#i did not fall back asleep in case you were wondering

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!!!

what about bau!reader who’s super affectionate with spencer (and he just takes it with a blush and sugary coffee)

example; jawline kisses that are supposed to be cheek kisses instead of hello’s and goodbye’s & reader having her arm around spencer’s waist at all times cuz she’s just so used to his body warmth!!!

(for some reason i’m imagining s9 reid & new-ish reader but u can do what u want ofc!!)

FUGITIVE AFFECTIONS | Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

description: fugitive (noun) meaning escape, runaway. (adjective) meaning fleeting, brief, passing.

Length: 1.1k

warnings: fluff fluff FLUFF.

He knew what was coming the second he heard her footsteps. The coffee machine spluttered with effort as it churned out his third cup of the day, and he was already perched with the sugar waiting for the appliance to do its thing. Spencer barely had chance to acknowledge the approaching figure when he felt arms wrap around his waist, someone attaching themselves to his back with a feather light kiss to his spine. 

“Good morning,” He called over his shoulder, and you hummed, quickly squeezing the soft pooch of his stomach and releasing him. 

“Morning,” You said, and he leaned up to open the cupboard door, which wasn’t a big feat for him with his heinously long limbs. Plopping a mug down on the side, he poured coffee in your cup first before he started on his own, “Reports due today?” 

“Hotch wants the Minnesota and the Nevada cases wrapped up,” He said, sliding the milk and sugar over to your side of the counter and keeping his head down. Spencer felt his ears run hot, like they usually did whenever you got so close to him, which just happened to be always. 

He doubted the words ‘personal space’ were ever a thing in your vocabulary. It had started with Garcia, with the two of you linking arms and braiding each other's hair after two weeks of you moving to the BAU, and he’d figured that Garcia had won you over with that natural, bubbly charm of hers. But Spencer was perceptive, and he’d quickly realised the behaviour was not strictly limited to Penelope and her chirpy attitude. You tended to walk close to everyone, like you were trying to mesh you bodies in with them and the shoulder bumps and hands brushed against one another didn’t matter. In the end, rather than push you away, Morgan had taken to wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you waltzed around the office together. Even Blake was succumbing to your touchy-feely attitude as you liked to cosy up next to her on the jet, usually falling asleep with your head on her shoulder, and she thought little of it now, just continuing with her crosswords unbothered. 

And then you’d set your sights on Spencer. 

He supposed you hadn’t quite got the memo about his germaphobia, or perhaps the transference of bacteria between humans during simple hand holding just never occurred to you. Yet after just a month of being desk buddies with him, he nearly jumped out of his skin the day you slipped your fingers in between his when the two of you had been paired up on a case and you were heading down the witness’s driveway to interview them. 

He’s been about to ask what the hell you were doing, or perhaps scramble to shove you off, and sanitise his hands with the emergency gel he kept in his bag at all times. But by the time he’d looked over at you, his cheeks a flaming strawberry colour with what he’d thought of as annoyance, you were simply smiling at him, and began swinging your joined hands back and forth, nudging your temple into his shoulder affectionately. 

“You look really pretty in that purple shirt, Spencer,” You said simply, and whatever scathing remark about how eighty percent of pathogens are transferred during hand holding was robbed from his gullet and he was stunned into silence. The way you’d said his name alone made his lips part in wonder, because he’d never heard it said like that. 

“T-thankyou, I like your jacket.” He cringed as soon a he said it, and the two of you looked down to your government issued FBI vest, the same one he wore, the same one Hotch wore, the same one they’d all worn for the past nine years. 

You sniggered, bumping him again with your forehead like you were a cat purring up against him, marking your territory. 

“You’re cute,”

You were full of sweet, loving words like that he realised, all buttercups and candy floss and honey and sweetie and my love and he felt himself expecting it now, biting his lip in worry if you were ever just the tiniest bit too busy to fluff him up with affection.

Like when you’d been called out by Blake on an emergency, the two of you scrambling to grab the SUV keys to go meet Morgan and JJ where they were moving into the building  after the suspect. 

The two of you had all but ran out of the precinct in the effort to catch up with the other agents, leaving Spencer, pen still in his hand as he mapped out the geographical profile, and he hadn’t realised anything was missing until he heard the door slam shut and he hadn’t felt the warmth of your hug, your hand in his hair ruffling it lovingly, not even a ‘goodbye, sweetie!’

Spencer pouted, despite the fact he’d spent the first few weeks wondering if he should be shying away from your touch because he was quickly running out of sanitizer and had yet to want you to stop. He felt like his routine had been interrupted, because that’s definitely what the source of his disappointment was, not the fact he wondered if he had done something wrong, and yet before he could think too hard about it, the door swung back open, Blake yelling something from the hallway that he could just about make out was your name, before a body crashed into his side and your lips were on his jaw, kissing him lightly through laboured breaths. 

“Bye, Spence.” You murmured, kissing up his cheek a few times to apologise for the wait, and he hadn’t even had the chance to return the favour through the fish out of water gape as he watched you run back to the door, Blake looking at you incredulously. 

“I just watched you run up three flights of stairs for that?” She asked, the door slowly closing behind you and giving him unfiltered snooping on your conversation. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt, the same one that you had just kissed over and over again like it was a normal thing for you two, and he wondered if he could coordinate you rushing out of the office every time if it meant he’d have that again. 

“It’s Spencer, it was important,” You insisted, and he squoze his hands so tightly his nails dug into his palm, because it was too late to tell you just how much you’d made him feel in such a tiny gesture, and the electricity from your kisses had to come out somewhere. If not, Spencer worried he might explode. 

His hand sanitizer sat empty in his pocket, the same way it had been for months, and Spencer couldn’t care less.

[silverflqmes]

Hai!! I was wondering if you’d be able/want to/feel comfortable with writing a nsfw cloud x reader? Maybe something sweet, like their first time together as a couple. If you don’t like the request is fine ! I hope you’re having a great day :]

໒⦂ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

notes. hi anon, i have not written nsfw in some centuries so i hope this is decent cuz i definitely lost my touch😭 i wrote the reader as female since that’s what i’m used to writing, given i’m.. well, a girl😵‍💫 hope that’s okay with you</3

genre. nsfw + fluff

tw. virginity loss, hand job, fingering, riding, slight uh pillow princess cloud in the beginning..

disclaimer. uncomfortable with smut or younger than 17? please dni.

cloud strife x fem!reader

it was quarter to midnight and the blond still could not find it in himself to sleep. not that he ever could, anyway.. but since he’d gotten with you, sleep came just a little more easily and the nightmares became less frequent.

tonight, however, was a slightly different case.

“cloud..” you mumbled sleepily, lifting your head from his back when you felt him shift against your hold. “still can’t sleep?”

remembering your presence, he blinked in the darkness, feeling your hand on his stomach, which he gently took ahold of, kissing the back of it. “sorry, having a hard time..” he paused to think of a vague excuse, if only to mask his embarrassment. “getting um, comfortable, right now.. nothing to do with you, though.”

his cheeks were twinged with pink under the sliver of moonlight that spilled into your shared bedroom through the curtains, but thankfully hidden from your stare.

while he had said it was strange for him to be the ‘little spoon’, part of him was grateful that he was now..

a pout came to your lips as you urged him to turn over, but he wouldn’t budge — adamant on not being seen. something was.. off. really off.

“cloud, come on- you can tell me. you know i won’t judge you for whatever reason that’s preventing you from sleeping.” you assured, smoothing the hand he wasn’t holding over his arm, comfortingly.

he shuddered unknowingly at the touch, hyper aware of your proximity to him — the way your body had pressed against his back and your light breathing on his neck now.

the fabric confinements constricted in protest, and he willed himself not to make any noises that gave away his sensitivity. why did it have to hit him tonight so suddenly? was it that lack of battling, with his arch nemesis no longer threatening the planet?

“i-it’s nothing.” he shook his head, attempting to steady his tone, but his facade was faltering. “just.. go back to bed, i should fall asleep in a moment or — a-aah.. aaah.”

panic crossed your features at the noise he made as you let go him within seconds, finally catching a glimpse of his expression to see he was not wincing out of agony.. but of pleasure?

curiously, your eyes slid down to his lower half to find him squeezing his legs together for dear life. oh.

“c-cloud, are you — ”

“yes-! fuck, i am..” he breathed out, turning his head to hide his shame in the pillow, but you turned him back over without harming him, pursing your lips together.

“y’know,” you began, heaving a sigh. “you could’ve just said you were feeling things- it’s a normal thing.. instead you had me thinking you had a bad dream again or something.” you shook your head, relief washing over you despite your scolding.

the former mercenary kept his gaze elsewhere, grumbling quietly under his breath. “it’s not so easy to say ‘i’m horny, do something about it’. feels awkward, okay.”

you found yourself rolling your eyes before you pushed yourself up, lavender colored sheets sliding off your body as you moved to situate yourself between his legs. “i suppose it’s blunt, but i don’t mind it. we’ve been together for over a year now.. and have known each other for several more.” you reminded him tenderly, leaning down to peck his lips softly. “if you needed ever needed to.. indulge.. i’m more than willing to do so, at your consent.”

cloud found himself shuddering at the words that spilled over his rosy appendages, rouge splashing across his his nose and cheeks at your boldness. while you had been confident, in contrast to how he behaved and presented himself.. this was a side he had yet to see from you — and goodness.

“but- it’s late..” he muttered back, aware that you had to wake up early to help tifa out at seventh heaven by daybreak. it was tedious work and he knew you weren’t one for getting up at first light.. cutting into your sleep felt criminal.

however your expression seemed unchanging, having made up your mind already, from what he concluded.

“and?” you pressed, hovering over his face. “i won’t be that long, and besides — we live in a society where coffee exists.” you reminded him, clicking your tongue before placing a hand on his hip. “i’ll be fine.”

his back nearly arched at the light caress, but he forced himself to be completely still, eyeing you with furrowed brows for a moment longer before exhaling. “are you.. sure about this?”

a quiet laugh tumbled past your lips as a knowing smile crossed your lips. “would i be offering to help if i wasn’t?”

it was a fair point, and although cloud wanted to continue denying himself for the sake of you getting rest.. he found himself succumbing to his intrusive thoughts the more he stared up at you.

“i guess not.” the blond concurred after a brief silence on his end, averting his mako tinted hues. “you’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

the eager shake of your head was enough of an answer as he closed his eyes in defeat. “okay, fine.. just take it easy on me, it’s..” he paused, pursing his lips together.

“your first time?” you finished in a hum before letting out a giggle when he didn’t answer. “it’s okay, i thought so.” you assured him, hooking your thumbs onto the waistband of his boxer briefs. “if it gets too much, you can tell me.”

a nod of confirmation was all that was needed for you to fully tug down his undergarments, a hiss leaving your lover’s lips as the frigid air caressed his most intimate part.

gingerly, you wrapped your hands around his shaft, never missing the gasp he failed to suppress as you pumped him slowly.

cloud’s hand flew to cover his mouth, eyes squeezing tighter as wave of ecstasy washed over him — gradually erasing the previous discomfort he’d felt.

in all his years, other than that massage back at the wall market of sector six, he’d never been touched in a way like this. a manner that sent bolts and sparks of pleasure down his spine, electrifying him in every possible way.

but the spiky haired male was too shy to ask for help on the rare occasions that he’d found himself pent up. all that fighting quelled any need for sexual release.. but now, with little to no battles to partake in these days, those late nights he’d spend away on deliveries were often occupied by his hand.

“f-fuck, y/n..!” he breathed out, feeling his legs tremble from the pleasure you had created.

you continued at an even pace, sliding your attention back over to boyfriend’s features when he called your name out. “does it feel good?” the answer was abundantly clear, though you felt the need to ask, anyway. couldn’t hurt to be safe.

he nodded his head rapidly, flushed skin glimmering under the glow of the moon. “ngh- f-faster, a-aaah~ please..” he whispered back pleadingly, tears gathering at the corners of his lashes.

it was truly a sight to behold — a part of cloud no one else had witnessed but you. and you had been the reason for his expressions, the noises he made — his reactions.. all of it was by your work.

wanting him to reach his high, to see the stars you had hoped he would see on your first time together, you quickened your ministrations, rolling your thumb over his tip. it was a little adventurous, but his moans was all the encouragement you needed to continue.

in an attempt to address your own aching heat, you slipped two fingers into the thin fabric of your panties, dragging them over your aching bundle of nerves before sliding them into your entrance.

a prolonged sigh escaped your lips, feeling your walls loosen around your fingers with each thrust while your partner became undone at the mixture of his own euphoria and the mere sight of you.

it made him strangely jealous, as he wanted to be the one to please you.

with a shaky breath, he reached down into the drawer of his nightstand for a familiar packet, carefully tearing it open when your breathing transitioned into panting.

you hadn’t even noticed that the self proclaimed ex-SOLDIER removed your hand from his cock, nor had you caught sight of him sliding a condom over himself.

no, it wasn’t until he grabbed your hips and brought you forward that you’d removed your hands at the brush of his tip against your clit, grasping ahold of his shoulders as a whine left your lips. “h-haahh~ cloud..” you drawled out in a needy beg, arching your back just slightly.

and that was all he needed to take you at last, sheathing himself slowly into your warmth.

he brought you impossibly closer to him at the squeeze of you against him, a staggered pant spilling past his appendages as he buried his face into your neck. “s-shit — was that too much?”

“n-no!” you refuted a little louder than planned, shaking your head. “j-just, one second.. a-and you can move..”

despite his worry, he took your word for it, exhaling lowly as he felt you shift.

with another sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder, allowing yourself to nod. “o-okay, i’m good..”

cloud took it as a sign to continue as he pulled out slowly before plunging back into your core at an equal pace, steadily falling into an appropriate rhythm.

the stars you had thought of before in regards to cloud’s pleasure entered your vision at last when he nailed that special spot of yours.

“a-aahh~! cloud-!”

your whines and cries of his name was fueling enough to continue hitting that same spot, feeling you crash down on him harder.

“almost.. t-there..” he reassured you quietly, and perhaps even himself as well.

the knot coiling in your stomach was on the verge of snapping, one thrust away from unraveling completely.

in light of that, cloud captured your lips in a climatic kiss, swallowing your cries of elation when you met your end at last.

covered in a sheen of sweat, the blond gave you two more thrusts before removing himself from your dipping heat, allowing you to collapse against him.

his breath was far from even, yours no better than his own as he gazed up at the ceiling, eyes half lidded. “we should.. probably clean up..”

a tired laugh escaped you, having put together several other phrases he could have started with.. but then you reminded yourself that this was cloud strife — your very awkward, but adorable boyfriend.

“don’t w-worry,” you assured, sucking in another dose of air. “we will..”

notes. good grief i haven’t written smut in ages, i hope this was decent.. i feel like i’ve lost my touch😔 but wishing you a great day too, anon! along with anyone else reading this filth🫡

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[surielstea]

Hangovers & tattoos

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader wakes up in Azriel’s bed with a mysterious tattoo that eerily matches his.

Warnings: slightly suggestive, all silly fluff though

2.4k words

Sunlight streamed through the open curtains haphazardly, my brows twitching together as I groggily pulled myself from the depths of sleep.

I awake with a groan, rubbing at my eyes that had been sealed shut. As soon as I open them I'm met with a horrible pound to my head, my entire body aching with every movement I make. I rolled onto my stomach, stuffing my head in the cold pillows with a huff.

I had to make an effort to peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth as I settled over the fact that going back to sleep would not be an option.

I twist onto my side, staring at a winged figure with his head against my pillows, dark hair cascading over his eyes. I smile at the sight of Azriel sleeping so peacefully. Then I realize he's sleeping so peacefully, in my bed. I jolt, scrambling away from his sleeping figure and inevitably tumbling off the mattress.

I hit the ground with a hard thud, followed by my hiss of pain as the hardwood sends paralyzing shock waves throughout my entire body.

Before I can collect myself I hear an incoherent mumble that came from the Shadow Singer. I tense, bending down to avoid being caught sneaking around in my own bedroom.

"Are you alright princess?" His voice was deeper than usual, still filled with sleep. I freeze for a moment, wondering how he had managed to know it was me, even if he did see me he was still half asleep. Then I quickly void that thought and curse myself for not thinking about his shadows, the same dark tendrils that were now twining around my ankles.

"I'm fine," Is all I can manage.

"Gods, my head is pounding," He grits out and I'm unsure if I should get back up onto the bed or stay down on the ground out of his sight, where I felt much safer.

Last night... it had been a blur entirely, the only thing I can remember is Cassian handing me and Azriel our first shot of the night, followed by many, many more. I clench my eyes shut, attempting to fish anything more from the night before out but I come up blank. "We didn't uh... did we?" I murmur, the pregnant silence is heavy as he thinks over the dilemma.

"Are you sore?" He says and I roll my eyes at his arrogance.

"No," I scoff.

"Then no, we didn't," He hums.

That hadn't been good enough, so I looked down at my outfit, a sigh of relief leaving me as I realized I was still wearing the same underwear from last night.

Last night when I seemed to obtain a case of amnesia. Cassian and Azriel had invited me to go out, Mor tagged along, and then... nothing. I had no idea why Azriel was in my bed or what drunk decisions I made to get that to happen.

Slowly, I rise from the floor and rush towards my wardrobe, still dressed in the short glittery dress I had boldly picked last night.

"What are you doing?" He rubs at his eyes, staring at me as I begin to take off the straps of my dress. I froze, realizing he was still there.

This headache wasn't making our situation any better.

"Changing?" I say, looking down at my rumpled outfit.

"This is my room," He said, sitting up from the pillows, the sheets falling off of him and revealing his bare chest, toned with rippling muscle. I swallow thickly, glancing around the room that was now so obviously not mine. I nearly crumbled from embarrassment, my cheeks tinging a scarlet red.

"Right, sorry, I'll go," I sidestep towards the door and his dark brows crease.

"Wait," He calls, slipping from the warm sheets I had gotten such amazing sleep in, and follows me to the door. "I'll make you breakfast, as a thank you for... whatever took place last night," He glances back to the bed and then back to me.

"You don't have to," I shake my head, eager to get out of the ordeal entirely.

"I want to, c'mon," His hand makes contact with my lower back as he guides me from his bedroom and down the long hallway.

I had been crushing on the Shadow Singer for over a year now. It had been unbearable to watch him bring other girls to bed since simple one-night stands with no connection aside from physical, but still, I wish I had even that amount of relation with him. But now he’s got his hand on my back, about to make me breakfast just because we woke up in the same bed together. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to get over him if I tried.

I made coffee while he worked on breakfast, my head felt as if it was swelling into my skull, a painful feeling that stabbed into the most sensitive parts of my brain.

I softly groaned as I poured a heaping spoonful of sugar into my steaming cup. I left Azriel's mug unattended, knowing he preferred the bitterness of it while I simply drank it for the caffeine, wanting to get rid of the taste altogether.

A low whistle sounds from down the hall, paired with a heavy set of footsteps that were unmistakably Cassian's. "Morning you two," The male said as soon as he spotted Azriel and us silently moving through the kitchen.

"Morning," Azriel grumbles but I can't even function enough to manage a reply. Cassian's hulking figure brushes past me and toward Azriel, where he had been by the stove. "Hands off," Azriel spat, and I hadn't been watching but I could only assume Cassian was attempting to steal from the pan while Azriel swatted him away.

"Hey, I didn't know you got a new tattoo," Cassian gasps and I whirl around to look at the two males, my eyes narrowing on a sketch of ink over the Shadow Singers' fourth finger, swirling down onto the back of his palm and wrapping up his wrist. Azriel looks at it as if he's never seen it before, his brows twitching together. Cassian gasps again and we look at him with expectant expressions, waiting for him to explain.

"That's a mating ceremony tattoo," He mumbled beneath his breath. Azriel’s eyes snapped to me like he had something to confess.

"A what?" I nearly choke on my own air. Mating? If Azriel was mated already there was no way in hel I'd ever have a chance. I knew I shouldn't have waited so long for him to ask me out, knew I should’ve asked him myself and faced rejection.

"A mating tattoo, matching with your significant other, you get them during the ceremony," He explains as if we genuinely hadn’t known what a mating tattoo is.

"That's ridiculous, I think I'd remember mating with someone, I wouldn't even know where to begin to find someone like that," Azriel scoffs, eyes now avoiding me at all costs and glancing up at the ceiling, to the stove where he had been cooking.

"Well then I suppose we need to find who has the matching tattoo," Cassian hums, then dramatically gasps louder than his last two, pulling his hands from his pockets and inspecting his unmarked hands.

