensible – he just smirks, turning to your face, making you look at another way to hide your heat rushing to your face. Kneeling, his hot breaths find your ear, whispering dangerously, “What a nasty girl!” He chuckles lowly – you are already weak on the knees. “Maybe you just need a good lesson to understand why you shouldn’t talk in public so openly like this.”

When the director calls for him from the other side of the room, he is about to touch your chin. Nodding to himself, he lets you go after saying, “Don’t worry, I will teach it properly this time.”

You feel like he is finally let his inner voice to take actions instead of his logical side. You chuckle, taking your place on the room, still feeling drunk, and avoiding gazes from Bale. He is sure something else today.

•

“Then, he was right behind me! Can you imagine?” One of my co-workers says with a chuckle, playing with her hair, and telling a story about the director. Chuckling, I nod to her.

After the end of today’s scenes, everybody agreed on taking a break time, having a little fun in one of actors’ house. So, here you are, standing beside the window, a drink on your hand, a black dress covers your body. It was a choice of your personal assistant after she found out that you liked Bale and he was going to attend as well. She said how you looked gorgeous in the dress, getting you all blushing, thinking how Bale would react.

This thought on your mind, you turn to other side of the room, trying to find where Bale is right now in a crowded place like this one is but when you are about to give up, you see him; he looks so humble and gentle with the black suit on him while entering the room. You look at him from head to toe, no shame behind your gazes but you don’t care, not when his gazes find yours, only focusing on you and making his way to you slowly. You nearly become breathless at the sight. Feeling brave enough to make an attempt like he is doing, you turn and say your co-worker goodbye, approaching to Bale faster than he does.

Finally, meeting in the middle, you say after an awkward long silence in which you look into his beautiful eyes and he does the same for you, “Hi.”

He chuckles in a low tone, “Hi,” He takes your hand in his, putting a kiss on the head of it. You would hate it when other men do it but when he does it – oh, how it feels so right and magical when he does it. “Gorgeous.”

Smiling widely, you roll your eyes, taking back your hand from his slowly only to put it on his shoulder, making him tense but you get it is a good sign since his smile grow bigger, closing the gap between your bodies further, causing you to forget what you would say for a moment. He smells so good – he looks so good – everything about him is near to perfection.

“Don’t look too much or you will fall hard for me.” You tease him, winking and when you take a sip from your drink, you feel his one hand find your waist, pulling you closer until his lips touching your ear, hot breaths hitting your neck. Heat rising inside of your body as well as outside and you only stare at his beautiful blue eyes.

“You should warm me sooner,” He smirks, not a playboy type of smirk – just, showing how he knows his effects on you now. “I already have fallen for you – hard.”

“Chris –“ You try to say, try to comprehend what he really means by that. “So, you say –“ You can’t find yourself powerful enough to say it aloud but Chris is there for you. He knows you better than you know yourself.

So, when he takes your hand on his, not caring about other people on the room, you follow him because you always will follow him no matter what.

Entering in an empty room, he reaches to his balcony, still holding your hand – tighter than before, giving you goosebumps. He turns around to see you clearly under the light of the moon and garden’s white lights.

“Yes, I say it.” He says, and you trying to make his words since your mind is overflowed by the sudden emotions he is causing.

“What?” You ask once more, wanting to hear it aloud – wanting him to admit it while using his words.

He chuckles once more – oh, he is surely happy right now and you are the same. Putting both of his on your waist, he pulls you to himself, making his chest hitting yours. “I love you,” He says and you believe you would fall into the ground if he didn’t hold you like this. He takes your hand, putting it on his chest where his heart remains. “I love you so deeply that I can no longer hide it.”

Taking deep breaths, you firstly understand his words – already having effects on you; chest rising and falling, hands getting sweaty and face has a stupid smile on – then, you close your eyes, and open them only to see that he is real. This make him smile, shaking his head. “I am real.”

“But, I need to do something to believe it, Chris.” You say.

His one eyebrow rises and you take action without waiting for him to speak; your lips find his, his taste flows into yours, a hand on his collar to pull him closer and other one enters into his short hair. He, on the other hand, nearly moans lowly into the kiss you share right now, hands on your waist getting tighter, hugging you strongly.

You know from this day everything will change between you – the relationship you have but you have no fear, not when he kisses you so deeply, passionately and holding you close. You wonder how he both is your weakness and strength. However, your mind can’t make any judgement since it only focuses on him – breaking the kiss for a moment before he adds, “I love you.” once again and you giggle.

