#i just. i don’t know if I have the nerve

[fastandcarlos]

One Domesticated Man : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: lando tries his best to prove to you that he can be a domesticated guy

“If I find one more of your dirty pairs of pants lying around I’m going to swing for you Lando Norris!” 

A mischievous grin appeared on Lando’s face as he heard you shout through the house, watching as you walked into the bedroom to where he was. 

He was busying himself, placing the washing that you had done for him back into his wardrobe, sorting through what he needed to pack with him as he prepared to head off again for the next rest on the calendar. 

“I just forget to pick them up sometimes,” he innocently smiled, “there’s so many other things on my mind, my pants are the least of my concerns.” 

Your eyes rolled as you threw the pants into the washing basket before watching him. His brows were knitted together as Lando tried his best to fold one of his shirts. You watched for a while before snatching the shirt out of his hands, showing him how it was done.  

“I’m learning,” Lando defended as you threw the top into the drawer of his wardrobe. “No one’s ever really shown me how to do all of this stuff, I’ve just had to learn how to do it all on my own.” 

“Lando, you barely do anything,” you sighed, sending him a knowing glance. “When was the last time that you hoovered? Or took the rubbish out for bin collection day?” 

There was a brief pause as Lando let what you said sink in, realising for himself how little he did around the house, watching as you usually darted around and got everything sorted out for the both of you. 

“Remember when I washed up the other day?” 

“What? In cold water, of course I remember.” 

Whilst Lando laughed, your eyes rolled, finding yourself often having to go back and fix things once he’d done them. Lando was far from the most domesticated man in the world, relying on others to get him by with how little time he actually spent at home. 

You folded the last of Lando’s bits before leaving him to it, walking downstairs and into the kitchen as you started to get yourself sorted for preparing dinner. 

Soon enough footsteps followed behind you as Lando joined you in the kitchen, sitting up on the worktop. You could tell straight away that he was bored, following you around like a shadow. 

“How can I help you?” Lando asked as he watched you open up the fridge. “You always sort dinner out, so I want to be able to help you out tonight.” 

Your eyes flickered around to look back at Lando, “is this because of what I said upstairs? It’s alright Lando, go and do something if you want, I really don’t mind.” 

“No, I want to help and do something around here.” 

Your head nodded, opening up the cutlery drawer and taking out a knife, placing it down on the chopping board, tapping it for Lando to move across to. 

“You can be trusted with this, can’t you?” You teased, pointing at the knife. “I’m not going to end up having to drive you to hospital, right?” 

“I’m not completely incompetent babe.” 

You took the vegetables and showed Lando how you wanted them cut, making sure that your instructions were clear, making it impossible for Lando to go wrong. He listened intently to what you had to say, determined to prove to you, and himself, that he could help. 

There were a few nerves as Lando got started, his eyes full of concentration as he chopped things up. He didn’t want to put a foot wrong, it was a simple job, but for some reason Lando felt the pressure. 

“Maybe once we’ve eaten tonight, we could look at building your new desk for your office,” Lando suggested as he stopped for a moment, noticing you freeze beside him. 

“Washing, cooking, building, are you sure that you’re going to cope?” 

Lando’s head nodded, an excited smile on his face, full of encouragement. “I promised you weeks ago I’d build it and I haven’t, it’s unfair to leave you waiting around for it any longer.” 

“Do we have the equipment to build it though?” 

Lando gasped, his head nodding back at you, with his toolbox hidden around somewhere. He wasn’t quite sure when he last used it, but he knew with a bit of a search around he’d locate it. It was an old one, one that his dad gave to him for times like this, one that Lando had very rarely used. 

He could still feel your eyes watching him, doubtful as to how things would go, knowing that construction anything more than Lego was a tricky job for Lando. 

“I can do it,” he assured you, his voice a lot more insistent. “And if I get stuck then I know where you are so you can come and help me.” 

There was a confidence in Lando’s voice that had you trusting him, having done most things yourself, you weren’t going to deprive him of his chance to be a little more domesticated. 