"Oh thank gods," Azriel sighed in relief with a heavily sarcastic tone when recognizing that Cassian's hands were bare of ink.

"Cass be serious, you'd know if it was you," I argue, rolling my eyes at his idiocracy.

"You'd be able to feel something like that," I bring up my hands to show him.

“Az would probably know himself—" I start but I quickly cut myself off when I notice a black smudge on the bottom of my ring finger.

I flip my hands around and stare at them intently. The black tattoo on my left hand embedded into my skin as if it's always been there, and now that I knew I swore it pulsed with life. I ran my finger over it, then began to frantically rub at it, wondering if it’ll come off, if this was all some sick joke. But it remained, and then all of it came crashing down on me.

Mated tattoos. Mated. Azriel and I are mated.

"You're my," I couldn't even get the word out. "My," I breathed through the word, staring down at my hand, black ink wrapping around my wrist, up the back of my palm with swirls and wisps of black until twining around my ring finger entirely. Mine was much lighter than his, more delicate, but the same pattern nonetheless.

He held his hand out towards me, palm facing mine. I tentatively met it with my own, settling my palm against his, his hand much, much larger than mine yet somehow the tattoos had matched up, each line on my skin swirling into one on his.

"Gods, how drunk were we last night?" I sigh, a line coming between my brows.

I pull my hand away from his despite the magnetic force pushing us together telling me not to. "I'm going to leave you two to it," Cassian slowly removes himself from the uncomfortable situation.

"Wait, do you remember anything?" I whirl around to face him. He looks between us, and then his eyes go wide, staring at neither of us but rather what's between us, a golden tether tying our souls, binding them beyond just connection.

"Maybe ask Mor," He rubbed at the back of his head, and I knew with the movement that his hangover had been just as horrid as mine.

"Thanks anyway Cass," I mumble and he nods before excusing himself down the hall.

I slowly turned back to my coffee which was no longer steaming.

It was an effort to even swallow, the silence between us thick with tension, filled entirely with questions that don't have answers, and answers to questions we were too afraid to ask.

"So, mates, that's pretty cool," I mumbled beneath my breath and a smile curved at his lips, attempting to suppress the grin but ultimately failing.

"This is absurd," He shakes his head with a chuckle. "Shouldn't you be taken by The Frenzy?" I wonder, glancing over to him. He swallows and I watch as his throat bobs with effort, avoiding my gaze.

"Oh, I am,"

"What do you mean?" I spin around to face him, my mug cupped in my hands as I stare at him curiously.

"I hadn't noticed it at first, it's kind of how I always feel," He confesses and my brows crease, my confusion doubling over.

"Towards you I mean, I've known we're mates for a while now," His admission nearly makes me choke on my coffee.

"You didn't— why didn't you tell me?" I stutter, placing my cup down before I drop it. He had known all this time? Hasn't he picked up on the hints I had been attempting to give him? Or had he been dragging me along in fear I'd reject the bond?

"I would've told you sooner if I knew you'd find out like this," He gestures between us, at the golden line tethering my core to his I realize. "It's unfair," He adds.

"What is?"

"You were drunk, you didn't get to choose to accept it with good conscience," He explains with a sigh, my new mate clearly in distress about the events he could've avoided if he just confessed a day earlier. "And now you can't reject it, and I feel like I somehow forced it upon you," His hands fall to his sides in defeat and my heart softens. And maybe it was the power of the mating bond that gave me the confidence to take a step forward and grab his tattooed hand with my own.

"Azriel," I start, lacing his fingers through mine. "I would never have rejected you," I confess, looking into his eyes with only truth in my gaze. He stared for a moment, taking my words for what they promised.

"But we're friends," He argued, afraid we just ruined something that was already good, and I had known the feeling well for the past few years. But now I knew he felt the same way, and there were no longer any doubts I had about us being together.

"Did you only have feelings for me because you knew we were mates?" I tilt my head, taking another brave step forward.

"I uh— no, I liked you before," He stumbled over his sentence and a smile tugged at my lips at the effect I had on him when I got closer, my chest coming to press against his and he didn't move, we stand in the middle of the kitchen, not worried about the rest of the world around us.

"Good, we're even then," I nod.

"Even?" He arches a perfect brow.

"I liked you before, too," I confess and his eyes widen only a fraction, but it was a large reaction from the stoic Spymaster nonetheless.

"So, is it okay if I kiss you?" He asked quietly as if this was a forbidden act. Two mates kissing, so simple, yet held so much meaning.

"Yes Az, it's okay if you kiss me," I consent with a soft smile and he mirrors it, tentatively leaning in as he presses his lips to mine.

Something blooms in the pit of my stomach, something that's always been sprouting there but never had the nutrients to grow. Though, as he kissed me everything had felt so complete, like a puzzle piece I had been trying to solve for years slotting into place.

He pulls back and I think to follow him but instead, I allow the separation and look up at him with a bashful smile. His eyes are glazed over with something I haven't seen before, a mix of adoration and lust. He presses his lips to mine again, this time more confidently with little hesitation as he cups my jaw in one of his hands while the other wraps around my waist, pulling me into him.

"You feel The Frenzy now?" I whisper against his lips and he nods eagerly. "It's fucking, painful," He sighs, needing me closer, so much closer. "There's only one way to fix that, hm?" I taunt and his grin turns wolfish. "You're sure Princess?" He arches a brow and I now with a willing smirk. "Please," I hum, pecking up the side of his jaw.

With that, he swooped me up into his arms and practically winnowed us back to his bedroom, making me giggle in both delight and surprise as we landed hard on the bed I woke up in this morning.

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[iris-qt]

𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

🪻 ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🪻 ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

🪻 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🪻 ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ…ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ!

🪻 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ɪꜱ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴛᴏɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟᴍ…ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴇꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ꜱʜʏ, ʙᴜᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ʙᴏʏ

Perhaps it was your awkward glances. Or maybe the way you’d do something silly like accidentally write the wrong year for today’s date then nervously survey the area as if anyone would notice. If anyone were to notice they’d have to be looking very closely…practically observing you. And that is precisely the gift Theodore Nott had been given as he was sat one bench above you in the DADA classroom his gaze directly hitting your paper and the side of your stressed and contorted face.

Yes this test was difficult but Theodore has studied incessantly for it. You see, Theodore Nott never studies but he had a plan. A plan that he chickened out on last minute.

The night prior he had been sitting in the library waiting for your arrival. He knows you arrive around 8pm right after dinner and quidditch practice. You were about to sit when Theodore Nott appeared in your peripheral with a slight deranged half smile on his face. His face rarely showed emotion but there was something manic in it at the moment per your mental Theo facial expression log.

“Hi Theo, you okay?” you lightly laugh as you see him stumble a bit.

Theodore mentally thanked himself for evading his friends’ questions as to where he heads off to around this time because if they saw the usually stoic Nott stumbling over his feet in front of this girl he’d never hear the end of it.

“Yes…yes I was just wondering if you needed some studying company?”

You smile warmly at him his presence itself warming you up from the cold you had just endure in the November night air while at Quidditch practice.

“I’ll definitely need someone to wake me up in case I fall asleep reading about the theoretical applications of non-verbal spell casting…you’re hired Nott.”

Theo smirks as he sits himself down a bit too close to you. He realizes in a panic and jerks back almost tilting over in his haste if you hadn’t steadied his chair.

“Theo, maybe you should cut down on those cigarettes,” you smirk as a light rouge paints his carved face.

Theo feels like digging a hole in the library ground and burying himself in it away from your hypnotic gaze but, at the same time, he cannot help but bask in it.

Initially his plan was working as he hoped it would. You admitted the things you didn’t know and Theo helped you brush up on it and quizzed you on certain terms. You both had even found some time to laugh and joke about things such as the drawer filled collection of ballerina hair gel Theo had found Draco hoarding in the “forbidden drawer”. They were both becoming comfortable and Theo lost his edge as he melted into your presence. Things went downhill after that as perhaps Theo became a bit too comfortable. As he was watching you read a portion of your textbook…your lips moving in slow motion and your eyebrows scrunched in the most adorable manner…he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath out:

“You’re so cute..”

You perked up as you couldn’t believe your ears. While your brain was immersed in the world of DADA your senses were in high alert within the presence of the boy you adored in silence.

“What did you just say?”

Theo at this point went into full lockdown mode as he slightly jumped exclaiming “I said you look like a boot!!” he blurted out as if that would salvage him in her eyes…her gorgeous, bright eyes.

You looked quite puzzled as you didn’t know exactly what that meant. Perhaps it was the way you had styled your hair? Or done your makeup? His sentence made zero sense and you weren’t quite sure how to feel.

Theo, however, had lost his marbles while he seemed expressionless on the outside his brain was short-circuiting.

“Uh…you know what I think I need to leave to um…use the loo? Yes I wonder what they put in that pumpkin juice because let me just tell you, y/n, it was NOT good…you think the elves are after me?,” he laughs nervously as he quickly slams his book shut attracting the attention of every student in the library as the sound echoes off the shelves.

“Merlin, where’d I get that strength!” he strains out with that same deranged, manic look returning to his face except this time in more volume. Before you could utter a word Theo scrambles out of the library. It takes you a few seconds to piece together what just happened but you eventually stand up leaving your things behind to find Theo. But once you reach the entrance of the library he was long gone…

You had spent a while pondering that occurrence and what he said to you. That night you had laid awake in bed. You were sure he had said you were cute, right? I mean obviously. Theodore had always been jumpy since you had officially met him that one day in 5th year in Potions as you two were partners. He was quiet yet endearing and you had fallen instantly. The only problem was your adoration for him had always felt like a dead end. As shy as he seemed Theo got around and to be fair you’d never felt like you had a chance…were you blind? No of course not. You were realistic…right?

And so we return to the day of the test and Theo who had finished 20 minutes early due to his vast knowledge he has filled his privileged brain with simply for, well, you. You were his everything. You had stolen the very air he breathed from the moment you slid in next to him in Potions. You held his breath captive and he simply couldn’t act human next to you. You loosened him up more than any of his expensive Italian cigarettes could. He was addicted.

After class Theo had begun his walk to his next class when he heard his favorite voice calling his name. God if he could only record your voice in one of those muggle devices. Mental note to buy one of those next time he secretly visited muggle London. He slowly spun around gripping his messenger bag for dear life for he could feel himself becoming light headed already.

“I think I had an aneurysm taking that test,” you laugh indulging in Theo’s dazed expression as it fuels your confidence. “I just wanted to tell you that you look cute..” you purposefully mumble the last part so that Theo could barely catch your words.

Theo’s heart soared and dropped and did somersaults all at the same time when he heard your words. “Wh-what?”

“I said you look like a grapefruit!” you yell falling into a fit of laughter as Theo gazes at you looking dumbstruck.

“I think this is the part I run away,” you quip raising your eyebrow at him playfully

“No I think this is the part I shake myself out of it and just ask the girl of my dreams on a date,” Theo breathes out attempting to recover from his actions the day before

You put your hand above your eyes as if shielding them from the sun as you stare into the distance. “Where is she? Can I meet her?” you bite back your laughter, gazing up at Theo’s watercolor eyes alive with the most tender of emotions.

Theo laughs shaking his head hesitantly removing your hand from your face and clasping it in his as if it were a rare jewel he has been searching for for decades and had finally found it. As if you were his life’s work finally accomplished.

“Look no further, y/n, she’s standing right here.”

[mandarinmoons]

I have a Spencer request :)

Maybe some very cute fluff with fem!BAU!reader and Spencer where the team is staying at a hotel on a case and neither of them can sleep so they go to one of their rooms and just talk and maybe cuddle until they can sleep? That would be lovely <3

(absolutely love ur fics btw ❤️)

Thank you sweetheart <3

Tossing from one side to the other, sleep was something you were clearly not granted tonight and it frustrated you to no end.

When you and the team arrived at the hotel, the first thing you wanted to do was change into your pajamas and jump into bed. However, you wanted to take the time to take care of yourself, so you had a nice dinner, took a shower and did a bit of light reading to get your thoughts away from work, but the second you turned off the lights to finally get some well deserved rest, all of the exhaustion was gone and now here you were, nearly in tears from not being able to sleep.

Sensing that slumber wasn’t going to hit you anytime soon, you slipped out of bed, covered yourself in your robe and shuffled into your slippers.

The moment you opened your room, you nearly jumped when you saw Spencer already outside your door. His hair looked disheveled and you could tell that he was having just as hard of a time falling asleep as you.

“You can’t sleep either, huh?”

Nodding his head, you chuckled as you brushed the hair out of his eyes, wondering in what position he had tried to sleep in order for his hair to get to the state it was in.

“Wanna come in?”

“It’s kind of why I came here.”

“Really?”

Spencer nodded and you opened the door for him, going to sit on the edge of the bed while he closed the door and followed you.

“What’s keeping you up?”

“I can’t get the victims' faces out of my head.”

Humming at Spencer’s response, you thought about the scared faces of the children the team saved today. Laying down on the covers, your thoughts went wild remembering the events of the day. The children had been stolen from their beds in the middle of the night and forced to take on the names and personalities of the children the unsub had lost, some had died of illness and others had been taken away by child protective services.

Spencer laid down next to you as a sigh escaped his lips, his hand running over his face, trying to keep his eyes open so as to not fall asleep on you.

“I hope they’re all able to heal.”

“I’m sure they will, Spence.”

Reaching out to his face, your thumb ran over Spencer’s cheek, a chuckle falling from his lips.

“What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know, comforting you?”

“This is how you comfort people?”

“I like to show physical affection, but I know you’re a bit hesitant with it, so…”

Turning to face you, Spencer rested his arm over your waist, his fingers lightly caressing your lower back.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah.”

Snuggling a bit closer, your arms wrapped around Spencer’s middle as your head rested on his chest. One of Spencer’s hands moved to your head, caressing the back of it while his lips pressed a light kiss to the crown.

Continuing to talk about anything and everything, not long after you dozed off in a deep sleep, while Spencer admiring your peaceful state. Soon enough, Spencer rested his head next to yours, his eyelids finally fluttering shut as he felt the peace radiating off of you. His heartbeat syncing with yours over time, slowly but surely hugging you closer to him in his sleep.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[russellsppttemplates]

Parenting Practice (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time, hasn't it? A lot has been going on, and my mental health has taken the biggest toll, so the blog hasn't received much attention as I'm trying to keep the train going! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

"Are you all packed, my love?", Lando asked you as he zipped his suitcase effortlessly.

"Yes - are you sure it's fine if I take my pillow?", you wondered, holding the pregnancy pillow close to you, folding it into the carrier bag.

"It's regular carry-on, and as much as I hate that I have to share my cuddles with it, I know you sleep better with it so you definitely need to take it", Lando winked.

Blushing at your husband's antics, you made sure it was packed before looking around in case you missed something you needed to pack, "seems like I'm all good too - when do we need to leave?".

"In thirty minutes - how about I make us a snack to eat, then you can go pee before we go and then we head to the airport?", Lando suggested.

"Why did you need to specify that I have to take a pee break?", you poked you tongue out at him, pinching his butt as he walked past you.

"You were the one that told me I should always inform you of when you couldn't pee for a long time! The jet will touchdown to pick us both up and go straight up again - I don't think we will have time to use the base's bathroom, and you say you don't like the jet's bathroom, so I was just warning you, woman!", he bit back playfully.

Recalling the last time where you tried to use the bathroom and had to call Pietra to hold you in case you couldn't get out on your own, afraid that the bump would make moving around the tiny space impossible, you swore you'd always plan your pee breaks carefully from now on, "I'm craving something salty", you beamed as Lando walked down the stairs.

"A salty snack for mama and baby girl coming right up!", he yelled back and you could just imagine his head shaking from side to side with a charming smile on his face.

Your mother in-law was the first to greet you as soon as you stepped inside the aircraft, Lando holding your hand to make you didn't fall and helping with your shoes, "Y/N! Oh, you look so gorgeous!", she cooed.

"It's the compression socks, isn't it?", you giggled, lifting up your long skirt to show her, "doctor said it would be better for the swelling - Goodness knows I need all the help I can with that", you mumbled the last bit.

"Don't be silly, you look beautiful!", Pietra complimented.

"She does, doesn't she?", Lando complimented, kissing your cheek before letting you go and feeling slightly jealous that everyone was now looking at you when you had been a sight for his eyes only for the past few days.

.

"Is all of that jealousy, brother?", Cisca asked her brother, touching her toes on his thigh after she sat down on her beach chair. The sun had finally showed up and there was a light breeze going on, making it the perfect beach day and it was only lunchtime as they sat on the beach bar after making the food orders.

"Jealousy? Of what?", Lando quirked his eyebrow over his sunglasses, drifting his attention from you and looking back to his youngest sister.

"The girls haven't left Y/N since the plane, only to sleep and Sav was just saying she swears she heard Athena call your wife before she fell asleep", she snickered, "You've lost favourite uncle status, we all have I think".

"Like we stood a chance to begin with", Lando scoffed, "she was made to be a mother, and before that she had all the practice with being an auntie. And the girls genuinely think they can play with baby girl like they play with their dolls once she's here with us".

"Mila is gentle most days, Athena is... still a bit hard on her movements I think - oh, just on cue!", she yelped.

"Oh, darling, that was a bit strong, wasn't it?", you scolded softly, taking her hand away from your ear after she pushed on your hoop.

"Come here, you trouble maker!", Adam called, grabbing the little girl away from your lap as you rearranged your jewellery.

"She surely has a strong grip!", you chuckled before winking at Lando, mouthing a silent "I love you, Lan" across the table.

Cisca groaned playfully, "is all of that jealousy, little sister?", Lando teased her before blowing you a kiss and mouthing it back.

.

You were enjoying the pool the villa had, soaking up the sun as you laid on Lando's chest, tracing random shapes on his chest while his hand travelled around your waist and bump, often tapping it when your little girl kicked or moved.

It was fairly quiet until the girls woke up from their naps, immediately coming down to join you and invite everyone to swim with them.

Deciding to engage in their delight, you got up and walked to the edge of the pool, carefully sitting on the warm stone and letting your legs dip in the water to cool your body while Lando dove in and played with the girls, "careful, Mila, you can't unzip your vest!", he called.

Pulling her closer to you, you managed to zip it back up and help her swim back to her uncle, "is the bump getting in the way?", Sav asked you, mimicking your early movements and sitting next to you.

"When I'm sitting down, yes", you chuckled, "I don't have the same range of movements and my mind still has to catch up with that".

"It's a sign that she's growing well though", your sister in-law added, propping herself up on her arms so she could ease the rest of ther body into the water, getting immediate attention from her children as they called her to them, "soon enough you'll have someone calling you every waking second!".

"She already does, though! Look at him making a bee line to her now that she's free!", Oliver joked as Lando swam to you.

"I won't even bother answering that", Lando pointed to his brother before reaching you, ignoring everyone else as he gently wrapped his arms around your calves and rested his chin on your knees, "hi, beautiful", he smiled.

"Hey, handsome", you smiled, brushing a fallen curl away from his forehead, "did you enjoy your splashes?", you asked giggling.

"It was fun, yes. Athena poked my eye a couple of times though", he argued, "can you imagine our little princess playing with them this time next year?", he wondered.

"Three little girls", you mused, nodding at the idea, "you better get ready to be a princess too!".

"I have what it takes to be a girl dad, some people might even say I'm very girl dad coded", he tsked you, earning laughs from you.

"You definitely are, yes", you rubbed your bump, "you haven't been her long and she's already kicking like crazy - definitely a daddy's girl".

"Hey, sweet girl", Lando spoke, lightly wetting the skin as his hands touched your bump, "are you having a good time in there? Mummy always says she's too hot so we hope you're doing good away from this heat. And this helps, no?", he wondered as the baby kicked against the droplets, "yeah, it's good and cooling", he cooed.

.

"I'm craving something salty", you said as you grabbed the menu, flicking the pages to see what tickled your fancy.

You had decided to go to the beach bar and have lunch there, not wanting to have to pack everything to go back home only to come back for the afternoon. Everyone was gathered around the table as the waiter took the orders.

"Feeling good? Well rested?", you asked Lando once you caught him looking at you.

"Yes", he admitted, "I thought it would be harder to switch off, but it's been very good", he squeezed your thigh, kissing the side of your head and pulling you to his chest, "how are my girls today? You look ethereal in this dress, darling".

The white dress was flowy at times and tight in all the right spots, showcasing your babybump perfectly, "we've been good, no more harsh kicking on my bladder which I appreciate, isn't that right, Tilly?", you rubbed just above your bellybutton, "but we're both quite hungry".

