#i could have done something with her hair

[moonstruckme]

Who's That Girl AU

cw: modern au, sexual harassment mention

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It’s not unusual for Remus to hear Sirius’ voice before Sirius even enters the flat. Now, yours has only joined it. 

“I was only trying to be nice,” you say as the door opens. 

Sirius ushers you through first, each of you carrying paper bags in both hands. “We can’t have every bloke in London showing up at our flat because you want to be nice.” 

“It’s not that I want to, I just feel like it’s normal!” 

James throws Remus a look, pausing the film they’ve only just begun in favor of live entertainment. “Bickering already?” he asks. “I know it’s bound to happen between flatmates, but Sirius, mate, she’s only been here two days.” 

“It’s not my fault.” Sirius discards your bags by the end of the couch, flopping down. “This home can only harbor one whore at a time. It’s flat policy!” 

“When did we make that policy?” James asks Remus. 

Remus shrugs. 

“Well, that’s sexist,” you say. 

“How?” Sirius challenges. 

“I…I’m not sure.” You set down your bags next to where Sirius did. “But it is, somehow. I’ll figure it out.”

Finally, Remus’ curiosity wins out over his determination not to encourage Sirius. With great reluctance, he asks, “What happened?”  

Sirius waves to you. “This one tried bringing two different men home. Two!” 

James looks to you with wide eyes, Remus to Sirius with narrowed ones. 

“That’s not fair,” you say, arms crossing as you sit at the end of the couch. “All I wanted was to get shampoo.” 

“Then please.” Sirius gestures with a flourish. “Demonstrate for us all how it played out.” 

You roll your eyes. “Seriously?” 

At this, Sirius cracks a smile. Remus groans. 

“That’s me, babe,” Sirius says smugly. 

Your brow furrows for a second before you realize what you’ve done. Your eyes roll again. “Whatever, fine. So, we were leaving Boots—” 

“No. Start from the tube.” 

Your mouth twists as though you’ve tasted something bad. “That one’s embarrassing.” 

“Then maybe you’ll learn from it.” 

“Oi.” Remus gives Sirius a firm nudge. He says to you, “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.” 

You really do look embarrassed, but you soften some at Remus’ tone. Take a breath. “No, it’s fine. So we were on the train—” 

“The tube,” Sirius cuts in. 

“Do you want to tell it?” you nearly snap. 

James snickers into his palm. Sirius holds up both hands in a gesture of surrender, nodding for you to continue. 

“We were on the tube, and I look up to see this guy staring at me. He smiled and said he liked my hair.” 

“And you smiled back at him,” Sirius supplies. “That’s important.” 

“Fine, sure.” You pull your legs in, folding your arms over them. “I smiled back at him, and I said thank you, right? Because he gave me a compliment.” 

James hisses through his teeth. “Nothing,” he says when you look at him. “Keep going.” 

You’re beginning to look wary. “Anyway, then the guy started talking to me, asking where I was from and how I liked London and stuff, and somehow it escalated into him telling me…basically saying what he’d like to do to me.” Your mouth gets that distasteful twist again. “It was pretty vulgar.” 

“Aw, babe.” James’ expression is pained. “I’m sorry.” 

“Wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t encourage him,” Sirius tsks. 

Remus thwacks him on the arm. “Let her talk.” 

“Yeah,” James chimes in, “and where were you during all this? A gentleman would have stepped in.” 

“I did step in!” Sirius defends himself. “I got us the hell off the tube before that wanker could start publicly assaulting her.” 

“I do appreciate that,” you say weakly. 

“Thank you. If it weren’t for me, she—oi!” James crawls over Remus to begin wrestling Sirius, both of them laughing while trying to appear angry. 

You press your lips together, clearly trying to suppress a smile. Remus wants to warn you not to encourage them, but by the glitter of mirth in your eyes it might be a wasted effort. 

“Alright,” James says once he has Sirius trapped with James’ hand covering his mouth, “go on, lovely. You said there were two incidents. You can tell the second one without interruptions.” 

“Thanks,” you say, grinning. “So the second thing was that as we were leaving Boots, after getting all my stuff, this guy held the door open for us. I said thank you and we left, but then when we were about to get back on the tube the same guy came up to us. He asked for my number and seemed confused when I said no, because I guess he thought we had a connection or something?” 

Sirius is struggling against James, who’s fighting to keep a straight face as he keeps the other boy pinned down. Remus feels earnestly bad for you. It’s clear you’re confused about where these interactions went wrong. 

“Did you smile at him, also?” Remus asks. 

You think for a moment. “I guess I probably did.” 

“Oh.” James sounds pitying. “Why would you—eugh!” He lets go of Sirius quickly. “Did you just lick my hand?” 

Sirius shoves him off, fixing his hair. “Don’t fucking muzzle me, you brute.” 

“Nasty prat.” James wipes his palm on his shirtfront.

“Love, why do you keep smiling at people?” Remus asks.

“Exactly!” Sirius throws up his hands. “That is the question of the day.” 

“I don’t know.” You frown, defensive. “Because I’m pleasant?” 

“Awe.” James slings an arm around your shoulders, using the other to pat your cheek. You look as though you’d rather not be touched with the hand recently infected by Sirius’ spit, but you’re too nice to say so. “You’re just an innocent little country mouse, aren’t you? You can’t smile at people here like that, babe.” 

Your frown softens confusedly. “Why not?” 

“Because when you do, people think you’re trying to be extra friendly with them. Like you’re singling them out or something.” 

“Seriously?” 

Remus pins Sirius with a glare just as he opens his mouth. 

“So, no smiling at anyone?” you go on.

“No chatting either,” Sirius tells you sternly. 

“There are exceptions,” says Remus, “but generally people tend to prefer going about their own business. Starting conversations with strangers on the tube or at Boots isn’t really…done.” 

You look perturbed by this news. James laughs, giving your cheek another fond pat. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be alright,” he assures you. “You’ll figure it out in time. For now, just don’t give anyone the flat number, okay? Don’t need any unexpected visitors.” 

“That’s right.” Sirius nods firmly. “There’s already one whore in this flat. Those are the rules.” 

“Not a whore,” you remind him. 

“Where are these rules?” James wants to know. “I need to make sure there are no others I need to know about.”

[navybrat817]

Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Local Figure!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky didn't have a great day, so you help him unwind.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied sex, light fluff, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by an ask from @yenzys-lucky-charm, so I'm also submitting this for her Cranky, Grumpy, Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge (🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky tossed his jacket away and loosened his tie the moment the front door shut. In public, he had to maintain an image of confidence and controlled passion, carefully toeing the line between showing too much or too little emotion on the issues at hand. When things didn’t go his way, he couldn’t lash out or show defeat. Behind closed doors, he could allow himself to be a bit cranky. He didn’t have to put on a show.

With you, he didn’t have to put on a show either.

“Go sit, and I’ll make you a drink.” It wasn’t a suggestion. He didn’t drink often, but it was a rough day and you sensed that he needed one. If the drink wasn’t enough to help him unwind, you were sure you could think of something else.

Bucky kicked his shoes off before he took a seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Town Hall meeting should've gone off without a hitch, but Nick just had to show up and run his mouth.” His hands curled into fists when he grumbled, “Fucker.”

Bucky was never a fan of Nick Fowler. The man had a way with words and had experience, he’d give him that, but the guy wasn’t trustworthy. Too many secrets, too many people in his pocket. Some would say Bucky wasn’t trustworthy either since he was also a local figure, but he cared about his town and only wanted the best for everyone who lived there. He couldn’t say the same for Nick since he was only out for power and would step on anyone to gain it.

“It was rocky at times,” you said carefully, pouring him a glass of whiskey. Being overly optimistic would’ve been an insult, and he valued honesty since it was sometimes difficult to know who was telling the truth in his line of work. “But it ended on a high note.”

“He still proposed to cut funding for the library, and people agreed with him. It’s struggling as it is, and it needs the money,” he muttered, his steel eyes softening when you brought his drink over. “I swear he only proposed to cut funding to piss me off.”

Education was important to Bucky. The library, in particular, held a special place in his heart. It strived to create a welcoming and inclusive environment for the community, offering free resources to all. More than that, it was a space where history was preserved, and where people could feel valued and respected. It brought people together.

“And it’s working,” you pointed out, running your fingers through his soft caramel hair once you sat down and earning a sigh in response. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to let him get under your skin.”

Nick getting under Bucky’s skin meant he was losing, and Bucky wasn’t a man who lost.

“I’m trying,” he promised, taking another large sip and drawing your attention when he licked a drop from his lips.

You had to blink so you wouldn’t let his sexiness distract you from making him feel better. “Don’t forget, you have a fundraiser right around the corner,” you reminded him. There were people who would love to make a contribution to one of his passion projects, including the library.

His shoulders relaxed the more you played with his hair. “That’s true.”

“And listen, if I could get away with it, I’d wear my ‘I READ BANNED BOOKS’ shirt when I attend just to make you happy,” you teased.

That got a chuckle out of him. “That shirt got my attention.”

Going to that Town Hall meeting was one of the best decisions you ever made. “If you think that got your attention, wait until you see the dress I’m wearing.”

Closing his eyes with a groan, you had no doubt he was imagining it. He had an amazing suit picked out and you got something to not only match but something to drive him wild. “As long as John doesn’t show up and hit on you,” he tried to joke, but there was an edge to his voice.

As if the meeting wasn’t enough to put your man in a bad mood, bumping into John Walker after was the icing on the cake. If there was someone Bucky couldn’t stand more than Nick, it was John. The arrogant public worker rubbed him the wrong way, demanding respect and trust when he hadn’t earned it.

“We both know he wouldn’t stand a chance,” you said. Gorgeous looks aside, Bucky had you hooked from the beginning because of who he was. No one else could compare.

“If he tries anything…” Bucky could cut men down with a mere look, but people like Nick and John liked to push.

Taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside, you slowly straddled him. “You’re still cranky.”

“I’m not trying to be,” he whispered, resting his hands on your hips. Of course, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to dwell in any unpleasant headspace or emotions.

“I know. You had a rough day, and you have every right to be cranky. But I also know that the smile I love is in there somewhere,” you smiled. Bringing your hands to his face, you smoothed out the creases in his frown. His body went lax beneath yours when you did it again. “I just need to find it… Ah! There it is.”

Something you loved about Bucky was that he smiled in different ways before his mouth moved. He did it with his eyes, something so warm and loving that only you could see. Some days you heard it in his voice, in the tone he used and the words he chose. Even the way his body relaxed with you was a smile, happiness blooming from his core.

And Bucky was smiling when he pulled you in for a kiss.

Your heart tried to beat right out of your chest when he hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Tasting the whiskey when his tongue slipped past your lips, you moaned. The kiss was full of hunger, eager to take what you were willing to give. There was a hint of desperation, like he was trying to use your mouth to chase his bad mood away. Above all, it was vulnerable, a side of himself he trusted you enough to show.

“You’re too good to me, sweetheart,” he whispered, rolling his hips up and making you moan again. “But I’m still a little cranky.”

“Is that right?” you smiled, rocking your hips teasingly just because you could. Making the powerful man hard made you feel powerful. “Are you proposing that I do something about that?”

The fingers on your waist flexed. “I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”

“Promises, promises,” you teased.

“I keep my promises,” he pointed out. In a world of liars and cheats, Bucky was a man of his word.

“That’s true.” You pretended to think about it when he thrust his hips up with a small growl, heating up your core more. “Okay, fine. Rest back so I can make the crankiness go away.”

And knowing Bucky, he’d make sure you felt nothing but bliss, too, before the night was over.

I know, lovlies, I don't need more AUs, but I would give him everything and more. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[slutoru1207]

Invincible!Mark x reader imagine

dating a civilian

The meeting had been dragging on for too long, and Mark was already exhausted. Missions, responsibilities, the weight of being Invincible—it was all piling up. But when Eve made her comment, all of that faded into the background.

"Mark, I just don’t get it," Eve said, crossing her arms. "You’re risking too much by being with a civilian. You know that, right? She can’t keep up with you. She can’t fight. She’s vulnerable."

Mark’s jaw clenched. He slowly turned to face her, his usual easygoing expression hardening into something unreadable.

"You think I don’t know that?" His voice was quieter than usual, but firm. The room went still.

Eve hesitated. "I just mean… You live in different worlds. What happens if she gets hurt because of you? Or worse? You should be with someone who understands what it means to be a hero."

Mark let out a sharp breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me, Eve. I love her. And yeah, she doesn’t have powers, but that doesn’t mean she’s weak. She’s stronger than you think."

"Mark—"

"No," he cut her off. "She takes care of me. After every fight, every mission, every time I come home half-dead, she’s the one who patches me up. She’s the one who holds me when I feel like I’m falling apart. She makes me want to be better, not just as Invincible, but as a person. And you think she’s not enough just because she doesn’t have powers? That’s bullshit."

Eve frowned, clearly taken aback by the force behind his words. "I just… I worry about you."

"Then trust me to make my own choices," Mark said, his voice softer but no less determined. "I know what I’m doing. And I’m not going to let anyone make me doubt that."

The room was silent. No one else dared to speak. Mark exhaled slowly, shaking his head before turning away, ready to leave. "I’m done here."

When he got home that night, he didn’t say anything at first—he just wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, breathing you in. You could feel the tension in his body, the weight of the conversation still lingering on his shoulders.

"Mark? What’s wrong?"

He buried his face in your neck, his voice a little rough. "Nothing. Just… I love you."

You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I love you too. Always."

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze full of determination and something fiercer—something protective. "No one gets to tell me that I shouldn’t be with you. No one."

And you knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.

[gerardscrane]

writing a mini fic about this

My name is George Ryan Ross III but my kick ass band just calls me Ryan. And I’m 18 years old— I live in Las Vegas, Nevada. (Thats where I started the band). We liked to call ourselves, Pet Salamander, then for a little bit we were Summerleague Rock. But after this dreamy older boy BRENDON joined the band? We totally had to switch up, and call ourselves something proper. So nowadays, we’re Panic! At the Disco. After The Smiths song (A/N: If you don’t know who that is get OUTTTT!!!!)

I woke up in a big t shirt and immediately started playing some ‘Third Blind Eye’ (A/N: if you don’t know THEM… GET OUT!!!!) as my mom yelled ‘TURN THAT GARBAGE DOWN AND GET DOWN HERE!!!’ I put my middle finger up at her and kicked my speaker. Threw my hair into a messy bun, and walked down the stairs. When i got into the living room i almost came on the spot when i saw… PETE WENTZ? OF FALL OUT BOY?

“Hey son… Its me. Pete. You belong to me now…” I gasp in shock, “Mom you sold me?! How could you!? Your son!!” My mom yawned and rolled her eyes, “Do you think I can be jobless and afford a three story house with two pools and a hot tub without human trafficking? Besides, your son number 7 at this rate. Been there, done that. Bleh. Go with this gorgeously handsome man this instant!” I just couldn’t believe it— Not only did I have 6 other siblings I didn’t know about but even more shocking was that Pete Wentz wanted me! A mere bitch with a bob…

To be continued…? (No. The author is going to take a stroke on a crashing aeroplane, fall into the Indian ocean, hike all the way to Mumbai and get kidnapped by drug smugglers who are trying to cross the border to China. Later to escape she’ll agree to marry a Belgian cult leader online who will fly her to the middle of Brussels where she will live in a confine with him and his 13 sister wives who are also his daughters before she escapes by killing him, gets arrested for that and the Grand Theft Auto she committed when she steals an SUV whilst trying to cross the border, spend 14 years in prison before getting deported back to the UK where she’ll finally get checked for that stroke she had because truthfully she shouldn’t have survived that. The doctors deem her hospital bound and while she has the time she’ll re-log into Ao3, find this, get embarrassed, delete it and then find 15 years later that fan fic has grown a cult following so she’s forced to re-write but instead of following this story she’ll just write porn without plot smut about Ryan and Pete.)

ryan ross is like a y/n who got sold to pete wentz if you think about it

[bellatrixscurls]

cinnamon girl | a jegulus x reader series. pt 1

masterlist

summary : your father insisted that you be dating Rabastan Lestrange, for protection and security. But what happens when said boy wants to run away from his Death Eater duties, and a certain bespectacled boy lands him a hand, leading to something more than he could’ve ever imagined.

pairing: regulus black x malfoy!reader x james potter, initially rabastan lestrange x malfoy!reader.

specifications : 1. this will be an entire series, but please be patient with me. 2. reader is one year younger than Lucius. & 3. this series is full of surprises.

warnings : angst, fluff, swearing, eventual smut, arranged marriage, mentions of bruises and broken bones, Sirius being dramatic, eventual polyamorous relationship, death eaters, death

“Do you know what time they’ll be here tomorrow?” you ask Lucius exhaustedly, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walk together to the Slytherin dorms.

It has been a pretty long day. Your legs hurt and you want nothing more than to finally get to your dorm and pack your things for Christmas break.

He sighs and throws an arm around your neck, his own eyes closing from the endless studying he’s done these past weeks. “Eight thirty, maybe nine. I’ll have to tell Evan about that, he doesn’t really do mornings.”

You laugh weakly, finally reaching the common room as Lucius opens the door for you. You’re about to open your mouth, but are interrupted by the loud chatter of your friends.

“He did what?”

“How could he be so stupid?!”

“For Merlin’s sake, Rabastan!”

“Hey, guys. What are we cussing out Rabastan for today?” your brother falls on the sofa and you’re right behind him.

But they don’t seem to take Lucius’ amusement lightly, and you can see that when Severus stops tugging at his hair to turn to you, and so do your other friends. Their shocked expressions make you sink further into the sofa.

“He’s all bloodied up in the hospital wing right now. Apparently the idiot got into a fight with Potter and, well… Let’s just say that now he can’t move his right hand at all” Narcissa explains and your eyes widen. How could’ve James done that to him?

“From the shoulder down. Can you imagine?” Barty shakes his head and your brother, still beside you, gasps.

You throw him a dirty look before turning back to Narcissa. “Can we go see him? I think he’d want us to be there.”

“I mean, he is in a lot of pain and Madam Pomfrey said he might be there for a few days” Bellatrix chimes in, carelessly rolling her eyes as she stands up abruptly. “We could always just hex Potter, that’s something Rabastan would want.”

The raven haired boy’s eyes shoot up and lock with yours, carefully placing his book on the table. “I don’t know about that. What I do know is that I’m staying behind for Lestrange.”

“Yeah, cause that is so entertaining” Bellatrix mocks her cousin, going back to discussing hexing James.

Your frown slowly fades as you and Regulus maintain eye contact. You’ve always wondered how he could be attentive and protective of his friends, but still seem cold and uninterested all the time.

“Will you?” he asks suddenly, his demeanour still as calm as ever. You have to blink rapidly, and when you do, you swear that you can see the corner of his mouth tilt up.

“I’m- Sorry?”

“Will you stay here for the holidays? To keep Evan company” he muses, and you can tell by his tone that he is utterly amused.

“I wish. He’s my boyfriend after all” you sigh softly, chewing on your bottom lip. You hesitate at first, but still lean in closer to Regulus, so only he can hear. “But father wants me and Luce home on the 31st. He said that we have to meet someone.”

Regulus’ shoulders tense up and you notice his eyes widen a bit, but he still manages to brush it off like it’s nothing. “The 31st is still two weeks away” he inquires and you nod slowly.

“You’re right” you give him a small smile, resting your chin on your brother’s arm that was now sitting around your shoulders again. “You’re right, I’m staying here.”

The green eyed boy hums contently, picking up his book once again as he traces his pale, slender fingers over the pages. “Good.”

You’re left gawking at him, and now that his attention wasn’t solely focused on you, or so you think, you can finally relax. Even speaking a few simple words with him made you nervous, your heart throbbing against your ribcage.

🦢

Later that evening, you find yourself not able to sleep. You’re tossing and turning, and your throat suddenly feels dry.

You curse yourself for not bringing a glass of water, before you get out of bed, the cold air hitting your bare legs and shoulders. You put your slippers on and do your best to open the door without making much noise, as to not wake up your roommates.