“If you want to help out, I’ve got a long list of things that need doing around the house,” you smiled, walking over and snaking your arms around his waist. “I could keep you entertained for weeks with all these jobs.” 

“You’re right though, I should be doing more to help you,” Lando whispered. 

“You’re busy Lando, when you come home it’s important that you rest,” you replied, resting your head against his back. “I’m not expecting anything from you.” 

You didn’t expect, but Lando did of himself. He’d never thought about how much he contributed around the house, but now that you passed a comment, even just a joke, it definitely had Land thinking. 

“You’re busy too, just because you’re not flying around the world to do it. We’re a team, therefore this house needs to be taken care of by two people,” Lando assured you. 

“If you want to do more, then I guess I wouldn’t mind.” 

Lando nodded as he finished up the job that you had given him, with your body still pressed up against his. He wanted to learn and do more, hoping one day to teach his own child how to do all of the jobs that his dad had taught him to do. 

I really do, more than anything.” 

You could see just how sincere Lando’s eyes were, how serious he was. The thought of you continuing to run around after him was one that made him feel so uneasy. 

“Why don’t we have dinner and then we can build the desk together?” You proposed, “that way you can help out, and we can have fun doing it together.” 

“I’d like that, a lot,” Lando whispered, “I want to be more domesticated, like those men you see in all the movies, the ones who can just figure everything out, can take on a job no matter how big or small.” 

“You want to be a hero?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “What am I supposed to do though if you’re doing all of these jobs for me now.” 

“You can just sit and relax,” Lando instructed, “that’s the least that you deserve anyway, I don’t want you to do anything other than that.” 

“I can just sit and tell you when you miss a bit,” you laughed, “or when you’re not doing a good enough job.” 

“That’s the least that I’d deserve, right?” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

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[fruithoughts]

PRINCESS TREATMENT

‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤh. joshua x fem!reader  ⪩⪨

01.ㅤۗㅤ𝙼ember .  ⎯⎯⎯  joshua.

02.ㅤۗㅤ𝙲𝚆 .  ⎯⎯⎯ multiple pet names, possessive thoughts, mentions of blowjobs(m.) and sex, just a very gentle guy who loves his girl more than anything.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua whose instagram is filled to the brim with pictures of his beautiful girl, sometimes he forgets to tag you but it’s okay because it takes no sherlock holmes to figure out your username since he only follows your account and a naruto fanpage. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who wants you to meet his parents in less than a month into the relationship, it’s extremely important to him to make it as clear as possible that he is serious about you, leaves no room for overthinking at all, always a step ahead of you in the “would you still love me if i was a worm?” department, the best boy indeed. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who would rather take a bullet than let you pay for literally anything, because how dare you even suggest paying for your own things? as if you don’t know the only reason he works so hard it’s exactly so he can pamper you endlessly? the absolute nerve of you, better get on your knees and start apologizing.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who is the sassiest and most dramatic guy you’ve ever been with, but can not for the life of him handle the thought of you doing any work at all, in every aspect, which, ironically, sometimes makes you work even harder to get what you want.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who makes it the world’s most difficult challenge to accept receiving head from you for the first time, he enjoys being the one doing all of the work to make you feel good, he just couldn’t see how blowing him off would please you at all so he keeped denying(while completely ignoring the tent forming rapidly in his grey sweatpants) until you begged too sweetly, so softly, looking at him with so much adoration and love, like you wanted nothing more than to please him, he could have finished right there but instead he shook his head and sat down in the bed, ready to give his princess anything she could ever want, just like he promised he would! even if what she wanted was to kneel in front of him and try to fit his thick cock into her little mouth for a while.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who uses every opportunity that stumbles across his way to show off his huge arms, it’s a win-win scenario, he gets to feel all hot and manly and you get to hold onto your boyfriend’s strong biceps everywhere you go and get carried on bride style after a night out that, honestly, didn’t even leave you that drunk, but since he offered to carry you, who would ever say no?