“I love you too handsome.”

The end. 💌

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hi, first I just wanna say I love the way you write Rafe! I'm actually becoming a lil obsessed.

If you are still taking random requests or ideas, could I please request one where Rafe suddenly realises Sarah's BFF from childhood is hot. Like Topper or Kelce make a comment about her and Rafe suddenly realises the beautiful person she has become.

I love this so much, I'm so glad you like how I write him, he's one of my favorite characters to write right now! Thank you for this request! I typically don't write third person things but I felt that it was really fitting for this!

"Hey hotshot!" Barry calls out to the girl walking across the driveway, her flip-flops slapping against the stone as she throws a look their way, Rafe's eyes cautiously lowering to the ground as he avoids her sassy gaze.

"Eat shit and die, Barry!" She calls out with a bright grin, her middle finger flipped in the air and he laughs, bumping Rafe with his elbow as the blonde turns to look at his friend with teasing eyes.

"Jesus Christ that woman could run me over with her expensive ass car and I'd thank her." Barry sighs, pressing a hand to his chest as Sarah and Y/n talk, their eyes flickering over to the two men briefly before giggling. "You ever tap that?"

"She's my little sisters best friend?" Rafe states incredulously but Barry doesn't care, his shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug.

"And? She's hot." He laughs, eyes raking up and down Y/n's form with no shame and Rafe clears his throat, mind swirling with thoughts as he finally takes a second to look at her, really look at her.

"I guess." Rafe mutters but something clicks in his mind as he gazes at her and he feels his gaze soften a bit as he looks at her side profile, her smile, the dimples on her cheeks as she laughs loudly, head tipping back in laughter. "Yeah, she really is, isn't she?" He asks breathlessly and she turns to look at them with wide eyes, almost as if she heard what he had said and she did much to Rafe's surprise.

She's stepping towards them moments later, Sarah trailing behind her with a hushed giggle and Y/n's head tips back to look at her friend once more with a teasing glance before approaching the men.

"Hi Rafe." Y/n sings, pressing a hand to Barry's chest to move him out of the way and he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender as he takes a step back away from the two.

"Hey Y/n." Rafe smiles, a light blush dusting his cheek as he bites at his lip anxious, hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

"You up to anything or are you free?" Sarah laughs again as if she knows what Y/n's getting at and she holds a hand over her face to hide her laughter and knowing expression. Y/n just cranes her neck to look back at her best friend with a glare, telling her silently to shut up.

"For you, we'll help you with anythin' you need." Barry butts in with a wide grin, hand reaching out to rest on Y/n's back and she laughs loudly, shoving him away again with a teasing grin.

"Wasn't asking you, I was asking Rafe."

"I'm free." Rafe answers without missing a beat, kicking off of the car so he can step up to her with a soft smile, head tilted as he looks down at her inquisitively and she feels a flutter in her stomach at the look in his eyes.

"So am I, wanna take me out?" She asks Rafe in a bubbly tone and his face pales, eyes briefly flickering to Barry almost to ask 'is she for real?'. "What? You act like I'm deaf."

"Please don't run me over." Barry mutters, referencing his comment from earlier and she giggles, reaching out to pat his shoulder before turning to Rafe to whisper under her breath.

"I don't see why you're friends with him."

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Innocence

Ilsa Faust x Fem! Metropolis Reader

Summary: How many variables go awry with one appearance of a hidden player? What would the Entity have done if a third party appeared in the array of pre-determined, algorithm-generated deaths?

Warnings: Side character death, angst.

A/N: Fuck you Christopher McQuarrie and Erik Jendresen!!!! Killing a beloved female side character to 'motivate' the male protagonist is the definition of FUCKING FRIDGING!!!! The side character death will be resolved, should there be demand for future chapters.

Word Count: 4.0k (DAMN)

Perhaps it had been the rain, the chill it had brought to your bones. But regardless, something was afoot. The streets of Venice were unnaturally quiet, and the party you had left emphasized that fact; a ringing sang in your ears. You walked alone on the streets, quietly enjoying the soft patter of the rain that trembled down the drains. Dodging the Metropolis body guards had been easy, it was a high stakes night for Alanna, a high stakes night for you.

Unfortunately, things did not stay peaceful.