"The waiter said yours should be quick to make", he offered since the waiter mentioned that the Caesar salad was a popular plate and they always had it running.

Once everyone was served, you began eating, delighted and exclaiming how good e everything was.

"Have a bite of this, baby, trust me!", Lando offered as he gathered a bit of everything on his fork to feed you.

"It's sweet, I'm not sure I'll like it", you scrunched up your face.

"Try a little bit", he encouraged as he made a shell shape with his hand to catch anything that fell or dropped.

The food was definitely the opposite of what you had, but it was delicious. That you couldn't deny.

"It's good, isn't it? I told you!", Lando smiled, "do you want some more?", he offered while already getting everything on the fork again.

"Baby girl seems happy too", you giggled, feeling her move.

"She has good taste in food, what can I say?!", Lando giggled back.

.

The vacation was well underway by the time you decided which days you wanted to spend on the boat, Oliver and Savannah staying inside with the girls along with Adam and Cisca who decided they would make lunch for everyone.

"Do you know what I have just realised?", you spoke to Flo as you both watched Lando and Cisca's boyfriend jump into the water, "your brother has a massive head - like, it's really big, specially when you compare to Max's", you pointed to your husband's best friend who had joined you for the last few days.

That morning, you cried about the fact that your bikini dug on your hips only for Lando to tell you that you hadn't tired the sides properly and that you had more than enough room to accommodate your growing body, so right now this was a way better way to deal with the rush of hormones you were having.

"I think we all do, to be fair - Cisca has the smalled one I guess", Flo squinted as she looked at her sister who walked closer to you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?", Cisca wondered.

"I've just realised how big your brother's head is and how I'm probably going to be split apart when this little girl - little body but surely a big head - joins us", you rubbed your bump as tears formed in your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, my friends have had babies with big heads and they're fine", Pietra offered, "they were just fine", she said before waving at Max so him and Lando could come to the rescue.

"I don't know why I'm crying, which makes this even worse - Goodness", you wiped your eyes and chuckled, "I can feel her head, it's about here from what I remember from the scans - and it's big, like, really big! How is that going to work?", you blurted.

"What's the matter? Is everything alright? Y/N, are you good? Is it Tilly?", Lando asked worriedly as he saw you break into a fit of giggles and seeing the girls fight their laughter a bit before joining.

"The matter is that you have a big head and Tilly's will also be big", you explained, "I'm not the tiniest person ever, so there's definitely room but can you imagine? I have to ask your mother how big your head was when you were born because I feel like I need to do prep work for it", you mused, "it's all natural until you decide to have a kid with the guy who has a big head".

"Oh, Y/N has gone dark", Max muttered, earning himself a swat on his forehead from Pietra, "what? Did I lie?", he hissed, containing his laughter.

"I'm not sure what you'd like me to do here, my love", Lando admitted, sitting next to you and attempting to squeeze your thigh lovingly, knowing the affectionate gesture could go both ways.

"Our baby is making me feel like I have the emotional and cognitive skills of a toddler", you mumbled as you cuddled your husband, supporting your bump with a pillow Flo got for you as you both layed down.

"It's okay, Y/N, I don't mind having to reason with you - we'll consider this practice for when we have our little one, okay beautiful?", Lando kissed your forehead.

[prentissluvr]

take my breath away — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst, hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : features dean x reader (platonic), near death experience, suffocation, other canon violence and death, injuries, blood mention, swearing, so much pining, case fic, stereotypical witch, (not) unrequited love, petty fights/arguments, petty sam, kissing, crying, guilt, reader vaguely implied to be shorter than sam, pet names, food mentions, (baby, honey - from sam, darlin'/kiddo from dean), no use of y/n, mentions of end of season 2-4 spoilers, poorly edited, lmk if i missed something! ➖⟢ wc : 13.7K summary : because of an unexpected witch's curse, it's almost too late for you and sam to confess your feelings to each other.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

you see sam when it rains. even if he’s sitting right in front of you, you’ll look out the car window and at the rivulets of water rushing down the glass, distorting the image of an empty highway and summer-time trees at dusk, and you’ll see him at seventeen with rain in his hair and running down his cheeks. you’ll think of that smile he gave you as he took your hand and how that look he had in his eyes haunts you worse than any ghost you’ve seen, because you think it could’ve been love. sometimes, you’ll still see glimpses of that sam, but he can be rare. so, you go as far to wonder if maybe he still looks at you like that when your gaze is turned away. 

once, when the windows were down and he was sitting in the back with you for a change, the spring air was nice and clean as it filtered into the sometimes stuffy car, and you felt his multicolor gaze watching you. the look on his face changed when you locked eyes, but for an imagined moment, it seemed that you—your eyes closed against the wind and a light smile on your face that, for once, wasn’t grim—were his everything.

you press your temple to the cold glass of the window, hoping it’ll sober you up a little from your love-drunk state. it’s so goddamn stupid that you’re even thinking about him like this right now, because he’s still sort of mad at you for something rash you did during your last hunt. only you don’t think it was stupid, so you’re half pissed that he won’t let it go. staring at the back of his head and the pretty curled ends of his hair, you sigh quietly. even his shoulders rising up past the seat are handsome. you miss him, and he’s close enough to reach out and touch.

dean’s voice breaks your reverie, and you have to draw in a deep breath. without you even noticing, thinking about sam so hard makes you breathless, almost every time.

“so, why don’t you give us the full rundown, sammy? ‘fore either of you decide to conk out on me,” dean suggests. that means he’s bored, because neither of you will fall asleep for at least another hour or two, and you’ll probably take your turn driving for a few soon.

“sure,” sam agrees, and you hear the shuffle of papers as he digs out a newspaper article and some notes. “three people in the last three weeks all died from suffocation, but with no apparent cause. they just,” sam’s shoulders move a little as he motions vaguely with his hands, “stopped breathing.”

“sounds witchy to me,” dean says, very predictably. you think you could’ve said those exact words at the exact same time if you wanted to tease him about it.

“yeah. what’s weird is that the vics were reported feeling out of breath up to 16 hours before they actually died. says it looks like they slowly died from oxygen deprivation,” sam adds.

“huh. so not hex bags, but another sort of spell?” you wonder aloud, easily talking about the case despite the remainders of tension between you and sam. that’s just how it is, with all of you. even when you’re mad, you still work the case.

“most likely,” sam agrees, “the vics went about their days pretty much normally until they died, so they were in different places as they were dying. seems like a hex bag wouldn’t work unless it was on them the whole time.” you nod, and though he’s not turned around to look at you, you’re sure he knows anyway.

“alright, well. looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” dean states, “we’ll be in town in the morning, so we’ll rest up real quick then head to the police station. you two can do your interviewing magic with the vic’s families and hopefully we’ll know more by then.”

this was easily predicted as well. for as long as you’ve been able to pass as an fbi agent, he’s mostly left interviewing the families to you and sam since the two of you tend to be more socially appropriate, and thus, more able to get information without raising alarms. though, the questions you ask never cease to be weird and confusing to the world’s oblivious civilians. of course, dean makes exceptions for pretty girls who he can flirt his way into telling him just about anything. this time, you wish dean would make an exception because it kills you that you and sam aren’t getting along perfectly right now. you know that you’ll work it out soon, probably within the week, but you still hate it.

through the impala’s windows, you watch the sky turn dark and the moon come out. you drive, then fall asleep to the rumble of the engine for a few hours, and wake to see the sky turn light again. keeping it all to yourself, you revel in the sunrise and the way it turns the sky bright and the clouds cotton candy pink around the edges. 

you sink into the sight of sam sleeping in front of you, the early morning light kissing his features and shining through his mousy brown hair. if you lean a little to the left, you can soak up the image of his softly closed eyes, the mole by his nose, and the relaxed curve of his lips. you smile to yourself at the way his hair is all messed up on the side of his head that’s resting against the window until you catch dean’s gaze on you through the rearview mirror. you tear your gaze from both brothers and latch it to the moving countryside out the window. for a while now, you’ve figured there’s no way dean doesn’t see that you’re in love with his brother, but despite such, he doesn’t say much outside of lightheartedly teasing for the both of you. he’s the only one who knows that sam looks at you just like that when you’re the one who’s asleep. he’s the one who sees sam turn, trying to be subtle, just to look at the way the moonlight kisses your lips, wishing it was him.

it’s eight in the morning when you pull up to the first motel you see. you wished sam hadn’t woken up on his own half an hour ago. that way, you could’ve put your hand on his shoulder, shaken him all soft and gentle like you do just for him, and mumbled, “wake up, sammy. we’re here.” then he’d stir, still sweet-looking from sleep and give you a little smile if he’d managed to dream without nightmares before remembering he’s supposed to still be upset with you.

instead, he’s fully awake when he climbs out of the car and pops your door open like he does every time you can’t beat him to it. he doesn’t talk about that habit, because he knows you can take care of it yourself. but if it’s so easy for him to do it as you grab your bag, then he thinks there’s no harm. besides, you’ve never told him off for it, so he does that and just about any other little thing he can get away with for you. and much to your chagrin, he still does it all when he’s pissed at you. he’s too good like that, even if you think he should just get over what happened a few days ago.

the three of you are just about wordless as you check in and pile into the room, all tired and without anything of importance to say. when you catch sight of the couch in the room, you sigh in relief. it would’ve been sam’s turn to share the bed, and you’re not sure you could do that this time around. sometimes it’s hard to breathe when he’s right there, so close after you’ve spent literal hours in the car just plain old pining over him. so, you find an extra sheet in the closet and steal a pillow from dean’s bed, all but collapsing onto the couch with a morning-time “goodnight.”

you don’t care that your feet hang over the edge unless you curl up or mind the way the springs dig into the flesh of your side, all you want is to welcome quick sleep. you’re lucky, and drift off moments later. you barely have time to think about how glad you are that you won’t have one of your nights where you lay awake, staring at the ceiling as you wonder why you would fall in love with someone you can’t have. him and dean are all you have, and no matter how your heart aches to pull sam close, you’d never do anything to jeopordize what you have, here and now. he’s your best friend, that’s all you can ask for in this life, maybe even more than you should.

waking as you normally do to the sounds of sam and dean moving about the motel room, you sit up, a little groggy. you glance at the clock, and you’ve slept for about four hours, just as predicted.

“up ‘n at ‘em,” dean says as he walks past you, giving you a playful clap on the back.

“mhmm,” is all you respond with, swinging your legs off the couch and digging through your bag for your pant suit and toothbrush. dean’s already in his, and sam’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom, still in his tshirt and jeans from yesterday. you don’t even have to say a word for sam to move out of the bathroom as you approach. so he won’t have to wait with a mouth full of tooth-paste and spit for you too long, you change quickly, leaving your clothes on the bathroom floor and opening the door for sam as you begin to brush your own teeth. the two of you maneuver around the cramped space with practiced ease, and when he’s done, he disappears back into the bedroom space without a word. when he’s petty to other people, you think it’s kind of hot. but when he does it to you, it makes you want to ring his neck. 

“asshole,” you mumble to yourself. it’s a classic tango between the two of you; you want him to just get over it, and he wants you to admit that he’s right, or the other way around. and both of you are far too stubborn to be the one to relent first, so you’ll be pissy at each other for a few days until you get bored of it or dean gets too annoyed. all it takes to get past it is you putting your head in his lap after a long day, maybe him resting his head on your shoulder, or the two of you laughing too hard over something together to keep being mad, and maybe just a few mumbled apologies from the both of you. if it’s really big enough for none of those things to work, then you talk about it until things are okay again.

dean drops you off at the first victim’s house, with the promise that the second is close enough to walk to, and the third he’ll join you for once he’s done at the coroner’s office.

sam still won’t talk to you as you wait on the front porch of the house after ringing the doorbell. a young woman opens the door, probably around your own age, and you smile at her before flashing your badge.

“hi. i’m agent green. this is my partner, agent smith. we’re looking for natalie goh?” you greet, comfortable and at ease in your ruse.

“that’s me,” she confirms for you, sounding nice enough. “how can i help you, agents?”

“we would just like to ask a few questions about your late boyfriend, henry,” sam explains, “may we come inside?”

her face falls when he mentions her boyfriend, but she nods her head. “of course, come in.” you follow her to the living room where she motions for you to sit. “let me grab you something to drink,” she offers, disappearing into the next room before you can refuse. “is lemonade okay? my next door neighbor brought me so much when she heard about henry… you know. i can’t possibly drink it all.”

you want to say no, not wanting to make her go through the extra effort, but you accept for both you and sam out of sympathy. she sounds like she needs to keep her hands busy to distract herself. 

she sets the drinks down in front of you, asking as she sits, “what, uhm, what is the fbi’s interest in … in henry?”

“we’re investigating a few odd deaths, like your boyfriend’s, in the area,” sam explains, “now, was there anything unusual the day of or the days leading up to his death?”

“i, um, i don’t– i don’t think so, like what? and, i’m sorry, the police told me he most likely choked on something, how is that strange?” natalie frets. you glance at sam and catch him readjusting his features as a brief look of surprise crosses over his face. it makes sense that that’s what the police told her, but you hadn’t known they’d said so.

“well, natalie, the cause of his death wasn’t entirely clear, and because a few more people have died similarly since, we’re just being extra thorough,” you do your best to placate her before she starts getting too wary of you and sam. “it really could mean nothing, but it’s important for us to cover all of our bases. so, can you tell us if there was anything out of the ordinary? was he acting strange, or did you notice anything unusual around the house, like maybe cold spots or flickering lights?”

she furrows her eyebrows in confusion, “um, no. no, nothing like that. he was just being him, you know, he was such an amazing boyfriend, he made me breakfast that morning even though he said he was tired. i already told this to the police, but he sounded kind of out of breath when we called. that was the last time i talked to him,” her voice begins to tremble, so you reach out a comforting hand and place it atop hers from across the table. “i had to stay late at work, and when i got home, he was … he was gone. i found him in the kitchen.” a tear slips down her cheek, and she moves her hand away from yours to wipe it off. you shift back in your seat and glance at sam, trying to give him the hint to get moving. but, he keeps his gaze trained elsewhere.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him, almost ready to pull the “may i use your bathroom” ruse first. it’s almost always sam who does it, and sure enough, he clears his throat to ask.

“would you mind if i used your restroom?”

“oh, sure,” she says, “there’s one by the pantry, through the kitchen and to the left.”

he stands, thanking her a bit awkwardly before disappearing through the doorway to the kitchen.

once he’s gone, you turn your attention back to natalie. “i know that this can be a difficult question, but is there anyone that comes to mind who might want to hurt henry?” absentmindedly, you take a sip of the lemonade after speaking. it’s sweet, but not too sugary. you discover that it’s just about perfect, and you can’t hold back from continually taking a few sips here and there to fight back the heat of the afternoon.

“oh, goodness, no,” she sounds horrified by that prospect, “henry was just the kindest. the best boyfriend i could ask for,” she reiterates. “you think that someone– that someone…?”

“no, no,” you lie, “there would be signs if someone else hurt him, but like i said, we just need to be completely thorough. i’m sorry to even have to ask. now, if you’re okay with it, could you tell me more about henry?”

“yes, yeah, i can do that,” she sighs in relief. it’s clear she wants to talk about him, and probably how much she misses him. you do your best to pay close attention and keep her focused on you and your questions as sam takes forever “in the bathroom.” nothing she says is very useful, it’s all about how loving and kind and just about perfect he was to her. at first, you’re able to listen without a qualm, but the more she rambles about how much she loved him, and maybe even more so how much he loved her, your mind inevitably wanders to sam. sam and your bothersome, bottomless pit of unrequited love.

you kindly cut natalie off and stand when you hear sam’s footsteps approach. “it sounds like henry was a wonderful person. i’m so sorry for your loss.” despite knowing those words don’t mean or do much, you still fill them with as much sincerity as you can. sam is at your side again. “we really appreciate you taking the time to talk to us. we’ll get out of your hair now.”

she shows you to the front door out of courtesy, and you give her one last thank you and kind smile before turning your back and heading to the sidewalk, sam just ahead of you. pushing off the ground a little harder for a few steps, you catch up to him and his long strides, unable to resist the urge to let your gaze wander to his face.

“anything?” you ask, hoping he’ll look at you too.

“nope,” he shakes his head, “no emf, no hexbags, nothing out of the ordinary.” pursing your lips, you let your gaze fall to the sidewalk ahead of you when he doesn’t make eye-contact. “anything on your end?”

“not really. she just rambled about how in love they were. said there was nothing strange about the day, or him, and that he had no enemies. she made him sound like a complete angel.” without you realizing, your lip curls a little in jealousy.

sam just huffs in response, likely bothered by the lack of information. “let’s hope we can find something about the other two.”

you repeat the ruse at the next two homes, and sam’s hopes are dashed, because by the time you, sam, and dean are back at the motel room, just about the only thing of value you bring back is a paper bag of takeout.

spread out in the room, with your respective assortments of food, notes, and computers, you share all the details you can think of to hopefully find a pattern. dean’s on his bed, sam on the couch, and you at the dingy table. the biggest discovery is on dean’s part. according to the coroner, each of the victim’s hearts had inexplicably shrunken and shriveled up. this detail was kept out of the public eye because of how strange it was; it happened after each victim died, as it very clearly did not contribute to the cause of death. that, and the coroner is absolutely stumped by how such a thing could possibly happen.

dean asks if the first two interviews were as fruitless as the last, and you sigh as you explain just how unhelpful they’d been.

“the only common threads are that they were young adults, all in a relationship, and all sounded to be just about the perfect partner,” you report. “i mean, maybe the witch is targeting people in loving relationships? jealousy? or maybe they have some sort of secret we couldn’t dig up just by interviewing. the people we talked to were obviously biased. the first victim’s girlfriend wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing he was, the second’s sister told us she was the sweetest girlfriend out there, and you heard how the third’s husband described them.”

“really?” dean asks. “i mean, yeah, i heard the last guy, but i ran into the first vic’s girlfriend’s sister at the station. she was doing something for her sister there, and she did not seem too impressed with the guy when i asked about him.”

you raise your eyebrows, about to speak again when sam beats you to it.

“so maybe we are looking for secrets. did she say what she wasn’t impressed with?” sam says just about the exact thing you were about to.

dean shrugs. “jus’ said he was sort of a lazy boyfriend. didn’t take good enough care of her or show his love all that much.”

“maybe he was cheating?” you suggest.

“maybe,” dean repeats. “how’s this? you can dig into records and see if you can find any dirt on the vics. sam, you can look for a spell that might’ve caused this, and i’ll scout out a few local places. the officer i was talking to gave me a few places the vics probably spent time at.”

“sure,” you agree, a teasing edge to your voice, “just don’t get too distracted. we all know by ‘local places’ you mean bars. no sex unless you solve the case, and if you solve the case, no sex because you have to report back to us.”

“so no sex?” he plays along, acting all offended.

“nope!” you confirm, giving a firm shake of your head. 

dean’s already on his way out the door as he chimes, “no promises!”

“seriously!” sam calls after him, “we need info!” he groans and shakes his head when the only response he gets is the shutting of the door. when he doesn’t make a snarky comment about dean to you, you clench your jaw.

“sam.” it takes a lot of willpower to sound bothered by him, rather than say his name all sweet.

“mhmm?” he’s purposely keeping his gaze on his computer and his response short.

you roll your eyes, “c’mon, can’t you just get over it? it’s not like you haven’t done stupider things to get a case done.”

since you insist on arguing about it, he lifts his gaze, looking unimpressed. “doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have done it. you almost got dean hurt.”

“and i already apologized for that!” you say indignantly, annoyed that that’s his argument. he knows full well, better than anyone, that dean can deal with a measly vamp, even if he wasn’t expecting it. “it’s not like dean can’t handle himself!”

“you should have at least run the plan by us,” he says. you roll your eyes again.

“it was a spur of the moment decision. unless you wanted me to shout it out, compromise my position, and let every single vamp in that nest know exactly what i was gonna do?” you retort. sam sighs, in the way that you can tell he knows your argument is better than his. so, you still can’t figure out why he’s still upset about it, outside of his usual stubbornness.

“it could’ve gone so wrong,” is all he can come up with, “and you know that. it was stupid, and you could’ve gotten hurt. or worse.” there it is. his voice changed when he said you could’ve gotten hurt.

it’s your turn to sigh, this time because you finally understand. it makes your heart flutter a little, and it makes you even more annoyed. “sam, i can handle myself. you know that. sure, it was kind of stupid, and not a fully thought out plan, but i had to figure out a way to get us out of there! four vamps were about to find you, so i had to distract them. easiest way was with my blood. one vamp found dean, but he handled that just as easy as he always does. i knew you’d have my back, so i let the other three come after me. and look! we’re all here, alive and kicking! this is such a stupid thing for you to get mad over.”