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who adores your nails and is always super excited to see the results of your nail appointments, asks for pictures during the whole process, sends you food when it’s taking too long, and finally when the nails are done, he’s there to pick you up in his shiny car, more than ready to do the last step of your nail day, which is putting them to the test, the scratch test. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who just can’t help but adore when you leave him all marked up, he loves it, and how can you blame him? was he supposed to be normal about having proof straight on his body of just how good he made you feel last night? how could you even consider he'd do such a thing? this man is not normal about you in general. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who knows your entire wardrobe like the back of his hand, half of it because he bought it, the other half because of how often he’s watching you, definitely a “i look at you more often than you think” kinda guy. he’s very proud of just how well he knows his baby.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who remembers all of your food preferences and orders, knows all of your allergies, all of your icks and all of your friend’s gossips because he’s just so well behaved! he won't tell anyone, he never would! he's your joshy! you can trust him to keep all of your secrets, forever.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who’s very open about the fact that he wants to marry you, live the rest of your lives together, maybe with a kid if you’re into that, maybe just dogs if that’s better for you, he got his own wishes when it comes to creating a family, but at the end of the day; this man has one priority, and she has a name. whatever is best for you, it’s the best for him.

⪩⪨ husband!joshua who no matter how long it has passed since you got married, has not lost even a little bit of his obsession with you. his precious flower, his cute little thing, his darling, his sweet girl, that’s all you’ll ever be to him, all his to love and protect, forever.

[jpnriikicore]

── good riddance

paring lando norris x ex!reader, word count 642, music gracie abram. i know it won’t work and i’m sorry, i miss you ( masterlist )

your fist raises to knock on his apartment door as anxious feelings bubble up to the surface. you have put seeing him again off for so many months. other than the time you saw a glimpse of him last december at the same shopping store in monte carlo. a part of you still wants him, but it didn't work last time. why would it work now?

as you knock on the door, you hear footsteps approaching from inside. you take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. the door creaks open, revealing lando standing there, looking just as you remembered - dark curls slightly messy, and those piercing green eyes that used to make you melt.

"hi." your lips went into a line as you gave him a small smile. you step inside his apartment toeing off your shoes, a forced habit. his apartment still looked the same besides the few current empty picture frames. you sit the duffle bag piled with clothes of his filled to the brim on the kitchen counter. memories flood your mind especially when you fought in his apartment. both of you left things pleasantly, but like every couple you had a few rough patches. mostly false rumors and his busy schedule drove a wedge between the two of you. you still couldn't make direct eye contact with him.

lando watches you as you enter his apartment, your discomfort is evident. he leans against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

"hi," he responds, his voice neutral. his gaze flickers to the duffle bag on the counter. “come to bring me my stuff?

"yeah," you reply, your lips going into a line for a brief moment before flashing him a little tight-lipped smile as you nod your head.

lando watches you carefully, his expression unreadable. he pushes off from the doorway and approaches slowly, his footsteps echoing in the quiet apartment. "you look...well," he says, stopping a few feet away from you. "how have you been?"

"better now," you nod your head, you had been a wreck when we first broke up, but you learned how to be okay with being alone again. how to be okay waking up to a cold empty bed. you fiddled with your keys sliding off his apartment key. your arm extended out to hand him the copied key back into his warm hand. "i guess i don't need this anymore."

lando takes the key from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment. he looks at the key, then back up at you, his eyes searching yours. "okay," he says quietly, tucking the key into his pocket. "you didn't have to bring them back, you know.” he says, his voice low. he steps closer to you, his eyes scanning over your face.

"i wasn't going to throw perfectly good clothes away and i couldn't look at them any longer."

lando nods slowly, his expression unreadable. he reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against your chin, tilting your face up so you're finally looking at him. "and you couldn't look at me either, is that it?"

"it's difficult," you whisperunderneath your breathe. "makes me want you back."

his thumb strokes your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "i miss you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. despite his whisper, you heard it clear as day. he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "can i kiss you?”

"don’t ask to kiss me because then i will have to think about it and the answer will be-"

lando's lips curve into a small smile before he closes the distance between you, kissing you softly. his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as the kiss deepens. you can feel his body pressing against yours, the heat between you rising.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2024

[ponderingmoonlight]

I got a request! How about Sukuna's reaction to Reader dressing up as him for Halloween?