Commotion sprung out among the party goers, and you heard distant gunfire. Things had begun. Sprinting was your only option, but with the heels you'd chosen it was more likely you were to twist an ankle over the cobblestone than escape. Finding a dark corner, you managed to brace yourself against a wall, snapping your heels off, flattening them so you could take longer strides. You weren't the only person using the dark side of the building to escape. A shout, some commotion, and quick footwork as a woman scaled down a building, dropping in front of you.

She was within a foot of you, so close that on motion of the arm could land a hit, a punch, or perhaps push away the strands of hair that lay glued to her sweaty face.

“…Hi?”

She makes eye contact with you, momentarily spooked.

“You’re one of the Metropolis siblings."

A statement, and observation.

"Yes...?"

"You're not supposed to be at this party."

The two of you stared at one another for some time, both of you breathing heavily. She had blue eyes, distinct Scandinavian features. An English accent amongst the native Italian accented english. You pinned her as a foreigner, and from the equipment she used and the quick way she discerned who you were and your presumed whereabouts, she was also an intelligence operative.

“MI6?” you rasped.

The woman shook her head, a flicker of annoyance creeping over her features.

“There’s no time to talk, come on.” she huffed, grabbing you arm and pulling you towards an alleyway.

“Now hold on, I don’t know you-”

She turned on her heel, pulling the two of you into a doorway alcove, keeping her words clipped and quietly delivered.

“You’re (Reader) Metropolis. You were not supposed to be at this party, you weren’t even supposed to be in Italy. Things are going on beyond your understanding, and the Entity-”

“-The Entity? For fucks sake, that’s a myth.”

The woman raised her eyebrow, computing your response rapidly.

“No. No it is not. I’ve read your profile, the youngest child, a ten, fifteen year age gap between you and Alana?” the woman listed. “You were an affair baby, you were just recently integrated into the family, you serve as a glorified accountant…” Ilsa listed. “You aren’t a Metropolis type, even with your name and lineage.”

She spoke so eloquently, in a self-assured manner. You wanted to argue with her, or at the very least find something in her thought process to correct, but she was right on all accounts.

“Fine. Why are we in a dark alleyway, why do you know so much about me, and why don’t I know a damn thing about you?”

The woman squared her shoulders.

“My name is Ilsa Faust. I was a former agent for British Intelligence, I’ve gone rogue, I work alongside the equally rogue Ethan Hunt. And you, Ms. Metropolis, are innocent.”

Innocence. What a strange thing to equate to you.

“I beg your pardon?” you raised an eyebrow.

Ilsa sighed, looking around before pressing a finger to her headset. 

“Benji. I can’t be the one to go after Grace.”

You watched her grimace, silently mouthing a few choice expletives.

“I know that. But I just… The youngest Metropolis is here. Metropolis, daughter of Max, the...” she paused, looking at you apologetically, “... Bastard child. The daughter of that old field agent friend of Ethan’s.”

She paused, seemingly listening to Benji as the poor man appeared to panic. You could hear the tonal fluctuations from your proximity a good foot aways.

“Yes, but it’s Ethan. He won’t see it that way. I know he'll be upset, but maybe it’s for the better.”

The line went quiet, and then there was a soft command. Ilsa nodded, looking at you.

“You’re coming with me.”

“Like hell I am, my mother taught me about stranger danger.” 

You stood your ground, arms firmly crossed one over the other. Ilsa looked at you tiredly, seeming to mentally prepare herself for some gargantuan task.

“Do me a favor and pretend to be drunk.”

You frowned, not comprehending. Ilsa lunged forward, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you over her shoulder.

“Hey! I’m not a child, and this dress is short!”

Ilsa let out an annoyed huff, reaching up to pull your dress down.

“Sorry, princess.”

You heard commotion, what sounded like men running. Their shouts and mixed dialect could be heard from somewhere a half block away.

“Now is not the time to tell me you’re a bad actor.” Ilsa whispered.

Under threat of exposure, possible abduction and Alanna probably, definitely strangling you should she catch wind of this, complying was the only option. You went limp, arms and neck dangling as the men drew closer. They didn’t give you or Ilsa a second glance. She was mostly overlooked in favor of your bottom, of which you were begrudgingly aware of.

“Good girl.” Ilsa murmured once the men had passed, patting your rear.

“Oh.. Hey!” you blushed.

“Sorry. I was aiming for your back.”

“Yeah, my ass. Literally.” you retorted.