“it’s stupid for me to want you to be more careful?” he counters.

“sam, we have to take risks in this job, we do it all the time. that’s just how this works, what’s different about this time?” you question.

“just–” he presses his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose as he tries to come up with a reason that’s good enough. a reason that’s not “i worry about you,” because that’ll make you even more angry, make it sounds like he doesn’t think you’re a good enough hunter. and he certainly can’t explain that that’s not it, he worries because the worst possible thing to him is you getting hurt. because then you’d ask why and he wouldn’t be able to tell you the truth.

“can’t we just be done with this?” you ask, and the tone of your voice is one he can’t deny. you’re upset, bothered, and tired of his pettiness. more so, you’re just plain old tired. it takes too much effort to stay upset with one another. he lets your question sit in the air for a moment longer.

“yeah,” he relents, voice quiet now. he’s holding back words, touches, feelings. he wants to tell you, “just please don’t put yourself in danger, it scares me. i get so worried. it makes me want to pull you close and protect you even though i know you don’t need it. that’s why i’m upset.” he wants to get up from the couch and set his computer across from yours, sit across from you, just so you’re a little bit closer. he wants to touch you so bad that it sort of hurts.

instead, he has to live for the relieved breath that huffs out through your nose, so quiet it couldn’t quite be counted as a sigh.

“good,” you say, voice matching his own quietness. there’s still tension hanging between you, but soon enough, it’ll dissipate altogether, and tomorrow, you’ll be back to joking with one another, brushing shoulders, and hiding how in love with each other you are. maybe he can even convince you to share his bed tonight. the couch is horridly uncomfortable.

only after you’re convinced that sam won’t be all pissy to you until the next time you find something silly to be angry about do you begin on your research. it’s just as fruitless as everything else today, and after hours searching and drawing banks, you go back to the interviews, jotting down all the details you can remember in case seeing it on paper helps something new and useful jump out at you.

all you get is a dull ringing in your ear, probably courtesy of some old motel appliance. but the ringing grows louder, and in your tired state, it becomes completely bothersome. you press your hand against your left ear—it’s loudest there—and shut your eyes. it’s been an hour or two since sam has shifted to sit across from you to escape the digging springs of the couch, so the movement catches his attention quickly.

“you alright?” he asks, already with a little pinch of his eyebrows in worry.

“yeah, ‘m fine,” you say, realizing the ringing must be the beginning of a headache, since sam can’t seem to hear it. “just a headache,” you explain.

“want me to get you some advil?” he offers.

“no, no that’s alright, i’ve got it,” you deny, but you don’t get up. your head doesn’t really hurt, and the ringing fades as fast as it appeared. you’re about to sigh in relief, when suddenly, you’re sort of breathless, and you gasp to take in air. the moment passes, and you shake your head to yourself a little. it’s weird until you remember that sam’s looking at you with that little furrow to his brow, sweet and concerned, like the last thing he wants is for you to be in pain, even if it’s just a measly headache. that look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you and only you is certainly enough to take your breath away. it just took you by surprise this time.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, worried by your gasp.

“mhmm,” you hum, trying to keep your tone light and trying not to look too hard into his pretty hazel eyes. “jus’ hurt for a second, but i think the headache’s gone away.”

“okay,” he relents, not fully convinced, but willing to take your word for it and refocus on his computer screen. you turn your own attention back to the papers in front of you, away from his face, so close that it sends your heart into wild palpitations every time your mind wanders from the case and to his presence. in other words, it happens often.

you’re determined to find something, some detail that clicks and leads you to anything important. but after another unfocused hour, your eyelids are heavy, almost as much as your head as you wish to just sink down and fall asleep right there on that little table.

“you should get some sleep,” sam says, no stranger to the way you look when you should quit being stubborn and just go to bed. and normally, you’d resist, but the idea of sleep, of closing your eyes and letting your breath even out, slow down, is far too inviting.

so, you relent, and close your laptop. “yeah,” you say as you shuffle the sheets of paper together and set them on a neat pile on top of your computer.

“take the bed, too,” he insists, “you look exhausted.”

“mm, glad to hear it,” you joke halfheartedly, “but, no, sam, that couch is too small for you. it’s small for me, even.”

“and it’s seriously uncomfortable,” he adds.

“so we’ll share. i’ll leave space for you. you should come to bed soon, too. ‘s not like we should wait up for dean,” you snicker. sam rolls his eyes, but easily agrees with your conclusion. as you settle into the covers of the motel bed, you consider waiting up for him so you can feel the dip of the bed, then the warmth that radiates off him as he lays beside you. you want to feel the brush of his long arms, the heel of his foot or nudge of his toe, sometimes you’re treated with the broad expanse of his back. but sleep claims you before you can even make the attempt.

sam’s big hand on your shoulder brings you back into consciousness, and you breathe in long and hard since it seems like you can’t quite fill your lungs. then your eyes flutter open, and sam’s figure is hovering over yours, his hand lingering, then slipping away as he sees you wake. he doesn’t stand fully upright yet, unsure if he should say something or not.

he keeps his voice low, not wanting to alert dean, who’s changing in the bathroom. “are you feeling fine?”

groggy as you sit up, you peek at the clock. 8:43. you slept through the 8:30 alarm. odd.

“uh, yeah, i’m fine,” you answer, voice gravelly from the morning’s first use, “why?”

sam shifts to sit on the bedside opposite you. “nothing just… i don’t know, you were just breathing really light last night. i could barely even tell you were breathing at some points and normally you breathe pretty noticeably while you sleep. and, you know, given this case, i just wanted to check.”

sam notices the way you breathe when you sleep. that’s just about all you can take away from his words. sam pays enough attention to the way you breathe when you sleep to know when your breathing is different. sam thinks about the way that you breathe. maybe that’d be creepy from anyone else, but you think about the way he breathes too. the way it lulls you to sleep when he’s close, the way it catches when he’s surprised, or the way it changes when he’s about to laugh.

then you remember he’s said something you’re supposed to address. “it’s nothing, sam. i feel totally fine, just tired from working back to back cases, is all.” you say this because you’re sure of it; you do feel just fine. and sam makes you breathless all the time, so there's nothing out of the ordinary there.

“are you sure?” he presses, “you slept straight through the alarm, like a rock.”

“i’m sure,” you say.

“okay,” you can immediately tell that he’s not entirely convinced as he says this, “but if anything happens or changes or you feel like you’re out of breath, you promise to tell me or dean?”

“of course.” you may not want to be fussed over, but you certainly don’t want to go out in such a stupid, horrible way. “i promise,” you add, just for his sake. dean’s phone starts ringing, and he appears out of the bathroom.

“either way, let’s get this case done, and quick,” sam insists.

“don’t have to tell me twice,” you agree, throwing off the covers to get ready for the day.

dean’s voice keeps you from lingering by sam’s side. “hey, crazy kids, let’s hurry it up. just got off the phone with the sheriff, there was another death last night.”

“dammit,” you and sam swear in unison. 

on the way to the scene, dean updates you on his findings from last night. he was just as unsuccessful as you in finding major dirt on any of the victims, though he recieved similar testimonials to the sister’s about the first, henry. otherwise, he was able to find the witch’s possible hunting ground in a bar where all three victims have been seen with their partners. sam reports that he’s getting close to finding the right spell after discovering a few similar ones. 

when you reach the victim’s house, sam and dean check in with the police officers, and you immediately head to interview whoever found the victim’s body. he’s obviously distraught, and probably still in shock from losing his boyfriend. you do your best to stay gentle, kind, and understanding as you lead him through the interview, interrupting your questions for the occasional “he sounds like he was a wonderful partner,” or other such comforting phrase as the man, tyler, rambles about how great he was, how guilty he feels, and just about nothing helpful except for adding another data point to the one pattern you have.

“thank you for your help,” you say, giving him a tight lipped smile before standing and drifting over to sam on instinct as you mull over the information you recieved. he’s poking around in the kitchen, subtly searching for anything abnormal and most likely coming up empty as this house follows the unhelpful trend of the rest.

“anything?” he asks once you’re by his side.

you shake your head, “just the madly in love bit. everything was pretty much the same as the other vics as well.” sam sighs like he expected that answer.

“i think we should look more into the first victim,” he suggests, echoing the same thought that you had. “maybe interview natalie again, see if she admits something different about henry if we push it a little.”

“i agree, though i’d say let’s hold off on interviewing her again unless we can’t find the spell soon. even if she admits that he wasn’t as good to her as she said before, i’m not sure how much good that does in comparison to the spell. if you keep looking into that, i’ll check henry’s records more thoroughly. i looked into him less last night since we already had something on him.” you revise the plan a bit, and sam nods in agreement, making that sort of awkward face with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised that he does when someone without the knowledge you have comes in hearing range. you glance behind you to see the figure of a police officer through the kitchen doorway and are fast to quit all talk of spells and witches to avoid sounding insane.

“dean can scout out the bar again to see if this most recent couple frequented there as well,” sam puts the last piece in place for your plan, just as you imagined it. once it seems like there’s nothing left to glean from the house, you grab dean and head out back to the car. the brothers walk a bit ahead of you as sam fills dean in on the plan.

“excuse me! agent,” a voice calls from behind you. the three of you turn, and you wave the two of them away to indicate that you’ll deal with it.

“yes?” you respond as an officer approaches.

“your partner asked for the full coroner’s reports on paper from the first three victims,” she says, holding out a file as she reaches you.

“ah! right. thank you, officer.” you give her a polite smile and take the papers before turning away. sam and dean have made it to the impala, parked a bit away due to the police cars surrounding the house. you jog at a casual pace to catch up, but falter about halfway there as your breaths turn all shuddery and quick. you stop, trying to right yourself and desperate to brush this off, but you just keep gulping in breaths, feeling like you’ve run a mile at top speed without warming up. 

shit. shit, shit, shit, is all you can think. fuck.

as you stare at the car, dean’s already in the front seat and sam is pulling the passenger’s door open, and you will with all your might that neither of them will turn to look for you. you don’t want them to catch you like this. instead, you want to explain it to them, calm and collected and full of breath because your body’s beginning to readjust and you should be fine to walk over in moments and dammit– sam’s twisted around to find you, his hands resting on the top of the car and the door. the second he catches sight of you, just standing there with your chest heaving up and down, he’s launched himself away from the car and towards you. he calls your name, worry flooding his voice. you had tried to recompose yourself the second you saw his head turning, but it was too late, and now he’s jogging your way.

sam is in front of you in moments, his hands on your shoulders and his face fallen in a deep frown.

“you’re not okay, are you?”

“i– i’m–,” you can’t think of what to say, and though your breath is returning to normal, you can’t deny him. “let’s just get in the car. please.” 

his jaw clenches and his eyes flick all over you, from the top of your head to the point of your shoes like he always looks at you when he thinks you might be hurt. he’s taking you in, quick and almost panicked so he can fix it right away. he takes a steadying breath because he’s so ovewrought he can barely think. “fine,” he says, voice carefully hushed. if he doesn’t control it, he might start shouting, panicking even. sam can’t bear to leave you untouched now, so he leaves a hand splayed on your shoulder blade as you finish the short walk to the car. he opens the back door and climbs right in, completely foregoing his spot in the passenger’s seat. you realize he wants to sit in the back with you, and it would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t because you’re probably dying.

jaw clenched, you follow him in, and dean’s already twisted around in his seat, gaze shifting between the two of you to try and read what just happened.

“what was that all about?” he questions, eyebrows raised. you put a hand on sam’s knee to stop him from telling dean.

“the witch got me,” you drop the news without much hesitation, more focused on getting your two cents in before either of them start grilling you with questions and making stupid suggestions to try and fix it, “it’s gotta be someone we met or passed by yesterday. one of the people we interviewed or someone from the diner we had lunch at; these types of spells normally require the victim’s dna. and before either of you do anything stupid or crazy, we’re gonna stick with the same plan. dean, you can drop us at the motel so we can find the spell and reversal, and you find out what you can at the bar. got it?”

dean looks at you like you’re crazy, and you ignore sam’s gaze altogether. 

“got it?” dean repeats back to you, incredulous, “not so much, kid, i’m gonna need you to explain this to me a little better. what do you mean the witch got you? you mean you’re gonna stop breathing in some odd hours that might not be enough time for us to find and gank this witch?”

“yes, dean, that’s what i mean. try to keep up,” you turn a little mean as your frustration takes over in order to compensate for your growing fear. “and i’m not going to die, so quit being so pessimistic. we’ll find the witch, as long as we stay focused on the plan. unless you have a faster way, which i’d be happy to abide by.” neither have a good enough retort to that, so you continue, “can we go now? we might not have that much time.”

with much effort, dean turns back in his seat and starts the engine. his voice is low when he asks, “what do you mean by that?”

“well, i don’t know exactly when this whole thing started!” you answer as he pulls into the street, “sam said my breathing wasn’t totally normal last night. if that means anything, well, i went to bed early last night, around eleven. that could mean it’s been at least, i don’t know,” you check the time, “eleven hours. which gives us five, minimum.” you think you can physically feel sam tense up next to you.

“five hours?” sam repeats, his voice taut, like he’s holding back anger, fear, maybe more. “and were there any times before that you felt out of breath?” 

you think back to yesterday. sure, every time i looked at you, isn’t quite an answer that you can give. “um, i’m not sure,” you say, sounding more cryptic than casual, as you had meant. you see dean’s eyebrow raise through the rearview mirror.

“you’re not sure?” dean asks, unbelieving. the two brothers are starting to sound like a broken record as they repeat every other thing you say back to you.

“yeah. nothing comes to mind,” you say, more firmly this time.

sam sighs. “you can’t seriously think it’s a good idea to hide that sort of thing from us if it happened. this is serious.”

you scoff, “oh, really? i wasn’t aware, it’s not like it’s my life on the line, or anything like that.”

“alright, let’s not get pissy,” dean intervenes.

“pissy?” you scoff again, “right, because this is serious and i’m apparently unaware of that.”

dean says your name, voice a little chiding as he tries to disperse some of the tension that’s building within the small space of the car. “let’s focus on the case here. sam is right, we need to know everything you do. was there anything else weird you noticed last night?”

“i don’t know!” you exclaim before calming down a bit and taking a deep breath. “i had this ringing in my ears for a minute, around ten. i thought it was a headache. and … i did feel breathless, but just for a second. i thought it was … something else.”

“why didn’t you say anything?” sam asks, immediately remembering this. you had pressed your hand to your ear. he believed you when you said it was a headache, but he should have known better. you’re far more likely to rub your temples when you feel a headache coming on.

“i thought it was something else,” you repeat.

“like what?” he presses.

“like–” you hesitate, “like nothing. just nothing, i don’t know.”

dean interrupts again to get things back on track, “so that could mean four hours, not five.” you see sam’s jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye.

“yeah,” you confirm, hoping your voice doesn’t reveal how anxious you really are.

“my question is why just you?” dean asks. “i’d normally figure it’s because they suspect you to be a hunter, but if they were able to get your dna, they probably had access to ours, too. the witch think you’re madly in love with sammy or somethin’?”

you fluster at that, mind scrambling, why in the goddamn hell would dean say that? does he want me dead faster? “uhm, uh,” you laugh a little, completely awkward about it, “why would they think that? we were clearly, you know, in a working relationship, not a, hah– romantic,” you clear your throat, “relationship. i’m sure it’s just the hunter thing, maybe they couldn’t get your dna… or they thought i was more worth killing,” you attempt at a joking insult, but you’re still sort of jerking through your words and reeling from someone saying “you’re madly in love with sammy” out loud.

to your left, sam looks almost as flustered as you feel, which brings you an ounce of comfort.

“whatever you say,” dean shrugs.

when you get back to the hotel, sam’s practically running inside to pull out his laptop, and dean speeds away the second the car doors close behind the two of you. both of you are fidgety and antsy as you conduct your research in silence. you think sam’s even more nervous than you, with his leg bouncing and teeth chewing away at his lower lip. you’re not sure if you should comfort him, or let him be in favor of getting the research done. it doesn’t take too long for him to find the original spell, and as he tells you about it, some nervousness dissipates when the both of you get back into the groove of a normal hunt, trying to pretend that this time, the consequences aren’t as personal as they could ever get.

you can’t find any dirt on henry in any records, so you focus on staff from the bar and diner from yesterday to see if there’s any overlap that could have gotten dna from both you and all the other four victims. something else entirely jumps out at you as you check employment records.

“sam, it’s natalie,” you blurt out into the silence of the room. he raises his eyebrows, and you explain before he can even ask. “she works at the bar. and i drank some of that lemonade she gave us. she had easy access to everyone’s dna, and henry was the only deviation from the pattern.”

sam stands as you explain, “okay, let’s go.”

“no, let’s call dean and finish finding the reversal spell. i’d like to have a backup plan, if that’s alright.” sam purses his lips, looking like he wants to argue. you propose something more rational than his idea, “we’ll call dean and let him know. he can go to her house and make sure she’s the real deal before we go, too.”

“fine,” sam agrees, pulling out his phone, just as it begins to ring. he answers it and puts it on speaker, “dean, it’s natalie.”

“yeah, i know. that’s what i was about to tell you, the idiots from last night didn’t bother to mention it,” he complains. “i’m headed to her house right now.” to prove it, you hear the car door open and close. “how’s it going on your end?”

“we found the spell, we’re looking for the reversal right now,” you answer. “call us if you need help.”

“mm, you just take care o’ yourself, alright? i’ll call you back.” after that, all you get is the hang-up tone. 

a bit later, your concentration is interrupted by the pinging of sam’s phone. you watch him as he checks the messages, then looks up at you with a poorly hidden scowl.

“she wasn’t at her house,” he explains, “dean’s headed to her sister’s to look for her there. but it’s definitely her, he found a secret room full of, y’know, as he’d say, ‘witchy stuff.’”

you try to hide your disappointment and the uneven rise and fall of your chest. sam’s stayed mostly focused on the research, but every now and then, you feel him looking you over, brow furrowed and eyes concerned as he checks for anything abnormal. he’s looking at you like that now.

“damn,” is all you manage in response while still trying to stay casual about it.

“how are you feeling?” he asks. you expected the question, but you still don’t want to answer. you’re about to tell him you’re fine, since you’re not really running out of breath yet, until he speaks again before you can, “and don’t say ‘fine.’”

“i am fine,” you insist immediately, “just extra tired from getting a little less oxygen than normal. but nothing crazy. i can still focus on this research and i can still hold a weapon.” you demonstrate by grabbing one of the knives you keep strapped to your thigh and twirling it a little in your hand. sam’s face spells out the word “really?”

“just– tell me if it gets worse. please,” he’s just about begging, and with a bit of puppy dog eye action, you’re crumbling.

“okay, sam,” you relent, letting your voice go soft. he’s really scared for you, and it makes you feel just about every little thing. you want to comfort him, reassure that you’ll be okay, even when you’re terrified for yourself. you want him to comfort you, for that exact reason, and you want to hold his hand. maybe you can be scared together, a little closer than you are now. you want to kiss him, because what if this is the only chance you get? that thought horrifies you. then you wonder if it’s for the best. maybe you should die as his best friend, because dying as his anything is better than scaring him away first. it’s hard to concentrate on the research, but it’s not hard to find the motivation. the hope is to avoid death completely.

finally, you find it.

“i got it, sam!” you’re excited, then a bit breathless after pushing so much air out of your lungs so fast. the breath you take in is sort of shuddering, and it makes sam frown. he doesn’t even try to hide how worried he is. his face is nothing but unadulterated concern and care and … and something else before that expression melts away and he’s focusing on the computer screen that you tilted towards him. the crease between his brows only grows as his eyes flit down the list of ingredients.

“we don’t have the half of these ingredients,” he worries.