You don’t even make it two steps into the room before you feel Sukuna’s eyes on you. Heavy and unimpressed, his gaze drags from your head down to your toes, taking in every minor detail of your costume: the rough outline of his signature tattoos, the fake arms drawn crudely on your torso, and the striking crimson kimono you spent way too much time trying to find.

And then, Sukuna laughs. Low and ominous, slipping out like a warning rather than genuine amusement.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” he sneers, though his eyes glint with a dangerous kind of curiosity.

He’s lounging on his throne, legs spread wide, one hand resting on his chin, and looking at you like you're his next meal -metaphorically or literally, you’re not sure.

You cross your arms, tilting your head to show off the faux tattoos on your face.

“Who do you think I am, genius?” you reply with a smirk, pleased with yourself.

Sukuna’s mouth curls, all sharp teeth and predatory interest.

“Are you trying to mock me, brat?”

You shrug, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks as his eyes continue their unabashed journey over every inch of your costume.

“Figured it’d be fun. It’s Halloween, after all,” you say with a playful wink.

“Thought you’d appreciate my… dedication.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Is that so?”

In one smooth, lethal motion, he’s on his feet, closing the distance between you in a few strides until you’re caged between him and the wall. You swallow, feeling the burn of his presence as he leans in close, his face barely inches from yours, his hand lifting to toy with the edge of your makeshift robe.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered… or offended.”

You try to keep your voice steady, but it wavers slightly. Fuck, did you really take it too far?

“Maybe a little of both?”

Sukuna chuckles again, a dark, rich sound that seems to roll through you, making your pulse flicker.

“You’re cute, dressing up as the King of Curses. But you know-” he trails a finger down your cheek, stopping just at your jawline, “-you don’t quite have the presence to pull me off.”

“Oh, really?” you retort, huffing, even as your heart thumps in your chest.

“I think I look pretty convincing.”

“Is that so?”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

“Then go on. Show me just how convincing you can be.”

You hesitate, trying to maintain your composure.

“Well, first of all, you’d need to bow down to me.”

Sukuna barks a laugh, loud and mocking, as if the very idea is absurd.

“Oh, you’ve got some nerve,” he murmurs, his eyes darkening.

“You think you can handle being me? My power?”

You lift your chin defiantly.

“I could handle you just fine.”

He smirks, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist.

“Careful what you wish for, little one.”

And before you can process what’s happening, his lips crash against yours -possessive, demanding, and full of the power you tried so hard to imitate. It leaves you breathless, melting into him before you can stop yourself.

When he pulls away, he chuckles, eyes gleaming.

“Happy Halloween, imposter.”

[wild-fern21]

Paring: Luke Hughes x reader Synopsis: Meeting someone's parents was scary. Meeting your boyfriend's parents was the worst, when meeting a friend's parents they didn’t have to like you, it was good if they did but if they didn’t it doesn't matter, but meeting a boyfriend's parents meant they had to like you especially if your boyfriend was close with his family. warnings: None that I can think of

You were meeting Luke’s family before the Canucks vs Devil, he had told you numerous times that no matter what you wore, his family wouldn’t care but you still worried. As you stood in front of the mirror you had a pile of clothes next to you and a few scattered around you.

Every outfit you tried on seemed to be wrong. Either too much skin was shown, or you looked like you were trying too hard. Luke had been out with his friends for most of the afternoon. When he walked into the apartment and was met with Jack sitting on the couch in front of the TV the middle Hughes turned to him before speaking.

“You should check on Y/n” Jack says Lukes face turns in confusion “She is freaking out over what to wear to dinner tonight” he adds after seeing his brother's confused face.

“She told me she was alright with picking out an outfit, I texted her earlier and she told me she had it sorted out” Luke told the older boy who shrugged.

“Well she’s been in your room changing outfits since you left, she kinda freaked out over what to wear, I’ve been helping her but she hasn’t found one yet” Jack tells his younger brother his tone slightly worried, Luke let out a sigh and walked down the hallway to were his room is. As he enters the room he is immediately met with a pile of clothes on the ground.