The stairs are old and with the creaking sound they make, you’re more than certain that you managed to wake up someone. The common room was dimly lit, and that mostly thanks to the fireplace.

“Can’t sleep?”

Your eyes widen as you clutch your chest, breathing heavy and alert, but the fear quickly dissolves when you catch sight of Regulus.

“Why would you do that?” you scoff, but still feel your cheeks burn, now very aware of his eyes on you. You’re almost bare, your pajamas doing very little to cover you.

He laughs quietly and your chest fills with ease. “And I didn’t even try” he sets his glass of water on the table, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he turns to get a better look at you. “You seem troubled.”

Regulus, always most observant. Damn him.

You sigh, walking toward the couch and plopping down next to him. “I’m just confused. I mean, Rabastan has a big mouth and sometimes that gets him weeks worth of detention. But he never gets… beaten up” you scrunch your nose, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

He nods, as if understanding why you’re worried. “I didn’t take Potter as one to break someone’s face either.”

“Exactly!” you beam for a moment, having been dismissed and laughed at by your brother earlier when you told him just that. “He’s been my partner in Potions since third year. The guy teared up when he saw some mosquito wings and I had to listen to his whole theory about how the mosquito must’ve had a family and they’re probably waiting for him.”

This makes Regulus laugh out loud, his hands covering his face as you sip your water, barely able to control your laughter yourself. “Tell me about it. He sits in front of me in Transfiguration. He turned Tammy Smith’s hair elastic into a ginger cat. It chewed on her hair and even scratched her scalp. Her hair hasn’t grown in that spot, and she has to wear a ponytail everyday. It’s been four months.”

“Right?! When I asked her why she refuses to wear her hair down anymore, she just glared at me” you giggle quietly, now feeling a little bad for her.

A comfortable silence settles between you two, and Regulus speaks softly after a while. “Someone should talk to James about it. I heard he’s in the hospital wing too.”

“Is he?” your bottom lip juts out slightly, and you look up at Regulus. “You’re right, someone should talk to him.”

He chuckles lowly, “I meant you.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Oh, come on” he draws out, his lips pursing, as if he’s trying to bit back a smile, or worse, a smirk. “He’s fond of you. You can’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

You hope that he’s joking, but when you look at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke, he’s serious. And it makes you wonder : Is James Potter actually fond of you?

“I think he’s just intrigued about us. I mean, Sirius barely lets us come near him. I can’t tell you how it’s like to brew potions whilst his eyes burn holes in the back of my head” you say, and in all fairness, that’s how it is.

James is a sweet, gentle guy, one that you would like to get to know better, but you just can’t. And it seems as though Regulus finds great pleasure in teasing you about it.

“You might be right” he shrugs, still not very convinced. He picks up his glass and stands up, walking toward the boys’ dormitories. He reaches the end of the stairs and comes to a halt, looking carefully over his shoulder, his words merely a whisper into the night. “Sirius leaves for about twenty minutes at lunch every day, in case you reconsider it.”

🦢

Your clock reads 11:01 o’clock when you finally gather the courage to leave your dormitory, heading straight toward the hospital wing. You’ve told no one, but deep down you know that Regulus is right. He needs to know that not all of you want to hex him for whatever it is he did to your boyfriend.

You finally reach the door and take a deep breath before slowly pushing it open. You figure Sirius should be gone by now.

The beds were empty, except for James’ and a sleeping Rabastan. You thank Merlin that he’s asleep.

“Y/n?” James calls your name, his voice hoarse and brows furrowed. Of course he didn’t expect to see you here.

“In the flesh” you force a tight lipped smile as you sit on the chair by his bed. His leg is bandaged, but other than that he seems just fine. “I didn’t know James Potter could fight.”

Your comment makes him smirk, “There’s a lot you don’t know about him. Heard he’s a pretty cool guy, doesn’t really pick fights either.”

Him talking about himself in third person makes you roll your eyes fondly, shaking your head. “I might not know this James very well, but I sure know who will pick up a fight if he feels like it” you sigh and look to Rabastan still sleeping peacefully, his bed just across from James’. “What did he say?”

His face flashes with something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he makes sure to ground himself, his signature smirk returning to his face. “He’s just got a beatable face.”

Your shoulders drop and James sighs defeatedly. Of course you wouldn’t give in just like that. “Fine, he got into an argument with Pa- Sirius. Mean things were said, he tried to hurt Sirius, so I had no choice.”

Liar. You don’t know much about James Potter, but what you do know is that he would never slap someone, let alone put them in the hospital.

You huff a laugh, eyes meeting his for the second time. “What did he say?”

“Oh- Well, now- Let’s just keep it at that” he says with a small smile, a very uncomfortable one at that. “You should go, though. My friends will be back any minute.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes your mouth. He thinks that he can just lie through his teeth and then dismiss you like you’re stupid? You don’t want to give him that satisfaction.

You don’t say more though, and that leaves James with a heavy heart. You move nonchalantly, sitting in a similar chair, but now by Rabastan’s bed.

You did have a chance to say something, to snap at him or persuade him. But you didn’t.

It could get way more interesting than that.

[chrissssssmut]

Can you do the seven half-sisters thing again? With him going into the army before college, changing his appearance (becoming more handsome and looking more like a grown man), height and posture, even his voice , which was no longer that voice of a teenager

Bad Brother, Worst Sisters

Yandere w/ Smut

Yandere Ryujin, Lisa, Jo Yuri, Kazuha, Choerry, Rei and Miyeon x Male Reader

AN: Last story for this week! I haven't slept if anyone's wondering hahaha, I was too busy trying to finish this. This story was done by me but i was helped by a dear friend of mine.

Enjoy this one! I will be sleeping now hahaha XD

(God this lineup is so goated tbh)

The announcement of your enlistment was met with indifference. Your step-sisters barely reacted.

Ryujin was slouched on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She barely spared you a glance. “Cool. Have fun in boot camp or whatever.”

Lisa chuckled, twirling a strand of her hair. “Gonna get all buff, huh? Maybe you’ll actually become useful.”

Jo Yuri shrugged. “It’s not like you had a choice. Every guy has to go.”

Kazuha tilted her head, expression blank. “When do you leave?”

You sighed. “Tomorrow morning.”

Choerry smiled, but there was no warmth. “Well, don’t die or anything.”

Rei simply nodded. Miyeon muttered a quick “Good luck.”

That was it. No tears, no sentimental goodbyes—just a few passive comments before they returned to whatever they were doing.

It wasn’t surprising. You had always been more of an outsider in the family. Your step-sisters never went out of their way to be cruel, but they weren’t exactly warm either. They lived in their own little world, and you were just... there.

You left without looking back.

Months of grueling training changed you. When you stepped through the front door, the air in the house felt different.

Silence.

Then—

Ryujin appeared first. She stopped in her tracks, eyes scanning you up and down. Her usual lazy smirk was gone. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Lisa leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers gripping a glass of water so tightly it might crack. “Holy shit.”

Jo Yuri tilted her head, brows furrowing. “No way… that’s you?”

Kazuha stepped forward cautiously. “Your voice…” she murmured, as if hearing it felt unreal.

Rei swallowed, her gaze locked onto your face. “You look so… different.”

Miyeon placed a hand on her chest, a slow smile spreading on her lips. “You’ve grown into such a fine man, haven’t you?”

Choerry bit her lip, her gaze dark and unreadable. “And we just let you leave looking like that?”

You laughed awkwardly, setting your duffel bag down. “Well, yeah. It’s still me.”

But their stares didn’t waver. They were studying you—absorbing every inch of the new you.

That first night back, you could feel their eyes on you. Whenever you moved around the house, they were there. Watching. Observing. If you passed by the living room, one of them would be lounging nearby, pretending to be on their phone. If you went into the kitchen, you’d suddenly feel a presence behind you, too close for comfort.

The air was thick with something unspoken. Their casual indifference was gone, replaced with something else entirely.

At first, their behavior seemed harmless.

Lisa, who used to tease you relentlessly, started making excuses to be close. “You work out now, huh?” she mused, hands gliding over your arms. “I wonder how strong you’ve gotten.”

Ryujin, usually distant, started dropping into your room unannounced. She’d sit on your bed, stretching, acting like she belonged there. “I’m just bored,” she’d say. But the way her eyes lingered on you said otherwise.

Jo Yuri was the worst. She had always been a little playful, but now? Her touches lingered too long. Her words were too sweet. “You missed us, didn’t you? I can tell.”

Kazuha started bringing you snacks, feeding you piece by piece with her fingers. “Eat up. You need to keep your strength.” She always insisted on watching you eat, her fingers grazing your lips whenever she fed you.

Rei always found ways to touch you. A hand on your wrist. A brush against your neck. “You’re warmer now.”

Miyeon and Choerry started arguing over who got to sit next to you at dinner. It was eerie, how quickly things shifted. Miyeon would pull your chair closer to hers, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, whispering things too soft for the others to hear. Choerry, on the other hand, had a more aggressive approach—cutting your food for you, feeding you like a child, her smile twitching whenever someone interrupted.

The nights were the worst. You started locking your door. It didn’t help. Some nights, you swore you heard the doorknob turning. Other nights, you could hear soft whispers right outside your room. Once, you woke up to find your window slightly open, even though you were certain you had locked it.

The suffocation became unbearable. You told your parents, but they dismissed it. “They’re just happy you’re home.”

So you made the decision. You moved out.

The day you left, their reactions were… unsettling.

Lisa stood by the door, arms crossed, but her nails dug into her skin. “You’re seriously leaving?”

Ryujin scoffed. “Tch. Whatever.” But her eyes burned with something dangerous.

Jo Yuri stepped close, whispering, “You’ll come back. You always will.”

Kazuha simply stared, her grip tightening on the edge of your shirt before she let go.

Rei smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.”

Miyeon kissed your cheek. “We’ll be waiting.”

Choerry didn’t say a word. She just watched you walk away.

Life in your apartment was peaceful. You could finally breathe. But something felt wrong. No messages, no calls. No sign of them at all.

Until one night.

You unlocked your door after a long day at college. The lights were on.

And Lisa was sitting on your couch, waiting.

She smiled. “Hey, baby bro. Long time no see.”

Your stomach twisted. “Lisa? How did you get in?”

She stretched, making herself comfortable. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t have a spare key?”

What the hell?

You exhaled. “Alright, you visited. Now leave.”

Lisa pouted. “That’s not how you treat family, is it?”

Still, you sighed and decided to make dinner. Maybe if you played along, she’d leave faster.

You were halfway through preparing food when—

A hand covered your mouth.

Darkness.

When you woke up, your wrists were tied to your steel desk. The dim glow of your bedside lamp cast eerie shadows on the walls.

Lisa sat across from you, smiling. “You really shouldn’t have left, baby brother.”

Anger flared through you. “Lisa, what the hell is this?! Let me go!”

The door creaked open.

Six figures stepped inside, their eyes gleaming.

Miyeon smiled sweetly. “You really thought you could leave your family behind?”

Ryujin scoffed. “Dumbass.”

Choerry giggled, tracing a finger along your wrist. “You’re ours. No matter what.”

The air felt thick, suffocating, as the seven of them closed in around you. Your breath hitched when fingers—soft, lingering, possessive—brushed against your skin. One by one, they reached for you, tracing slow patterns over your arms, your chest, your throat. Every touch was deliberate. Every gaze was heavy with something dark, something dangerous.

"You shouldn't have left," Miyeon whispered, her lips ghosting near your ear.

"Bad boys need to be punished," Ryujin added, nails lightly scraping down your forearm.

Lisa’s fingers trailed along your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her smirk. "You really thought we'd just let you go?"

Jo Yuri exhaled a soft laugh, her hands pressing against your shoulders, keeping you in place. "You belong to us, baby brother."

Kazuha was quiet, but her grip on your wrist tightened, her touch possessive, unyielding. Rei leaned in next, her breath warm against your cheek. "Even if we’re siblings… it doesn’t change a thing."

Choerry giggled, her fingers brushing down your chest, teasing. "And tonight, we’ll finally make sure you understand that.”

As they slowly had their way with you—fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt, lips brushing against your skin, teeth grazing your earlobe—you felt your body tense, heat crawling up your spine. Every touch was deliberate, every action meant to remind you that resistance was futile.

Lisa chuckled against your neck, pressing a kiss just below your jaw. “Look at you… pretending you don’t like this.”

Ryujin’s fingers lazily traced down your chest, her smirk dark. “Your body’s shaking. Is it fear… or excitement?”

Jo Yuri giggled, hands gliding over your shoulders, her grip tightening when you flinched. “You can’t run, baby brother. Not from us.”

Then, Kazuha moved in. Unlike the others, she didn’t tease or hesitate. Her hands slid up to your face, her touch firm, claiming. Before you could protest, she pulled you in—her lips crashing against yours in a deep, breath-stealing kiss.

You tried to recoil, tried to move away, but it was impossible. Your wrists were still bound to the table, leaving you trapped as she kissed you like she had all the time in the world. Her tongue parted your lips effortlessly, tasting you, owning you.

Rei sighed, watching with dark amusement. “So unfair, Kazuha… You got to him first.”

Choerry leaned in closer, her voice sickly sweet. “Don’t worry… We have all night.”

Kazuha’s hands were everywhere—trailing down your arms, gripping your waist, pressing into your skin like she wanted to memorize every inch of you. Yet, her lips never once left yours, moving with a slow, deliberate hunger that made your head spin.

Without breaking the kiss, her fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, parting the fabric with agonizing slowness. A shiver ran through you as cool air met your skin, but the warmth of her touch quickly followed, tracing along your torso. Then, her fingers drifted lower, playing with the belt of your jeans, teasing, testing.

The others didn’t move. They simply watched.

Ryujin leaned back with a smirk, arms crossed as her eyes drank in your struggle. “Getting shy now? That’s cute.”

Lisa tilted her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Don’t fight it. You knew this was coming.”

Miyeon exhaled softly, eyes dark with something unreadable. “He looks so perfect like this… vulnerable.”

Jo Yuri giggled, resting her chin on her palm. “I wonder how long he’ll last before he stops pretending to resist.”

You squirmed, wrists still bound, but Kazuha held you firm—lips pressing harder, fingers tightening. You were completely at their mercy.

And they knew it.

You tore your lips away from Kazuha’s, chest heaving as anger boiled inside you. “You sick freaks—let me go! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Your voice echoed through the room, raw with fury, but the only response was soft, amused laughter.

Lisa leaned back, smirking. “Aww, he’s mad. Isn’t that adorable?”

Jo Yuri tilted her head, lips curling into a grin. “So feisty. I love it when he tries to act tough.”

Ryujin rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “He still doesn’t get it, does he?”

Your wrists strained against the bindings, but it was useless. No matter how much you fought, you were trapped. And they knew it.

Kazuha wiped her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes gleaming. “That wasn’t very nice of you,” she murmured, disappointed.

Before you could snap back, a sharp pain exploded through your arm.

You gasped. One of them—Miyeon, you realized too late—had tightened her grip around your wrist, her nails digging in, deeper and deeper, until the skin broke. Blood welled up beneath her fingers, and you let out a sharp, involuntary yelp.

Miyeon’s expression didn’t change. She simply leaned in, her voice deceptively soft. “If you do that again, little brother…” Her nails pressed in even harder, making you wince. “…we’re going to make it so much worse for you.”

Lisa smirked as she pulled out a small knife, the dim light reflecting off the sharp edge. Without hesitation, she pressed the cool blade against your skin, dragging it slowly, tracing little patterns with deliberate care.

At first, it was just a faint sting. Then the pain deepened, sharp and burning. You gritted your teeth, a muffled groan escaping before a hand suddenly clamped over your mouth.

“Shhh, be good,” Rei whispered against your ear, her breath warm. “No screaming. We can’t have that, can we?”

Your body tensed as Kazuha returned, her lips crashing onto yours with a hunger that left no room for escape. She kissed you deeper this time, her fingers trailing down your bare chest, nails grazing over fresh wounds.

Meanwhile, the others moved with unsettling coordination. Hands tugged at your belt, unfastening it with ease. The rustling of fabric sent a chill down your spine.

Then, with one swift motion, your pants and boxers were yanked down, leaving you completely exposed.

Lisa chuckled, pressing the tip of the blade teasingly against your thigh. “Now, let’s see how much more fun we can have.”

Lisa and Jo Yuri, leaned in, their breaths warm against your exposed skin. Without hesitation, their tongues met at your length, gliding over it in slow, deliberate motions as they shared every inch between them. Lisa’s touch was playful, teasing, while Jo Yuri moved slower, savoring every reaction you gave.

Meanwhile, Kazuha kept her lips firmly pressed against yours, refusing to let you pull away. Her fingers tangled in your hair, holding you in place as she deepened the kiss, her tongue claiming yours with dominance. Her eyes burned with something dangerous, something possessive.

"Don’t even think about running, baby brother," she whispered against your lips, her voice laced with amusement. "You were made for us—so just accept it."

Kazuha slowly pulled away, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she licked the taste of you off her mouth. "I shouldn’t be the only one having fun, right?" she murmured, her fingers trailing down your chest before stepping back, giving the others their turn.

Rei wasted no time. She grabbed your face and crashed her lips against yours, far rougher and more demanding than Kazuha had been. Her nails raked down your skin, leaving faint red marks in their wake, as if she wanted to carve her presence into you. Her tongue forced its way past your lips, claiming you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Meanwhile, from the corner of your eye, you saw Kazuha slipping off her undergarments. She settled onto the chair across from you, spreading her legs ever so slightly, her fingers disappearing between them. Her breathing grew heavier, her lips parting in pleasure, yet her gaze never left yours.

"Don’t look away," she purred, biting down on her lower lip as her movements became more deliberate. "I want to see what you and Rei are doing."

As Rei kept her lips locked onto yours, her tongue exploring with a hunger that matched Kazuha’s burning gaze, Lisa and Jo Yuri continued sharing your length, their mouths working in tandem. Desperation clawed at you as you tried once more to break free, but before you could even shift, Ryujin, Miyeon, and Choerry’s hands were on you—firm, unrelenting.

"Ah, ah… where do you think you're going?" Miyeon cooed, pressing down harder, her nails digging into your wrists.

Ryujin smirked, tightening her grip. "You’re staying right here, baby brother."

Choerry giggled, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Guess it’s our turn now."

With that, Lisa and Jo Yuri pulled away, leaving a wet trail along your skin as Choerry and Ryujin took their place. Their mouths were impossibly warmer, tongues needier, eager to devour you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, suffocating—and yet, their eyes told you the worst was still yet to come.

Ryujin let the tip rest against her tongue for a moment, eyes flickering up to meet yours before she gave a slow, deliberate slap against it, her smirk sending a shiver straight down your spine. "Sensitive, aren't you?" she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

Meanwhile, Choerry was far less patient, her lips sealing around you with a desperate kind of hunger, as if she couldn’t get enough—as if this was her last chance to have you. Every movement, every flick of her tongue, sent heat pooling in your stomach, your body betraying you no matter how much you tried to fight it.

Within seconds, Miyeon’s fingers wrapped around your length, her touch slow and deliberate, using the slickness left behind by Ryujin and Choerry’s mouths. A shiver ran through you as she stroked you with an almost practiced ease, her grip just tight enough to keep you on edge.

She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You’ve always been ours. Since the very beginning. Fighting it won’t save you... it’ll only make things harder—for you." Her voice dripped with amusement, her pace never faltering, as if daring you to resist.

Your body tensed, every nerve on edge as Miyeon’s hand continued its merciless rhythm. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the inevitable, but the overwhelming sight before you made it impossible. Kazuha’s fingers worked between her thighs, her breathy moans mixing with the wet sounds of Miyeon’s strokes. Your other step-sisters were tangled in each other, their lips meeting in desperate, hungry kisses. The ones holding you down only tightened their grips, making sure you had nowhere to run, nowhere to escape.

"M-Mi… Miyeon, please—" your voice cracked, a mix of shame and desperation spilling from your lips.

Miyeon chuckled, her fingers never slowing, twisting just enough to make your hips jerk involuntarily. "Please, what?" she teased, her warm breath tickling your ear. Miyeon chuckled, her fingers never slowing, twisting just enough to make your hips jerk involuntarily. "Gonna cum?" she taunted, her warm breath tickling your ear. "Go on, don’t hold back. It’s not like you can stop it anyway."