“no,” you admit, “but there’s a witch in town who’s away from home who might.”

to get there, sam doesn’t hesitate to steal a car from the motel parking lot, and this time you can’t even argue given the fact that you’re pretty sure you have less than two hours to live at this point. you promised sam you’d tell him if it got worse, but as it does, you want to say something less and less.

sam picks the lock of the door, entering the house carefully with you right behind. weapons drawn, you walk the route that dean gave you to the hidden room, the door in the wall of the hallway left open for you by dean.

it’s much darker than the rest of the house from the lack of windows and bright lights. this, paired with the eerie assortment of basic herbs to what might be jars of blood, makes it look like natalie really leaned into the witchy aesthetic, which you’d find understandable if she weren’t using her magic to kill people.

sam walks faster than you know is wise to match paces with, so you follow behind him slowly as he rushes to set the computer with the list of ingredients on the table in the center of the room abd begin the spell. you’re a split second too late to shout in warning when you see a figure emerge from behind a shelf of herbs.

sam whirls around at your cry, gun raised, only to be hit on the side of the head, hard, by a wooden bat in natalie’s hand. he crumples to the ground despite his size, and without batting an eye, your knife is flying through the air, straight for the spot between natalie’s shoulder blades. but at the last second, she spins around, and with a flick of her hand, the knife falls to the ground. you reach for your gun, but through your hindered breathing, you’re slow. she has no trouble launching the bat at you at an unnatural speed. the wood slams into your chest, sending you sprawling and gasping in your weakened state. you’re fighting for breath so hard that you can barely register her hauling you up and tying your hands behind your back, then doing the same to sam. somehow, she’s able to get his weight on a chair and tie him to the wobbly piece of furniture. then, it’s your turn, and by the time you come back to your senses, breathing far more labored than before, you’re tied to a chair, back to back with sam.

natalie gives you a horrid smile as she tugs at a knot to tighten it.

“well, isn’t this fortuitous! such a lovely surprise for you two to visit me,” she chimes, just as you feel sam stirring behind you. his head lolls back, brushing against your own. you completely ignore her in favor of calling his name. a rumbling groan escapes his lips as he stumbles back into consciousness.

“that’s right!” natalie grins, “it’ll be much better with pretty boy awake.” she walks around you, and you hear a smacking sound that you presume to be her hitting his cheeks to wake him further.

“don’t touch him,” you practically growl. it sounds far less intimidating than you hoped in your breathless voice. she laughs and sam lets out an audible huff of air as he wakes.

“there he is,” natalie grins. “now i’ve got two love birds at my mercy! much better than i could have imagined. you know, i couldn’t watch the deaths of the others, so this is far more exciting. i thought i’d have to miss yours, too!” she motions to you. “but now i get to watch you die, watch pretty boy watch you die, and then kill him, too! lovely isn’t it? i’ve never had such luck, thank you idiots for bringing it to me.”

“you’re not killing anyone today,” sam retorts, anger filling his voice. with a bit of an uncomfortable stretch, you twist your fingers around to grab a hold of his. it’s awkward, but you take advantage of her horrible ramblings to keep her distracted and try to guide sam’s hands to the tiny blade attached to the seam of your jacket sleeve.

“i’m not?” she laughs, “mmm, you don’t really seem like you’re in the position to determine that, pretty boy.” you hate her calling him that. “well, love will do that to a person. makes you easy targets, blinds you. you two were just too easy, so busy making eyes at each other to pay any proper attention to me.” you conclude she’s crazy, rambling on about what made her angry enough to kill. you’re sure she caught you making eyes at him, but she’s crazy talking like he’s visibly in love with you too. immediately catching on to your plan, sam’s hands are fumbling around with your jacket sleeve, trying to get the knife unstuck so it can slip down and into your hands.

“it’s so goddamn irritating when people are just so in love with each other. makes me want to hurl,” she complains.

“sounds to me like you’re just jealous your boyfriend didn’t treat you like that,” you prod at her weak spot. she whirls on you, grabbing the front of your jacket and yanking you towards her.

“so i killed him. and everything he was supposed to be,” she hisses. “and know i’m going to kill you two pining idiots. you know, you don’t have very long,” she feigns sympathy in the condescending tone of her voice. when she slams you back against the chair, it takes your breath away for a frighteningly long time. sam’s so worried, calling your name out over and over again as you choke on nothing, that he almost doesn’t realize that the movement also helped dislodge the knife and let it fall into your hands. it slices a thin line down your arm, but you couldn’t care less as you begin to work on cutting through his bonds.

“oh, shut up, lover boy,” natalie growls, hating the way he says your name with so much care as she stays leaning over you, a sick smile on her face. why the hell is she calling him lover boy? you know that’s not what you should be so worried about in this moment, but it’s the one thing that you can think about. “i’m busy watching your little lover die! i think you’ll look so good crying over them, won’t you?”

when sam’s ties snap, he stays in place, holding onto the rope so it doesn’t drop to the ground and alert her. he just shimmies the knife from your hand to his and begins working on your own ties. through it all, he pretends to struggle helplessly, cursing at her wildly.

natalie rolls her eyes, then stands straight. “if you don’t shut it, i’m going to make you,” she snarls, stalking around to stand in front of sam. in an instant, he brings the knife to the rope binding him to the chair, snapping it and lunging towards her. judging from the choked cry that escapes her throat, sam’s already plunged the knife into her neck. you hear him grunt, then the sound of her body hits the floor before he’s turned back to you, quickly freeing you all the way and pulling you to your feet. he’s halfway to the door with his hand gripping yours when you tug back.

“wait… sam, wait!” you gasp, and he’s immediately face to face with you, sweet eyes looking you up and down with confusion and worry. “it’s not– it didn’t work. the spell, we need to do the spell.”

“what do you mean? that’s impossible, killing the witch who performed the spell always–,” he fully takes you in for the first time. your chest is still heaving, your breath rattling, and it’s undeniably getting worse by the minute. “okay, okay. just sit down.” he guides you back to a chair, turning it to face the table so he can keep an eye on you as he works. this time, you’re having a hard time hiding the fear from your eyes, and he reads that loud and clear. he lets you have his strong hands cupping your face for just a moment. “you’re gonna be fine. i’m gonna fix this.” he says it with such conviction that you’d do anything to believe him. then his warm touch is gone, and you’re again hit with the reality that it’s getting harder and harder to breathe, to get any satisfactory amount of air.

your eyes follow him desperately as he rushes about the area, checking and rechecking the spell as he adds ingredients to a small cup he finds. his movements become more and more panicked by the second as he notices your breathing getting worse, more fluttery and gulping. sam’s muttering to himself as he works, too scared to look at your face for too long. unable to find one of the ingredients, he curses loudly as he searches, shoving a whole rack of ingredients to the ground. glass shatters and the metal rack clangs against the ground, the sound echoing throughout the space.

flinching at the sound, you cry out his name, struggling to speak, “you have… you have to.. to calm .. calm down.”

“i can’t!” he practically shouts, and you think you’ve never seen him this distraught, this helpless before.

“why?” is all you can manage between gasps.

“because you’re dying! and i can’t let you die, i won’t.” he’s still rummaging through ingredients as he speaks. he’s still refusing to look at you.

you want him to say it, the truth, so you repeat the question, “why?” you wheeze out, desperate to hear it in case he can’t finish the spell on time.

“because i love you!” he’s no longer shouting when he says it. his voice is all desperation and helplessness and utter sincerity, said like all he needs in the world is for you to understand that. you’re not sure if the shuddering breath you let out could count as a sigh of relief, but it’s the closest you’ll ever get.

you take him in. tears running down his cheeks, lips pursed and eyebrows pinched like he’s holding back from crying out. he’s pretty like that, you think. maybe that’s a cruel thought, but you love him too much to think otherwise. he’s always pretty; when he’s mad at you, when he’s bleeding, when he’s stitching himself up, when he’s biting his lip in concentration. when he talks about something that makes him excited or when he’s crying. when he’s oblivious of the way you look at him while he sleeps, and when he makes you love him so hard that it hurts worse than anything a monster could do to you.

you’re lightheaded, and taking in so little air that you can’t say it back. all you want to do is say it back. you slide out of the chair and onto your hands and knees, shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up. from the ground, you can hear sam, moving around, letting jars fall and shatter to the ground, crying.

when you collapse to the floor, writhing and gasping for any semblance of air, sam snaps. he can’t find the goddamn rosemary, such a simple and common herb, even for a normal kitchen, especially compared to all the other ingredients, but he knows it’s essential for its protection, purification, and healing properties. he can’t give up, he can’t let you die, but you’re writhing on the ground and crying inbetween gasps and all he wants is to hold you close, brush your tears away and tell you it’ll be alright. he barely catches the sound of your voice over the noise of his searching.

“please…”

“what? what is it, honey?” he asks through tears, unable to look at you as his eyes scan a new shelf for the basic pine-needle shape of the leaves, maybe even the little purple flowers to help it stand out.

“hold me,” you wheeze, afraid of dying alone on the stone cold floor as you feel your consciousness slipping through your fingertips like the sand of an hourglass. sam feels like he’s had his heart cleaved in two by a blunt ax coated in the world’s most vile poison.

he chokes on a sob before he can speak again, “i can’t. i’m so sorry, baby, i can't. i just need the rosemary, it’s so close, please, baby.” he’s not sure who he’s begging to. you, to stay alive? god, to intervene? himself, to finish the spell on time? anything and anyone who will listen, most likely. you don’t have the energy to ask him to hold you again.

that moment of silence is the most horrible of them all, then the door swings open with a bang, letting the bright lights from the rest of the house flood into the dark space. dean’s eyes zero in on you on the floor, grasping helplessly at your throat, and he’s on his knees by your side in a second.

he scoops you up in his arms and to his chest. “hey. hey, hey, hey. it’s okay,” he comforts, his eyes wet because he doesn’t know if he believes himself, given your state. “sam’s gonna fix it, darlin’. you’re gonna be just fine.” he’s holding you too tight to wipe away the tears that helplessly stream down your face and he clings to the fact that your hand is gripping his wrist tight.

“dean, rosemary!” sam barks. dean looks up from you, eyes scanning the mess around you; natalie’s dead body and the blood from her wound seeping slowly over the floor, the shattered glass and clutter of dried herbs along with other magical ingredients. sam realizes dean probably won’t recognize it on his own. “dried bundle, purple flowers, thin leaves,” he instructs as best as he can as he continues his own search. dean feels awful as he lets you fall back to the ground and your weak hands fingers scrape at his arms, but he thinks he sees it, rolled far away and invisible unless you’re crouched to the ground. he scrambles across the floor to grab it and tosses it to sam, who barely manages to catch it with his shaking hands.

sam rips at it with thick, clumsy fingers, crushing the brittle leaves between the pads of his forefinger and thumb into the mixture. he’s silently praying it’s enough as he mixes it in, letting a few drops slosh over the side of the cup in his rush. dean’s back with you, holding you up in a sitting position for sam with a hand smoothing up and down your arm in his best effort of a comforting gesture. he presses a kiss to your temple as sam drops down in front of you. sam uses one large hand to cup the side of your face, and the other to bring the cup to your lips. for a moment, he’s terrified beyond comprehension when the first bit of the liquid he pours into your mouth just dribbles right back out and down your chin.

you’ve gone nearly completely still; your eyes are barely open and your breathing so shallow that only dean knows you’re still inhaling because he’s got you so close.

“please,” sam begs, whispering your name with such conviction, such desperation, that it pulls you away from the claws of unconsciousness just enough to get you to swallow weakly. sam tilts the cup up, just a bit more, and the rim knocks against your bottom teeth as more foul tasting liquid seeps into your mouth. you swallow again, then gag a little when he pours too much for you to handle in your current state. sam’s hopeful when half the mixture is down your throat and he tilts the cup for you again, but the liquid falls down your chin this time, and your eyes are closed. you’ve gone totally still in dean’s arms.

“no, no, no, wake up. c’mon, we’re almost there. you gotta wake up,” sam begs again, more tears spilling onto his cheeks after his hope is stolen away, more cruelly than ever. “please, please, please, honey. please wake up.” his voice breaks as he calls out your name again, setting the cup on the floor and taking you from dean to pull you into his own arms. dean lets him, swallowing hard and not daring to move an inch as he takes in the sight, maybe just about the most horrible thing he’s seen in his fucked up life. that’s the second family member he’s had die in his arms, and the first is holding your limp body as he shakes, cries, and begs, beyond distraught as he denies the fact that he couldn’t save you. dean curses his life. he wishes it was him, thinks about the fact that he’s always too late to make a difference. he’s ready to sell his soul again, ready to go to hell and back.

you’re dead weight against sam’s chest, your clammy forehead and tear-sticky cheeks pressed against the sweaty skin of his neck. he gathers you closer, his hand tugging at your jacket and rubbing up and down your back, begging for you to wake up.

dean’s about to interrupt sam’s mourning to tell him he’s gonna look for the nearest crossroads, that all sam needs to do is keep your body safe. then you shudder in sam’s arms and he’s calling your name again, far beyond desperate that you’ll hear him. he says your name like a prayer, with so much reverence, far more than he could ever muster up for the god he wants to believe in.

you take in a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, and you’re gasping for air, grasping at sam’s sturdy arms like you’ve almost just drowned. sam just about sobs in relief, comforting you through his own tears, “oh, you’re okay, honey, you’re alright. i’ve got you. just breathe, baby, just breathe, that's all you gotta do.” his voice instantly calms you, and you wrap your shaky arms around his neck to show him you understand. he’s got you. he buries his face into your neck, trying not to hold you too tight for fear of restricting your breathing. you feel the wetness of his tears on you, warm and so tired. you don’t want him to cry. he loves you.

his hands smooth up and down your back, helping you set a pace to calm down your erratic breathing as you let a fresh wave of tears fall on his hot skin. they’re tears of relief, most of all. of exhaustion and leftover fear, and oh, glory, tears because he loves you. he said it, and now he can’t take it back because you love him far too much for that.

“sammy,” you breathe out. he just holds you tighter. “don’t cry, sam. it’s okay. i’m okay.” you slip your fingers into his hair, your hand so gentle as you run it through his pretty locks. you just want to comfort him, take away all the fear from the last few hours that he's been holding onto, letting pile up and up into an unmanageable, unruly, ugly tower. you suppose him crying so much is him letting the tower topple over, almost as simple as a toddler’s chubby, innocent hands to a wooden block castle. but it still tugs at your heart, pulls at you so hard because you hate to hear him cry, feel him shake and stiffen up around you, too scared to let you go for even a second. “i’m okay,” you repeat, voice fragile from the whispering brush of death’s fingers to your palm, but you try to make it strong and confident for him, “you saved me, sammy, i’m alright. it’s alright. it’s over. you don’t need to worry anymore.” 

you think he relaxes just a touch at your words, but he doesn’t move an inch from his spot on the ground, or say a thing to interrupt the sound of your breathing. all he does is cradle you close, one hand to your back so he can feel it shift when you take in or let out air, and the other splayed from the curve of your neck, up to the base of your head. without moving too much, he presses a long kiss to the ambiguous space above your ear. that’s not enough, so he tilts his head more to press his lips to the skin of your forehead.

dean hates to break the silent reverence between the two of you, and it means more than the world, the whole goddamn universe or anything else he could ever think of, to see this instead of you dead in sam’s arms. you might be the love of sam’s life, but that just makes dean all the more protective of you. to dean, you’re family, and you have been for a long time. that’s why he needs to get the two of you away from here, before anyone finds you and the dead body.

“sam,” dean interrupts, voice somehow both gentle and extra gruff, “we gotta go.” he knows sam can get you up on his own, but he still places a firm hand on your elbow as the two of you stand. he doesn’t want to let his hand fall away from you, but he does anyway. on the way out and to the car, you’re tucked safe into sam’s side, and dean’s got his gun in hand, ready to protect the both of you need be.

dean expects it when sam climbs in the backseat with you, just thankful to get away from the damned house and back to the motel. the ride is mostly silent, save the rumble of the engine, and sam’s hand stays securely wrapped around yours, itching to pull you even closer. you yawn and sam tugs at your hand, then drops his gaze to his lap when you look at him, offering to let you lie there. you can’t resist, because historically, your head in his lap has been heaven, and you figure that this time, after having heard him say “i love you,” it’ll be something better than heaven, something undiscovered and infinitely more precious than all the gold and silver in the world. so you drop your head to his thigh, and his hands are immediately on you. you’ve got the warmth of his palms on your head and your shoulder. your own hand is on his knee, taking in the feel of his time-worn jeans, and the muscle, sinew, and bone underneath.

you fall asleep, just 10 minutes from the motel, and sam doesn’t want to wake you, but you always do anytime he tries to carry you to bed.

he calls your name, all tenderness and sweet as he rubs your shoulder. you stir easily, only having fallen into a light slumber. the sigh you let out when you sit up is soft, and sam thinks it’s cute. then he thinks about the fact that, when you both settle down, he won’t have to hold that thought back. “you’re cute,” he can say, and make you both a little flustered before pressing a kiss to your lips. until then, he’s getting out of the car with you, only letting his hands stray from you when dean pulls you into a hug, right then and there. he holds you tight, showing you how scared he was too, so you squeeze back with extra care.

“don’t scare us like that again, kiddo. you got it?” he mumbles into the embrace. 

you nod, “i got it.” he lingers for a moment, then presses a quick kiss to the side of your head before parting and letting sam take over again.

he’s got a hand stuck to your back on the way into the room, all the way to the bed you shared last night. you don’t hesitate to peel off your dirty shirt and go to put on a new one, but sam’s already holding one out to you. dean disappears into the bathroom, despite not wanting to let you out of his sight.

you tug on the shirt, then collapse into bed, taking sam with you.

“you stink,” you complain lightheartedly, looking at him with honey-sweet love in your eyes. he wants to joke back, but he’s not quite there yet.

“i’ll shower after dean, if you want,” he offers, nothing but sincere. you smile at him, his nose inches from yours.

“but then you’d have to get up,” you say.

“sure, but if that’s what you want,” he repeats. he’d do anything for you, you think.

you shake your head. “that’s not what i want. i don’t want you to go. but i also want to fall asleep in your arms, and it sucks that you smell like blood, sweat, and nasty potions.”

“so what do i do, baby?” he asks, voice light, but you think he really means it. you melt at the pet name.

“hmmm,” you consider, truly not sure. you’re all quick in the shower after years of experience in motel bathrooms, but that still feels like such a long time to be away from him, especially since you should probably shower, too. you decide to suck it up. “you shower, then me. dean said the water was still hot yesterday, even when he went last.” you’re not sure when your voice dropped to a whisper, but it’s quiet now. he sighs, half disappointed, but knowing it’ll be much more comfortable that way.

the second you’re out of the shower and dressed, sam’s tugging you back into bed with him and tucking you into his chest. his hold is still protective and a little wary. you want to make him relax, so you wiggle away just a bit to look at his face.

“sam, i’m so hungry,” you complain. he smiles at you, thinking you’re too cute to resist when you whine just a little. and he just loves it when you say his name.

“you’re gonna make me get up again?” he asks, and you hold back a triumphant grin because his voice has turned pleasantly lighthearted.

“you’re gonna let me starve?” you tease back.

“fine,” he huffs, “we can go to the vending machine together.” he really doesn’t want to be far from you.

“no,” you protest, dragging out the ‘o’ just a little. “we had that earlier. and chips don’t count as a meal. poor dean probably hasn’t eaten at all today! we deserve a treat,” you argue.

sam can’t deny you anything you want in this moment. “we do,” he agrees, “what d’you want? maybe we can convince dean to pick it up for us.”

you smile. “mmm, that’s not fair. dean deserves a treat, too. i’ll satisfy myself with vending machine food for a few hours, then we can go out to an early dinner.”

“are you sure?” sam asks. you smile more.

“mhmm,” you nod. “i have the excuse to buy a candy bar too now.”

dean, splayed out on his own bed, has likely been listening in on this whole conversation, and graciously chosen not to interrupt. he smiles at you as you exit the room.

with a glance that no one’s around, sam slips his hand into yours as you make your way to the vending machine down the hall. your heart blooms at the feeling, at the way he’s been looking at you without shame and suddenly you realize you never said it back. sam punches in the number for an excessive amount of snacks, getting all of yours, his, and dean’s favorites, waiting til they all fall down to collect them. he bends over, gathering them all in his big arms and wide pockets and handing a few to you. the crinkling of plastic fills the quiet air as you watch him with a sort of worship and adoration dripping from your eyes. you take in the curve of his back, the peek of his spine that you get from his tshirt riding up a bit, and the pretty brown hair on the back of his head. when he stands, he catches that gaze, and for once you don’t hide it away or tuck it into that corner of the drawer where you keep all the little trinkets you don’t need, but can’t bear to get rid of. because you need this, and you can have this.

“i didn’t get to say it back.” your voice comes out hushed, reverent.

“say what?” he asks, matching his voice to yours without even trying. you take in all the subtle ways that his face changes, as he thinks about what you could mean. the left side of his mouth quirks down, just a bit, and his eyebrows pinch together. it’s not quite the expression he makes then he’s worried or upset, just thinking.