Ilsa let out a startled bark of laughter, amused. But she was quick to set you down, and noting the flimsy nature of your shoes, did so gently. You looked at her, a bit dizzy from the sudden rush of blood from your head to the rest of your body.

“You okay?”

“Give me a second, dizzy.”

But you two had little time. A com from Benji came through on Ilsa’s headset. Ilsa’s face went white, and she proceeded to grab you by your arm, booking it through the winding streets of Venice.

“I’m in heels, you will break my ankle if you keep pulling!” you sourly informed her.

“This is a matter of life and death. Kindly quiet yourself.” Ilsa snapped back.

A matter of life and death? Why was it always one of those? Two figures came into view, both stood atop of a canal bridge. You recognized neither of them, a tall man with salt and pepper hair and another brunette woman. He was stalking over to her, knife in hand. Her breathing was irregular, labored. But Ilsa was faster, approaching Gabriel, assuredly drawing forth a large sword. Gabriel brandished Grace’s switchblade, leaving the woman to pass out on the bridge. 

“I hoped it'd be you.” Gabriel smiled.

“...”

You admired Ilsa's silence, her quiet appraisal of the man. The sparring began almost immediately, and it didn’t take a trained eye to see that they were evenly matched. But something was wrong. He was pushing her into a corner, and then the sword was gone. They fought over the switchblade, each getting a few slashes in. But Ilsa was getting weaker, or clumsier. A brief thought flashed over you. What if she died? What if he saw you? What if he saw you and you didn’t have anything to fight with? You needed that sword. This woman... She'd said that this was a matter of the Entity, and your sister had taken pains to ship you out to Berlin on short notice. You'd taken even larger pains to make it appear as if you had. If you weren't supposed to be here, then maybe you had an advantage over this man, over this Entity. But you had to think fast.

“Hey, asshole!” you shouted, hurling a small, fractured chunk of cobblestone at the man.

The rock hit Gabriel’s forehead just as he looked up, stunning him. It was a good hit, and it bought you time, but not enough. You lunged for the sword, but he was faster. The scuffle that ensued was brief, he was better equipped, and stronger. His eyes went wild as he snatched the switchblade again, aiming for your heart. The switchblade cut into your shoulder, and pain bloomed as the blade wedged itself into the socket. He’d missed. A scream tore its way out of your lungs, and white hot pain flashed through your mind’s eye. A grunt came from above as Ilsa landed a kick to his chest. The sword was knocked loose, toppling over the bridge. And with that the only remaining weapon was the switchblade lodged in your shoulder. Both Ilsa and the mystery man lunged for it, but both pulled back before grabbing it, seemingly for different reasons. The man’s eyes went wide with fear and recognition, and he stalked back quickly.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Metropolis.” he paled. “You were supposed to be in Berlin… You’re not… The Entity didn’t..”

He landed one more kick to Ilsa before running. His footsteps were quick, and he disappeared into the veins of the city, his footsteps dying away as if he was a ghost, as if he was never there. Ilsa watched him, breathlessly speaking to Benji about the semantics of the encounter. She was breathing heavily, and it was difficult to understand her. Both she and Benji devolved into thick, almost indiscernible Midlands accents as they spoke and often interrupted one another. Benji’s voice was so loud that you could hear whispers of it through her headset. Ilsa crouched over you, examining the wound and cussing. She appeared just as frazzled as your mystery attacker, mumbling something about innocents and bloodlines.

“Fuck me, kid. Just had to get stabbed.” Ilsa mumbles, pausing her complaining to briefly tear off a bit of your dress, “And I’ve got another head trauma to deal with, and Ethan is off the fucking grid.”

A man broke through the street, panting heavily, eyeing the slowly awakening Grace and the incoherently mumbling Ilsa as she secured the knife wound to prevent it from escaping. He’d run from the opposite end of the city, as if he’d been running in circles.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Ethan asked. “And who is… Baby Metropolis?” 

Ilsa eyed him, nodding. She was busy tying the fabric of your torn dress around your shoulder. It must have been precaution, the knife prevented excess blood from escaping. 

“He stabbed baby Metropolis?”

Ilsa nodded again, gently picking up your now shivering frame. It was cold in Venice tonight, and without the rush of adrenaline it was very clear just how cold it was. Ethan, or John Lark as you knew him, stumbled forward, hastily taking you from Ilsa.

“It’s going to be okay, it’s all going to be alright.” Ethan says, in his signature ‘I’m saving the day’ voice.