As the pressure built deep inside you, your breath hitched, your body betraying you. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, Ryujin yanked Miyeon away. Before you could even react, Lisa seized your face, forcing your gaze to meet hers. "Go on, baby brother," Lisa purred, her grip tightening as her lips brushed against your ear. "Make a mess, and we’ll make you regret it. Be good for us—hold it in."

You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to hold it in—not out of defiance, but because you were too weak to endure whatever punishment they had in store. The sting of your wounds still burned, fresh blood trickling down your skin. But despite your restraint, a small drop of release spilled from your length. Rei noticed instantly, her eyes gleaming with something dark. With a slow, deliberate motion, she swiped it up with her finger—then brought it to her lips, tasting you with a satisfied hum. Rei’s lips curled into a smirk as she sucked the remnants off her finger, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Hm… even when you're trying to behave, your body still betrays you,” she purred, tilting her head. “Didn’t Lisa tell you to hold it in, baby brother?”

Her eyes darkened with something wicked, something dangerous. “Looks like you need to be taught a little more discipline.”

"I won’t be a bad brother anymore… I swear," you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I’ll go back to the house… just please, let me go."

Choerry cupped your face with both hands, her grip firm, her touch almost affectionate as she tilted your head forward. "Shh, don’t fight it," she whispered, guiding you closer to Kazuha’s glistening heat.

Kazuha’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into the table as she trembled on the edge of release. "Be good for us," she murmured, her eyes glazed with pleasure. "Take all of me… just like a good little brother should."

As Kazuha neared her release, she tangled her fingers in your hair, yanking you closer until your face was pressed against her soaked heat. A shuddering gasp escaped her lips before turning into a breathy, desperate moan.

“Fuckk—! T-Take it all… don’t you fucking dare pull away,” she whimpered, her thighs trembling as she rode out her high.

Her essence spilled over you, warm and relentless, coating your skin as the other sisters watched with dark delight. Laughter and whispers filled the air, their hungry gazes drinking in the sight of you—helpless, drenched, and completely theirs.

Kazuha’s grip was ruthless as she seized your face again, shoving you back onto the cold floor. Your wrists throbbed, skin raw from the restraints digging in, but none of them cared. Rei crouched beside you, her fingers trailing over the angry red marks with a mocking pout.

‘This is what happens to bad brothers,’ she murmured, voice dripping with sickly sweetness. ‘You should’ve known better.’

You tried to scream for help, but before the sound could escape, Jo Yuri was already pressing a strip of tape over your lips. She smiled, tilting her head as she traced a finger along your cheek.

‘Good boys stay quiet,’ she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement.

Jo Yuri, though reveling in the punishment they were putting you through, was growing impatient—eager to claim her reward. Wasting no time, she rushed toward you, lowering herself onto your length with a slow, deliberate motion. At first, she moved cautiously, savoring the sensation, but it didn’t take long before her pace quickened, her hunger becoming undeniable.

"Fuck, you feel so good,” Jo Yuri moaned, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your mind and body were already betraying you, blurring the lines between resistance and surrender. No matter how much you wanted to fight it, the pleasure was overpowering—forcing you to forget, even for a moment, that these seven had turned your own apartment into a prison. And now, lost in the heat of the moment, you couldn’t ignore the way one of your sisters wrapped around you so perfectly.

Ryujin and Miyeon knelt beside you, their gazes dark with possession as they claimed ownership over you. Ryujin’s fingers traced along your jaw before gripping it tightly, forcing you to meet her eyes.

‘You’re ours now,’ she murmured, her voice laced with dangerous sweetness. ‘If you even think about disobeying, we’ll make your life a living hell.’

Miyeon leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, ‘And you won’t tell a single soul about what happened here. Not unless you want things to get even worse.’

All the while, Jo Yuri shifted her position, moving back in front of you without ever slowing her relentless pace, her eyes locked onto yours with a dangerous gleam.

Lisa scoffed, her grip tightening as she leaned in closer. ‘You’ll never have a girlfriend,’ she said, her voice dripping with possessiveness. ‘If you ever want to be with someone, it should be with us—your step-sisters. Only us. No one else.’

She smiled, but there was nothing sweet about it. ‘Any other woman who tries to take you away? She won’t live to see another day.’

Jo Yuri then quickened her pace, sensing just how close you were. This time, there was no holding back—it was inevitable. A wicked smile curled on her lips as she turned to the others.

‘He’s about to cum,’ she announced, her voice laced with excitement.

Without hesitation, she lifted herself off you, replacing the sensation with the warmth of her mouth. The rest of your sisters watched hungrily, biting their lips, tongues teasingly sticking out as they eagerly waited for your release.

It only took a few strokes before pleasure crashed over you. Your body tensed, and despite the tape sealing your lips, a desperate, muffled moan escaped—

‘Mmmph—! Haaah…!’

Your climax spilled onto their expectant faces, their delighted giggles filling the room as they licked away every drop, satisfied with their claimed prize.

The sisters, now satisfied with their work, slowly removed the restraints from your wrists and peeled the tape from your mouth. But it didn’t matter—you were too weak to move, your body completely drained.

As you lay there, trying to catch your breath, one of them leaned in with a smug smile.

‘We’ll be moving in tomorrow,’ Miyeon announced casually, as if it were already decided. ‘So make sure no one else comes here. This place belongs to us now—just like you do.

The sisters slipped back into their clothes, their satisfied smiles lingering as they slowly made their way out of your apartment. But Ryujin stayed behind, her eyes locked onto your exhausted form.

She crouched beside you, brushing a few strands of hair from your face before whispering, ‘There’ll be more moments like this… whether you like it or not.’

Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, her hand trailed downward, fingers wrapping around your sensitive length. She gave it a slow, teasing stroke, her smirk widening.

She watched you with a wicked glint in her eyes, savoring the way your body twitched under her touch.

‘Come on,’ she coaxed, her voice sultry and commanding. ‘Be a good boy and cum for me—right now.’

She pumped faster, her thumb teasing over your most sensitive spot, determined to wring out every last drop. ‘I don’t have all night,’ she whispered against your ear. ‘So give me everything before I go… unless you want the others to join in.’

With one last stroke, she pushed you over the edge, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she finally pulled away. Without another word, she stood up, adjusted her clothes, and walked out—leaving you panting, drained, and completely at their mercy.

As the last of your step-sisters walked out, the apartment fell silent, save for the lingering scent of them in the air. Your body was sore, your wrists still red from where they had bound you, yet the worst part wasn’t the pain—it was the realization that this wasn’t over.

They had made that clear.

Tomorrow, they would return. Tomorrow, they would move in. Tomorrow, your life would no longer be your own.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing. Could you escape? Call for help? But even as the thoughts formed, you knew the truth—there was no running from them. They had already decided. You belonged to them.

And deep down, despite everything, your body shivered at the thought.

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Coffee and Journals

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: You step out of your comfort zone and meet a guy in a coffee shop who you somehow befriend, and end up in the theaters with him translating a Russian film.

A/N: omg this one is so cuteee, I love it lmk your thots<3

BYR(b4 u Reid): use of y/n, mentions of anxiety, readers never had a bf, inexperienced reader & Spencer, can be season 1 & 2 Spencer | none <- [warnings]

It started with a trip to the coffee shop.

You weren’t supposed to be there, at least, not alone. You didn't go places alone. That was just how… things were. But it was a new year, and you were tired of every year being the same.

No new friends, no love interests, no new experiences.

You knew, deep down, that you couldn't keep living like this. The loneliness was starting to feel like a weight pressing down on you, making everything dull.

So, here you were, Ordering a drink at the register, by yourself. God, was your voice shaking?

“Um, can I get a-a regular iced latte?” You asked, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt. The cashier nodded, you paid, and that was it.

It was such a small thing ordering coffee, and you’ve done it a lot of times just this time you didn’t have the comfort of a friend right beside you. You were all alone.

You felt proud, proud that you left your home, came to the café alone, and now you were going to enjoy it at the shop.

You picked a small table, hands gripping your journal as you sat down, waiting for your order to be called. The café was a little too busy for comfort. Too many eyes, not on you, you knew that, but… it felt like they were.

You took a deep breath, opening your journal.

Do I look weird?

No, no. There were plenty of people doing the same thing. You weren’t standing out.

After a few moments your drink was finally called, you stood up, going to grab it, only to find there was two.

The man beside you just looked at you unsure of which one was his and which one was yours.

“Oh- um, I’m not sure which is which.” He said, glancing between the two drinks. You looked at him, then at the cups, trying to find anything that could differentiate them. Nothing.

“Uh, excuse me, which one is the iced coffee?” You asked the barista. “They both are.” She answered flatly, like it was the dumbest question she’d ever heard. Your stomach twisted immediately.

Great, now I sound stupid.

“Which one has non-dairy milk?” The guy asked

The barista sighed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe that one.” She pointed to the cup on the right.

You and the guy exchanged a look.

“Um… I guess I’ll just take this one.” You mumbled, grabbing the drink you had originally reached for. You don’t have any dairy problems, and didn’t care for the kind of milk used so it wasn’t too much of a problem.

You can hear the guy sigh as you walked away.

You sat down, watching him talk to the barista, clearly trying to get his order fixed. You couldn’t blame him for being frustrated.

You refocused on your journal, writing down your thoughts about stepping out of your comfort zone. About how weird it felt. How anxious you still were, and how you hoped this wouldn’t be another failed attempt at trying to change.

“Hi, I’m sorry, but do you mind if I have a seat?”

You looked up.

It was the non-dairy guy.

Your first instinct was to say no. You didn’t want anyone sitting with you. This was already too much social interaction for one day.

Or you could just leave, but if you let yourself retreat, wouldn’t that be losing? Wouldn’t you end up right back where you started, lying in bed tonight, frustrated with yourself for failing at something as simple as existing in a public space ?

“Of course.” You said instead, nodding toward the empty chair.

He gave you a polite smile and sat down. You stole a glance at him. Tall, kind of lanky, brown hair, sharp features, hazel eyes. He didn’t seem much older than you.

You tried to focus on your journal again, but it was hard with someone new in front of you.

“You know, an iced coffee isn’t something I normally get.” He said suddenly

You blinked, looking up.

He was talking to you.

“I usually just get a regular hot coffee.” He continued, like this was a totally normal thing to say to a stranger. “Today I wanted something different. And, well… you saw how that went.”

You let out an awkward little laugh, like the ones you give people when you aren’t sure what to say.

Is he crazy? Why is he talking to me?

“I get it.” You said after a pause. “I don’t usually get coffee on my own, and the one time I do, my coffee gets mixed with yours, and then the barista has a shitty attitude.”

That was relatable, right? That made sense?

Stop overthinking.

He smiled. “I’m Spencer Reid.”

First and last name, who does that?

“I’m y/n.” You said, giving him a small smile in return

you didn't give him your last name, it felt too formal, you guys also didn't shake hands which relieved you because those were always so awkward for you.

Almost all physical touch was awkward with you.

“I'll let you get back to work.” He said, pulling a book out of his bag.

“It’s not really work.” You admitted, which shocked you because you were trying to continue this conversation. “Just journaling.”

He glanced up again, nodding slightly. “Studies show that journaling can improve working memory, reduce stress, and even strengthen the immune system,” he said. “James Pennebaker, a psychologist at the University of Texas, found that expressive writing helps people process traumatic events by organizing thoughts and emotions, which can lead to improved mental health and reduced anxiety.”

You stared at him.

“Yeah… That’s kind of why I’m trying it.” You said, giving a small smile.

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “How do you know all that?” He just shrugged as if it was nothing “I read alot.”

“That’s cool.”

“Really?” He smiled a little. “A lot of my friends think I’m crazy, and that I should be spending more time doing other things.”

You shook your head. Well… okay, you did think he was a little crazy. But only because he could start a conversation so easily. You couldn’t imagine doing that.

“Not crazy, I think it’s fascinating your brain is able to retain all that information.”

The two of you settled into silence after that. You wrote, he read. You noticed he was flying through pages at an insane speed.

Curiosity got the better of you.

“How are you reading so fast?” You blurted out.

He looked up. “I can read 20,000 words a minute.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you lying?”

He laughed. “No. I uh… I have an IQ of 187, so I think that helps a lot with my reading abilities.”

“That’s like a superpower.”

“Some would say it’s the lamest one to have been given.” He joked, you shrugged. “Maybe. But I think it’s cool.”

And, honestly?

You were surprised by yourself.

A simple conversation. With a stranger.

A man, even.

ʚɞ

Over the next few months, you found yourself at the coffee shop at least three times a week. And almost every time, Spencer was there too.

At first, it felt like a coincidence, like an unspoken routine you both had fallen into without realizing. But eventually, he started waving you over when he spotted you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he gestured to the empty seat across from him. And, recently, you had started doing the same for him.

You’d sit together, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about what you were reading, new movies, or random events happening around town. It felt… easy.

“How’s journaling been?” Spencer asked as he took a sip of his coffee and looked at you.

You glanced up from your book. “Oh, it’s been really good. It actually helps a lot more than I thought it would.”

He nodded, thoughtful. “Yeah, it helped me a lot too.”

“You journal?”

He shrugged, shifting slightly in his seat. “I used to. Not as much anymore, but when I have the time, I try. I think it’s a good outlet, especially for people who struggle with intrusive thoughts, or high stress levels.”

“You think only people who struggle journal?” You questioned

“Not necessarily.” He said, tilting his head slightly. “I mean, anyone can journal. But research suggests that people who journal regularly are often those who need a way to process their thoughts. It can help regulate emotions by engaging the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for rational thinking. That’s why it’s often recommended for anxiety, PTSD, and even problem solving.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. “Yeah… I think it’s helped me a lot with my anxiety.”

You weren’t sure why you would say it, you never really talk about what you struggle with but somehow with Spencer it felt safe.

You looked up at him, Spencer’s eyes had softened, his expression shifting from analytical to something gentler. “That’s good.” He said sincerely. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

You let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I think it’s obvious. I mean, I’m constantly fidgeting, can’t make eye contact, let alone hold a conversation with people.” You say as you look down at your hands

He shook his head. “You don’t seem that way with me.” His brows furrowed slightly.

“Well, yeah. Not anymore.” You admitted “When we first met and you asked to have a seat, I wanted so badly to say no, and even get up and leave.”

His mouth parted slightly before he quickly recovered. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But I had to let you because if I hadn’t, I would’ve felt like I lost that day, and definitely would’ve felt horrible about it. But… thankfully I did.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, processing your words. Then, the corners of his lips lifted into a small genuine smile. “I’m glad, glad that you let me sit with you.”

“I’m glad too.”

It felt strange, strange in a way that made your chest feel light and unfamiliar warmth settle in your stomach. Having someone new to talk to, someone who, despite barely knowing you, felt like they had been in your life forever.

Spencer made things easy. Talking to him didn’t feel like a struggle, like you had to overthink every word before you said it. He listened. He never made you feel awkward or unsure.

Somehow, being around him made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were figuring yourself out.

Both of your coffees were nearly empty now, the melted ice clinking softly against the cup. It meant this little hangout, or whatever you can call it, was coming to an end. And you didn’t want it to.

Spencer shifted slightly in his seat, his fingers tapping lightly against his cup before he cleared his throat.

“Um, Y/n.” He said, voice softer than usual. You looked up at him, giving him a small, curious smile. “Yeah?”

He hesitated for half a second, then pushed his hair behind his ear, a habit you noticed. “There’s this old film playing at the theaters. It’s not far from here. I was wondering if you’d like to go?” He paused, glancing down at his hands before quickly adding “It’s in Russian, though, so if you’d like, I can translate it for you.”

“Russian?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, his lips twitching up slightly. “Yeah. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I just- I thought it would be nice.” He said as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile. “I’ve never seen a Russian film before, but I do like the theaters. And if you’re offering to translate, I’d love to go.”

Spencer let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing like he had been holding it in without realizing. “Yeah?” His voice was lighter, hopeful.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

His lips parted, like he was about to say something else, but he just nodded quickly instead. “Alright. Um. I can pick you up? If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

You could see the way he was watching you carefully, waiting for any sign of hesitation. But there wasn’t any. Not with him.

“No, yeah, I’m fine with that.” You said, a soft warmth settling in your chest.

Spencer’s fingers tapped against the table before he spoke again. “Can I-uh-can I have your number? Just so we can communicate better.”

You smiled, reaching for your phone. “Yeah.”

ʚɞ

Spencer arrived at exactly 8:00 p.m, right on time. When you opened the door, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels before offering a small, shy smile.

“Hi.” He said softly

“Hi.” You echoed, feeling your pulse quicken.

You both walk towards his car, and to your surprise he opened the door for you. It was a small gesture, but it made something warm settle in your chest.

Was he just being polite, or did it mean something more? You didn’t want to overthink it, didn’t want to confuse kindness for something else.

At the theaters, Spencer insisted on paying for your ticket. When you offered to cover snacks instead, he shook his head. “No, really, it’s fine.” He said, handing over his card before you could argue.

“Okay, well, now we have to go somewhere else after this. My treat.” You said, crossing your arms.

He tilted his head, considering for a moment. “We could get ice cream after?” He suggested.

You smiled. “That sounds nice.”

As the movie started, Spencer leaned in slightly, quietly translating the dialogue for you. At first, it was just a whisper here and there, but soon he got really into it, his voice subtly changing to mimic different characters, his hands gesturing slightly as he explained a scene.

You let out a small laugh.

“What?” He asked, turning to you with a small smile.

You shrugged, grinning. “You’re so good at translating. And getting into character, it’s honestly amazing.”

His expression shifted, something like pride flashing in his eyes before he looked down for a second, almost bashful. “Oh. Thank you.” He said, meeting your gaze again.

You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had leaned in until the moment. His hazel eyes held yours, the sounds of the movie fading into the background. Your breath hitched, and you quickly shifted in your seat, breaking the moment.

Spencer cleared his throat softly before returning to translating, but you could tell he’d noticed it too.

When the movie ended, you tossed the empty popcorn bucket and drinks into the trash bin. “So how’d you like the movie?” Spencer asked as you both walked towards the exit.

“It was really good, I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did.” You truthfully answered.

Spencer smiled, as he opened the door for you to exit the building. “They play foreign films here once a month. I’d be happy to come with you again. We could watch together.”

“I’d love that, it’ll be really fun.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I love films, and translating stuff.”

“I could tell.” You teased, giggling softly.

He glanced at you, something hesitant in his expression. “Still up for that ice cream?”

“Are you?” You asked. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“No-no I want to.” He assured you quickly. “I just wasn’t sure if you still wanted to.”

“I do.”

He nodded, a relieved smile tugging at his lips. “Perfect. I can leave the car parked, and we can walk to one?”

“That sounds good.”

As the two of you walked side by side down the sidewalk, you glanced up at him. “Do you usually go to these movies alone?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Sometimes my friends join, but most times, it’s just me.”

That made you frown slightly. You didn’t understand how someone like him, someone so interesting, so kind, could go alone so often.

“Well, now you won’t have to.” You said looking up at him. He turned his head to you, a flicker of something soft in his expression. His stomach fluttered at your words.

As you both walked, your hand brushed against his. Instinctively, you pulled it back, quickly intertwining your fingers together in front of you. “Sorry.” You murmured.

Spencer shook his head. “No, it’s fine.”

You nodded, slowly letting your hands fall back to your sides. He noticed the way you kept fidgeting.

“You don’t have to be nervous.” He said.

You blinked. “Hmm?”

He glanced at you, his brows slightly furrowed in thought. “I can tell you’re nervous.”

Your stomach tightened slightly. “How?”

“Little things.” He said simply. “Like biting your lip, looking around a lot, touching the hem of your shirt.” He pointed out each thing, and you hadn’t even realized you were doing them.

“Oh.” You laughed softly, a little embarrassed. “I just- I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve ever gone out with someone who isn’t my friend.”

Spencer tilted his head, his lips twitching up slightly. “Oh? I thought we were friends.” He teased.

Your eyes widened slightly. “No-no, we are friends! I just meant my other friends.” You rushed to explain.