“Hey sweetheart?” Luke spoke softly as he saw you sitting on the bed in a t-shirt and shorts. “Jack’s told me you’ve been stressing out all afternoon.” 

You turned to your boyfriend and smile “I just need to find the right outfit, I don’t want you family to think” Your sentence was cut off when Luke walked over to you and brought you into a hug he present comforts you as you bury your head into his jumper, he gently kiss the top of your head.

“You’ve already met Jack and he loves you, Quinn will be happy he gets to meet the girl I haven’t shut up about and my parents already love you from the amount I’ve spoken about you. Nothing to stress about” Luke's words reassure you and you look at the pile of clothes on the floor.

“Do you reckon you could pick out an outfit?” You ask softly, as you move to clean up the clothes that had been scattered around the room. Luke made a sound of agreement and walked over to the pile looking for a certain dress.

He spotted the dress near the bottom of the pile, a small smile made its way to his face. He had brought you this dress for your anniversary and you hadn’t had a reason to wear it. “I think this is the perfect dress” He holds the dress up so you can see it. You send him a small smile as you go to take the peace of clothing from him.

He moves the dress out the way and leaned down puckering his lips out slightly, “I think I deserve a kiss for my valiant effort in finding your dress.” You shake your head and gently kiss him, once you pull away he hands over the dress.

“Ok I am going to clean this up, you can go make sure Jack is ready to go” You say knowing that Luke was just going to wear the clothes he wore out earlier. Luke gave you a salute and walked out the bedroom door to go get his brother.

You had made it to dinner earlier than everyone else and you started to stress, you took your seat in between Jack and Luke gently fidgeting with the end of your dress. Luke, noticing your nerves, and places his hand over your allowing you to fidget with his fingers while the three of you wait for the rest of his family.

Jack stood from his chair, a smile spread across his face as he loudly yelled his oldest brother's name, “Quinny!” This caused you and Luke to stand up as Jack went to give his brother a hug. You moved behind Luke slightly as he greeted his brother eventually Luke came back to your side joining you hand together. As you greeted the oldest brother

Quinn looked at you, his smile turning soft as he noticed your and Luke connected hands “You must be Y/n, I have heard alot about you from this one” Quinn said nodding his head to the boy who was smiling as he watched you and his oldest brother, an anxious smile crossed your face as he spoke. Quinn opens his arms offering you a hug which you immediately agree to. 

Pulling out of the hug the group of you make your way back to the table talking everything they had missed during the hockey season. Quinns phone dings causing the table to look at him as he speaks “Mom and Dad just arrived,” Your nevers spiked again as you all stood up waiting for the older couple to make their way to the table. 

The boys went to greet their father as Ellen made her way to you, immediately bringing you into a hug “You are so beautiful” She turned to her youngest son and swatted his should “why didnt you let us meet her earlier” She spoke. 

Jack let out a small laugh knowing how much you were freaking out over meeting them today if you had met them earlier he couldn’t imagine how much of more stressful that would of been if you had met anyone of them earlier.

Jim comes and greets you bringing you into another hug as Luke stood slightly further back watching with a soft look in his eyes, a smile present on his face at the how well you and his family got along.

[writingbuckets]

The Hot Take: Part 2

paige bueckers x influencer!reader

wc: 1.7k

a/n: thanks so much for the kind messages on part 1! enjoy <3

**********

You can feel the energy in the arena even from the parking lot. Fans are buzzing, and you catch glimpses of them sporting jerseys and waving signs in support of Paige and her teammates. There’s a spark of excitement mixed with nerves in your stomach as you make your way to the courtside seats Paige promised.

You glance down at the ticket she sent you through DM with a wry smile. It’s a little surreal, actually being here. The back-and-forth messages with Paige left you curious and maybe a little too interested in seeing her play. Overrated, you’d said. Well, tonight she’d get the chance to prove you wrong.

As you settle into your seat, you text Taylor to let her know you’ve arrived. She’s responds in caps “EXCITED FOR YOU”, sending laughing emojis and a “TRY NOT TO FALL IN LOVE, Y/N.”