The voice didn’t help. He was John Lark to your eyes; a madman.

“I know, Jesus. Get off!” you protested, trying to get away from the short, scary man.

Ilsa chuckled a bit at this. It appears Ethan’s usual charms wouldn’t work on you, and for good reason. A boat sped through the canal, and you recognized the driver by his voice. Benji? There was another man on the boat, large and equipped with a fedora. Both looked a bit shell-shocked, seeing the aftermath of the commotion on the bridge.

“Luther, get her in the boat.” Benji needlessly directed the other man as he was already pulling Grace in.

Luther examined Grace’s head for signs of abrasion while Ethan and Ilsa lowered you into the boat. Ilsa held you steady, your back pressed against her front, one of her arms wrapped  around your midsection, the other cradling your head as the boat sped through the canal once more. Ethan was hastily gloving up, and a brief concern over sterility dawned on you, but it wasn’t as if you had a choice.

“This is a hospital wound.” Ethan sighed.

“We can’t go to the hospital, Ethan.” Luther warned.

“I know that.” Ethan snapped back. “Cover her mouth.” Ethan directed Ilsa.

Ilsa’s hand fitted firmly over your mouth, her other arm holding your torso against hers. You tensed immediately. What the hell was Lark going to do to you?

“Breathe in and…” Ilsa directed.

Ethan pulled the switchblade out as you exhaled, the scream dying off as you ran out of air. The noise that was ultimately muffled by Ilsa’s hand was that of a high pitched wheeze. Ilsa’s hand remained, a wordless understanding between Ethan and Ilsa. Blood gushed from the wound immediately, and Ethan mumbled something about missing major arteries and cut tendons. Not like it mattered to you, Ilsa’s hand kept your head up, your mouth covered.You couldn’t see the damage for yourself.

“Breathe in, and out. In… Out…. In….” she continued.

With another quick jerk, Ethan pushed your shoulder back in its proper socket. This time your scream was much more audible, even with Ilsa muffling it. Grace winced as she watched. The blade had wedged itself into the socket, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Good girl, good job.” Ilsa whispered, breaking the tension. “I know it hurts, it would have been worse if you knew it was coming.”

Her hand left your mouth, fingers gently pulling through your hair, a soothing motion. Ethan moved on to stitching up the knife wound, or so you thought. The needle went deeper. 

“Oh Jesus Christ…” Grace paled.

You tilted your head to look, but Ilsa was faster, not letting you see. The needle bit in, and you winced. Ethan had a skilled hand, but it was clear he was stitching something deeper. 

“Ethan, is that really necessary?” Benji asked. “You’ve got her whole shoulder airing out in this dirty city.

“The tendon was sliced, it needs to be stitched up.”

Luther appeared just off to the side, gloved up and gently dabbing iodine all around and in the wound. It stung like a bitch, and you clenched your teeth as you hissed in pain. Your natural instinct directed you to look again, but Ilsa kept your head in place.

“Don’t look. If you look you’ll get hysterical or ill.” Ilsa murmured. “Now stay still.”

You wanted to stay still, you really did. But you didn’t have a pleasant sight. Grace looked practically green, from both her concussion and the sight of your open wound, and Luther had a worried look on his face. Benji wasn’t better, with that permanent anxious frown on his features. The biting sensation in your shoulder only continued as Ethan worked on stitching up the various tendons that had gotten cut. It was Ilsa who noticed your rapid, panicked breathing.

“No, no.” Ilsa protested, tilting your face to look at her. “Look at me, breathe in and out, none of this ragged panting you’re doing. You’re not going into shock, we don’t have time for that.”

Her stern, authoritative approach was what you needed to stay afloat in the midst of Ethan’s suturing. She had this soft frown on her face, her hand firmly holding your head in place as she murmured to you.

“Benji is driving us to the safehouse. You’re coming with us, you hear?”

Ilsa outlined the plan, the various things she was going to do, baths, medicine, sleep, food. All the things you would need to get better. By the time Ethan started suturing the skin, her nose was barely touching yours, her words floating over you like mist. She kept your head in place, murmuring softly as her blue eyes twinkled in the dim light. It was… Intimate. More intimate than other things you’d experienced. Why was it always the barrier between life and death, ailment and health that always brought forth the most romantic moments. It was something your mother had said… All friendships are romantic. Perhaps all beginnings of friendships could be interpreted as such.