He chuckled. “I know what you meant. It’s okay.”

Then, he stopped walking.

You took a few more steps before realizing and turned to face him. “What?”

He shook his head, his gaze fixed on you with something unreadable.

You frowned. “What?” You asked again, playfully nudging his shoulder.

Spencer let out a small laugh, but then his expression grew more serious. “I like hanging out with you.” He admitted. His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful.

“And I don’t want to scare you, but… the little time we’ve spent together, at the café, and now today watching this movie, it’s made me just want to be around you more.”

Your breath caught in your throat. No one has ever said something like that to you before.

Your heart pounded as you swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Oh. That’s…nice.”

Spencer’s lips pressed together, and you could tell he was waiting for something more, something deeper. And you wanted to say more, you really did. But fear gripped you.

“Spencer, I-i feel a lot of things right now.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel nervous, scared, excited, happy- I can really go on. But I’ve never had a male friend before, never been in a relationship, and what am I saying? I could be misinterpreting this whole situation, you meant as a friend right? Like- you don’t mean romantically want to be around me more?” You were rambling, your words spilling out before you could stop them.

Your face was flushed, ears burning.

Spencer took a small step closer.

Your breath hitched.

“I’d like to get to know you better.” He said carefully, his voice steady. “And… see where we go.”

His hand found your elbow, gently squeezing it, his touch was warm and reassuring.

Your lips parted slightly. “Really? With me?”

It felt unreal.

Unreal that anyone could possibly see you in a romantic way, no one ever has.

Spencer nodded “With you.”

You exhaled, your heart racing. “I’ve never, I’ve never been in a situation like this. No ones ever wanted something with me before.”

“Well…I do.” He gave you a small, soft smile.

Your hands trembled slightly as you rubbed your face. Your chest felt tight, and your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t untangle.

“Spencer, you don’t understand.” You whispered, your voice barely holding steady. “I don’t know how to be with someone. I don’t know what people do when they’re getting to know each other, I don’t- I don’t know.” Your words tumbled out, laced with panic, with doubt.

Spencer took another step closer to you, his expression soft but steady. “You do.” He said gently “We do it all the time. Every time we sit together in the café, every time we talk, every time we share something about ourselves, that’s us getting to know each other.”

You swallowed, looking at him, searching for some kind of reassurance in his face. He seemed so sure of what he was saying, so certain.

“But I don’t know what I’m doing.” You admitted, your voice cracking. “I could mess it up.”

Spencer shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n, I’ve never been in a relationship either.” His voice was soft but unwavering. “I don’t have all the answers, I know just as much as you do. But that’s okay. We can figure it out together.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him. He meant it, every word. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his voice.

“All we have to do.” He continued “is keep doing what we’ve been doing. Spending time together, learning more about each other. And when we’re both ready, we’ll navigate whatever comes next. There’s no pressure, no expectations… just us.”

Something inside you shifted, something warm, something terrifying, something new.

You looked into his eyes, trying to believe in what he was saying. In him.

“Okay.” You whispered

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his shoulders relaxing just slightly, as if he’d been waiting for that answer.

“Okay.” He echoed, as if sealing the moment between you.

For a few seconds, neither of you moved. The streetlights cast a soft glow around you, the distant hum of the city filling the silence. Then, without thinking, Spencer reached out, not hesitantly, not awkwardly, just gently, and let his fingers brush against yours.

It wasn’t a grand gesture. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was just enough. . .

hope you guys enjoyed this one <3

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[ssa-dado]

Aaron's Speech

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader Genre: whump, prepare your tissues kind of whump. hurt to comfort? what's comfort anyways? Summary: Aaron was certain he knew what love was - until Haley died. He loves you. But he still loves her, too. Warnings: clear signs of deep depression, PTSD, trauma, self-neglet, survivor's guilt, grief, mentions of 5×01 and 5×09 Please please please do not interact with this fic if you struggle with any of these. Word Count: 3.9k Dado's Corner: I... I don't know. It's a lot. Grab your tissues. This might be the most heart-wrenching thing I've ever written… and honestly, I’m a little scared of my own brain for managing to hallucinate this. I went back and forth on whether to post it because it just felt too much... :)))) I ended up adding a little extra at the end (something fluffy & domestic) just to take the edge off. But it’s still bittersweet. More bitter than sweet.

masterlist(s)

Plato wrote, "I mean to propose that each of us in turn, going left to right, shall make a speech in honor of Love."

Aaron wasn’t sure how to make sense of the fact that the very job that had stripped him down to nothing was also the reason he could still touch you like this.

That the same job that had taken… her, that had nearly taken his son - was also the reason he could still slip under the covers with you and lose himself just enough to relieve the stress of your days.

It wasn’t intimacy, not really.

Not in the way it was meant to be.

It was a release, a fleeting reprieve from the thoughts that never stopped, from the memories that threatened to drown him if he let them sit too long.

Sometimes, it was rough - driven by nothing but the desperate need to feel something, anything. Other times, it was slower, gentler.

But one thing never changed - he always kept his shirt on.

A week ago, it had been long sleeves. The scars were only on his torso, but for a long time, that hadn’t mattered. He had fought the urge to cover everything, to disappear beneath the fabric.

He felt dirty. He was dirty.

Didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want you to see them.

The only times you had were when he had no choice - when he was too weak, too drained to tend to them himself.

Then came the day he finally found the courage to face his reflection in the mirror. When he told you he could handle it now - that he had to - you hadn’t argued. You had only pressed a soft kiss to his lips before watching him disappear into the bathroom. You didn’t say a word. You trusted him. Had to trust him.

And when he came back, you kissed him again.

You still did. Every time.

Even today.

It had become a ritual – an ineffable I’m proud of you, a way to be close without needing to be there physically. Because even if you weren’t, your mind always went there.

You hoped he applied the medication carefully.

Hoped that, in tending to himself, he showed the same meticulous care he gave to you - the way he would sit you in a warm bath, wash your hair, run his hands over your skin with a gentleness so at odds with how he treated himself.

He gave you devotion. You wished he gave himself even half of it.

You hoped that every time you heard the water running, it was only to sterilize his hands - that he wasn’t standing over the sink, letting the antiseptic swirl down the drain, just enough to make it seem used, just enough to fool you. You knew he wasn’t stupid.

You had been more cautious ever since the day he caught you in the bathroom, turning the bottle over in your hands, checking for dents, for any proof that he was actually using it.

He hadn’t been angry. He understood. It wasn’t about distrust - not really.

If the roles were reversed, he knew he would have done the same.

…No, actually, he didn’t even need to imagine reversing them. He had checked. More than once. Because he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself anymore.

Because ever since he started tending to them on his own, he never let you see his scars again.

Maybe some subconscious part of him feared that if you did, you wouldn’t want him anymore.

Or maybe because he didn’t want to remind you - of what had happened to him, of the fear in your eyes, of the way your hands had trembled the first time they traced the edges of his pain.

Or maybe it wasn’t even about you.

Maybe he was afraid that if you saw them again, your mind would go back to the past, to the before, to all the things he lost…

…And, inevitably, to her.

Haley was only a problem because he made her one.

She was never a threat to you. You had never felt the need to compete with her because you understood something he probably never would: that a heart as vast as his had room for both of you.

That was simply part of loving him - even before everything that happened, even when they were just divorced - loving him meant sharing space in his heart with Haley.

And that was enough. More than enough. You never needed or wanted all of it.

He was the one who couldn’t reconcile it.

One true love.

It had been carved into him as a child, a belief so deeply rooted that no amount of logic could ever fully undo it. Sure, he could scoff at it now, call it outdated, tell himself he was too rational to believe in something so absolute.

But some lies told to us as children settle too deep to simply unlearn, and for Aaron, it was this: that love - true love - could only happen once.

And he hated that it had been her.

Not because he regretted loving her, but because it made him feel as though loving you somehow diminished that first love - or worse, that it made you her replacement.

You weren’t.

You were nothing like her. You were only you.

And yet, both of you had looked at him with the same kind of eyes - the kind that saw too much, worried too much.

And sometimes, despite himself, he wondered if that was why he fell in love with you.

Because of those eyes. To keep those eyes in his life.

But just as quickly as the thought came, so did the guilt. Not just because it wasn’t true, but because his mind had dared to go there at all.

…But if it had gone there, it meant some part of him believed it.

And he hated that.

Hated overanalyzing it.

Hated the way his own mind twisted something simple, something pure, into something that needed justification.

Hated that he had to dissect his love for you just to convince himself it was real, when he already knew it was.

Because it was real.

He hadn’t fallen in love with you because of anything you shared with her - he had fallen for you because of everything that made you you. Maybe he had even fallen harder once he realized that.

If Reid could see inside his head, he would have some scientific explanation for all of this. Something about neurochemistry.

He would tell him that guilt was irrational, that love was nothing more than a biological process designed to make humans bond, reproduce, and survive.

But that was what he hated most.

Not the surviving part. Not just the thought of contributing to the same human species that had created the kind of monsters he locked away every day.

Though, on the worst nights… maybe that too.

What he hated was the idea that it all boiled down to a few chemical formulas, a handful of C’s and O’s arranged on a page. That somewhere out there, a person could take one look at the sequence and know him, know the core of who he was.

Bullshit. That couldn't be possible.

Not when he wasn’t even sure he had a core anymore.

What was there to read?

Aaron had spent a lifetime believing love was what the poets described - the grand, the eternal, the tragic. Yet only… after everything that happened… had he begun to understand what they truly meant.

The Greek tragedies, the sonnets - some resonated so deeply now they ached, others felt so hollow he wondered how he’d ever admired them… how he had ever believed love could be so naïve.

Maybe, in the end, a few chemical bonds and molecular chains would have been simpler. Maybe they would have told him more about himself than poetry ever could.

How simple it was - that the tears he left on your skin, warm against your sternum as he pressed his face into you, could be reduced by science to nothing more than water and salt.

As if that could explain why he was crying.

As if it could account for the guilt gnawing at him, the shame of being allowed to break against you while your own tears slipped down your cheeks, unseen, as you stared at the ceiling.

As if it could break down the only closeness he could offer now - the desperate act of syncing his unsteady breaths to yours.

He just wanted to be your rock again.

Maybe science had a way to explain the guilt - the shame of falling apart in your arms, of letting you hold him, pull him closer, your fingers threading through strands of hair that hadn’t been this long in three years.

And then, the moment your hands unconsciously drifted too low - past the nape of his neck, following the path they once knew so well, tracing the lines of his back-

It wasn’t you touching him anymore.

But it was you. You were safe. You were here.

And still, his body jerked up.

It wasn’t fair.

No matter how much he wanted to surrender to your touch again, no matter how much he wished he could unlearn the fear, his body still braced for a blade instead of your hands.

Maybe science had a way to explain why.

Maybe it could name the way his body had learned to fear something it once - and still - craved more than anything.

Maybe there was a chemical formula that could define the way you both whispered "sorry" at the same time whenever it happened.

Maybe there was an equation, an angle, a perfect placement for the carbon bonds that could explain why, after flinching, after failing, he reached for your wrist. Why he brought it to his lips, pressed a kiss to the thundering pulse beneath your skin.

The skin was thinner there.

Maybe, if he kissed deep enough, his apology would sink into your bloodstream, carried by the oxygen in your blood, traveling through your veins until it reached your heart - so you’d know.

That he loved you.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

And he needed you.

Needed your hands back on every inch of his skin - even on the places his mind dragged him back to, bleeding out on the carpet of his own living space, where he was assault-

“Aaron.”

“Hmm.”

“I want hot chocolate.” You shifted, sitting up on the bed, stretching your arms above your head. “And I need your help cutting the chocolate. Come on.”

Nothing still.

So you reached over, patted his head, ruffling his hair. “You know I never get the pieces small enough… get up.”

You didn’t even like chocolate that much.

But he did.

Aaron Hotchner, with his unreadable expressions and haunted eyes, had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever known.

It was one of the first things you noticed about him - the way he’d sneak sugar into his coffee when he thought no one was looking, the way he never turned down dessert, the way he’d order an extra pastry under the guise of “Jack will like this” when Jack wasn’t even there.

Hot chocolate was easy.

Because cutting chocolate into tiny, even pieces was something his hands could still do.

The day he finally handled a knife again without flinching, you had seized every possible excuse to make him keep doing it - to ease him back into muscle memory, to give his hands something to focus on. Just like now.

Him, and all of his ghosts, disappearing into the rhythm of slicing through a bar of fondant chocolate.

"See? When you cut it this small, the chocolate doesn’t fray. How do you do that?" You leaned in, watching him work. “Wait, was this your specialty back in SWAT?”

Nothing. Again.

God forbid anyone joke about his very secretive time in an all-men squad of alpha males, big guns, tactical gear, night vision-

“You want me to show you?”

You nodded.

You expected him to explain from where he stood, maybe demonstrate with another piece - but you hadn't expected him to step behind you. Once, maybe, but not now.

And yet, here he was.

Did not expect to feel his warmth again - his body against yours, his chest flush to your back, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his huge hands slipping over yours, guiding them to the handle of the knife.

"It’s in the pressure," he said, curling his fingers around yours, adjusting your grip. "Too much, and it crumbles. Too little, and it slips. You want the blade to do the work."

Damn. It was so intimate, so familiar-

God, this felt like… like one of your first dates. Back when he was still - no.

You swallowed, pushed the thought away, and focused. Followed his movement, feeling the blade glide through the chocolate beneath your fingertips - clean, effortless - perfect.

Just like his.

"There," he murmured. "Like that." And then, a kiss to your hair. "You did good."

So did he. God, he did. And you were so proud of him.

So you picked up one of the pieces he had helped you cut, rolling it between your fingers before holding it out to him.

"Quality check."

You had never fought back tears so hard as when you felt it - the smallest huff of breath against your hair. A sound, barely there, but unmistakable.

The closest thing to a laugh you'd heard from him all day.

You would cut all the chocolate in the world if it meant hearing that sound again.

And maybe you would - because he could have easily taken the piece from your hand himself.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his lips ghosted over your fingertips, his tongue dragging over your skin far too slowly as he caught the chocolate - before his teeth closed down, just sharp enough to be obnoxious.

That stupid bite.

Familiar.

The same bite that always made you swat him away, roll your eyes, mutter his name in exasperation.

The same bite that caught your fingertips every single time you offered him one of your fries, because Aaron Hotchner - who pretended to be far too above it - always ordered a salad as a side, only to spend the whole meal subtly eyeing your plate.

He would never ask for one, of course. God forbid.

So you always caved, sighing as you picked up a fry and held it out toward him, fully intending to place it onto his plate like a normal person.

But he never let you.

Instead, he would catch your fingers midair, biting down - not hard, but enough to make you yelp, enough to make your head snap toward him, enough to make you curse his name loud enough that the people at the next table would turn to look.

And then - as if he hadn’t just eaten out of your damn fingers in public – he’d sit back, napkin in hand, dabbing the corner of his mouth.

“Shh,” he’d say. “We’re at a fancy place. Can’t you see there are no prices on your menu?”

Condescending. Smirking. Like he wasn’t the one causing all the drama.

The same insufferable piece of shit he had always been.

And maybe that’s why you didn’t swat him away this time.

Maybe that’s why you just stood there, breath caught in your throat, only managing to turn around and stare at the glimpse of a ghost you hadn’t expected to see.

You knew it was temporary, just a matter of time before the weight settled back over him. But still- still, for a moment, you just watched.

His kitchen was now so quiet you could hear the crisp snap of chocolate between his teeth, the exaggerated hum of approval he always did just to startle you, always holding eye contact, watching – waiting - like your reaction was more satisfying than the chocolate itself.

“What?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

Under the yellow glow of the kitchen lights, his eyes looked lighter - a softer brown, warm in a way you hadn’t seen in far too long. You could see the few flecks of green – a similar shade of the untouched, steamed bitter greens he always left on his plate at fancy restaurants.

Could you even tell him?

Could you say that, for just a second, he wasn’t trapped in his own head, and that alone made you want to cry?

Of course not.

So you just shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Nothing," you murmured, turning back to the counter. "Just…. don't think you're getting more if you're gonna keep biting me."

“Then maybe you should stop feeding me like a child.” He huffed, leaned against the counter next to you, unbothered… almost – smug?

Hotchner humor. This must be Christmas.

"Oh, forgive me, Your Royal Highness, how would you prefer to be fed?"

"Well, if I had to suggest something…" he drawled, gaze dropping to your lips, "you could be more creative with it."

No way. You couldn’t believe it.

"Creative?"

He nodded. "Mhm."

No way.

You picked up half a piece of chocolate, pressed it between your lips - hesitated.

Maybe this was too much. Maybe the moment would crack, fragile as it was. Maybe you’d gone too far, been too reckless.

But still, you held his gaze, tilting your head ever so slightly, offering.

And waiting.

Before you even realized it, his lips were on yours, closing over the other half of the chocolate, pressing just enough to steal more than you had offered.

Asshole.

But God, did he take his time.

His tongue flickered over the chocolate, then back over you – unhurried - before he finally pulled away, his breath still so close you could almost taste the cocoa all over again. Wow.

“…Creative enough?” you managed.

Aaron slowly ran his tongue over his half-brown bottom lip. "It’s a start."

…A start.

Maybe it was. It felt like one.

Also because Aaron stayed close, studying your face, searching for something in your eyes.

If he found what he was looking for, he didn’t say. He just looked at you a moment longer and gave you one last smile.

A goodbye - not to you, but to your eyes, because in that moment, they looked too much like hers.

And maybe a part of him had always been waiting for this moment - when he could finally look into that gaze, your gaze, and know without hesitation that it wasn’t hers. That it had never been.

So he let go of the thought.

He reached past you, plucking another piece of chocolate from the cutting board and popping it into his mouth like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just left something behind.

"You should finish cutting the rest," he said, unfazed by your exasperated "Aaron."

"Me?"

"You did well enough." He nodded, though you knew him well enough to catch the hint of teasing in his voice. "Besides, I should get the milk on the stove…. can’t have you burning it again."

You scoffed. "That was one time, and only because your stove is way too strong."

"You say that every time you cook here… which, if I’m counting correctly, is once a week."

"You’re exaggerating," you muttered, but you still reached for the knife, rolling your eyes as you started chopping again.

Silence.

Silence until Aaron turned toward you as he poured the milk into the pot.

"…Thank you for what you’re doing for me. I don’t say it enough… not out loud."

You glanced up, smiling. "It’s all you, Aaron. I’m not doing anything."

“Bullshit.” He turned, eyeing the cutting board. “You’re cutting the chocolate.”

Before you could respond, he reached over and plucked a piece from the pile, popping it into his mouth.

"Really?" you deadpanned.

He stole another.

"This one was uneven," he said, completely straight-faced.

And then another.

"Do you even want hot chocolate, or are you just here to rob me blind?"

Aaron smirked - and for once, it would have been so damn nice to just enjoy seeing his dimples - if only he hadn’t, completely unrepentantly, reached for yet another piece.

You swatted his hand before he could grab it. "Oh my God, you really are just here to rob me blind."

Defeated, Aaron turned back to the stove, deciding it was safer to keep his hands occupied. He stirred the milk with far more focus than necessary... so much so that you half-wondered if he was trying to churn it into cream.

Maybe if he just kept moving, he could resist the temptation of another impromptu quality check… hopefully.

Or maybe, it wasn’t about the chocolate at all.

"Do you really think you’re not doing anything?" he asked. His eyes were still on the pot, but the way he had slowed his stirring - no longer overcompensating, no longer distrac-

"You are," he continued, looking at you. "You’re here. You stayed. And that’s… that’s more than I knew how to ask for."

"You can ask, you know," you murmured. "You need to say the words, Aaron."

Someone else had told him the exact same words once.

And still, he hadn’t learned how to listen.

Maybe he never would.

Maybe it was just the way he was - stubborn in his silence, in his inability to believe he was allowed to need something, someone.

But still, he cared.

He cared in the way he stole more chocolate than he should have - not just because of his sweet tooth, but because he knew you didn’t like it that much. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Because he didn’t want the taste to overpower, didn’t want to make it too rich when he knew you’d only take a few sips before pushing your cup toward him, like you always did.