“i love you, too.” when those words finally escape, finally make themselves known and heard, everything is different. it’s like you’ve never really breathed before this, because the simplest of things, like an inhale that fills your lungs with stale motel air, is so good, so satisfying, so much better when he looks at you like that. “for as long as i can remember, sam, i love you. when we were kids at bobby’s, seventeen and getting soaked in the rain, every moment before then and every moment after, and–”

his lips are on yours and there’s a messy ruckus of plastic wrapped snacks being dropped to the floor, because he couldn’t care about anything except kissing you. his warm, rough hands are so gentle cupping your cheeks and pulling you into him, and you follow suit in disregarding the food in your hands to place them firm on his waist, almost squeezing his sides because you need this to be as real and as solid as it possibly can be.

some might question the merit of this being your first kiss with each other. but it’s so you and sam, standing in an empty motel hallway next to the vending machine and it’s crappy food scattered around your feet. plastic crinkling and rustling when you get closer, and a hunger so insatiable that it makes it hard to breathe.

when you finally break away, panting just a bit, sam’s eyes swim with concern as his mind flashes back to you just an hour ago.

“i’m okay,” you interrupt his paranoid thoughts and loop your arms around his neck, “i’m okay, sam. ‘s just you. baby, i know this is a horrible time to say this, but you always take my breath away, in the best way. you’re so pretty, and i’m so in love with you that when i look at you for too long, i forget to breathe, and–”

his lips are back on yours, telling you me too, me too, me too. saying as they push and mold against yours, you take my breath away and i love you for it.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Lucifer x Reader - Sleep Talking (NSFW)

Sleeping in the same bed as Lucifer took some getting used to, to say the least

Not that you didn't love it, the act gave you a feeling of comfort you never had before

But his sleeping habits were a bit strange, but adorable nonetheless

This man would cling to you all throughout the night, gripping any part of you he could

You didn't mind, you liked being as close to him as possible, and cuddling with him was one of your favorite things

Sometimes Lucifer had a lot of trouble sleeping and stay awake far longer than he should

You would catch him humming to himself as he played with your hair

You weren't going to tell him he'd woken you up, it's not like you couldn't spend all day catching up on some sleep; plus it made your heart flutter when he was so tender with you

But the most consistent thing that Lucifer would do is talk in his sleep

Typically you couldn't make out anything he was saying, it was mostly just mumbles and random small noises

Sometimes he would toss and turn while he would talk; you always wondered what he could be dreaming about

But one night, you heard him call your name, clear as day

"Lucifer?" you asked as you turned to face him

But when you looked over, his eyes were shut, his chest rising and falling at an even pace; he was still asleep

His body twitched slightly as he continued to call out your name but you noticed his tone had gotten a little more...sensual

Small moans mixed in with your name, little gasps of air as his head began to shift back and forth; a few obscenities found their way into his speech

"F-Fuck...oh my God...s-shit..." he all but whispered

Oh...OH you thought to yourself; you think you knew what was happening but you wanted to make sure just in case

Gently you pulled back the covers and your suspicions were proven correct; you could make out a very clear outline of his cock pushing through his briefs with a very prominent wet spot near the tip

He was having a wet dream about you

You couldn't help but blush at the thought; what you wouldn't give to be inside his head right now

But why would you want that when you could make it a reality

You placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently as not to startle him awake "Lucifer, honey, wake up."

Slowly his eyes peeled open; he looked up at your reddened face and smiled

"Love, what's wrong? Is something the matter?"

"You uhh, you were talking in your sleep again."

"Oh. Oh dear, I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Kind of...you called out my name a few times."

"I did?"

You chuckled lightly and nodded, "I'm guessing it was a good dream based on...that."

You pointed to his crotch where he finally noticed his hard on; Lucifer's face immediately flushed yellow

"O-Oh, yeah I uhh...I'm sorry, that's...kind of embarrassing."

You cut him off when your hand began to trail down his stomach and stopped at the hem of his shorts; Lucifer gulped

"Why don't you tell me what you were dreaming about, Lucifer~"

You hand slipped past the band and gingerly began stroking his cock that was now at full mast

"Sweetheart, p-please I-HNNGG..." Lucifer gripped the sheets below him as you continued to run your hand up and down his shaft at an agonizingly slow pace

"If you tell me, maybe I can make your dream come true. Would you like that?"

Lucifer's head shook furiously as he brought one of his hands to your entrance, wanting to make you feel as good as you were making him

"Y-You...fuck...you were on top of me...riding me..." Lucifer breath hitched as your hand begam to move faster against him.

He worked his fingers inside you easily, feeling how slick you already were just from his touches

You smiled wickedly at him, "Then lay down and let me take care of you, baby.~"

You spent no time at all climbing on top of your lover and sinking yourself down on his aching cock

Your moans filled the once quiet room as you began to lift your hips and sink back down on him; slowly at first but quickening with every movement

Lucifer hands flew to your hips as he tried to ground himself, his nails digging into your supple flesh

"H-How's this feel, Luci, just l-like your dream?~"

"N-No, even better...s-so much better, darling. You're...s-shit...you're perfect..."

Lucifer helped you along when you felt your legs getting tired, lifting you up and and slamming you back down on his length with ease

Not even a minute passed before you cried out in ecstasy, reaching your orgasms together; his cum painting your gummy walls white while you clenched around his thick cock

You collapsed on top of him, both of your breathing ragged and heavy

"M-Maybe I should just fall asleep like this, with you still inside me" you teased, "just in case you have any more dreams tonight.~"

Lucifer smiled and wrapped his arms around you. "I would love nothing more, my angel.~"

[incognit0slut]

Masterlist

PALESTINE MASTERPOST🇵🇸

READING LIST🥀

KINKTOBER 2023 18+

KINKTOBER 2024 18+

One-shots based on songs

Lock your door 18+ Billie Eillish - Billie Bossa Nova >> All Reader wanted was for her coworker to pay attention to her. Spencer was more than happy to oblige.

Take it off Taylor Swift - Dress >> Spencer has a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

Buried in the pillow 18+ Chase Atlantic - Slow Down >> A night of restless sleep ends better than expected.

Body on mine 18+ Justin Sky - Collide >> Reader and Spencer find a way to spend the night together on a team retreat.

Lose Control part 1 of 3 18+ Sickick - Mind Games >> Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival.

↳ The Last Laugh part 2 of 3 18+ Sickick - Mind Games >> Spencer finds himself sharing a room with his rival.

↳ Better for you part 3 of 3 Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

Dance with the devil 18+ Chase Atlantic - Swim >> Spencer reassures Reader that sex toys are his ally rather than his enemy.

All I need 18+ Daniel Caesar, Kali Uchis - Get you >> Spencer realizes how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with Reader. What better time is there to propose if not in the middle of making love?

Heaven to you 18+ Julia Michaels - Heaven >> Spencer couldn't wait to touch you after he's released from prison.

Play our fantasies 18+ Doja Cat - Streets >> The FBI agent visiting your workplace wants more from you than answers to his questions.

Eat that girl for lunch 18+ Billie Eilish - Lunch >> Being cornered in the filing room was the last thing you expected when Spencer asked you out for lunch.

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room 18+ This isn’t a love story. This isn’t a fairytale. This is about a woman bent on setting the world on fire and the FBI agent assigned to her case, drawn to the very flame she ignites.

One-shot #Gifwriting

Pretty Boy 18+ Spencer was too pretty for you to resist.

Pretty when you sleep 18+ As newlyweds, Spencer couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Even when you were asleep.

Sweet agony 18+ After a tragic event, you believed you were unworthy of love. Spencer decided to prove you wrong.

Tempting the Cowboy 18+ The team has been trying to bring Spencer back to the BAU after he hung up his badge to live on his ranch peacefully. It’s a good thing you’ll do whatever it takes to persuade him, even if the rugged cowboy wants to bend you over in the barn.

Beyond the limit 18+ Spencer was hesitant when you asked him to be rough, but when he realized how much you enjoyed it, he wondered just how far he could push your limit.

↳ The breaking point 18+ Spencer realizes that being dominant doesn’t always require him to be rough, especially when he has complete control over your body.

Hypothetically Chronically single, you suggest a pact with your best friend to start a family together when you turn forty.

Stress Relief 18+ You convince your husband to take out his anger on you when he comes home very tense.

Behind Closed Doors 18+ Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

↳ Behind Closed Doors 2 18+ You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

↳ Behind Closed Doors 3 18+ Despite your promise not to sneak behind the team again, you find yourself in a compromising position when you’re forced to ride in the same car as him.

↳ Behind Closed Doors 4 18+ Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.

Prove me wrong 18+ When you tease Spencer about his inability to be dominant in bed, he decides to prove you wrong by taking matters into his own hands.

Crawling back to you 18+ You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart

Series

Right Kind of Wrong 18+

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Genre: Romance, mystery, crime, suspense Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content (MINORS DNI), graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA Series status: complete

Reader never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation when she suddenly became a witness. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong. But the more he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, the more he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Much Ado About Nothing 18+

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Bau Reader Genre: Romance, humor, angst Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content Series status: on hiatus

There is one rule you and Spencer agreed on: never talk about the past, especially when that one regretful night strained your friendship. But throw in nosy teammates, an obvious matchmaking scheme, and a never-ending battle of wits—the line between friend and foe starts to blur as you find yourself questioning your true feelings.

Requests

Love was a foreign concept until he met you. 18+

You’re flabbergasted at how much your son resembles your husband.

Spencer thinks you’re too sweet for a damaged man like him. 18+

Spencer forces you to give him a show when he discovers your secret. 18+

Spencer gives you a ride on his horse to watch the sunset.

Your idea of showering together to save time doesn’t work out as you planned. 18+

Spencer finally lets you go down on him after you convince him that you're ready. 18+

Spencer comes home to you after prison.

Spencer asks you to ride his thigh while he finishes work. 18+

Spencer decides to take full advantage of the mirror in your hotel room. 18+

Spencer tries to stimulate you into the most intense pleasure. 18+

Spencer is needy after work and tries to distract you while you cook. 18+

[anystalker707]

I need you with me

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Reader Summary: After the Marineford events, all that Ace needs is some love. Tags: ace is recovering, so he needs you to be gentle / he's so sweet / lots of fluff / universe in which ace survived marineford A/n: thanks sm for the request, anon <3 sorry for taking long

Requested by anon [Hello, amazing writer! If you are doing requests, could you do Ace x female reader where Ace gets all the love and pets and praise he so deserves. I just finished Marineford and I have...feelings]

MASTERLIST

          Everyone was shaken up after the events in Marineford, still trying to process everything that had happened, without much success. It wasn’t just a lot to process but also left everyone in a shocked state that would take time to wear out. Luffy had even spent a while with the Whitebeard Pirates to ensure his brother would be alright before he had to go back to following his path. By that time, the commotion had also died within the crew itself, it was finally time to have your boyfriend all to yourself again.

The wound that once covered the center of his chest and back was now only two violent scars decorating his skin, only adding to his charm, if anything. You wondered if anything could make Ace ugly, and it was hard to determine something that would make him permanently unattractive, so you dropped it.

Ace was lying on his side with his back to you, taking yet another nap in the dark cabin that blocked the sunlight by the thick blackout curtains. Napping was something he’d been doing rather a lot, aside from the spontaneous times he would fall asleep. The Marineford event took quite a toll on him, both physically and mentally, so it was no surprise he found comfort in sleep and quietness now that the euphoria had died down. Not surprisingly, he also grew clingy after that.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you walked over, observing the scar on Ace’s back as you sat on the bed, careful not to wake him up. His skin rose in shivers at the slightest touch upon his scar, but he didn’t even move in his sleep, continuing to softly snore away. Your heart heaved a little, but it’d been like that for so long that it was pointless to dive into sadness for longer.

Your mind didn’t leave you alone for the few seconds you kept your eyes closed, replaying parts of the Summit War, even though you’d gone through it multiple times already. It was tiring, clinging to your skin like mud that you couldn’t clean off, dragging you down, but you could still feel the normality slowly making its way back into your lives, thankfully.

Ace smelled like a mixture of your smell along with his own, which was quite characteristic, and always left a very well-welcomed lingering scent on your bed. His smell filled your lungs as you pressed your nose to the back of his ear and inhaled deeply before finally lying down with him and hugging him from behind. Only then did he groan a little, shifting a little to make himself comfortable next to you. He was warm, back moving against your chest rhythmically. It was good to feel him like that next to you, alive and well, helping you fight the feeling he would disappear in case you looked away for too long.

“Love,” Ace murmured in a whiny tone that popped your bubble and brought you back to the real world to be embraced by the warmth he made you feel. “Mmph, babe,” he whispered with a groan that dissipated into a sigh of comfort the moment you pressed a kiss to his cheek and hugged him tighter.

“Yes, my love?” You whispered against his cheek when he started stirring awake, humming drowsily as he patted around until his hand found the side of your head and kept you there to turn his head and messily kiss your face. His eyes were still closed as his lips met the space above your upper lip, and then your cheek—that was the only response you received as he gently played with your hair a little.

“I had a dream with you,” he whispered, eyes still closed, but you could tell he was a little less than half asleep by then. “We were… Uh, I forgot.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head, while running a hand through Ace’s messy hair strands in a fruitless attempt to push them back into place. “Okay. The fact you dreamed with me is good enough.”

Ace pouted with a hum as he shifted on the bed so that he was on his back, allowing himself to take a look at you. He finally opened his eyes and blinked until the blurred form before him turned into a clear image of you, which made him smile. “Mmph, babe,” he whispered in a happy tone that made your heart flutter.

“You’re so cute like this, all sleepy, all comfy.” Your lips parted into a grin before you kissed his cheek. “I really just want to— Damn.” Instead of fighting your urges, you just cupped his cheek and kissed all over his face until he was giggling and wrapping his arms around you, swinging one of them lazily around your neck.

“Hey, what’s that for?” Ace groaned softly and kissed your cheek a couple of times, planting kisses on the way to your lips, where he lingered for a few seconds.

“I just want to pamper my pretty boy, am I not allowed to?”

Whenever you called him ‘pretty boy’, Ace’s heart fluttered, and he felt all bubbly inside, so full of himself that he believed he could face the entire world if he really wanted to. He smiled as his cheeks gained a red tone, and he melted under the new kisses over his face.

“Sometimes I wonder if I can kiss each of your freckles,” you said as your fingertips trailed along the freckles on his shoulder; they descended for all his body and imprinted constellations upon his skin.

Ace hummed, raising one of his eyebrows at you. “Well, if you want to try… I wouldn’t be opposed to it, babe.”

“Hm, right,” you muttered with a smile, kissing his forehead. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Just the idea of it seemed to get Ace a little eager, grinning as he allowed you to keep bathing him with compliments and caressing. He sighed and leaned into your touches, groaning when you started running your fingers through his hair again. Playing with his hair could easily drive Ace to sleep, but it wasn’t your intention, so you pulled your hand away as soon as he started closing his eyes, much to his displeasure.

“Have you eaten today?” It was a question that usually would be useless, really—his huge appetite dismissed any worry about his intake of food, but that was before the Summit War. After that, the pain and stress of carrying Roger’s blood in his hands took upon him again, and there he was, believing he didn’t deserve any care in the world. Sometimes, the guilt would still drag along the sad smiles he flashed you whenever you gave him affection, but it was growing considerably lower through time. You hoped that, someday, he wouldn’t feel like his life was a burden.

A soft hum came from Ace as he rubbed his eye, looking away, immediately snatching a sigh from you.

“Come on, Ace, love, you’re better than that.” You looked at the bedside table, noticing a tray of food sitting there. It’d probably been brought for lunch, a couple of hours ago. “Look, there’s even some ramen here. Why don’t you try it? Or do you want fresh food? You know everyone is doing their best for you, try to eat a little bit, pretty boy.” You kissed the tip of his nose, making him scrunch his nose with a small sound.

“Will you stay with me for the rest of the day?” Ace’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked at you with those eyes, enough to make your heart heavy. “You’ve been busy all day long, only checking on me now and then. I like having you around, even if I’m just napping. I like your presence.”

A sigh escaped your nose as you heard Ace, frowning a little at his words. You should’ve done better, really. “Okay,” you said with a nod. “I’ll go let Pops know I’m spending the rest of the day with you, okay? Don’t move a single finger while I go there! I’ll know if you do!”

When Ace chuckled, something stirred in your chest, spreading warmth all within it.

“Okay! But give me another kiss before you leave and more when you come back, okay?” Ace’s arms wrapped tighter around your neck, making you roll your eyes before pressing your lips to his gently. He didn’t seem to be a big fan of the light kiss, instead deepening the kiss with a soft hum, keeping your lips together until you were both out of air.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[plutoispurplw]

Mine

Summary: Spencer meeting your apartment for the first time because you avoided it because of the decoration

Words: 1.8K

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, fluff, creampie, praise.

A/N: Writing this because my room is the example of fangirl. Btw when I use taylor pics is more because they already have the gray filter and not because I picture Y/N to be like that.

Request are open.ᐟ

➜Masterlistᝰ.ᐟ

When you enter the BAU, you decided to act more serious and stop using a lot of colors like you usually did on your daily routine.

Your personality changed too and you stopped yourself from mentioning your likes and about being a big fan about certain things to not look childish.

That continue even after two years of being with the team and having trust in them, you still choosed to be close about your fanatic side and your love for concerts.

The only person that knew was Penelope and you two had went to concerts together and everything when you both had time.

After you started dating Spencer you had changed with him and decided to be more warm with him and open a lot more, when you two had a date you dressed up with a little more of color, clothes that actually reflected your real personality more.

Of all the things that you had been open about with him on late nights together after making love, there was one that you were scared of and it was your apartment.

Your apartment was colorful and was like the reflected of a teenage girl for most of the people who had been there in the past, past partners and situationships had told you that it was childish and that you should changed it.

You almost stayed at his apartment always, being asleep in each others arms was one of the best feeling in the world that both of you could have feel so being there was common for you.

He had asked you about seeing your apartment a couple of times through your relationship of less than a year but you always had an excuse to avoid that from happening.

For example, a month ago while the team was in a case, he had asked you if he could see your apartment.

"I was wondering if that when we're back, can I go to your apartment?"

"Sorry but one of my friend fought with his partner and now they're staying at my house while thinking about their relationship, maybe in another chance." You made your best effort to make your voice sound nonchalant and casual and not let him know about your lies.

Now, you were sat on your desk writing you reports when you amazing boyfriend brought you coffee. While you were tasting the coffee after not having too much sleep at night, you heard the voice of your boyfriend.

"I want to ask you if today I could go to your apartment, no more excuses so don't try to invent something, I had let it passed many times." He was serious when he said that statement, he had gotten tired from hearing all the excuses that fall from your lips.

In that moment you knew it was finally time to give up and let him see it. "I'm sorry for had been lying to you, in compensation I let you go tonight and I make dinner, what do you think?" Your voice was tired, you stared at his annoyed gaze waiting for his response to your proposition.

"You call me if you want me to brought your anything for the dinner." He said before going back to his desk letting you alone with your thoughts, drowing slowly in them fearing of him being the same as your previous partners

After work, you were back at your apartment cleaning everything until it was almost perfect. You had spent almost a hour choosing what to wear of your actually daily clothes.

When it was time, he was there at your door, with a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. "This are for you and your apartment."

You took them from his hands and gave him a kiss. "Before you see everything, please don't judge me." He denied with his head, and gave you another kiss on your forehead.

You let him enter and he could already notice your decorate style from the entrance hall, it had plants and a painting of a husky with her family.

"You have a dog?" Spencer asked you while seeing the painting of the dog and your family. He didn't ask you much about your family to avoid making you uncomfortable if you had any problem of trauma related to them.

"Yes, is a family dog and she is very cute, I wanted to take her with me but the job makes that impossible." You glanced at the painting again and nostalgia filled your mind, he notice that and gave you another kiss on your forehead.

Your apartment was very different from what he expected, it was the contrary of minimalist but in a good way, everything was at balance.

The living room was colorful, the couch with plants at the side that looked well taken care and a coffee table had a nice vase with flowers and candles with cute forms. The wall behind it was cover with vinyls of your favorite artists. Your television had led lights behind it to make it look cool while watching series.

The kitchen was also colorful, the electrodomestics were of pastel tones. The cabinets, drawers and the kitchen island were of a pistachio green tone.

"I know it too colorful and it looks childish but-" He didn't let you finish your nervous speech about defending your apartment.