“Iodine.” Ethan curtly directed

The yellow antiseptic stung, and you winced. Luther had a gentle hand, and he’d used it throughout the process, but it was the freshly sutured skin that burned the most. Ilsa stroked your cheek, shifting her other arm to hold your injured shoulder in place. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d been trying to move it. 

“No moving this, you hear?”

“Wasn’t gonna.” you mumbled.

The boat stalled. Benji stood up, gesturing everyone to leave the boat, but his words died in his throat. His eyes bulged, a shocked expression on his face. The shot had been so quiet, the whizzing was all that had been audible. Benji jerked, and red bloomed at the front of his chest. Ethan was quick to support him, still gloved up from his work on you. The quiet moment of the canal was broken. Everyone was moving except you. There was arguing, many voices crumpled into one echochamber of chaos, Grace holding Benji as Luther held Ethan back. For a little man, Ethan was vicious when angry, intending to follow the unseen sniper and mercilessly  deliver his body to the canal. The boat rocked violently, and Ilsa shouted continuously, mostly at Ethan to calm down. Her grip on you was tight, her hands placed over vital areas on your abdomen. She was protecting you should another shot fire. Benji met your eyes, his hand held over the gunshot wound. He looked gray, as if life had been sucked out of him the moment the bullet hit its target.

“Gabriel was going to send a message either way.” Benji rasps, his voice bringing sense back into Ethan.

Ilsa left you on the boat as she helped Grace carry Benji into the safehouse. It was clear that there would be no second shot, and you were safe in the belly of the boat. Ethan breathed irregularly, the muscles in his neck tensing and relaxing as he seemed to be pushing aside his anger. He too left the boat, leaving Luther to attend to you. There was an uneasy stillness in the air, and Luther moved to pick you up, pausing at the brief fear that appeared in your eyes.

“I’m… You don’t know who most of us are, do you?” he asked, intuitive in more ways than one.

You shook your head, taking a breath in to steady your nerves before answering.

“I know… Ilsa. Ilsa Faust, yeah? Umm.. Then there’s Lark. John Lark.”

You’d heard all of their names at least once, but you couldn’t list them in the aftermath of Benji’s snipe attack.

“That’s Ethan.” Luther corrected. “The brunette is Grace, Benji is the Englishman who’s been injured, and I’m Luther. Now let’s get you out of this boat.” he softly finished.

You pegged him as the gentle giant of the group, and he was. Gentle, at least. He carried you off of the boat, up the stairs into the Venetian safehouse. It was as still as the water outside. Why was it so still? Such a large city, and yet it felt like a ghost town. There were no arguments now. Grace sat in a corner, a bag of peas on her head. Ethan and Ilsa were in a separate room, quietly conversing as they treated Benji, as you presumed they were doing. No hospitals, they’d said. What kind of people couldn’t go to hospitals?

“Here’s some of Ilsa’s clothes. Tank top, and sweats. Bathroom’s over there.” Luther pointed. 

He stepped into the room with his other friends. It was the only room with light in the stone house. The clothes looked fresh, and your dress was dirty and torn. You didn’t see the point in maintaining your privacy with Grace staring off into space and the others presumably holding vigil over Benji. But it was difficult, grabbing the zipper. Gabriel had struck you in your more flexible, left shoulder. You couldn’t grab the zipper with your right hand.

“Here.” Grace murmured, getting up to unzip your dress. “It’s just us girls, let’s get you into these.”

Grace gently pulled off your dress, working the tank top over your injured shoulder and sliding the joggers up your body. You noticed her tired movements. She’d suffered a pretty decent blow to the head. Concussions were no joke. From this distance you could clearly make out the lines around her mouth as she pursed her lips, helping you to dress.

“Thanks. Grace, right?” you quietly asked, breaking the unnatural stillness.

She nodded, brown eyes losing their glassy look.

“Yes. You’re Baby Metropolis?”

“Oh, no my name is (Reader) Metropolis. I’m the baby of the family.” you explained.

“Ah.”

Grace settled beside you on the couch. Her shirt was half unbuttoned. But it didn’t matter. It was just us girls.

“He’s not going to make it.” Grace murmured. “If he was going to live, they should have taken him to a hospital the moment he was shot.”

You looked down at your hands, the constant pain in your shoulder contrasting with the numbness everywhere else. Benji. He’d… Somehow he was important. A piece of the puzzle, someone who struck you as innocent. Perhaps that was why his death seemed so irrational. 