He cared in the way he let the chocolate sit on the stove just a little longer, thickening the way you preferred it.

In the way he never stopped you, even when you added far more cinnamon than he would have chosen for himself.

In the way he didn’t say a word.

Maybe he should. He needed to say the words. Maybe just start with some.

And so his grip tightened around the mug, the heat pressing into his palms, seeping into his skin.

He could feel it, the warmth.

He had never noticed before how much he liked the way it settled in his fingers, how it grounded him, how it made him feel… alive.

Like he was rediscovering - all over again - that if he held on too long, it would burn.

And it did.

Science might explain it as heat conduction - the transfer of thermal energy from the liquid to the ceramic, from the ceramic to his skin, exciting the molecules in his nerve endings until they fired signals to his brain, warning him of the impending risk of tissue damage.

A perfectly rational, biological response.

But not everything he felt could be charted in nerve endings and synapses, reduced to chemical reactions or evolutionary instinct.

Some things defied explanation.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Aaron.”

Good luck to the scientists trying to reduce that to a handful of chemical bonds and neural pathways.

Maybe they could try.

They’d still get it wrong.

Ineffable.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

Phi's Corner: I’m sorry if this made you cry… as an apology, I’m sending each of you a piece of focaccia... let me know if you want it with or without olives.

[jassy2uall]

– Always You

Billie Eilish x fem! Reader

“You’ve always had a crush on your best friend Billie but could never find a way to tell her. You just didn’t think she felt the same or that you’d be the one. It’ll never be you, or will it?”

Warnings - lots of angst and jealousy (get some tissues guys)

————————————————————

You and Billie have been best friends since you were six years old. You’ve known her just as long as Zoe has, but unlike Zoe, your relationship with Billie is more complicated and more serious. You’ve always had a tiny crush on her, but you never told her. You were afraid of ruining the friendship, and even more afraid of rejection. So, you buried those feelings deep down, convincing yourself you’d forgotten about them.

But you hadn’t.

When Billie became famous, everything changed. Her rise to stardom only complicated the feelings you thought you’d moved past. Every time you saw her on stage or in the spotlight, it was like those buried emotions resurfaced, stronger than before. It even enraged you when you’d see her flirt with so many people, especially women. It was like a punch to the gut each time, the reality of her new world far removed from the one you two had built together.

You’d always been there for her through her past relationships, but you never liked anyone she dated. They weren’t good enough for her, you told yourself. You were the one who truly understood her, the one who’d been there through it all. You convinced yourself for years that you were all she needed, that you were good enough for her—you just couldn’t tell her that.

But then came Coachella. That day, your emotions reached a boiling point when you saw Billie being all flirty with Odessa and Quen. It was like you couldn’t hold it in any longer—the jealousy, the longing, the fear that maybe it would never be you. After watching her take turns kissing both of them, something inside you snapped. You’d seen enough. You ran off the stage, your heart pounding in your chest. You heard Zoe call out to you, her voice barely cutting through the blaring music, but you didn’t care. You just couldn’t be there anymore. Billie didn’t even notice. She was too caught up in the moment, dancing and enjoying herself, oblivious to the storm building inside you.

Would it even matter if she had noticed? Would she follow after you? The questions swirled in your mind as you pushed through the crowd, your thoughts racing faster than your legs could carry you. As much as you wanted to leave, it dawned on you that you had a ride with Billie and her friends, and they weren’t exactly in the mood to leave, unlike you. Even though it was dark outside, it was still early, and Coachella was far from over.

You pulled out your phone and quickly called a Lyft. Unfortunately, it was going to be 20 minutes until it arrived. You sighed in frustration. You were ready to get out of here. You kept hearing Billie shouting into the mic, her voice cutting through the noise of the crowd. The more you heard her talk, the more the tears fell, unbidden, down your face.

That’s when you saw a streak of brown hair approach you slowly. Your vision was blurry from the tears, but you recognized her—Claudia. She looked at you with concern, worry in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asked, gently placing her hand on your shoulder.

“I saw you run off stage. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, wiping your eyes and avoiding her gaze. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but your voice betrayed you.

“I can clearly see you’re crying, Y/N. Zoe told Billie you ran off. She’s worried about you.”

Sure, she is, you thought bitterly. You forced a weak laugh, wiping your nose on your sleeve.

“She said she’s going to talk to you as soon as she’s done.”

That was it. You snapped. The frustration, the hurt, the years of suppressed feelings—everything came crashing down on you.

“Yeah, right!” You yelled, your voice cracking with raw emotion. “She doesn’t care about me or my feelings!” You stepped back, shaking your head. “I can’t do this anymore, Claudia. I just can’t.”

Claudia’s confusion deepened. “What do you mean?”

You paused for a moment, wiping your eyes. Were you actually going to tell her? You’d never told anyone except your sister, who pretty much knew before you did that you liked Billie. You took a deep breath, gathering your nerves.

“I like her, Claud,” you finally muttered, the words slipping out before you could even fully process them.

Claudia’s eyes widened, her drink falling to the ground as she stepped back, stunned. “You what?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I like her,” you repeated, your heart pounding. “Like, like her. For a while now,” you admitted, the weight of your confession heavy on your chest. “But I never told her because I didn’t think she’d feel the same, and I tried to forget about it, but I just can’t.”

The words kept tumbling out, and once you started, it felt like there was no stopping them. “She makes it so hard not to like her. Everything she does mesmerizes me. She’s so beautiful and kind, and she has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. Every time I look into them, I wanna tell her how I feel, but I don’t. I didn’t want her to reject me or, worse, ruin our friendship. But I’m pretty sure after tonight, our friendship’s pretty much over. Because she doesn’t give a damn about me or how I feel, and if she does, she’s got a funny way of showing it.”

You wiped away more tears, your face flushed from the outburst.

Claudia stood there in stunned silence, her eyes softening as she watched you, tears threatening to fall from her own eyes, despite the alcohol still buzzing through her. She didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could see her processing what you had said. She reached out slowly, pulling you into a hug. You didn’t even realize how badly you needed it until she wrapped her arms around you.

“I never knew any of this,” she said into the crook of your neck. You could smell the alcohol on her, but you didn’t care. “And you’re wrong about one thing,” she pulled away slightly, looking at you seriously. “She does care about you.”

You didn’t want to believe her. You couldn’t. “No, she doesn’t. If she did—”

“She does, Y/N. All she ever talks about when she’s with me and Finneas is you—what you’re doing, what you guys are talking about. I’m telling you, you’re always on her mind.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Then how come every time we’re together, she’s always focused on something else or someone else?”

“She’s busy, you know that.”

“Yeah, too busy for me, I see,” you said sadly.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it: your Lyft was about to pull up.

“Enough about this, Claudia. I’m going back to the hotel to pack my things,” you said, taking a few steps toward the pick-up area.

“What? No!” she yelled, trying to pull you back.

“As I said, I can’t do this anymore. It’s never going to be me, Claud. And I’m done trying,” you told her firmly, walking toward the Lyft. Claudia didn’t follow you. She just stood there, her expression a mix of sadness and concern, watching you leave. You glanced back at her one last time before climbing into the backseat.

“If she really cares about me, like you say, then she’d be right here, talking to me, trying to stop me from leaving. But she’s not,” you said, gesturing toward the stage where Billie was performing.

“She’s not, is she?” you whispered to yourself, before shutting the door behind you and leaving Claudia standing there, as the car sped off toward the hotel.

[flipthepaige]

driver, roll up the partition, please!

includes. SMUT 18+, paige bueckers x fem! reader. public setting still somewhat private, oral, drunk and nasty, little bit of sub paige, praise and begging, grinding, makeup smudging, just all over each other…

about. after your girlfriend gets drafted number one overall, neither of you have the patience to wait until the afterparty. surely the driver won’t mind if paige celebrates a little early… right?

ju speaks. incase you didn’t know, i am @ohbueckers :) mama had to make a whole new blog, but she’s back! this is a bit of filth but i haven’t wrote any good smut in so long so i poured it all out here lol. p gets drafted in less than a month, let’s cope the right way, amen!

“Driver, roll up the partition, please!”

She says it all politely, like her lips aren’t as red as a cherry and swollen, like your hands haven’t untucked and found their way up under her dress shirt, nails scraping over the ridges of her abs, like she hasn’t been grinding against you for the last two blocks, all while tasting like champagne and every bad decision you were always going to make tonight. Your leg is hiked up over her lap, and she’s been kissing you like she doesn’t give a damn that the limo is still moving, that you’re supposed to be on your way to the afterparty, that there’s a whole world outside this car waiting to celebrate her—number one overall, finally Dallas’ rookie.

The second she stood up, walked across that stage, and held up that jersey, she was already thinking about getting back to you. And when she did, when she came striding over, still grinning like a kid on Christmas, the most anticipated person in the room but still just your girl, she grabbed you like she needed proof this was real.

Her arms slid around your waist, pulling you in like she was scared someone might try to take you from her. You smiled up at her, and expressed how proud you were, of course. Her lips brushed your forehead, and she made sure you heard the six words that followed, whispering into your hair, “couldn’t have done it without you.”

This time, your mouth is on her neck before she even finishes her sentence, nipping and sucking at her skin, breathing in her Valentino like you can pick apart every ingredient in it. Too eager for manners, and way too far gone to care, you don’t even hear the driver’s muttered response, not even the hum of the partition sliding up and clicking into place. No more audience. No more distractions. Just you and her. Atleast for a couple more miles.

And Paige? Back like she never left, like she needed that barrier up before she could really lose herself in you. “Ain’t even gon’ take ya time with it?” she teases, smiling as her hands slide down, find the swell of your ass, squeeze like she’s been dying to do it all night. “Fuck, y’so impatient,” she mutters, tilting her head back just enough to let you work, and when you bite down just right, she shivers, the pads of her fingers tightening against your shoulder for some sense of stability.

“Mhm?” You grin against her throat, licking over the marks you just left. “You wanna do something about it?”

Paige groans, large hands already pushing the fabric of your dress up over your hips. The amount of need in her movements is overwhelming, because she’s been too good the entire night. She’s been sitting pretty at that table, shaking hands, doing interviews, feeling your eyes on her and knowing she couldn’t do shit about it. Not yet.

And now she’s got you all to herself.

Paige never does anything halfway, and that includes kissing you like she’s trying to ruin you. Your tongues move all sloppy, the sounds even nastier than the kiss, and you swear you hear the music get louder, vibrating against every corner of the vehicle, the driver clearly trying to drown out the obscene sounds of Paige Bueckers losing it in the backseat. But fuck, you’re not quiet either.

You let two of her fingers push your panties to the side, gasping as they run through your slick. You grip onto her tighter as Paige hoists you fully into her lap, straddling her leg as she whispers filth into your ear.

Big hands, rough from years of handles, crossovers, midrange shots that got her here, but gentle where they need to be—slipping between your thighs, spreading you open like she already knows what she’s gonna find.

Her fingers are slipping through the mess you’ve already made for her, slow at first, just to get you going, because she knows how much you want it, because she likes making you wait. But then you whimper, and it hypnotizes her to do exactly what you wanted her to do.

Paige is fast, but she’s precise despite being intoxicated, two fingers sinking inside you like your pussy was made for her. Your breath catches, body jerking forward, head tipping back against the seat, but she keeps you secure, pressing down on your stomach. “That’s it,” she urges, free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you open for her. “Lemme hear it, baby.”

“Mfmph, there.” Your fingers wrap around her wrist while hers curl just right, pressing against that spot that has your thighs shaking, your back arching from her chest. The blonde watches you intently, her pupils blown, lips slick and kiss swollen, owning every reaction like it’s another trophy for her collection. “Right there, P” you drag out.

The music gets louder, and you can’t even make out the lyrics, just the beat of something that never falls low. You’re sure you’d have some remorse for the driver if you weren’t about three drinks in and a little fucked out, but you can’t find it, because Paige wants all of it. Every sound, every plea, every desperate, breathless, “Paige, please.”

And, oh, do you give it to her.

Paige groans at the way you say her name, like she can feel it straight between her legs, like it’s fueling her. Her fingers keep working you open, hitting every spot like she knows your body better than her own, because truthfully, she does. She’s mapped you out a hundred times before, but never like this, never this drunk, never with the high of being number one mixing with the high of you.

“That’s my girl,” she praises, watching the way her fingers disappear in and out with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Look so pretty takin’ it, baby. Knew you would.”

You tremble, a moan breaking past your lips, and Paige just grins, like she’s putting on another show, something like the one she just left from. But this one? This one is just for her.

“Almost there?”

You nod frantically, nails digging at her wrist, trying to keep yourself together—but fuck is it hard when she’s all over you like this. She speeds up just a little, the wet sounds of her digits working you over and making your cheeks burn, but Paige loves it. She leans in, licks up the side of your neck, tasting the wreckage.

“Paige,” you pant, eyes fluttering.

“Say it again,” she rasps, her forehead pressed to the side of yours now, her fingers still moving, hips subtly grinding against nothing, like she’s as desperate as you are.

“Paige,” you whimper, and you wish you could say it was voluntary. “I—”

You don’t even get the chance to finish, because Paige presses down on your stomach again, just right, and your whole body reacts—clenching around her fingers, thighs twitching like she just stole every bit of your sanity. You really think she might’ve. Maybe she’s been taking from you this entire night—the air in your lungs, the thoughts from your head, the control you thought you had.

“Yeah, I know,” she talks you through it, lips brushing against your temple, her fingers still working, still curling inside you, playing you like a highlight reel. “Go ‘head, ma. Give it to me.”

Your release crashes into you, body locking up before breaking apart, your moan swallowed by Paige’s mouth as she kisses all of it out of you, eating up every last sound like she needs it, like she wants it dripping down her chin. Her fingers never stop moving, making sure you know she did this to you.

She pulls away with a bite of your lip, savoring the remnants of her own name on your tongue, and for a second, you think she’ll let you breathe, let you come down from the high she just sent you to.

But then she shifts against you the same way she’d been doing all night, grinds her hips up into nothing, and you feel it.

Paige Bueckers, all six feet of her, usually so composed, the one who calls the shots in bed and most of the time out of it—is crumbling for you now, fists gripping at the leather seat like she’s barely holding on.

Your fingers slide down slowly at the realization, popping open her belt, then her slacks, pushing them down just enough to expose the waistband of her boxers.

All you need is five minutes.

So you move. Drop to your knees right between hers, push her legs wider as you settle between them, dragging your palms up her thighs when she breathes out your name in her gravelly Minnesota accent. You let your nails creep up under her shirt, scratching lightly against her lower stomach. Too much teasing for the blonde, not enough mouth.

Paige growls, actually growls, and before you can blink, she grabs your wrist, pressing your hand right over her, rolling her hips into your palm. “Ain’t in the mood for allat,” she mumbles, jaw clenched, pupils dilated. “You know what the fuck I want, baby. Stop stallin’.”

You listen.

Partly because she’s just had the biggest night of her life, the kind of night people dream about. Winning a National Championship just a few weeks prior to getting your name called first for the draft, becoming the face of a franchise, name solidified in history. She worked her ass off for it too, and tonight? Tonight, she made it.

So you listen. You don’t stall, and you swear you hear the music get louder again—like the driver knows exactly what’s about to happen.

The minute you start mouthing at her, you can feel her muscles jump under your lips. Paige inhales, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, rubbing at your skin. The limo rocks slightly, the bass from the speakers rattling through your ribcage, but none of that matters. The only thing you care about is the way Paige is falling apart in your mouth.

She tries to hold out, tries to keep it together, but the way her thighs twitch when your tongue moves just right? The way she shudders when you suck?

“Fuck,” she groans finally, head tipping back, body lunging upward on instinct.

And she loses it.

Because Paige has never been one to sit back and just take it.

Her hips start moving, rolling into your mouth, and you let her, let her use you, let her chase what she needs because you need it too—the way she sounds, the way she tastes, the way her legs start to tremble, thighs pressing against your cheeks and smudging your makeup because she can’t help it.

She’s ruined and a little helpless, mumbling half formed curses and praises that don’t even make sense. You swear you could come again just by listening. “Been needin’ you all night. Keep doin’ that.”

She rides it out while your tongue works in circles, fingers digging into her thighs to keep her there even though she can’t be still, her body shaking along with her hands that can’t decide whether to pull you closer or push you away.

You flatten your tongue, holding her down a little rougher when she bucks up against your mouth. She’s so close, right there, her body trying to outrun her own orgasm, but you don’t stop.

“Please—please, baby—feels s’good,” she whines, her fingers tugging at your hair just the way she knows you love, hips stuttering, moans guttural. “Just like that—don’t stop, don’t—”

She chokes on her next breath, her body breaking just like yours did, just like she’s so deserving of.

And when she finally slumps back against the seat, spent, her chest still heaving, her thumb lazily stroking over your cheek, she grins down at you, tired, satisfied, definitely not ready for the whatever afterparty diorama is waiting for her like a coronation.

“Yeah,” she breathes, licking her lips as she pulls you back up into her lap, kissing you like she could go another round, tongue sweeping into your mouth to taste herself.

“Number one pick, baby,” she slurs. “How that sound?”

Like trouble. Like a whole dynasty in the making. Like she’s already on top of the world, and somehow, that ain’t high enough.

You giggle, pressing her cheeks between your fingers as you peck at her lips. “Fucking great. How’s it feel?”

“Feel like I could do this all night,” she mumbles, hips rocking up into you, her need reigniting just like that. She masks it as a slight shift, but you know better. “What about you? Think you got another one in you?”

Like she even needs to ask.

[writingsbytee]

THE HOTLINE (part 2.)

SEX OPERATOR TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER (BLAIRE)

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minors please don’t interact!* THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION 

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

SUMMARY: Set in the early 2000s. Taking your best friend’s tipsy advice, you decide to call a sex hotline for help with dirty talk and your overall insecurities surrounding sex. When you call your local sex hotline, you get more than what you bargained for when Terry pics up the other line. Part 2 picks up with Terry finally making it to Blaire’s house. Porn with little to no plot ahead.

PAIRING: Terry Richmond x Blaire (reader)

WARNINGS: 18+; explicit dirty talk, explicit sex scenes; daddy kink; size kink; spit play if you squint, cursing, 

WORD COUNT: 3.2K

PREVIOUSLY ON: PART 1

AUTHOR’S NOTE: PART 2 IS FINALLY HERE!!!! I’m so excited to share this chapter with you guys. I hope this is worth the wait, I know everyone wanted to know what was up next with Terry and Blaire. As always, criticism is welcomed but remember I have sensitive feelings so don’t eat me up. Happy Reading love bugs! This hasn't been proofread, so I apologize for the grammatical errors

TAG LIST: @nayaesworld @keehendrixx @theereina @theereinawrites @kimuzostar @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackgurlnhermoods @dxddykenn @episodes-ff @pinkkycherrishh @pinkkycherrish @urfavblackbimbo @kianaleani @shallipii @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @earthchica @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melasworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @simplyzeeka @playgurlxoxo @yassbishimvintage @dbaileyblog @jimmybutlrr @versaceslutz @ruewritesoccasionally @kaylalb @noir-lullaby @jadatingz @madamedantes @charmedthoughts @daughterofapollo-7 @cardi-bre91 @thabiddie23 @mama-2001 @venusincleo @slvt4her

‘I done lost my rabbit ass mind’, Terry thought to himself as he blew through yet another stop sign. It was like something came over him, and he had to have you. Your voice, so soft and delicate, he could still hear you begging for him. He was slapping himself for forgetting to ask for your number. Terry glanced down at his dashboard, “Eight more minutes babygirl,” Terry mumbled to himself before pressing his foot a little harder on the gas. 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You were pacing back and forth, wondering if you’d gone absolutely insane. You gave a sex hotline operator your HOME ADDRESS! Has all the ‘dateline’ you watched taught you nothing?! Yet, here you were, pacing pantyless waiting for your doorbell to ring. At the moment it sounded like a good idea, a way to be spontaneous. Now out of your lust induced haze, you’re more than nervous. But, the time for nerves is no more when the tell-tale chime of your doorbell rings throughout your house. 