In the locker room, Paige’s teammates are already in pre-game mode, stretching and reviewing plays, but Azzi catches sight of Paige checking her phone for the third time in five minutes. She grins knowingly, nudging Jana beside her.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Azzi asks Paige with a teasing tone. “You’ve got that look.”

Paige pretends not to know what she’s talking about, tucking her phone away with a smirk. “What look?”

“Don’t play coy. This is a new level of focus even for you,” Jana chimes in, eyeing her with mock seriousness. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with your biggest critic being courtside tonight, would it?”

Paige rolls her eyes but can’t hide the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Just trying to make sure she gets her money’s worth,” she says with a shrug. “Not every day you get a ‘critique’ from someone who’s never even seen you play live.”

KK, who’s been stretching nearby, perks up, catching the last part of the conversation. “Wait, is this the podcaster?” She laughs, sitting up and pointing at Paige. “The one who called you overrated? Oh, this is too good.”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking a little,” Paige admits, trying to sound casual but clearly enjoying the reaction from her friends.

Morgan snickers. “Talking, huh? I don’t think she meant that comment as an invitation, Paige.”

Paige gives a mock glare. “Please. She’s practically begging to be impressed.”

Aubrey chuckles, crossing her arms. “Just don’t get too distracted out there, superstar. She might be here to see you crash and burn.”

Paige laughs and waves them off, but there’s an undeniable confidence in her tone. “Oh, trust me. She’s not ready for what she’s about to see.”

**********

You watch the team make their entrance, the crowd roaring as each player is introduced. When Paige is called, the noise is almost deafening, and you find yourself instinctively clapping along, even as you try to stay cool.

Finally, the game starts. Within moments, it’s clear why Paige has all the attention. She commands the court with ease, weaving around defenders with a blend of grace and intensity that makes it hard to look away. Every shot, every pass—it’s like she’s putting on a show, and with each move, she glances your way, her gaze almost daring you to look impressed.

You catch her eye after she lands a particularly smooth three-pointer, and she gives a slight smirk, as if to say, Not bad, huh?

You raise an eyebrow, mouthing back, “Still not impressed.”

In response, she grins and picks up her pace, dominating every play with a flair that seems designed to taunt you. The more you watch, the more you find yourself pulled into the game, barely noticing the time passing. But every so often, her eyes find yours, and it’s like the entire arena fades away for just a moment.

The final buzzer sounds, and Paige’s team wins by a comfortable margin. As the players cool down and talk to the press, she sends a quick look in your direction, clearly reveling in her victory. She approaches the sidelines, her teammates trailing behind and giving her little nudges and knowing looks.

Azzi shoots you a cheeky grin as she passes. “Hey, thanks for coming. Glad Paige had her own personal cheerleader tonight.”

Jana adds with a laugh, “More like underrated, huh?”

Before you can respond, Paige strides up, wiping sweat from her brow and grinning with that signature self-assurance.

“So?” she says, folding her arms and looking at you expectantly. “Any thoughts from my favorite hater?”

You keep your expression neutral, even as your pulse quickens under her direct gaze. “Not bad. You almost looked like you knew what you were doing out there.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Almost? That’s high praise coming from you.”

You shrug, tilting your head thoughtfully. “Guess I’ll have to watch a few more games to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

Her eyes light up at that. “Oh, so you’re coming back?”

“Only if you keep up that level of play,” you reply, not missing a beat. “I’d hate to waste my time.”

Her teammates are still hovering nearby, soaking up the banter with matching grins.

KK gives Paige a nudge. “Careful, Bueckers. I think she’s starting to like you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first,” Paige quips, giving you a sidelong glance. “Some people just need a little convincing.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “You think you’ve convinced me?”

“Not yet,” she admits, a teasing challenge in her eyes. “But I think I’m close.”

You can’t help but laugh, enjoying the back-and-forth more than you’d like to admit. She’s good at this—smooth, confident, and annoyingly charming. And the way she keeps looking at you, with that mix of amusement and intrigue, makes it harder to stick to your original opinion.

As the conversation winds down, you start to think about heading out. But before you can make a move, Paige’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“So, a few of us are grabbing food to celebrate,” she says casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You should come. Unless, of course, you have better things to do?”