"It's looks nice, you made a great job at decorating it, it isn’t overwhelming for me." His voice had an effect on you and you stopped, his hand went to your back and started to make relaxing circles to calm you down. "It's nice that you have vinyls and a record player, the quality is better only on the first play."

"That's why I liked them but I have more cds, they are more cheaper to collect." You went to put the flowers in the vase and when you were done he had already entered your gamer room.

That room had a setup gamer of a lilac color and had figures and a lot of things, posters of series and movies on the walls.

"This is how you spent your free time?" His tone didn't sound in mockery, it was actually curiosity.

"Yes, I like to play videogames normally when I have time, not bloody types or anything like that, more like Minecraft." You lay your head on his shoulder while he was seeing the room.

"What's Minecraft?" He was confused and he looked at you with his puppy eyes, those that had made you fall many times and still worked like the first time he had kissed you or hugged you.

For a moment you looked confused too until you remembered that your boyfriend didn't use technology if it wasn't necessary. "It's difficult to explain but it's a open world game, I show you later."

You two went back to the living room and sat on the couch and were cuddling while watching tv, it felt nice to be with him like this and forgetting about any preocupation or stress about the job, you wished it was always like this.

You move your head and gave him a innocent kiss that carried all the appreciation that you felt for him for not laughing at your apartment, he gave you another of his that had been more intense and that had let you breathless.

You felt how one of his hands travel from your thigh to under your lilac skirt, until the pad of his fingers made contact with the cotton fabric of your panties, he started to rub them feeling how you were getting wet.

You let out sighs at the feeling of him rubbing the wet fabric against your clit over and over again, slowly driving you crazy, you hid your head on the crook of his neck to avoid your neighbors from complaining about you.

"You lied to me for four months straight and you don't feel remorse, maybe I should stop and not give you relief." His voice sounded husky while he whispered against the shell of your ear, his voice making you shiver at the feeling of his breath.

He continued his teasing, your panties were soaked with your arousal and you where getting too worked up, your whole body was burning like a pile of old papers.

"Please Spencer, I want it." You whined against his ear hoping that he would take mercy on you and give you the release that you needed in that moment.

His pace was getting faster and harder with any moment, you were a mess of moans and whines, his lips against your forehead giving you kisses and whispering sweet nothings to you.

"You look beautiful like this, you wanted it too much, don't you?" His tone was half sweet and half teasing, he love to make you feel like this, to make you felt frustrated and then give you what you wanted.

He notice you were close to reaching your orgasm and stopped his fingers on his tracks, you whined and started to move your hips to tried to reach you peak alone but his hands grabbed your hips and stopped your motion.

You threw your head back in frustration until you heard the sound of the zipper of his pants, you open your eyes to see the bulge inside his boxers, you felt how you breath got faster again.

You straddled his lap and pulled his boxers down to let his member free, he helped you and entered you with one deep thrust making almost scream from the feeling of him being deep inside you.

His pace continue making you see stars and touching the sky, the living room filled with your moans and whines along with his groans of pure pleasure.

"You're too tight, so good my love, so fucking good." He said against your skin of your shoulder, his voice sounded breathless just like yours.

That's when the orgasm hit you both at the same time, you screamed his name and repeated like a mantra while he whisper praise against your collarbone while kissing it.

"I think is better if we order take out and take a break." You were trying to recover your breath and he just gave you a nod and caress your back under your cardigan and top.

He nodded and took you in his arms and carried you to your bedroom, in that instant you remember why you didn't let him. When he enter he found three plushies on your bed and doll on your desk.

When he saw that, he just lay you down on your bed and looked around. "I still don't see nothing bad, your room is nice and your entire apartment is nice too my love."

He gave you another kiss on your cheek this time making you giggle a little and pulling him for a hug.

Taglist: @bre99 @hiireadstuff @javierpenasredshirt @pleasantwitchgarden @iniyalovesall @caffine-queen @fab-notfat @khxna

[winterrrnight]

mystery of love

PAIRING: husband!soft!rafe cameron x wife!fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe started to get more busy with his business, and you couldn’t help but start to feel neglected by him.

WARNINGS: soft soft SOFT rafe, he's so lovesick for his wife it is crazy (no it isn’t that’s practically canon), slightly suggestive content but it’s written with a fluffy intent, usage of nicknames like goddess & baby, and just loads of sweetness over all, very very slight angst (?) and intentional use of lower case

EDITH SPEAKS: this fic is more on this, you can’t look at that picture and not think that’s rafe, cause it is! thank you so so much to @glimodejun who commented their idea which prompted me to write this 🫶🏼 i was supposed to write a blurb but I got carried away, clearly, and this is pushing 2k words 😁

anyways, please please reblog if you liked this and feedback is always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 🫧

navigation || join my taglist || requests || series masterlist

oh will wonders ever cease? blessed be the mystery of love

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

it was starting to get a little out of hand.

you always knew how important rafe’s business was to him, especially after he inherited it all from his father. the burgeoning fire in him to make the business bigger and better than it had ever been and be so much more powerful than his father, who couldn’t give him an ounce of attention or praise his entire childhood was one of the biggest things fueling his motivation.

that, and wanting to give you everything you could possibly need in great abundance so that you never felt you were at a loss of anything under his roof.

so you knew he tended to sometimes spend longer hours at the office, to get everything done, to not let a single mistake fall into place in front of his eyes, everything perfectly coordinated and right up to his standards.

he always made sure to call you or send you a text if he was going to be late, informing you why he was going to be late, the tentative time he should be back home, with a small ‘i love you’ and ‘i miss you’ accompanied with the occasional red heart he only ever used for you.

since the past few days, unfortunately you hadn’t been receiving the texts you always did. if you did, it was short, something along the lines of ‘i’ll be late’. but no explanation as to exactly what had been keeping him busy, and no words of endearment at all. he started coming home really late, most of the times when you had tried your best to stay up till he comes home, but the exhaustion would always defeat him in the race and you’d be out like a light.

and the next morning wasn’t close to being better than the night. if you were lucky, you would catch him getting ready for work, and you would always prompt him to stay for at least breakfast. but he would be in a hurry and shake his head no, saying something like ‘i have to leave, it’s important’ and leaving you with a chaste kiss to your lips.

whatever you’d ask, his answers to you would be short, concise and quick, and you felt as if you’re catching the subtle drift of vexation and annoyance in his tone. was it actually there or were you just imagining it? you didn’t know.

and if you weren’t lucky, you wouldn’t even get to see him leave. by the time you would be up, you would only feel the cold wrinkled sheets next to you, the faint scent of him lingering in the air as a burning memory of the love of your life.

this specific night, exactly one week after since the first day this peculiar behavior of his started, you were seated on the edge of the bed after a shower, applying your lotion on your arms as you prepared yourself for another night of waiting for rafe, falling asleep in the process, and letting it be a mystery solved only by some higher power if you would see him in the morning or not.

as you were rubbing the lotion into your skin, you couldn’t help your wandering mind. how were you supposed to deal with this situation? were you supposed to confront him and demand answers? or were you supposed to tread slowly? you knew you were nearing the end of the american fiscal year; 30th of september being right around the corner. it involved loads of financial and accounting work, preparing end-of-year accounts and statements, and what not. so him being busy felt justified. but he should be able to spare a moment to at least send you a proper text, shouldn’t he?

no, you shake your head. you’re his wife, for god’s sake. you shouldn’t be reducing your worth down to some text. heck, you should be getting proper calls from him. you’ve been so wonderfully patient, not complaining for a second for the past week. the least you can get is a proper conversation with him.

as you made up your mind firmly, your thoughts were cut through firmly when the door to your bedroom opened. you looked up to see rafe entering inside the room, his blazer off and resting on his shoulder, and his sleeves messily rolled up to his elbows.

“hey,” he muttered as he closed the door behind him, keeping his bag on the side and disappearing behind the washroom door.

“hey,” you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor as you heard the washroom door close. you remained seated on the edge of the bed, clad in a satin black robe which he swore made you look even more of a goddess than you already did as you waited for him to come out.

you heard the shower run inside for some time, after which the door opened and you were greeted with rafe sporting a pair of grey sweatpants, his upper body bare with some water droplets still trickling down his skin.

as he came out, he saw you in the same position at the edge of the bed as before. “hey why aren’t you going to sleep hm?” he asked as he busied himself with applying his moisturizer to his face.

“no reason,” you muttered, your back to him as you kept your gaze down at your feet.

rafe was very quick to catch the dejection in your voice, and before you knew it, he was making his way around the bed to you, standing right in front of you as he looked down at you.

“baby, look up please,” he murmured softly, one of his hand coming to rest on your cheek.

you lifted your head up to meet his gaze, your eyelids heavy as you look up at him through your lashes. “yeah?” you mumbled.

rafe exhaled softly at your bleak tone. he sank down on his knees in front of you, his gaze coming to your level.

“listen baby,” he sighed softly, placing both his hands on your thighs right below the hem of the robe. “I… I haven’t been the best husband the past week and I’m… so so sorry about that,”

his heartfelt words reached your ears and caused your eyes to widen, your mind started to work away the gears to process his words.

“I haven’t been giving you the attention and love I vowed to give you on day one,” he whispered looking deep in your eyes, his own eyes softened to such an extent it had you melting completely. “I haven’t been communicating well with you I…” he muttered, running one hand over his prickly buzzed hair, “I didn’t mean to do that baby I’m so sorry…”

you wanted to say something, anything, for that matter, but you were rendered completely speechless when you started feeling him press kisses over your thighs.

“I hope you can forgive me,” he whispered into your skin, “I hope you can forgive me for everything I did… I’ll make it up to you I promise…”

your lips parted to let out shuddering gasps as you felt him slowly move the satin of your robe up to reveal more of your thighs, his lips pressing kisses against your inner thighs and trailing over your outer thighs.

“I’m so sorry… so sorry, my goddess…” he whispered. “i won’t ever do this again… you’re my top priority, always, and there will never be a second where you don’t feel that way…”

his words left a searing mark on your skin, his lips trailing up to your left hip bone. one of his hands came to rest on your right hip, rubbing gentle circles onto your hip bone through the satin of your robe, and his other hand shifted your robe even higher to grant him more access to your skin. his lips landed on your hip bone and he pressed the most tender kisses along the bone, a soft gasp escaping your lips at his actions. your hand came to rest on the side of his face, your head leaning back as you felt the sensations of his lips on your sensitive hip bone thrum all throughout your body, lighting up each and every nerve that constituted you.

“I love you so much…” he whispered against your skin, starting to gently suck on your skin, his eyes fluttering shut. a hum of pleasure tumbled past your lips, your own eyelids getting heavier. “I love you so so much darling and I’m…” his lips started to trail over your lower abdomen, pressing kisses through the soft satin of your robe that still covered your upper half, “I’m never making this mistake ever again I promise... please forgive me…” he pleaded, his lips making over to your other hip bone and kissing on it, before gently sucking on it the same way he did earlier.

“you only deserve the best…” he murmured, lips trailing a path down to your inner thigh again. “just the best… cause you are so amazing…” he whispered, nipping on the soft skin of your inner thigh. your fingers curled over the nape of his neck to give you some leverage, soft gasps leaving your lips, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chest starting to heave from every kiss and nip of his lips and teeth.

his both hands now rested on the sides of your thighs as they gently kneaded into the flesh and his lips peppered insistent kisses all over your inner thighs. he looked up from your thighs up to you, a pleading expression in his eyes, his lips slightly parted as breaths escaped them.

“please forgive me, my beautiful goddess…” he implored, his voice a mere whisper. “please please forgive me, I’ll never do the same I promise…”

you looked down at him, your fingers trailing to the side of his face to gently cup his cheek. he snuggled into the warmth of your hand almost immediately, his eyes closing for a moment as he let out a soft sigh, letting his lips press a chaste kiss to your palm.

“I forgive you, rafe…” you whispered.

that made him look up at you, his eyes widened and the pleading expression draining out to be replaced with a hopeful one.

“yeah? you do?” he asked, squeezing your thighs in return.

“yeah,” you whispered back, giving him a small smile as you trailed your fingers to the side of his neck, gently scratching your nails against it. he let out a soft exhale at the sensation, letting his head drop to your thighs as your fingers made their way to the back of his neck, continuing the scratching motion. he almost purred in your lap at the feeling, nestling his face into your thighs.

“thank you…” he whispered against your skin. “I won’t disappoint you again, I promise,”

you let out a gentle sigh as you looked at his buried face in your thighs, your expression softening more.

“I know you won’t,” you mumbled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his head.

that night, he held you in his arms and kept you pressed against him, his warmth lulling you in the most beautiful slumber you had experienced in that past week. he made sure you fell asleep comfortably, his lips always pressing random kisses to whatever part of your skin he could succumb to, whispered sweet nothings stumbling past his lips to your ears to alleviate you to great heights.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @mistress-amidala @sadfury @sage-burrow @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahkahansorangejuice @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @fals3-g0d @personalfavsthatarerandom @b1mb0slvt @babypoguelife @ilyrafe @ladyinbl00d @thisisntannie @zyafics

[dixons-sunshine]

Daryl Dixon x Pregnant!Reader headcannons

*GIF isn't mine*

Warnings: Sexual content, pregnancy (obviously), morning sickness.

Word count: 853.

A/n: Basically just a collection of things I think Daryl would do if his s/o was pregnant.

To the people who sent requests, thank you so much for them! I'll get started on them right away. And as always, my requests are open for any TWD requests!

—

★The moment you told Daryl you were pregnant, he was scared and excited at the same time.

★Scared because he didn't know what parenthood would have in store for him (he was also scared he'd end up being like his father), but excited because he was starting a family with the love of his life—you.

★He'd be at your beck and call 24/7—he knew he had jobs to do around the community, but his girl and his unborn baby were his number one priority.

★Cravings? He'd make pantry runs for you. If the pantry didn't have what you wanted, he'd go on a run to find it for you, or send someone else to find it if you didn't want him to leave.

★If you were feeling clingy that day and didn't want him to leave your side, you best believe he'd stay practically glued to your side. The only exception would be if he was desperately needed for something extremely important, but if that wasn't the case? One wouldn't find him away from you.

★He would be so scared to have sex during your pregnancy. Even if you assured him multiple times that it wouldn't affect the baby in the slightest, he would still refuse. If you wanted pleasure, he'd eat you out like a starved man that's been denied a banquet for years, no problem, but full-blown sex is something he doesn't want to do; he doesn't want to hurt his little one.

★Daryl would be undeterred by your mood swings. Growing up with his father and brother, both of who's moods could change in a moment's notice, made him no stranger to sudden mood shifts. However, you were the love of his life and the mom of his unborn baby, so he treated your mood swings with more care and patience than he ever did with his father or brother. In his mind, your body was working overtime, so of course your emotions would be all over the place.

★Daryl would also be undeterred by your morning sickness. He was so used to being covered in blood and walker guts all the time that a bit of vomit would be the least of his worries.

★Daryl would pull your hair back and out of your face while you vomit, rubbing one of his hands over your back in gentle movements.

★Daryl would love laying his head on your baby bump. He'd place gentle kisses on your stomach while your hands softly tread through his hair, all the while wondering how he got so lucky with you, and how the two of you would be starting a family soon—something that he never would've thought he'd do before the apocalypse and before he met you—before he'd fall asleep on your stomach.

★Daryl would be the type of guy who'd think you look absolutely stunning during your pregnancy. Daryl always thought you looked beautiful, no matter what, but there was something about seeing you glow while your stomach continued to gradually grow as your and his baby grew that made you even more beautiful to him.

★That being said, if anybody even so much as looked at you wrong during your pregnancy, Daryl wouldn't hesitate to put them in their place. Nobody was allowed to degrade you ever, and especially not while you were carrying a life the two of you created in you.

★Daryl would outright refuse to let you do any hard work. He knew that he couldn't stop you from helping out at all (a guy could dream), but he refused to let you do any heavy lifting or anything that would exhaust you too much. Yours and your baby's safety was his number one priority, and he wouldn't let anything happen to you just because some people in the community couldn't pick up some extra work.

★Daryl wouldn't let you talk down on yourself. With your growing stomach came the inability to fit into any of your clothes, and with that came insecurity, but he'd always go out of his way to make sure you knew that there was nothing wrong with you or your body. You were perfect to him.

★Your clothes don't fit you anymore? Wear his. There's just something in him that loves seeing his clothes on his woman while she's pregnant with his baby. It drives him crazy in a good way.

★If there was an ultrasound available and the two of you went to yours, Daryl would tear up a little bit when he saw his little one for the first time. He'd take your hand in his and when the doctor left, he'd give you gentle, loving kisses.

★“Look at tha'. There's our baby, our lil' one.”

—

I'll come back and add on once I think of more.

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 6

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of their apartment, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The soft light highlighted the simple, yet cozy space they had made their own—a sanctuary that was their little world, hidden from the eyes of everyone else. Knox was still asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, blissfully unaware of the tension building between his parents.

YN stood near the window, her back turned to Azriel, arms crossed over her chest. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders tense as she stared out at the city, her reflection barely visible in the glass. Azriel could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves, and he knew that this conversation was inevitable. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

He had taken the week off, needing to be with his family, needing to be with her. After overhearing Cassian and Mor talk about their little spying expedition on YN, he had made the decision quickly, without hesitation. But now, as he watched YN’s back, he wondered if he had acted too impulsively.

“Why did you do it, Azriel?” YN’s voice broke the silence, cutting through the stillness of the morning. It was calm, but there was an edge to it—one that Azriel recognized all too well. She was holding back, trying to keep her emotions in check, but he knew she was upset. “Why did you take the week off?”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings rustling slightly as he stepped closer to her. “I wanted to be here with you and Knox,” he answered, keeping his voice steady. “After everything that’s happened, I thought you could use the support. I wanted to make sure you both were safe.”

She turned around to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something that looked a lot like hurt. “Safe?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “Azriel, we’re not in immediate danger. You’re acting like I can’t take care of myself and our son without you hovering over us.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Azriel replied quickly, though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He was protective—maybe too protective, especially now that their lives were more complicated than ever. He crossed the distance between them, his hands reaching out to take hers, but she stepped back, putting more space between them.

“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You’re here because you don’t trust me to handle things on my own. You’re here because you think you need to shield us from everything—even from your own family. But Azriel, I can’t live like this. We can’t live like this, constantly looking over our shoulders, constantly hiding.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew she was right. But it didn’t change the fact that he felt this deep, unrelenting need to protect her, to protect Knox, to be there every moment in case something went wrong. The thought of losing them—of anything happening to them—was more than he could bear.

“YN, I’m not trying to smother you,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the desperation he felt. “I just… I need to be sure. After what happened yesterday, after knowing they were watching you—I can’t just leave you both alone and hope everything will be fine.”

Her eyes softened slightly at his words, the anger ebbing away, replaced by a sadness that made Azriel’s heart ache. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as if trying to gather her thoughts before she spoke again.

“Azriel,” she said more gently, “I understand why you feel the way you do. I do. But this… this isn’t sustainable. We can’t keep living in fear, can’t keep reacting to what might happen. We need to trust each other, trust that we can handle things—even when you’re not here.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right, but it was so hard to let go of that instinct, the one that told him he needed to be there every moment to protect them. He had been living on the edge for so long, constantly aware of the dangers lurking in the shadows, that he didn’t know how to step back and just… breathe.

“I do trust you,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “I trust you more than anyone, YN. But I’ve spent centuries living in a world where letting your guard down, even for a moment, can cost you everything. I’m sorry if I’m overbearing—I just can’t lose you. I can’t lose our son.”

YN’s expression softened further, the tension in her posture easing slightly as she stepped closer to him. She reached out, her hand resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You won’t lose us,” she said firmly, looking up at him with a gaze full of determination. “But you have to let us live, Azriel. We can’t keep hiding in the shadows like this. I need you to believe that we can handle this—together.”

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as he absorbed her words. She was right, of course. YN had always been strong, far stronger than he sometimes gave her credit for. And Knox—he was still so small, but Azriel knew his son would grow up to be just as strong. They didn’t need him to shield them from the world; they needed him to stand beside them, to be their partner, not their protector.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, opening his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

She smiled at him then, a small but genuine smile that made the tightness in his chest ease just a little. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly, her hand moving up to cup his cheek. “We’re in this together, Azriel. Always.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the simple act grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered. “Always,” he echoed, his voice filled with a quiet resolve.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Outside, the sun continued to rise, bathing the room in warmth and light, as if to remind them that there was still hope, still a future to be had, as long as they faced it together.