“Are you in pain?” Grace realized. “That’s a dumb question, of course you are.”

She got up, rummaging through an open medical bag until she found what she was looking for. Her footsteps were soft, bare feet delicately navigating the creaky floorboards with practiced agility. She was a con of some sort. No one else would instinctively avoid the creaky floorboards of an old house.

“Take two of these.” she says.

“Extra strength tylenol?” you joked.

“Stronger.” Grace murmured, half-smile on her face.

You nodded, taking the meds. There was nothing in your stomach, so the meds dissolved quickly, taking away the pain in as little as fifteen minutes. They came with a distinct drowsy side effect, as if the world was a bit floaty. Grace wasn’t the only one who was anxious to sleep, and the two of you crept into the larger bedroom after finding a few croissants to snack on. Two king beds and empty dressers, divided into girls and boys, or so you presumed. The two of you settled under the covers, closing your eyes. Sleep came quickly. Somewhere in the twilight of the early morning, Ilsa slid into the bed behind you, an arm draped over your abdomen as you laid on your back. You didn’t need the answer to why she was so clingy. Or perhaps you had it wrong. But you wouldn’t protest this stranger’s touches. No, there was a bond there now. You’d survived such an ordeal together, such a crisis as the one you were bound in. And it felt nice, to be sandwiched in between Grace and Ilsa. You were safe here.

Morning broke, but the sun did not break this quiet. There wasn’t a word spoken. The atmosphere in the room was somber. No one needed to say it, Benji had passed. Ethan’s dead look as he sat on the couch confirmed any suspicion. Luther cooked breakfast for everyone, maintaining a sense of normality. Ethan wouldn’t accept any of Ilsa’s soft attempts to bring him food, and he wouldn’t accept her beside him, either. The Entity had taken a divergent route in its predictions. Grace and Ilsa had been failed targets, so the Entity chose to take Ethan Hunt’s friend instead. And Ethan, being the savior he was, took it hard. 

“Over here.” Grace murmured, gesturing Ilsa over to where the both of you sat.

Ilsa settled on the rug, predictably taking a seat next to you. She didn’t outright drape an arm over you, but her knee touched yours. It was a soft, innocent gesture. She wanted closeness, and you did too. Your knees stayed touching. Grace noticed the little dynamic between the two of you, shifting a little closer so she could get in on it too. Her knee came into contact with yours on the other side. Three pairs of feet lined up, three legs nestled close, shoulders flanking yours on both sides. It was cute, and you giggled, triggering Grace’s laugh too. Ilsa smiled, humming in amusement. And for a brief moment, Ethan’s eyes flickered with something other than sorrow. He picked up the plate Ilsa had left on the coffee table. And he ate. 

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[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

Can’t get enough

*Not my GIF - also the GIF isn’t directly related to the story, but really who doesn’t need an excuse to look at those abs?

Here’s another thing I wrote. This one has even less plot than the last so, enjoy i guess!

Summary: Basically just shameless Nikolai x reader insert smut with a bit of fluff on the side.

Word count: 1.5K ish

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Smut, fem!reader, mention of oral sex, marking, handjob, P in V sex, unprotected sex & ejaculation (but they are married if that makes it better)