Her eyes are challenging, and you can feel her teammates watching you, clearly curious to see what you’ll say. Part of you wants to play it cool, brush it off, but there’s a bigger part that’s intrigued, drawn to the idea of spending more time with her.

“Why not?” you reply, keeping your tone light. “Could be interesting.”

She grins, giving her teammates a triumphant look before gesturing for you to follow.

The group heads to a local spot where they’re regulars, filling up a large booth with laughter and chatter. You find yourself seated next to Paige, who’s now relaxed and fully in her element, her focus entirely on you.

“So, tell me,” she says, leaning in as she sips her drink. “What made you think I wasn’t as good as people say?”

You shrug, pretending to think hard. “I think some players need to be humbled sometimes. Keeps things balanced.”

“Oh, really?” She smirks. “So you’re, like, the self-appointed hype police?”

“If that’s what it takes.” You give her a challenging look. “And, judging by your performance, I think you’re taking my job pretty seriously.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

Aubrey, who’s overheard, chimes in with a grin. “Yeah, Paige is kind of a show-off when it comes to impressing people.”

Paige rolls her eyes, but she’s clearly enjoying the attention. “Hey, I like a challenge.”

You lean back, folding your arms as you meet her gaze. “Good to know. Might have to challenge you more often, then.”

The night goes on, filled with jokes, teasing, and the undeniable chemistry simmering between you and Paige. Her teammates keep throwing her looks, nudging her when she gets too obvious with her attention, but she brushes them off with ease.

By the end of the night, you’re more than a little curious about where this dynamic might lead. Paige, it turns out, isn’t just an incredible player—she’s clever, competitive, and, as much as you hate to admit it, a lot of fun to be around.

As you say your goodbyes and head out, she catches your arm, pulling you back for one last exchange.

“So,” she murmurs, her voice low, “can I ask for your opinion on me now?”

You meet her gaze, a slow smile spreading across your face. “ I’ll tell you when you make an appearance on the show.”

She laughs, nodding as she steps back. “You can count on it.”

You linger a moment, savoring the playfulness in her tone and the easy confidence in her smile. Her teammates start calling her over, and you see her hesitate, glancing between you and her friends. It’s almost as if she’s weighing her next move, and the idea that Paige Bueckers might actually be a little reluctant to end the night brings a grin to your face.

“Better go before they start making up embarrassing stories about you,” you say with a nod toward her friends, who are watching the two of you with unabashed interest.

She chuckles, eyes glinting with something mischievous. “Don’t worry, they don’t have any dirt on me… yet.”

“Oh, so you’re planning on giving them some?” you shoot back.

Paige tilts her head thoughtfully. “Only if it’s worth it.” Her voice is low, suggestive, and you can’t ignore the electric undertone beneath her words. She glances toward the exit, then back at you, taking a small step closer. “But, you know… I wouldn’t mind getting to know my ‘biggest hater” a little better.”

Her words hang in the air, and you feel your pulse quicken. There’s a part of you that wants to keep this light, play it cool, but another part—a part you’re not fully ready to admit yet—is undeniably intrigued by her invitation.

With a playful smile, you shrug. “Maybe you’ll earn that chance. If you’re lucky.”

Her laughter rings out, bright and clear. “I think I make my own luck.”

You offer her a mock salute. “We’ll see about that, superstar.”

As you turn to leave, you feel her gaze on you, lingering, as though she’s already planning her next move. And as you step out of the restaurant, the night air feels different—charged with possibility. You’ve seen a side of Paige that few get to see, and it’s clear this game of wit and challenge between you isn’t over yet.

But for now, you head home, wondering what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into.

[redocity]

hello, i was wondering if you could do a smut about buck?

Maybe have it where reader has been feeling really insecure lately and buck is like “i’ll fuck you until i hear that you believe it yourself” like he wants her to know that he thinks she beautiful and he wants her to see it

if you can’t that’s totally fine ❤️

PUZZLE PIECES — E.BUCKLEY

you are buck’s person, and he’ll be damned if you doubt that for even a second.

evan buckley x fem!reader | 2.9k | smut | masterlist.