“Who is it?” you ask, approaching your front door. 

“It’s me babygirl, it’s Terry,”he says, sounding just as nervous as you. You stand up on your tip-toes and look through the peephole. An audible gasp left your lips at the sight of the man on the other side of your door. Standing well above 6 feet and built like a tank. There’s no way this is Terry the man was a literal adonis. 

Blaire whipped open her front door, “You have gotta be kidding me!” There’s no way this was Terry! And his eyes! The blue/green/brown combination swirling into a hypnotizing hazel, you were pretty sure one look from him and you’d be on your knees in an instant. 

Terry couldn’t take his eyes off the pink haired angel that opened the door. Your doe eyes wide as you took him in. “Damn Blaire, you’re fucking gorgeous. Uhh, I’m Terry.” Terry’s hand shot out in front of him. He watched as you glanced down at his hand before you burst out laughing. 

“Not even an hour ago you were giving me permission to finger myself. Now, here you are trying to shake my hand, talking about ‘I’m Terry’. I think we’re past formalities babe,” You laugh stepping to the side to let Terry in. 

The nerves dissipated once he heard your laugh, “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I know this is an unorthodox situation” Terry says, as he steps over your threshold. He takes in your home, your maximalist taste usually jarring for some but Terry thought your place suited you. 

“I appreciate that, I am comfortable around you. I mean I hope I would be based on what we just did on the phone,” you finish with a nervous laugh.

“Your place really suits you, babygirl” Terry said, his eyes darting around your entryway trying to memorize the place.

“Can I get you anything? Water, soda, or maybe something a little stronger?” You ask, wringing your fingers. The drink you had earlier is starting to wear off. Terry takes notice of this, a small smirk forming on his face. He was relieved that you were just as nervous as he was, “Something stronger sounds nice, to shake off this nervous energy. Lead the way, beautiful.”  Terry watches, as you lead him further into your home. He thanks the lord at the bounce of your ass under the oversized t-shirt you have on. 

“Light or dark?”you ask, holding up a bottle of tequila and bourbon in each hand. You couldn’t stop staring at Terry. He had to be crafted by every wet dream you’d ever had. And it manifested itself right here in your kitchen. 

“What were you drinking?” he asks, leaning against the counter. You watched in awe as his muscles rippled in his tight black long sleeve. 

“I - uh. I was drinking tequila,” you finish with a sigh, frustrated at your nervousness. He’s just a man, the man of your literal dreams but just a man nonetheless. 

Terry notices your nerves and does his best to ease them, disarming you with a megawatt smile. “Tequila sounds great baby girl.” You nod and spin around, reaching above your head to grab a glass for your visitor. Terry’s eyes widen as your shirt rides up showing the cuff of your plump ass. As if he’d done it a million times before, Terry walks up behind you placing his huge hands on your hips.

“You answered the door like this to drive me crazy didn’t you?” Terry whispered in your ear. You felt your heart stop, then restart again going double the speed. 

“Now, why would I want to do that?” you ask, innocently. “It’s not like I want you to bend me over this counter and fuck my brains out or anything.”

A laugh burst from Terry’s mouth, startling you slightly, “Ohh, you got jokes huh?” Terry asks as he tightens his grip on your waist. He reaches above you for a glass, his large, strong hands brushing against yours as he grabs it. His scent, a mix of citrus and tobacco filling your nostrils, forcing you to breathe in deeper. 

“So do you do this with all your clients?”you ask once you’ve grabbed all the fixings to make drinks for the two of you. Terry leans against your counter, a smirk adorning his face. 

“What? Bend them over their kitchen counters and fuck them cross-eyed? Nah, you’re the first. Can’t say that I’ll make this an everyday thing either,”Terry says, eyes never leaving yours. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”you ask, starting to shake your drinks. 

“I have a feeling once I get a taste of you I won’t be able to let you go. No one’s ever made me as hard as you do babygirl, ”Terry says, as he takes a step toward you. Your eyes widen briefly at the realization that you were going to climb this mountain of a man. Sliding his drink to him, you smile behind yours taking a sip.

“Easy cowboy, I like foreplay,” you say, moving around your kitchen. Terry smirks, coming up behind you to undo your claw clip. His hands grip your waist pulling you flush against his front. He snakes a hand up behind your neck gripping your pink tresses in his fist and pulls. An involuntary moan leaves your mouth as your eyes meet Terry’s.

“So you like it a little rough?”Terry asks, bringing his drink to his lips taking a long sip. And you just stared dumbly up at him, the submissive in you dying to come out. 

“Open your mouth pretty girl,”Terry commands, his voice deepening. You feel your wetness slide down the inside of your thigh as you comply with his command. Your eyes widen as you watch upside down Terry takes another sip of his drink. He leans down, lips ghosting over yours as the liquor flows from his mouth to yours. 

“Now, swallow. Good girl” Terry praises when you follow his command. Your heart is racing when Terry’s hand slides down your front, cupping your breast through your shirt. Nipples hardening almost immediately, a needy sigh leaves your lips as you sag against Terry. His large hands cup both your breasts squeezing and kneading them. 

Terry leans down, his lips ghosting down the side of your neck. You tilt your head to give him access and his mouth attacks your neck. “I came in here with a plan,”Terry exhales against your skin.

“Get to know you a little bit and then fuck your brains out. You just had to open the door looking like sin. Baby, nobody’s ever made a raggedy old T-shirt sexy. But you, you might as well be wearing lingerie for how hard you got me. Can you feel it, baby? Can you feel Daddy’s big dick digging into your back?”Terry’s monologue got you hot. Your pussy’s leaking, your breath coming out in shallow pants. Terry flicks your nipples through your shirt, causing you to flinch and moan. 

“Mm, harder, “ you moan, encouraging Terry to play rougher with your breasts. 

Terry tsks, “Now is that how you ask Daddy for something? You know what, get yo ass in the room.” He abruptly steps back leaving you hot and wanting. Turning to him with a dumbfounded look on your face you’re at a loss for words. You’ve never been this turned on so quickly. Leaning up against your kitchen island, he smirked devilishly yet again. Reaching to grab the tequila bottle he brings it up to his lips taking a shot.

“Get in that fucking room, baby now,” Terry growls. It’s like a switch gets flipped, and you’re on autopilot. As you turn to make your way toward your bedroom, you reach down, pulling your shirt over your head. Leaving you completely naked in front of Terry.  The smirk completely vanishes from his face as he takes in your naked body, curves out of his imagination, you were like his wet dreams personified. Palming his dick through his pants, he follows you blindly to your room. 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

As soon as you enter the bedroom, Terry pushes you back onto your plush mattress, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. His large hands immediately clutch your breasts, kneading the supple flesh as he leans down to capture a nipple between his lips. 

“Mmm, my delicious little treats,” he growls against your skin. Swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth. You were a panting mess, glancing down at Terry as he made out with your breast. Your thighs rubbing together covered in your slick, your clit dying for some friction. He lavishes attention on one breast while his thumb and pointer finger tease the other, pulling mewls and whines from your throat. 

Terry releases your nipple with a wet pop, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your cleavage as he works his way up to your ear. “You’re so responsive… so perfect I could play with these titties all night long,” he whispers huskily, nipping your earlobe. 

“Fuck, Terry. I need more,” you moan, your hips canting up in search of his fingers, dick, something that’ll quell this heat in your belly. You suck in a breath as his hand roam lower, gripping your thighs and pulling them apart. 

“Damn baby, you’re already so wet for me. You didn’t come like I told you to, right?” Terry purrs, circling your clit with a fingertip before slipping two fingers in to massage your inner walls. 

“Mmm fuck! Kiss me please,”you squeal out, back arching off the bed. Terry’s eyes flash with primal hunger at your plea. Leaning down his lips meet yours in a passionate embrace. It was a mess of tongues and teeth as you wrap both arms around his neck pulling him closer. You were drenched, sheets too far gone as you grinded against Terry’s palm. The sound of your wetness, and the combined moans of you both the only sounds cutting through the silence of your home. 

“What do you need, baby?”Terry asks, doing some kind of sorcery with his thumb on your clit. 

“Moreee, I need more Terry. Please baby, how long are you going to make me wait?” you groan out, fingernails making crescent shaped divots in his shoulders. You lock eyes with the handsome man above you. The hazel is almost completely overtaken by his pupil, his cheeks and chest flushed with arousal. He crawls down your body, his lips brushing against your inner thighs as he trails a path of open-mouthed kisses towards your dripping  pussy.

“Look at this pretty pussy baby, so wet and eager for my mouth,”he murmurs, burying his face between your folds and inhaling deeply. “You smell so fucking good pretty mama, fuck, I’m gonna tear this pretty pussy up. Sorry in advance,” Terry sends a devious smile your way before he buries his face in your pussy. 

He laps at your clit with long, slow strokes, savoring the taste of your pussy. The lewd sounds of Terry slurping your wetness permeating through your bedroom. Then, he dives deeper, plunging his tongue deep in your sloppy cunt and fucking you with it. Curling it to hit that special spot deep inside that makes you speak in tongues and see stars. “Fuck, I could eat you all day baby,”Terry groans against your flesh, his moans muffled against your pussy. 

“You’re eating me so good Daddy, I’ve never had it like this before,” You moaned. Your poor silk press, sweated out, lost to the throes of passion with the sexy giant above you. You were a mess, tears of desperation slid down your cheeks as Terry lapped at your pussy like he was savoring it, savoring you. As your hips canted up, your clit made contact with his nose drawing an exaggerated whine from you. 

“Yeah? You like that huh? Take it baby you wanna make yourself cum? Use my face,”Terry says in between moans. You became a woman possessed, grabbing onto Terry’s ears and you began grinding against his face. Covering him in your juices, “Fuck, Terry Yes!! Take that fucking pussy”

“God, look at you. Baby you look so pretty like this. Your pussy is weeping for me, I need you to cum Blaire. Can you do that for me baby?”Terry asks in between moans and slurps. 

“Cover my face in your cum, so I can fuck this pretty pussy,” he urges sucking firmly on your clit. With a final flick of his tongue, he sends you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm rips through you with the force of a tidal wave. Senses heightened as you crested over the peak of pleasure. Your back arches off the bed, a high-pitched wail tearing from your throat as wave after wave of pleasure flows through you. 

As the aftershocks subside, Terry slowly rises up, his face glistening with your essence. He crawls up your body, lips meeting yours in a lust drunk, sloppy kiss. Even though you just came so hard, the taste of yourself on Terry’s lips was enough to get you ready for round two. 

“Fuck me baby, please”, you beg, your hands caressing Terry all over his muscular frame, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer to you. Terry pulls back his eyes, taking in your dick drunk state. You’re covered in a slight sheen of sweat, doe eyes dazed and unfocused, chest heaving with pants.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Blaire,”Terry mumbles absently, “So wet and ready f’me.” Without wasting another moment, Terry sheathes himself inside you, groaning  at the sensation of being buried inside you. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,”Terry moans. You preen at the sounds of this man moaning and whimpering. Terry grips your hips tightly and starts to thrust, each thrust driving him deeper and deeper into your pussy, filling you completely. 

“How does my pussy feel Terry? Tell me,”you ask through his mind numbing thrusts. 

Terry’s breathing grows ragged as he pounds into you, lost in the incredible feeling of your tight wet pussy enveloping his dick. “Baby, it’s like pure sunshine. Wrapping around me like wet velvet, and gripping me so tight, fuck. You were fucking made for me Blaire, there’s no way I’m letting you go after this.” He leans over you, his chest pressing against yours as he continues to drive into you with increasing urgency.

Terry’s hand slides up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch beneath him, “That’s it, take it all, baby.” His grips on your throat tightens slightly, his fingers flexing against your skin as he grinds deeply into your pussy. 

You don’t even know your first name. Terry fucking every last braincell out of your mind. Nothing leaving your lips but sobs, whimpers, and moans. He pistons into you even harder, the sounds of skin meeting skin echoing throughout your room. “I’m not gonna last much longer babygirl. Let me fill this pussy up, mark you as mine. No one else gets to taste this sweet pussy but me from here on out. Understood?”

Terry’s words unleash another mind searing orgasm, your eyes roll into the back of your head as your pussy pulses around Terry’s length. Your world erupts in color and flashes of light as you float outside your body. A broken moan leaves his lips, and with one final brutal thrust Terry buries himself to the hilt to release ropes of his sticky warm cum inside you.  “Mine,” he groans into your neck, his voice raw with possessiveness as he spills his load into your willing body. 

Terry collapses on top of you, being sure not to crush you with his full weight. After a moment, he rolls off and pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. “You did great, baby,” he praises, stroking your hair soothingly. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his expression softening, “I wasn’t too rough was I?”

You shake your head, a dazed smile on your lips, “You were perfect, Daddy. Next time don’t drive somewhere else, I was dying waiting for you.”

Terry chuckled, pulling you impossibly closer,”Got it, you want me to run you a bath?” 

“Please?” you asked, body too spent to get up and do it yourself. 

Terry gently pulls out and places a quick kiss on your lips before raising up in all his naked glory. You feel yourself start to drift off as you stare at his ass, a small smirk on your face at another role play success between you and your boyfriend. Before long, the sound of running water lulls you into a brief slumber. 

THE END. 

OKAAAAAAYYYY! So tell me what y’all think in the comments! I love chatting with you guys! Thank you so so much for consuming my work. 

UNTIL NEXT TIME.

TEE <3

[natsredbra]

A fractured line II

summary: All we did was kiss, on my grave I swear.

pairing: Natalie Scatorccio x fem!reader

warnings: smut in the beginning, mentions of SA (Travis and doomcoming), shrooms, knives, fighting, mentions of hetero sex (yes thats a warning), angsttttttt, our girl reader is dealing with situationship demons, ambiguous ending

a/n: fucking finally!! im so sorry if this disappoints any of you, i literally got the idea when i listened to a song. i do like this one better but unfortunately i needed some angst on this page its literally all porn, also not proofread we die like jackie

word count: 5k

taglist: @theprismyyy @priyajoyy @bbbexee

part 1

Natalie’s lips were cold against yours, but it didn’t stop you from capturing them feverishly. And as cliche as it sounds, you really haven’t felt this way before. You could tell yourself it was the shrooms, but that simply wasn’t the case.

She was the first to pull away. It might’ve felt like torture but you did need to breathe.

She also had no right looking this beautiful. To look at you, while being this beautiful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ You started, but were soon cut off by her own lips this time.

She kissed you like you were all she’s been looking for her entire life, cupping your face and straddling you on the cold ground. Your fingers tangled in your hair as you let her lips explore you.

They traveled down to your jaw, your neck and collarbone which was showing right above the neckline of your dress.

It all felt like you were in slow motion, maybe she felt it too. Coming back up to your lips, she pressed a searing kiss against them.

“I want you so bad.” Natalie whispered, sending a wave of heat between your thighs.

“Please let me have you.” She said with a burgeoning excitement. How could you ever say no to that? To her?

The small nod you gave was more than enough for her to continue, slowly dragging the straps of your dress down. Her slender fingers burned against your skin as they mapped it out, relishing the warm feeling of you. Her lips also continued their path in sync with her hands, growing needier by the minute.

You were hyper aware of it all - her body pressed against yours, it was as if your entire being mingled with hers.

Moving her hips down just slightly, she straddled just one of your thighs insted, tailing a hand up your leg until she reached the already ridden up hem.

“Can I?” Natalie asked almost shyly, one tone you’d yet to hear from her.

“Please.” You coaxed out, her hand pushing your panties to the side before you could even finish.

Once her skin made contact with your bare core you were done for. Resting her forehead against yours, letting her plump lips brush against your cheek in a soft reassurance before nudging your hole with her middle finger.

Once she does push it inside you, she acts as if she can feel it too. Her hips jerked against your body, digit moving simultaneously. Her movements were a bit unsure, but she soon found a spot that made you writhe in pleasure. Adding another finger, she circled your clit too, sending shockwaves down your spine.

You’d never been touched this way before. Never felt like someone wanted to touch you simply to make you feel good, and not get something in return. In this moment, it was as if her sole purpose was to please you, and rest assured herself, grinding down on the ridge of your thigh.

Not trusting your hands anymore, you propped yourself up on one elbow, the other arm sneaking around Natalie’s neck. She embraced it right away, placing a soft hand where your shoulders meet, as if grounding you.

“Does that feel good?” She whispered against your lips, nudging your nose with her own.

“Feels amazing, Nat.” You answered, pure desire laced in your tone. Seems to urge her on too, as her movements against you get noticably frenzied, chasing her climax along with you. Brushing your lips against hers, the two of you came soon enough, swallowing each other’s moans and whimpers. It was in this moment that you felt truly content, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Plopping back down onto the dirt, Nat collapsed atop of you, nuzzling her head into your chest.

“That was - amazing. You’re really amazing.” The girl slurred out.

“You’re really shitfaced!” You retorted with a laugh, the breeze making your damp thighs feel slightly cold

“No but you are! You’ve got those eyes and - and the hair and boobs.” She listed, holding up her fingers and counting on them.

The whole exchange made you throw a cackling fit, your arms tightening around her. This is what people meant when they called sex intimate, then. The intimacy may not only exist in the act itself, though it certainly was there - but also before and after. In fact, the buildup and post orgasm bliss may have actually been better.

Natalie felt that way too. She had her fair share of fucking, but never making love. It was different, even though she always argued it wouldn’t be, and you both felt it.

Right now, she just let herself listen to your heartbeat, no pressure, no worries or chaos, just for tonight—

“Help!”

You two heard in the distance. Immediately jolting upwards, you exchanged a skeptical glance. But your moms didn’t raise pussies.

Nat and you soon got up, running towards the sound that overtime became more pronounced.

Approaching it more, you could finally identify Jackie’s voice screaming, coming from the cabin.

“That good, huh?” You joked as the two of you bolted inside.

Grasping the handle, Natalie unlocked the door that the girl was trapped behind.

There she was, staring at you with wide, guilty eyes. Normally, you would’ve blinded her for messing with what’s yours. But could you even do that? Especially when you did the exact same thing? Shitfaced philosophy was really working as Jackie gawked between Nat and you, with an admittedly shameful look. Of course you weren’t sure, but from what you heard you presumed this was, in fact, her first time.

But apparently she was in some kind of hurry. it was funny what these mere mushrooms could do. The interaction was quite ephemeral, yet to you it seemed as the longest awkward moment you’d had to face, ever.

“Are you okay?” Nat asked, tuning to look at you

“I’m free! Natalie I’m a free being! And so is Jackie…” You started, both of you presuming her hurried state was a symptom of the high.

“Yes you are honey.” Nat said, stifling a laugh.

“Dude I’m a whole person!

“Yeah, you are a whole.” She replied with a stupid lovesick smile on her face

“I’m a hole!” You giggled along with her about your wrong interpretation of her words.

“We should see where she was headed, yeah?” Nat said, and you reluctantly did follow

Catching up to the aforementioned girl was quite easy, seeing as Natalie and you were fast, and on a nice amount of the forest-provided ecstasy. With asking Jackie questions came cryptic answers, however your light and playful demeanor lessened more and more with her serious one.

It went dead as soon as you heard sketchy sounds in the distance. They became as obvious as ever as you approached them, and getting to a clearing you saw something you thought you were tripping abo- oh, it’s real!

Your very ex was tied to some kind of fucking altar? With Lottie right next to him? And Shauna’s knife to his throat?

God help your delirium, Jackie and Natalie rushed over and helped him right away. You felt like a coward, only being able to watch in horror and shock. But then again, it wasn’t everyday that you see a boy strapped down to- whatever that is and covered in numerous lipstick marks, that were not in fact Jackie’s.

She did take the liberty of taking him back, Nat being the one to handle you. She took your clammy hand onto hers and lead you back to the lake for some peace and quiet, which you immensely needed.

"So that was something, huh?" Nat broke the silence, sitting beside you.

"If that's what you wanna call it." You deadpanned, your high wearing off.

"You did good. Back there. You did your best." Natalie spoke lowly, trying to make you feel better. She always did that, not just to you, to everyone. She wasn't as cheerful about it as say Jackie, but she did her best, and it almost always hit the spot. Not quite this time though.