In the crib beside them, Knox let out a small whimper, his tiny wings fluttering as he stirred from his sleep. YN pulled back from Azriel with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with affection as she turned to their son. “Looks like someone’s awake,” she murmured, moving over to the crib to pick Knox up.

Azriel watched her, his heart swelling with love as she cradled their son in her arms. Knox blinked up at her, his small mouth forming a perfect little ‘O’ as he looked between his parents. Azriel stepped closer, wrapping an arm around YN’s waist as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Knox’s head.

“We’ll be okay,” YN said quietly, more to herself than to him, as she rocked Knox gently in her arms. But Azriel heard the conviction in her voice, the belief that they would find a way through this—together. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe it too.

---

River House was alive with activity as the Inner Circle gathered in the spacious sitting room. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting warm pools of light across the room’s plush furniture. Cassian was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his wings half-draped over the sides, while Rhys sat opposite him, leaning casually against the backrest of a couch. Mor and Feyre were nearby, quietly sipping their tea, and Amren was perched on the window sill, her sharp eyes watching everyone with mild disinterest.

As usual, the meeting started casually, with updates on Velaris, news from the courts, and the usual banter. But something was different this morning, an undercurrent of curiosity running through the group. Azriel’s absence was becoming more noticeable, especially given his sudden declaration of taking a week off—a rare occurrence.

"So, does anyone else find it weird that Azriel's taking a week off?" Cassian said, breaking the silence. He shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion. “I can’t remember the last time that happened. Not without a reason.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flickered with amusement, but there was a hint of curiosity as well. "It’s not like him," he admitted, his voice smooth. "Azriel rarely takes time for himself. He’s always working, always looking for the next mission or lead. But a whole week off? That’s new."

Mor nodded in agreement, her lips quirking in a small smile. “Maybe he finally realized he needs a break,” she said with a light laugh. “Even shadowsingers need to recharge once in a while.”

Feyre glanced at Rhys, her brow arched in thought. "He didn't seem like anything was wrong the last time I saw him. Do you think something’s going on that he’s not telling us?"

Cassian sat up straighter, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You know how secretive he can be. But a whole week off? Something doesn’t add up.”

"Maybe he met someone," Mor suggested, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Maybe there’s a secret lover involved, and he’s just been keeping it from us.”

At that, Cassian snorted, his wings shifting behind him as he chuckled. "Azriel? Keeping a secret lover from us? That sounds about right, actually. He’s good at hiding things.”

Rhys tilted his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “He’s been acting strange lately. Not just with the time off, but before that too. More secretive than usual. And those late-night disappearances…”

Feyre leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think he’s hiding something serious?”

Rhys let out a thoughtful hum, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of the couch. “Could be. Azriel’s not one to share things unless it’s absolutely necessary. If something’s bothering him, he’ll bury it deep.”

Mor crossed her arms, glancing between Rhys and Cassian. “Do you think it has to do with the place we went to in the Hewn City? The woman—YN—she seemed close to him. Could it be related?”

Rhys’s eyes darkened for a moment, as if recalling the encounter at the pleasure house. “Possibly. He did seem more… comfortable there than usual. And she did say something about going back after maternity leave. Perhaps Azriel’s more involved in her life than we thought.”

Cassian shifted, his expression turning more serious. "You think he's involved with her?"

"It’s possible," Rhys said slowly. "But Azriel’s careful. If he’s keeping something from us, it’s for a reason."

Amren, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke, her voice dry and laced with boredom. “Whatever it is, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. No point in speculating about his private life.”

Mor glanced at Amren, then back at the others. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on things. If he’s tangled up in something, we should know. Especially if it affects us or the missions we’re planning.”

Rhys gave a slow nod, his gaze flicking toward the window as if he were already piecing things together in his mind. “Agreed. But we give him space. Azriel’s earned that much.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “Yeah, but if he disappears again, I’m dragging him back here myself.”

The group shared a small laugh, but the lingering tension remained. Azriel’s absence weighed on them more than they were willing to admit, and the mystery of his sudden break gnawed at their collective curiosity.

As the conversation lulled, Rhys’s gaze turned distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He could sense there was more to this story than what met the eye. Something was going on with Azriel—something deeper than just taking time off.

But for now, they would wait. And watch.

---

YN walked into the pleasure home, the familiar scent of incense and low hum of conversation filling the air. She had grown accustomed to the atmosphere over the years—the darkened rooms, the hushed voices, the hidden glances exchanged between patrons and the workers. Tonight, though, something felt different. Her nerves were on edge, her mind still unsettled by the feeling that she was being watched the other day at the market.

As she adjusted her black silk dress, ensuring it clung to her in all the right places, she pushed those thoughts aside. She had work to do, and there was no room for distractions. She glanced around the room, scanning the faces of the patrons lounging in their seats, drinks in hand and their eyes on the stage where the night's entertainment had just begun.

And then she saw them.

At one of the booths near the back, sitting comfortably as if they belonged, were Rhysand and Cassian. But this time, they weren’t alone. Their partners, Nesta and Feyre, were with them. The sight of the group made YN pause for a split second, her breath catching in her throat as recognition hit her. It was them—she had felt their presence before. They were the ones who had been following her at the market just the day before.

She played it cool, forcing a neutral expression onto her face as she straightened her posture. Whatever they were doing here, she wasn’t going to let them know that she had figured it out. She was already too involved in the tangled mess of Azriel’s secrets, and the last thing she needed was to attract more attention from his friends. Especially Feyre and Nesta. If they even had the faintest idea about her connection to Azriel, things could go downhill fast.

With a calm smile plastered on her face, she made her way toward their table. Her heart raced beneath her composed exterior, but she kept her movements steady, her steps measured and graceful as she approached the group.

"Good evening," YN greeted them, her voice smooth and professional as she came to a stop by their table. "What can I get for you tonight?"

Rhysand, ever the picture of charm and elegance, offered her a polite smile. His violet eyes met hers briefly, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe suspicion. Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually over Nesta’s shoulders, while Feyre, sitting next to Rhys, regarded YN with an air of quiet observation.

“We’ll start with a round of drinks,” Rhys said, his tone casual, but YN could feel the weight of his gaze on her, as if he were sizing her up. “Something strong.”

YN nodded, jotting down the order even though she didn’t need to. She had memorized the menu long ago. “I’ll be right back with that.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, her mind racing as she made her way to the bar. It was no coincidence that they were here again, especially after what happened at the market. Rhys and Cassian had come to the pleasure home with Azriel once before, and now this was their third visit in such a short time. It couldn’t be a casual night out—it had to be something more.

Harvey, her bartender friend, raised an eyebrow as she approached. "You okay?" he asked quietly, noticing the tension in her shoulders.

YN forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. "Fine. Just...unexpected company," she muttered as she handed him the drink order. Her mind was spinning with questions, but she knew better than to discuss anything in the open.

As Harvey prepared the drinks, YN leaned against the bar, trying to steady herself. She had to stay calm, keep up the act. If Rhysand and the others were here for information, she couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not about herself, not about Azriel. Not about Knox. They still had no idea about her and Azriel, and she intended to keep it that way.

After a few minutes, Harvey slid the tray of drinks toward her, and YN lifted it carefully, balancing it in her hands as she returned to the table. She felt their eyes on her as she approached, but she kept her expression neutral, her smile practiced and professional.

"Here you go," she said, setting the drinks down in front of them. She noticed how Feyre’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to place her.

"Thanks," Cassian said, his voice gruff but polite. Nesta glanced up at YN briefly before turning her attention back to her drink, uninterested in the small talk.

As YN set the last glass down in front of Rhys, she caught his gaze again. His expression was calm, unreadable, but she could sense the questions lurking beneath the surface. She had been in enough rooms with men like him to know when someone was trying to figure out a puzzle—and tonight, she was the puzzle.

Before anyone could say anything further, YN gave them a small nod and turned to leave, her pulse quickening as she walked away. She had to be careful now. Whatever game they were playing, she was already too deep in it. And with Azriel out on his week off, the last thing she needed was for his inner circle to find out about Knox—or their relationship.

As she walked back toward the bar, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. They were watching her, but she had survived worse. She just had to keep her head down, play her part, and hope that they wouldn’t dig too deep.

But the nagging thought wouldn’t leave her: Why were they here again? And what, exactly, were they hoping to find out?

YN stepped through the door of their small apartment, her body aching from the weight of the day. Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, and her mind raced with endless thoughts—who had been spying on her, why the Inner Circle kept showing up, and what it all meant for her and Azriel. She had kept her cool at the pleasure house, but the constant pressure of pretending everything was normal while being watched was wearing her down.

The familiar warmth of home wrapped around her as she shut the door quietly behind her, but the tension in her body refused to ease. She dropped her bag on the floor, her gaze flicking to the couch where Azriel sat, barefoot and bare-chested, with only a pair of loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was leaning back, a book resting in his hands, though the moment she entered, his golden-brown eyes were on her, sensing her frustration without needing to ask.

“Rough night?” Azriel asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. He closed the book and set it aside, his attention fully on her.

YN gave a small nod, too tired to speak. The weight of everything pressed down on her, making her feel like she could collapse right there in the doorway. Her shoulders slumped, and Azriel immediately got up, moving toward her with a fluid grace that belied the exhaustion she knew he carried too.

He reached for her gently, his hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air hit her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver. It was the way Azriel’s hands worked with such care, as though she were made of something fragile, even though he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t.

When he unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders, YN let out a long, shaky breath. Azriel’s presence was grounding, his hands firm yet tender as he guided her to the couch. He sat down first, pulling her with him until she was lying against his chest, her legs draped over his as she settled into his warmth. The steady rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound in the room for a moment, and YN could feel some of the tension in her body begin to melt away.

But she still felt overwhelmed—by the spying, by the uncertainty, by the weight of the past few days.

Azriel knew. He always did. His calloused hands moved to the scars on her back, the ridged lines that traced where her wings had been brutally clipped when she was only nine years old. It had been a trauma that never left her, not in all the years since. Even though she had healed, those scars still carried memories she couldn’t shake. And Azriel knew how much they haunted her.

His fingers brushed lightly over the scars, tracing the familiar pattern as he began to massage the tense muscles beneath. The pressure was just enough to ease the knots that had formed in her back, and YN couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. He always knew how to take the pain away—both the physical and the emotional.

"Talk to me," Azriel murmured, his voice a quiet invitation. "What happened?"

YN closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the soothing motions of his hands carry her for a moment. “I think they’re watching me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I recognized Rhys and Cassian at the pleasure house tonight, and... they’ve been following me. I know it.”

Azriel’s hands paused briefly before continuing their gentle rhythm. He didn’t ask who “they” were—he didn’t need to. He had already suspected the Inner Circle’s involvement, though hearing it confirmed made his chest tighten.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised quietly, his voice steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to worry about them.”

But that wasn’t the only thing gnawing at YN. There was more—the weight of being watched, the fear that their secret might be exposed. The fear that her past, her clipped wings, her life at the pleasure house, and everything she had built with Azriel and Knox would come crashing down.

“They don’t know about us, about Knox,” YN continued, her voice trembling slightly as she curled in closer to Azriel. “But if they keep following me... I’m scared they’ll find out.”

Azriel’s arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, a silent reassurance. “They won’t,” he murmured, his breath warm against her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you or Knox. You’re both safe.”

YN buried her face against his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming the storm inside her. She believed him—she always did. Azriel had been her anchor, her protector, the one person who had stood by her when no one else would. But even with his promises, the weight of everything still felt like too much.

His hands continued to work at the knots in her back, his fingers gentle yet firm, easing the tension from her muscles. YN let out a shaky breath, feeling her body slowly relax under his touch. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink deeper into the safety of Azriel’s arms, the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a cocoon.

For a few moments, it was just them—their shared silence, the unspoken bond between them. Azriel’s hands never stopped moving, soothing the aches and pains that had built up inside her. His presence was her sanctuary, the one place she felt truly at peace.

And for now, that was enough.

Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

There's three more chapters left and I think I might make a sequel but not with the mmc you think it is.... But the drama unfolds in the next chapter

[in-another-april]

hey carmen!!

i love your writing so so much:(( the way you characterize Spencer is so sweetie pie:((

Do you mind giving us some sweetie pie spencer bestie to lover content!! this is a suuperr niche request so no pressure obvie!!

i love love this request thank u so much!!! let me know if you want me to change anything, i hope u enjoy <3

Before you get together, there is going to be so much mutual pining. Spencer is a mixture of insecure and clueless, he really cannot tell that you're trying to hit on him. Even when he can, he dismisses it as him just taking it the wrong way, because surely someone as perfect and wonderful as you wouldn't like him like that, right?

Literally everyone except for the two of you can tell you're in love, he is so not subtle!! You're the first person he looks for in a room, he practically sprints to sit next to you before anyone else can, and he gets so, so pouty whenever someone else tries to flirt with you. One time you come into work complaining about forgetting your jacket at home and he jumps out of his chair insisting, "You can borrow mine!!"

And, yeah, he doesn't get any work done that day, too busy blushing and staring at you in his clothes.  You conveniently "forget" to give it back, and he conveniently "forgets" to ask.

You're always looking for an excuse to be near each other, to touch each other: You fall asleep on his shoulder on the jet, he rests his head against yours. He takes your hand when he notices you seem stressed, you affectionately brush your thumb along the back of his hand. One of you goes in for a hug, the other holds on just long enough to be considered more than friendly...

And you are both still so oblivious!! No matter how many times you go to look at him and find he's already staring at you. No matter how many times you’re both reading/looking at something for a case and he leans in way closer than necessary to see it. (“Spencer, don’t you have your own copy?” “…I… seem to have misplaced it.”) Neither of you ever confront these obvious feelings.

Until!!!

A new agent on your floor assumes you’re together, complimenting what a cute couple you are. Spencer, of course, loses it, getting all bright red and completely flustered because there is nothing more that he wants than to be considered your boyfriend, even if it’s just being mistaken as such. (He’ll take what he can get.) But you take his reaction as him being uncomfortable with the idea, and in an attempt to ease his concern (even if it does break your heart), you quickly correct them that oh, no, you’re just friends.

Then Spencer’s face falls and his heart is the one that’s breaking because why were you so quick to correct them? Do you really not like the idea of being with him that much? He knows it’s silly to be upset, you’re not together and you never did anything to suggest you were (completely wrong but we’ll let it slide) but there was a small part of him that really hoped that maybe, possibly, his feelings were reciprocated.

But now, clearly, they’re not, and he can’t help himself from avoiding you the next day because it hurts to be around you knowing he doesn’t have a chance. But then it only gets worse because it hurts just as much to be away from you, and you seem so concerned about him, and oh god he has no idea what to do with himself.

He comes to your apartment after work, and you somehow answer the door right as he starts to knock. The words struggle to come out at first, but then they do, and then he’s rambling, and it’s not entirely intelligible. But you get the gist, and it’s that he’s so in love with you! He seems so frantic that for the first time in your life, you want him to stop talking, so naturally you do what any other normal person would. Kiss him like your life depended on it. Right in your doorway. And. I don’t think there’s anything more I can (or should) say.  

masterlist | inbox ← requests open! ♡

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[bau-muffin]

“Pure Intentions”

Ship: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: E

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1,162 Words

Summary: You are an agent who is also spiritual and loves crystals. So, you decide to give your favorite boss man, SSA Aaron Hotchner, black tourmaline.

Hotch really didn’t know why insomnia had chosen to haunt him on a Sunday night, but he felt the full extent of it when he stepped into the bullpen the next morning. He wasn’t really given to vanity, but he felt like his eyebags were eye-totes now, and even though he had downed a cup of coffee before leaving the house, he felt like if he was still for even a second, he’d fall asleep.

Of course the weekend he had off was when his mind barred him from a good night’s rest- the night before work, no less.

He had not been at his desk for more than ten minutes when you bustled into his office, your smile wide as usual despite being almost eight in the morning.

“Good morning! I was going to wait closer to lunch, but then Penelope told me a case came in, so I decided to give this-“ you stopped to actually look at him, and even though an amused smile was pulling at his lips, he looked so exhausted. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked how you were doing first.”

“I’m not sick, just tired,” Hotch said kindly, “what do you have?”

“Black tourmaline! I know you’re not much of a spiritualist, but the low down on it is that it sponges up negative energy! And I mean… I know you don’t exactly have a choice, you know, to be or not to be around negative energy but…” you shrugged before admitting, “It also reminded me of you too. Also, again I know you don’t put huge stock into it, but I also charged it for you.”

You put the shiny black chunk on his desk, almost shyly. He picked it up, studying it and turning it over in his hands. You half expected him to pull his reading glasses out to look at it, and if he had- well, you couldn’t rightly be held responsible for the noise you might have made.

“This reminds you of me?” Hotch asked skeptically, his brows knitted slightly.

“Mhm! It’s a bodyguard type crystal. And… I guess you have that sort of… vibe? To me anyways,” you added on a little less than tactfully as you were visibly becoming fidgety, your hands smoothing down your skirt.

“You see me as the bodyguard type.”

You put your hands on your hips, an eyebrow raising. “Did you or did you not become overprotective when I said that my car alarm was going off in the parking lot and you insisted on stealthily going towards the car first with your pistol? Or did I hallucinate that?”

“I’ve seen some things in my time, and I know malevolent people would target a woman who’s alone when she’s leaving her workplace,” Hotch said defensively. You only smiled.

“Whatever you say. Regardless, that’s for you. Maybe, one day, I’ll get a keychain for you.”

“Thank you, that was… actually thoughtful and sweet of you. You’re right that I don’t put a whole lot of stock into this… sort of thing,” he admitted as he turned the crystal over in his palm again, “but I think… I think the weight of intentions are real.”

“Maybe those intentions will carry you home safe from this case, then. Judging from the groaning sounds coming from Garcia’s cave, I’m thinking it’s a doozy. By the way…”

“Mm?”

“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee before you go in to briefing?”

“That would be wonderful of you, thank you. One sugar-“

“-and no cream. I know how you make your coffee, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” you teased.

Hotch shook his head. “The full government name.”

You turned to walk out when he called your name, and you turned back to him.

“Can you come to my desk for a second?”

You complied, going to his desk with a nervous giggle. You thought he was going to speak, but instead he simply rose from his seat and kissed your cheek.

You touched your flushing cheek with a slightly shaky hand. “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Just a thank you for being as thoughtful as you are. Truly… you make working here a bit easier.”

“Aw, you’re going to make me cry, so I’ll laugh instead.” You were going to turn to flee, but boldness filled you and you leaned up to kiss his cheek, except he moved, and you kissed the corner of his stern lip.

“Uh-” you backed away from him.

“Don’t panic,” Hotch ordered calmly- almost too calmly- “it’s not your fault, it was mine for reacting too quickly.”

Your cheeks flushed hot red and despite his command to not panic, you immediately fled the scene, leaving behind a confused but slightly amused Aaron.

A few minutes later, JJ entered his office with his cup of coffee in one hand and sat it on his desk, the other arm full of file folders. She gestured with her head towards the bullpen, “Hey, um, Agent-“

“I know,” Hotch said with a minuscule smirk, sipping the coffee, and almost immediately moaned aloud. True to your word, you knew exactly how he takes his coffee. He kept glancing towards the crystal sitting on his desk, and when Garcia called for him to come to the briefing room, he carefully slid it in his pocket.

On the jet, after all the details of the case had been discussed, Hotch leaned back in the chair, his fourth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. Even though he made his coffee exactly the same as always, it didn’t taste nearly as good as the one you made for him. He took the black tourmaline out of his pocket and held it in his hand. It works on a jet, right? It’s closer to the sun, it has to be like the best charging method.

“What do you have there?” Rossi asked from across him, looking up from a book- a compilation of Garfield comic strips over the years.

“A crystal. I think it’s… black tourmaline?”

Reid, of course, overheard this and had to jump in with, “you know, within pagan and spiritual circles, black tourmaline has protective properties, banishing negative vibrations, and it’s also supposed to be grounding.” He looked at the crystal in Hotch’s hand. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen this crystal on that agent’s desk. She and Anderson talk about them all the time, and apparently she keeps some of them in her desk, as does Anderson.”

“She and Anderson are good friends,” Hotch volunteered. “She’s the one who gave this to me.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Rossi commented, sounding too innocent for Hotch’s liking.

“She is,” Hotch agreed simply, not taking the bait.

He and “that agent” were going to have to have a conversation when he got back home- he was entirely too intrigued by you. Perhaps he could ask you what crystal was the best for asking someone on a date.