“You’re far too good at that,” you murmured as you came down from your high. Nikolai chuckled, the vibration against your over sensitive flesh making you squirm. Burying your hands in his untamed hair, you tugged him upwards. The self-satisfied smirk on his face would have been unbearably smug if he hadn’t just brought you to orgasm for the third time that night. He raised himself up on his elbows and pressed his lips to yours in a lazy kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. Then he flipped over onto his back and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his side. You snuggled in closer, throwing one leg over his as you ran your hand lightly across his chest and down, tracing absent patterns into his skin. He sighed contentedly, his eyes slipping closed. You studied his profile for a moment, wondering how you managed to get so lucky. Your mother had warned you that for women, sex was something to be endured rather than enjoyed. You were to allow your husband to take his pleasure as he wished, as was his right, and your role was only to provide him with a son and heir. Thankfully, the reality had turned out to be quite different and you had found Nikolai to be an attentive and unselfish lover. At first, you’d thought it was just a point of pride for him, a need to impress you when you were first married, but here you were years down the line and he was still as dedicated to your pleasure as he had been in the beginning, his own release always a secondary concern. In fact, you worried sometimes that perhaps he was neglecting his own needs in favor of satisfying yours, though of course he would never admit to it. Outside of the bedroom, he was just as thoughtful. As the newly crowned King of Ravka, his position was demanding, but he made a concentrated effort to put you first as much as he was able, and he rarely denied you anything that it was in his power to give. He could be a shameless flirt, but you knew without a doubt that he loved you, and you certainly loved him. You leaned up over him to press kisses to the tip of his nose, his eyelids, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and his lips quirked up into a smile. He turned towards you, seeking a real kiss but you pulled back slightly so you could trail your lips down his throat instead and he hummed his approval, tipping his head back to give you better access. You nipped lightly at his Adam’s apple and bit down gently on the corded muscle at the juncture of his shoulder, drawing a gasp from him as you continued your wet, open mouthed path to his collarbone. Letting your hand drift lower, past his navel, you raked your nails gently across his pelvis while you sucked a bruise into his skin. His cock twitched in response, the muscles of his toned abdomen dancing under your hand. You tilted your head up to look at his face, ghosting your fingertips over his growing erection. “Recovered already?” He didn’t open his eyes, but he made an affirmative sound as you took him in hand, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock to gather the bead of pre-come already leaking there and spreading it as lubrication. You grasped him in a tight fist, jerking him roughly until he was panting, unable to stop himself from thrusting into your hand. When you added a twist of your wrist on the upstroke and ducked your head to swirl your tongue over one sensitive nipple, he groaned, his whole body shuddering. He rolled towards you without warning, eyes still closed, his mouth somehow finding yours and his weight pressing you into the mattress. You parted your legs for him, allowing him to position himself comfortably between your thighs as he kissed you, licking slowly into your mouth until you were both breathless. When you finally broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against yours, looking down at you through his lashes. You reached between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock again and you felt his breath hitch. “I need to be inside you,” he murmured as you resumed stroking him. You raised an eyebrow, surprised that he wanted to go another round so soon. “Again?” He dipped his head to nuzzle at the hollow of your throat, trailing his hand lightly down your side. “Mmhmm.” “You’re insatiable,” you teased. “Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, mouthing at the swell of your breast. He captured one dusky peak gently between his teeth at the same time as his fingers found your slick center and you gasped, arching into him, your body straining for more. “I can’t get enough of you,” he admitted. His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes was soft as they raised to meet yours. You lifted your free hand to tenderly card your fingers through his hair and he smiled, leaning into your touch, before he moved up to claim your mouth again. You pushed lightly at his shoulder, urging him onto his back and he went easily, his hands settling on your thighs as you straddled him. You raised yourself up on your knees, splaying one hand on his chest for balance and grasping his cock with the other, giving him several firm strokes as you lined him up with your entrance. His eyelids fluttered closed again and he inhaled sharply, his thumbs caressing your thighs as you sank down onto him, pausing only when your hips were flush with his. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you at the feeling of fullness. You ground your hips against his experimentally, simultaneously clenching your inner muscles and he groaned loudly, hands tightening on your thighs, his fingertips digging into your flesh almost hard enough to bruise. You repeated the motion, the combination of his reaction and the added friction to your clit already enough to have you chasing release. You sat up straighter as you began to ride him, setting a hard, fast rhythm, lifting yourself up until only the head of his cock remained inside you and then dropping back down to take his entire length at once, your thigh muscles burning with the effort. Nikolai pushed himself up into a sitting position, bracing himself on one arm and tangling his free hand in your hair so that he could pull you in for a bruising kiss, swallowing your sounds of pleasure. You nipped at his bottom lip when he released you and his hands found your waist, helping rather than guiding as he began thrusting up to meet you, the deeper penetration sending you both hurtling towards release in just a matter of moments. He slipped his hand between your sweat slick bodies with practiced ease, determined as ever that you should reach your climax first but you had already decided that this would be for him alone and you would not be deterred. Lacing your fingers through his, you stopped him before he reached his destination and kissed him thoroughly to distract him from his goal. You moved your hips harder against him until his movements became frantic, losing all semblance of rhythm. “Come for me,” you commanded quietly and he did, the gentle caress of your voice in his ear exactly what he needed to send him over the edge. He cried out, his body taught as he spilled his seed inside of you. You clung to him as the wave of his orgasm crested and peaked, one hand in his hair and the other sweeping across his broad shoulders. You stayed that way, your bodies tangled together so intimately that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began, until your breathing calmed and the pounding of your hearts slowed to their usual steady rhythm.