"There was so much more I could've done." You whispered back, not turning your head to look at her. Still, you could feel her own eyes burning holes to the side of your face.

"Hey, don't do that! You were terrified, dude."

"And you weren't?" You questioned, a bit agitated. Not at her, at yourself.

The question was followed by a long silence, both of you gazing towards the woods and the water. The majestic moonlight illuminated the place, making the lake's contents sparkle before you.

Maybe, just maybe, if you were on a field trip with your friends from back home, sneaking in booze and huddling up to him her on the drive home, you’d think this place was beautiful.

"Everyone was so scared of you," She scoffed "I never was. I mean you were a girl, just like the rest of us. Trying to get through all that shit - high school, family, whatever...I get that." Nat said, making you smile a little

"That night, when Travis broke up with me, you said that were were two sides of the same coin. I wasn't sure what you meant until tonight." You replied

Yeah, now you knew exactly what she meant. Both of you were just young, putting out a tough exterior - one that everyone recognized you by - simply to protect yourselves. Maybe the reason you avoided Natalie wasn't because of how different you are, but how similar she actually was to you. Maybe you didn't wanna accept that.

"I don't regret what happened tonight, by the way." She said, sounding almost afraid to voice it.

"Me either." You whispered, finally locking your eyes onto hers.

It was as if she didn't have the physical strength to hold back, leaning in to kiss you seconds after you looked at her. Moving a bit closer, her touch got increasingly more hungry.

Oh well, a second round can't hurt.

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

The early morning light distributed through the forest, slowly awaking you from your slumber. Raising your head, you couldn't ignore the dull ache in your neck - likely from sleeping on the ground. A few feet away from you, you could see your reflection in the shore of the infamous lake. Your hair was quite messy as you tried to shake all of the sand out of it - or at least most. The dress you wore was draped lazily over your hip, your almost bare body covered in dirt.

That's when it hit you, everything that happened last night. And I mean, everything, in detail.

"You’re awake." A soft, familiar voice that belonged to Natalie called out

"Unfortunately." You muttered, rubbing your face with your hands. Sure, you did have a thing for the dramatics, but this time you kind of meant it.

Natalie snorted before responding, "I got you some clothes." She said, and only then you noticed she was already changed.

"I'll rinse off first." You answered, standing up and leveling with her before walking over to the water.

You took careful steps, dipping your toes inside though it was quite frigid. Nat moved over closer to you, stripping bare of her pants.

"Just jump in." She said teasingly as you gave her a faux eyeroll. Though to her surprise, you did just dive right in, keeping your head under for a few seconds until some dirt was out of your ear.

The blonde sat at the shore, her legs intertwining with the water as she drew up her sleeves and leaned back on her hands. Swiftly swimming over you laid your wet head of hair on top of her thigh, looking up at her through your eyelashes.

"That was a shit show." She spoke up, breaking the silence

"Not all of it!" You called out, playfully smacking her arm with the back of your hand, earning a soft giggle from her.

"No, not all of it. I did like some parts." She said with a smirk

You just snorted, gazing up at her.

"You know, when all this is over and we get back home, I'm taking you out on a proper cheesy date." Nat stated, leaving zero room for argument.

"I'd love that." You replied, nuzzling your face into her.

"You know that really cliche moment in the movies when the lead finally realizes they're into someone and wants to - take care of them, or whatever?" The girl spoke up above you

"Yeah?"

"I feel like this might be it for me." She said, followed by a short silence

"I like how you make me feel so much lighter. Like I'm carrying a bunch of weight on my shoulders and you just take it away." You said quietly.

She didn't need to respond for you to know how much those words meant to her, or how she's felt it with you herself.

All the exhaustion was finally getting to you, as well as the hangover. You groaned in pain softly, and she took the hint, running the pads of her fingers through your hair.

"Maybe you should check in with him." She said. God why did she have to be so kind and well meaning? This was a conversation you were not looking forward to in the slightest, and it made you groan quite a bit louder.

"What if we just stayed here all day? We can be lazy and make out!" You proposed, climbing back up to straddle her thighs, your arms encircling her neck, wetting the fabric of her shirt.

"Yeah, for a little. But at some point we need to go back, there's so much shit to do." Nat responded, giving you a tender look.

"Dude why? They were the ones that went fucking insane!"

"Maybe so, but still. They'll be on our asses if we don't." She spoke with a bit of annoyance.

Surely though, you could not forget the makeout session that was meant to take place. Leaning in, you pressed your cold lips onto hers, making her hand fly and ball in your hair, pulling you in closer. It sure would be an eventful morning.

Finally being done with your...seemingly favorite stress relief method, you both did get dry and dressed, dreading what was to come. With a deep breath, Nat's warm hand found yours, taking it as she led you back to camp.

At this moment, you were hyperaware of all your surroundings. Her skin on yours, as your own clung to your clothes, your damp locks wetting the area of your neck. The quiet hum of the wind traveling through the dainty leaves, making the inevitable silence that much more bareable.

“It’s gonna be fine. They’re the ones that should feel shitty.” She just always knew exactly what to say.

You gave her a reassuring smile - that was mostly meant for yourself, and turned the corner, walking up to the cabin.

See, you expected many things. You expected a dirty look, maybe a concerned or a guilty one. Maybe you expected to be teased for the very obvious post-hookup flush in your face. You expected Nat to be made fun of for all the marks coating her neck. What you didn’t expect was to see the entire group in both awe and terror, gathered all together.

All together, around the one and only Lottie, pulling a knife out of a bear’s neck. So in the grand scheme of things, no one even noticed you walk up.

Natalie instinctivly pulled you closer, remembering your fairly negative feelings towards certain things, such as guts and gore.

“Oh - now you come back? We’ve been looking for you all morning!” Taissa called out to you two once she spotted you.

“Is that seriously what’s on your mind right now?” You asked in slight disbelief.

“Yes! We had no fucking idea where the gun was!” An agitated Mari yelled.

“It’s by the door.” Natalie said with a bit of a mocking tone, making you snort once you saw the other girl’s dumbfounded expression.

“Okay, who cares? The bear is dead, no one’s hurt and we have food!” Akilah stated.

“Absolutley. No point in talking about it now.” Coach said in what you presumed to be a bored tone. Not like you could blame him.

“Just drag it to the back, we’ll cut it up later.” Shauna muttered as a couple girls took the liberty to do so.

“I’ll go take a walk, I need to clear my head.” You told Nat, giving her hand a soft squeeze

“Take your time. I’ll be around.” She responded, scanning the place a little before giving the corner of your mouth a bit of a sarcastic, fast kiss, which earned her a small eyeroll.

Walking out to the back, barely twenty feet away, you ran into the very person responsible for your inner turmoil this sunny morning. Before turning and running away, Natalie’s voice rang in your head. And for fucks sake, you wanted her to think highly of you, even for something benign as this.

“Travis? You okay?” You incquired with a gentle approach. Or at least, as gentle as possible.

“I’m fine.” He responded hastly, though his current demeanor said otherwise.

“Need help with that?” You tried yet again, pointing to the cold, wet rag he rubbed against the bruised skin of his neck.

“No.”

Despite his refusal, with a sigh you slowly reached for it anyhow. The boy had a skeptical look on his face before letting go and fall into your own hand.

In a soft motion you soothed the sensitive area, making him slightly wince.

“So…Jackie?” You asked tenatatively

“Excuse me? Natalie?!” He shot back, raising his eyebrows up to his forehead.

Your own followed suit as you raised your eyes, looking into his. As soon as they locked on them the both of you broke into a small laughing fit as you still worked on him.

“Guess we finally got laid huh?” He spoke again.

“Hey! That was not my fault, you were the one who couldn’t get it up.” You retorted, though your words had no real heat to them.

“I was…nervous.” Travis replied, a faint red hue on his cheeks.

“You couldn’t tell me that before I shoved your flacid dick in my mouth?” You questioned in a mock flat tone, finally letting the rag drop back to the makeshift table.

The boy chuckled again, brushing his hair back with his fingers.

“I’ll uh- I’ll go look for Javi.” He declared, rubbing his eyes quite agressively.

“What? He’s not here?” You proclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest as your brows knitted together.

“No he- I guess he ran away last night?” Travis said, and you could sense his anguish though he tried to hide it.

“Should I come with you or-“

“It’s fine. I need to clear my head anyway. It was nice talking to you though.” He conveyed with a tight-lipped smile before rushing away, leaving you a bit dumbfounded.

And honestly yes, it was nice talking to him. You could only go so long before going insane with all the awkward tension, neither of you needed that out there. Who knows, he might actually be your friend while you battled with your raging bicuriousity.

It was a nice day, though a colder one. Walking through the quiet woods, many things were on your mind. First and foremost, you thought all about how tough it'll be once winter gets here, and it was right around the corner.

Then you realized just how fucking thirsty you are, seeing as the last thing you drank was the so called berry wine the night before. Your finally dry hair moved in rhythm with the wind that unapologetically ruffled it as it went, making you a tad dizzy too. The sleep depravation didn't help either - if it was a possibility you'd do multiple questionable things for a Tylenol and some coffee, or at least tea that doesn't taste like piss.

"What are you doing out here?" A skeptical, slightly frightened Jackie called out, you hadn't even noticed her.

“I don’t know? Walking around…you?” You inquired, taking a seat next to her, letting your back rest against one of the trees.

“Same, I guess. Look, about last night-“ She started before you cut her off.

“No, it’s fine, really…It’s not like we were still together or anything. “ You replied, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Really?” The girl asked in obvious disbelief.

“Really. I mean we’ve got enough shit to worry about, relationship drama isn’t it.” You said in a flat tone, eyes scanning her face.

“Yeah, fair…but I don’t think you really need to worry about a relationship anyway.” Jackie said in a teasing done dripping with implication.

“What?”

“I just meant with Nat and everything-“ She sputtered, until realizing you were less then amused.

“Is there a problem with that?” You barked, the question coming out rougher then you intended.

“No! No, I’m just saying, she’s pretty much smitten. And it figures you wouldn’t be mad at me if you were this good with her.” Jackie said matter-of-factly, making a shiver run down your spine.

“Well why wouldn’t we be good?” You asked, mockingly accentuating the word.

“I just thought because- y’know, her and Travis?” She asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wha- what about Travis and her?” You questioned, sitting up straighter

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

No, no you didn’t fucking know.

“They hooked up or something. Uh- Van saw them, when they were supposed to be out hunting. I thought she told you that” Jackie quivered, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Right…when’d this happen?” You asked breathlessly. Truly, it felt like there was no air left in the world.

“A couple days ago.” She replied, unsure.

Hearing that made made your eyes burn with unshed tears and your throat close up. You never felt quite this way before, and you absolutley despised it. Your mind ran with all the possible images and scenarios involuntarily, making your head spin. At this point you were spiraling, entirely in war with yourself. How could you ever let her get this close? Better yet, how the fuck did the only person you were actually into betray you this way?

Here she was, making you matching head pieces and dancing with you oh so intimately at that party - and what? To get in your pants? To use you, just like she’d been used. Do hurt people hurt people?

“Are you okay?” Jackie asked, careful of her tone and expression.

“I’m fine. Whatever, she’d have sex with anyone who gave her the attention her father didn’t” You hissed, leaving Jackie speechles with her jaw hitting the floor.

And god, as much as she hurt you, you felt rueful as soon as the words left your mouth. Usually, you’d never regret saying something like that about a person who dared cross you, but she was different. Just so fucking different, it scared you to no end. She had an inexplainable effect on you.

“I need to go.” You said, hurrying off before the girl could respond.

Your feet carried you as your mind ran. Without realizing it, you’d walked back to the cabin, not even bothering to stop the hot tears from spilling over your eyes. Only when you reached the back of the place, where you left Travis a little over an hour ago, you realized where you were.

The thing is though, you most definitely didn’t feel like socializing with anyone at this point, so you attempted to make your way back towards the deeper woods - or even the ever famous lake.

However unfortunately for you, luck wasn’t on your side. Just as you turned around to walk back, you faced a familiar person, and the very cause of these complicated emotions.

“Y/N, hey, I was looking for you-“ Natalie approached, walking closer.

“Are you crying?” She asked, already moving to embrace you softly, a slight look of hurt and confusion gracing her face when you pushed her away.

You didn’t need trust yourself to speak as you wiped your eyes, taking a deep breath to ground yourself.

Only then, she realized what this was about.

“Y/N” She whispered, sounding somewhat desperate 

“How could you do that?” You shot back as the water dried on your face.

“We only kissed I-“

“You knew about everything that went down!” You yelled out, not paying much mind to her words

“We only kissed.” She tried again, this time sounding more assertive. Still as desperate. 

“What kind of a fucking excuse is that?!”

“I- please, you have to listen to me, it was a dumb mistake!” Natalie continued, her own eyes watering up

“Natalie I was miserable when we broke up, you saw it! Gosh, you- you’re fucking unbelievable. I just - I thought we were friends! And anyway, I’d never expect you to do that!” You drawled out, your voice shaky. 

“You can’t deny that you and I are so much more then friends.” Nat sobbed, locking your teary eyes with her own.

“That’s what I thought last night too.” You mumbled. 

“No, I promise - it’s still there! I still feel it. Christ, I love you! I fell in love with you in a matter of weeks! Do you even realize the effect that you have on me?! That you always had on me?” She bawled, at this point yelling for the whole world to hear. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was your forgiveness. 

“Oh God, Natalie you don’t love me, you don’t even know me!” You hissed.

“What the fuck? I’ve known you for years! Look, I know that you hate when guys tell you what to wear, I know that the coffee you drink is practically milk and you throw half of it away before every practice, I know you like having red nails. But the darker ones, you once said you felt cheap if they were neon or whatever. I also know what kind of music you listen to because you annoyingly always insisted to play it. And I can bet you know little things like that about me too but the thing is, I’ve grown to fucking love every single one of them this past month. And I am so fucking sorry about what I did.” Natalie explained. She sounded truly miserable, letting her own tears fall freely.

And you were stunned to hear it. At this point, there was so much emotion plastered across her face, you even debated believing her. But the truth is, you weren’t even sure you believed they didn’t hook up, so how could you believe anything else she said? Then again - why would she try so hard to convince you otherwise if she didn’t at least care?

Still, thinking about it made your insides churn and all you knew is that you couldn’t be around her. Your pride may have had a large impact on all of it too. Softly shaking your head, you walked away, not sparing her another glance. If you did, you’d stay back, and you couldn’t afford that right now. 

All the betrayal, anger, sadness and frustration mixed inside your head into a dangerous cocktail. Retrieving the cheap, half drunken whiskey bottle you disappeared into the woods, settling down on the clearing that brought back many memories from the prior night.

You chugged it down like your life depended on it, though it did little to to ease your anguish. And anyway, the burn in your throat was a momentary distraction.

In the grand scheme of things, this seemed awfully unimportant. So what if you feel like you've known this girl in your last life? So what if she was the only person to properly watch out for you? So what if all your walls crumbled down as soon as she sent something as little as a soft smile your way? So what if you fell in fucking love in five weeks, right? It's not like you could lose something you never actually had. Right now, she's both the closest and the farthest she'd ever been from you. To you. This girl managed to reinvent you, only to kick you back down this way.

You cursed the day you let yourself be yourself in front of her, The day she was born a little, too. There were simply so many things you wanted to do and say, yet you found yourself unable to move a muscle. At this point, you weren't even sure whether you were being dramatic or not. You just knew you wanted this feeling to end

Little did you know, back at the cabin Natalie was crashing out. She was going around, poking and asking who the fuck had the nerve do say this to you. Deep down, she knew she was in the wrong - and that there was no taking back what happened. She knew that the trust you reluctantly put in her was long gone, and it was as if she grieved it.

Yet to this day, the only thing Nat wanted was to feel closer to you. To understand and and be there for you. She was so convinced that there wasn't a universe in which you would want her the same way she wanted you, and all the disdain got in and over her head, making her do something she knew she'd regret.

Out of spite, she kissed him. Out of spite, she hurt you. Out of spite, she ruined it. Because that it what she does, under it all, there is a divine, kind person, sadly covered up by a thick layer acting as rough protection.

The only thing she was now sure of was how much she would try to make it up to you. Natalie would do anything if it granted her the feeling of her lips pressing yours, just once more.

[81pastrys]

Teary Eyes

Summary— Mila watched the race live and Oscar was staying strong for her until he couldn’t

Warnings— Australian Grand Prix 2025

A/N— IM SO SO SORRY

The home Grand Prix? It was not grand at all. Mila was having fun with her aunts in the paddock. Dancing to music, seeing fans, and overall fun while the cars raced in wet conditions. All she knew was that her daddy was in second and he was doing good.

Suddenly the vibes in the garage shifted from winning a 1-2 anticipation to panic and anxiety. When Hattie gasped and panicked Mila panicked, looking around for why everyone was so reactive.

Her little eyes glazed over when she saw the orange line with Pia next to it, dropping significantly down the list. “No, daddy, no!!” She squealed, adding to the panic of everyone else. She didn’t understand much, but when a colored line dropped it usually meant they were out.

Hattie tried distracting Oscars little girl while she also tried making sure it wasn’t a crash. When he was beached on grass for skimming gravel and wet track they watched intently. Mila was holding back tears. She knew how much the race meant to him.

“Is he okay?” She asked her aunt. “Look aunt Hattie look!” She said loudly, noticing Oscar join back on track. Hattie rubbed Mila’s tummy comfortingly, she knew Oscar wouldn’t be happy.

What was once a race for first, has now turned to a race for points at all. Mila was watching now, annoyed if someone interrupted her. A mechanic standing in the way would get a cute ‘move!’ For blocking the screen of her view.

When all was said and done, he ended up P9. “LaLa won the race Mila!” Hattie tried to put on a happy face. “Daddy got 9th.” She said returning a stray strand of hair behind Mila’s ear. Mila watched the tv still, annoyed at her aunt for interrupting.

Oscar was on the screen, he did not look happy but sad and distraught. Mila could sense his feelings through the screen. Her lip quivered as she looked to her aunt. If Hattie knew anything right now, it was that Oscar should not have to deal with his little girl upset about his result.

“Hey, daddy made it through the race.” She smiled at her niece. “Look at uncle LaLa, he gets a big trophy for the team.” Hattie said pointing at the podium. The words affected Mila’s attitude, because she was right. Oscar had finished the race, and Lando was getting a trophy for the team.

Mila anticipated for Oscar to come through the garage and it seems he was anticipating seeing her too. As soon as he could get free of a few talks and medias, he was sprinting to the garage. He looked around and spotted her. Still by Hattie like he asked her to be.

He picked her up and squeezed her tightly. She reciprocated the hug, her little arms squeezing his neck with promise. Hattie gave her brother a weak smile. Oscar refused to let go of Mila for the duration of the day.

“Are you ready to leave darling?” He asked her when she had rested her head in the crook of his neck. His trainer was going over something, the last thing he had for the day. “When Mr. Kim is done we can go okay?”

She looked at him in the eyes and nodded. Kim finished whatever it was he was going over and they packed up to leave. Mila sat patiently on the bench in his driver room as he gathered his things. “Daddy, I think you did good in the race.” Mila said quietly. She knew he wasn’t feeling the best about the race, that’s all he had talked about after.

Oscar looked over to her and saw her hesitant eyes, he had been talking down on himself the entire time he held her. He smiled at her, holding in his tears. He crouched in front of her and kissed her forehead. “Thank you angel.” He said quietly.

They drove to his childhood family home and she fell asleep on the way. He unbuckled her car seat and carefully transported her inside and to his bed. He returned to the main room and cried in his mums arms.

“I know, it’s okay baby.” Nicole cooed. She hugged her son and comforted him. “There’s always another one, it’s okay.” She held his face that was red and wiped his tears. His sisters decided not to say anything but stay their distance. They knew how excited he was to have a chance at winning.

His sisters suddenly joined the conversation with distracting coos to someone much shorter. Oscar quickly wiped his face from the tears and leaned on the counter facing away. The little feet padded over and Oscar couldn’t help letting another tear slip out.

“Daddy I can’t sleep.” Mila whined, not knowing she interrupted something. Oscar took a deep sigh before looking at her and crouching down. “What’s wrong daddy?” She whispered now concerned.

“Nothing angel, let’s go back to bed.” His voice gravelly and nasally from crying. He takes her hand and walks her back to his old room. He tucks her in and kisses her head.

“Cuddles daddy.” She said in the dark of the room. He never says no to her, a weakness he’s adapted to. Even in his vulnerable state. He kicks his shoes off and gets under the covers next to her, pulling her closer to him as she turns over and cuddles into his chest. He rubs her back as she drifts off again.

again I apologize, I will be crying myself to sleep after this thank you.

Taglist: @il0vereadingstuff

[jhyoos]

hiiii! i love your writing so much and recently i've been craving for an angsty powder/jinx (i'm not sure if you write for her) x reader one-sided story (by reader's side) and idk, if you want to add a happy ending, you can do what you like better! could you, please?😩😭🙏🏻✨

Bound To You

jinx x reader

mentions : established relationship, break-up, angst, romance, between s1 & s2

summary : jinx thinks it's best to break-up after blowing up the council.

You and Jinx had been together for three years, bonded by ink, chaos, and something deeper neither of you ever had to put into words. You were the same age, but life had shaped you differently—while she ran with the wild and reckless, you carved out a space for yourself as a self-made tattoo artist in the depths of Zaun. Your setup was far from professional, your tools secondhand, your ink not always the best quality, but people came to you for the art, for the price, for the stories.

Jinx was one of them. She’d walked into your shop one day, all swagger and mischief, asking for a set of cloud tattoos. The process took time, so she kept coming back, letting you etch those wisps of sky into her skin while conversation filled the spaces between the buzzing of your needle. It started as casual banter, then inside jokes, then something else entirely—something that made her linger even after the ink had dried.

When Jinx finally asked you out, she did it in the most Jinx way possible: by spray-painting a bunch of unconscious goons into the words “Will you be my girlfriend?” right in the middle of your apartment. She was beaming, so damn proud of her masterpiece. You? Not so much. But looking at her—grinning, slightly unhinged, waiting for your answer—you couldn’t say no.

Your apartment became her safe haven. Whenever the weight of the world crushed down on her—when grief, anger, or memories of Vi clawed at her mind—she’d find her way to you. She’d lay her head on your lap, spilling her thoughts in tangled sentences while your fingers traced absentminded patterns on her arm. She missed Vi more than she ever admitted outright, but you saw it in her eyes, heard it in the way her voice would break. And you? You listened. You gave her words of wisdom, reassurances she sometimes took and sometimes didn’t.

Jinx wasn’t overly affectionate—not in the conventional way. Kisses were rare, and sex wasn’t frequent, but when she did show love, it was always a surprise. Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, she’d press a quick, unexpected kiss to your lips and laugh at your reaction. Other times, she'd show up at your apartment in the dead of night, wordlessly shutting the door before turning you inside out in the way only she could.

You loved everything about her. Her intelligence, her beauty, her chaotic humor. Jinx was everything you could ever want. And for three years, she was yours.

It all started when the whispers began—the rumors that Vi had returned to Zaun. At first, it was just street talk, the kind of gossip that spread like wildfire in the undercity, but then she was at your doorstep. Vi, standing there in the flesh, with a blue-haired enforcer at her side, eyes sharp and questioning.

They asked about Silco. About Jinx.

"I don’t know," you said, voice firm as you stared at them. And it was the truth—you really didn’t. Jinx had vanished the moment word got out that her sister was back. You hadn’t seen her, hadn’t heard from her. The absence gnawed at you, but you weren’t about to hand over even the scraps of information you did have. So, before Vi could press further, you slammed the door in their faces and locked it.

Days turned to weeks.

You missed her—her weirdness, her sassy comebacks, the way she’d throw her arms around you when she was feeling playful or press a chaste kiss to your forehead when she thought you weren’t paying attention. But she was nowhere to be found. And then, one day, word spread that Jinx had done the unthinkable—she had blown up the council.

The undercity was electric with her name. People were rallying, some mourning, others idolizing. A new era was being painted in shades of chaos, and Jinx was at the center of it. People even started dyeing their hair blue in her honor, turning her into something more than just a person—she was a symbol now. And since everyone knew you were her girlfriend, your business boomed. People wanted ink that would mark them as Jinx’s followers, as if carrying a piece of her on their skin would make them untouchable. It was overwhelming, exhausting, but it kept your mind from caving in on itself.

Until that night.

You came home after another long day, locking the door behind you before toeing off your shoes. Your body ached, your mind was heavy, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your bed. But as you stepped into your room, you froze. A hooded figure stood in the shadows, unmoving.

A gasp escaped your lips as you fumbled for the light switch. The moment the room flooded with dim light, your heart leapt into your throat.

Blue braids peeked out from under the hood.

"Jinx?" you called out, voice barely above a whisper.

Slowly, she turned to face you. It was her. But she looked different—drained, haunted, as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Without hesitation, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her, holding her tight. She smelled like oil, gunpowder, and the faint remnants of whatever perfume she used to wear.

"Are you okay? Where have you been? I missed you so much," you murmured against her.

But she didn’t hug you back.

You felt the stillness in her, the way her arms stayed at her sides. Slowly, you pulled away, looking into those tired, stormy eyes.

"What’s wrong?" you asked, your stomach twisting with unease.

She hesitated, her gaze flickering down for a brief moment before she spoke.

"I don’t think we can be together anymore," she said, voice hollow, barely a whisper.

Your heart plummeted.

"What?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, the weight of her words slamming into your chest like a freight train.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice unsteady, barely more than a whisper.

Jinx looked at you then—really looked at you. There was something in her eyes you had never seen before. Guilt? Regret? Fear?

"I'm wanted," she muttered, her voice hollow. "A high price. Enforcers are breathing down my neck, and it won’t be long before they figure out I’ve been with you."

Your stomach twisted. "Jinx—"

"If they find out about you, they’ll come after you too," she cut you off, her voice sharp, raw. "I can’t let that happen."

You stepped closer, shaking your head. "I don’t care. Let them come—I can handle myself."

Jinx scoffed, a bitter smirk curling her lips. "You really think that? You think you can take on Piltover’s enforcers? They’re not just gonna arrest you, they’re gonna use you. You’re leverage."

"I don’t care!" you snapped, your chest burning with frustration. "I care about you! We can leave, go somewhere else—anywhere. We can figure this out together!"

She let out a breathy, humorless chuckle, shaking her head. "That’s cute. Really, it is." But there was no joy in her voice—just exhaustion. Just pain. "If you get hurt or if you die...I wont be able to live with myself."

"Don’t say that—"

"It’s the truth," she shot back, her fingers curling into fists. "I can’t be what you need me to be. And you can’t be what I need anymore, either."

"Stop deciding that for me!" you snapped, stepping forward, reaching for her, but she flinched back.

Her eyes darkened. "This isn't a choice."

Silence stretched between you, suffocating.

"So that's it?" you asked, your throat tight. "After three years, you just—what? Walk away?"

Jinx hesitated for a moment, her breath shallow. You could see the war in her eyes, the hesitation in her stance. But then, just as quickly, she shut it down. She tugged her hood up over her braids, shrouding herself in shadow.

"You’ll be better off without me," she murmured, voice barely audible. "Just… forget me, okay?"

Your heart screamed at you to do something—to grab her, to tell her she was wrong, to beg her to stay—but your body wouldn’t move.

And then, just like that, she turned.

"Jinx, wait!" you called, your voice cracking.

She didn’t stop.

"Please—don’t do this!"

But the door creaked as it shut behind her, and you stood there, staring at the empty space she left behind, your hands trembling, your vision blurring.

Jinx was gone.

And for the first time in three years, you truly felt alone.

It had been nearly a month since Jinx walked out of your life, and in that time, everything around you had crumbled.

The streets of Zaun had changed—more enforcers, more raids, more bodies being dragged off to Stillwater. The name Jinx carried more than just a reputation now; it carried fear, chaos, and destruction. And you? You were caught in the middle.

You shut down your tattoo shop, selling off the property after hearing about the latest wave of Jinxers arrested and locked up in Stillwater. You had always been loyal to Zaun, always supported its people in your own way. But when it came to violence—to the way things had spiraled—you reached your limit.

You didn’t want to be associated.

And so, you drifted.

Days bled into nights, spent drowning in cheap liquor at The Last Drop, trying to forget the way Jinx’s voice used to sound, the way her touch used to linger. You let the numbness consume you, burying the ache of her absence under layers of booze and exhaustion.

But that all changed the night there was a knock on your door.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe your landlord, though you had already paid your rent. You groaned as you pushed yourself off your couch, rubbing your face as you stumbled toward the door, already irritated.

"Dude, I’ve already paid—"

Your breath caught in your throat as your words died mid-sentence.

Jinx stood there.

She looked different.

Her long braids were gone, her hair chopped short in a messy, uneven cut. Bruises and cuts littered her skin, some fresh, some fading. There was something hollow in her eyes, something worn and desperate.

Before you could say a word, she grabbed your wrist and yanked you forward, crashing her lips onto yours.

You melted into the kiss, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. She was warm, familiar, everything you had been craving for the past month. You clung to her, pouring every ounce of pain, longing, and relief into the way your lips moved against hers.

When she finally pulled away, her breath was heavy against your lips.

"Come with me," she murmured, her voice urgent. "I’m leaving—far away from here. And I want you to come with me."

Your heart pounded as you searched her face.

"Jinx—" You bit your lip, shaking your head. "I haven’t seen you in a month. You disappeared—no word, nothing."

Her grip on your wrist tightened.

"And I’ll make up for every second of it," she promised, her voice barely above a whisper. "I swear."

You stared into her eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. She was serious. More serious than you had ever seen her.

You exhaled, nodding slowly.

"Let me grab some important stuff."

[meadowfics]

sea trip

hwang jun-ho x preteen!daughter x brief mentions of reader

based off of this request here

for @jalicecookie

the air is crisp, the salty scent of the sea hanging thick as jun-ho adjusts his grip on the railing of the docked boat.

it’s another long night ahead...another desperate attempt to locate the island. the island that has brother. the island that is holding gi-hun hostage. the island that turned men into monsters.

jun-ho exhales sharply, lost in his thoughts, when he hears something behind him.

a scuffle of movement, too light to belong to any of the crew. the police officer's body tenses immediately, instincts kicking in as he spins around...only to freeze.

there, huddled in the shadows of the boat, is his daughter.

jun-ho's twelve-year-old daughter.

she’s out of breath, eyes shining with excitement, dressed in a hoodie far too big for her, the sleeves covering her hands. the daughter's hair is messy from the wind, and her cheeks are flushed from the night air.

“appa!” she grins, completely unaware of the sheer horror settling in his chest.

“i made it!”

jun-ho doesn’t react for a moment. he’s too busy processing. he is too busy staring at her in disbelief, eyes darting between her face and the school uniform peeking out from under the hoodie.

the man's voice is low, tight with tension.

“what did you just say?”

she rocks back on her heels, beaming.

“i made it onto the boat! you didn’t even notice me, huh?” she giggles, clearly so proud of herself.

“i told you i was getting really good at sneaking around—”

“what are you doing here?!” his voice is sharp now, cutting through the night like a blade.

the girl's smile falters.

the daughter's brows furrow in confusion.

“i—i came to help! i always hear you talking about taking boats to find an island, so i thought—”

he takes a step forward, and she immediately stops talking.

“you thought what?” his tone is cold, demanding.

she hesitates before looking up at him with unwavering determination.

“that i could help you.”

jun-ho lets out a long, slow breath, pressing a hand to his temple as if trying to will away a growing headache. the man's heart is pounding. no, not really. it is from fear, overwhelming fear.

she snuck out.

she snuck away from school, away from safety, and onto this boat.

she shouldn’t be here. she can’t be here.

he crouches in front of her, gripping her shoulders firmly.

“do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

she bites her lip, eyes darting away.

“i just—”

“do you understand what you just put yourself in, 딸?” his voice is low now, strained, as if he’s trying to contain something far bigger than just frustration.

she swallows hard.

“i just wanted to be with you,” she mumbles, suddenly looking so small in front of him.

jun-ho shuts his eyes for a second, collecting himself. when he looks at her again, the frustration hasn’t left, but neither has the fear.

“you’re not supposed to be here,” he says, voice rough.

“this isn’t some adventure. this isn’t a game. its apart of my police work... you have no idea what you’re walking into.”

she frowns, defensive now.

“but i want to help! i hear you talking about it all the time...you’re always searching for the island, always leaving—”

“because i have to,” he cuts in sharply.

“not because i want to.”

she looks down, fingers gripping the hem of her hoodie.

jun-ho exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before kneeling again. his voice is softer this time, but still firm.

“you don’t belong in this, sweetheart. you should be at home with your mom. safe.”

she clenches her jaw.

“but you’re never home.”

jun-ho's breath catches in his throat.

“you’re always gone, appa,” she whispers.

“and even when you’re home, you’re not really there. you’re always thinking about this.”

jun-ho looks at her, really looks at her, and sees what he’s been too blind to notice. the longing. the loneliness. the way she just wants to be close to him, to understand him.

he curses himself silently. he thought he was doing the right thing by keeping her away from all of this, by staying distant, by locking away every terrible thing he’s seen and done.

in doing that, he’s made her feel like she has to fight for his attention. that she has to go to extreme lengths just to be by his side.

his shoulders sag.

“your mother thinks you’re at a sleepover,” he says quietly.

she nods.

he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“okay. here’s what’s going to happen. we’re turning this boat around, and i’m taking you home.”

the daughter's eyes widen.

“but—”

“no buts.” his voice is final.

“you scared the hell out of me, do you understand? i don’t care how much you want to help me. this is not for you.”

she looks away, clearly upset, but doesn’t argue.

jun-ho reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“i’m sorry i made you feel like you had to do this,” he murmurs.

“i should’ve been better. i should’ve been there for you more.”

the girl's eyes flicker with something unreadable.

“you still can be,” she whispers.

jun-ho exhales, guilt pressing heavy against his chest.

“I'll try, and i know y/n misses me too.”

"yeah, mom does." she nods.

for the first time, some of the tension in the air lifts.

he stands, grabbing his phone.

“i need to text your mom.”

her eyes widen in alarm.

“don’t tell her—”

“oh, she’s definitely going to know.”

she groans, slumping against the railing.

“i’m so grounded.”

jun-ho almost laughs. almost.

“yeah,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“you are.”

masterlist

[bitchinbarzal]

Unsent Texts | M Barzal

summary: syd steals mat’s phone to uncover how your break up really made him feel.

-

You weren’t supposed to be thinking about Mat tonight.

You were supposed to be having a normal, drama-free dinner with your best friend, Sydney.

But the universe had other plans.

Because somehow, in the middle of drinks and half-finished appetizers, Sydney accidentally unlocked Mat’s phone. And now? Now you’re staring at hundreds of unsent messages—all of them to you.

It had been months since you and Mat ended things. At first, it was unbearable—learning to sleep alone, getting used to waking up without hearing his voice, forcing yourself to unlearn the way you fit so easily into his life. But you did it. You moved on. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t check his Instagram anymore. You didn’t avoid places you knew he’d be. When people mentioned his name, you smiled politely, like it didn’t twist something deep in your chest.

And you definitely, definitely didn’t still have a note in your phone filled with messages you were too afraid to send.

But it was there. Just sitting in your drafts, filled with late-night thoughts and regrets:

• I miss you.

• I saw your post-game interview today. You looked tired. Are you okay?

• I hate that I still think about you this much.

You could delete it. You should delete it. But you never did.

Sydney had mentioned casually earlier in the night that Mat was at their house before she left to meet you. It wasn’t unusual—he was always around since Matt and him were practically attached at the hip. You brushed it off at the time, convincing yourself it didn’t matter.

But now, here you were, holding his phone in your hands. Because he had left it at the Martin’s house, and Sydney—being Sydney—grabbed it, meaning to bring it back to him later.

And now you’re staring at your name on his screen.

And a message.

“I keep typing these, but I never send them. I don’t even know if you’d want to hear from me. But I miss you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Y/N?” Sydney says softly.

You don’t answer.

You just scroll.

Because it’s not just one message.

It’s dozens.

No—hundreds.

Unsent texts, stretching back months.

• I saw something today that reminded me of you. I wanted to tell you but… I didn’t know if I should.

• I don’t even know why I’m typing this. Maybe just to pretend like you’re still here.

• I miss your laugh. I fucking hate that I miss your laugh.

• I hate that I let this happen.

Your chest tightens. Because you had done the exact same thing. You had unsent messages too—ones you never dared to send, ones you forced yourself to delete because you thought Mat had already moved on.

But he hadn’t. Not even close.

“Y/N,” Sydney says again, more serious this time. “What are you gonna do?”

You shake your head, gripping the phone tighter. “I don’t know.”

Because there was only one real option.

You could pretend you never saw this. Put the phone down, walk away, let the past stay buried.

Or You could type a message of your own.

And this time, hit send.

Before you can make a decision, the restaurant door swings open.

And suddenly, there he is.

Mat.

Wearing a hoodie, damp hair from the cold, looking like he rushed here the second he realized his phone was missing. His eyes lock onto you immediately. Then flick down.

To his phone.

In your hand.

And you watch it happen—the realization, the panic, the sharp inhale when he realizes exactly what you’ve seen.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Sydney coughs awkwardly. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

But neither of you even notice her get up.

Because Mat’s eyes are locked on yours, his whole chest rising and falling like he’s bracing for impact.

And then—quietly, hesitantly—he asks, “Did you read them?”

Your throat is dry. You can barely breathe.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I did.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. He swallows hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was gonna delete them,” he admits. “I just… never could.”

You exhale shakily. “Neither could I.”

His gaze snaps to yours, wide. Disbelieving.

And suddenly, the air between you is charged with something new. Something unfinished. Something that, for the first time in a long time, feels like hope.

The restaurant feels smaller now. Like the walls are pressing in, like the air is thinner, like you might suffocate under the weight of everything you never said.

Mat stares at you, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, you’ll disappear.

And maybe he’s right.

Maybe you should disappear.

Maybe you should walk away right now and leave him with nothing but his own regrets, the same way he left you.

But you don’t.

Instead, you whisper, “Why didn’t you ever send them?”

Mat exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Because I was a coward.”

You blink, not expecting him to say it so bluntly.

“I thought about you every day,” he continues, voice low, hoarse. “Every fucking day, Y/N. But I convinced myself you were better off without me.”

Your throat tightens. “And now?”

His lips part, but he hesitates. “Now…” His gaze drops, flickering to the phone in your hands. “Now I just want to know if you ever thought about me too.”

You inhale slowly. “I did.”

His head snaps up.

“Mat…” Your fingers tighten around the phone. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

His face crumples—like he wasn’t expecting you to say it, like he’s spent months convincing himself you had moved on completely.

And maybe you had tried. Maybe you had told yourself that he was just a chapter in your life, that you had turned the page. But standing here, seeing the desperation in his eyes, knowing that he never stopped thinking about you either?

That changes everything.

“Do you still love me?” The words are out before you can stop them.

Mat inhales sharply.

Then, quietly, without hesitation—

“Yes.”

Your breath catches.

His voice is raw, almost broken. “I never stopped.”

You swallow hard, hands shaking. “Then why did we let this happen?”

Mat exhales, stepping closer, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he’s allowed.

“Because I was stupid,” he admits. “Because I thought I had all the time in the world to fix it. But then you were gone, and—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how to get you back.”

You stare at him, your pulse pounding.

“And now?” you whisper.

Mat’s throat bobs. “Now I’m standing here, praying that I haven’t lost you for good.”

You don’t overthink it. You don’t let fear win this time.

Instead, you take a shaky breath—and hit send.

Mat’s phone vibrates in your hands, and when he looks down at the screen, his breath catches.

Because there, sitting in his messages, is the first text you’ve sent him in months.

“Come home.”

He looks up at you, eyes wide, glassy, disbelieving.

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

You nod.

And then, before either of you can think twice, Mat pulls you into his arms, gripping you like he’s afraid you might disappear.

And this time, You’re not going anywhere.