WARNINGS | 18+ MDNI, reader is insecure about herself and her relationship with buck, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv, a lot of whining and general begging, creampie, couch sex

a/n — “i’ll put this in my drafts and upload it after work” she said, *proceeds to forget it exists for four days*

sorry about the wait 😭

The thought had crept in slowly, quiet at first, but lately, it seemed to be everywhere. You would be sitting on the couch, watching Buck’s profile as he talked about his day with that familiar smile and bright eyes, and it would be there, the nagging voice that whispered, He deserves better.

At first, you brushed it off, but each time he did something thoughtful or made you laugh, the voice grew a little louder.

Buck was… everything.

He was kind and funny, dependable and brave, always there for anyone who needed him. And in your quieter moments, you’d find yourself questioning whether you could really be what he needed.

What did you have to offer someone like him?

He seemed to pick up on your change in mood quickly. A few times, you’d caught him watching you, brow furrowed, as though he could see right through you. You’d just smile, trying to reassure him that everything was fine, but he knew better.

Buck was perceptive in a way that sometimes made you feel as though he could see things about you that even you didn’t know.

One evening, as you were lost in thought, he suddenly plopped down beside you on the couch, sliding in close. “Alright, talk to me,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You blinked, startled. “About what?”

His hand found yours, fingers warm and steady as he held onto you. “About what’s got you looking like that,” he replied, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin. “You’ve been so quiet lately. And it’s not like you. Something’s wrong.”

You swallowed, your gaze falling to your lap as you tried to find the words. “It’s… nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” he asked softly, still watching you, but you could hear the worry in his voice. “Babe, come on. We both know that’s not true.”

The truth tumbled out in bits and pieces, a little awkward and halting. You told him about the doubts that had been haunting you, how you’d started feeling like maybe he’d be better off with someone else. Someone who could give him more, be more. You didn’t even dare look at him while you spoke, afraid of what you might see on his face.

There was a long silence after you finished, and your heart pounded with nerves. You expected him to try to reassure you, to brush it off or tell you not to worry. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, filled with an unshakeable certainty.

“I mean this with all the love in the world,” he started, and when you glanced up, he was gazing at you with a look so fierce it almost took your breath away. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

The incredulity in his voice caught you off guard. “Buck…”

“Hey.” He cupped your face, tilting it up so you couldn’t look anywhere but into those intense, unwavering blue eyes. “There’s no one on this earth who’s better for me than you. No one.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, slow and deliberate. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

You felt your throat tighten, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you know by now? I was made for you.” His voice trailed off with a kiss against your lips, soft and gentle, as though he were trying to convey what words couldn’t. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

And he wasn’t done, it seemed. He took your hands, held them to his chest as he pressed little kisses on each of your fingers, down to your palms, his lips gentle and warm against your skin. “Do you feel that?” he murmured, his hand covering yours over his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your fingers. “That’s yours. Always has been.”

His touch drifted from your hands up to your face as he kissed you again, brushing his lips across your forehead, your cheeks, even the bridge of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, a wordless way of saying everything you hadn’t been able to believe.

You tried to speak, but he stopped you with a gentle shush, moving his kisses down the column of your neck to your shoulder, as if every inch of you was something sacred that he wanted to worship.

“I’m not stopping until you believe me,” he murmured against your skin, his hands steady and sure as he wrapped them around you. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always.”

“I’m a mess,” you murmured as his lips worked to create a path of fire down your collarbone and along the swell of your breast, teasing the hemline of your v-neck with his lips. “I’m—”

“Perfect,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire as his mouth found the valley between your breasts and the sensitive skin of your chest. “You’re perfect for me.”

You shivered under his touch and a gasp broke free from your lips as he moved back up to your mouth, capturing it in another kiss.

He pulled away for a moment to look you in the eye, his breathing as ragged as yours, his gaze full of pure, honest desire. “You’re it for me,” he said, his voice a low, husky rumble. “There’s no one else I want. Just you. Only you.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he pressed his thumb to your lips, cutting off your words. “Don’t fight me on this,” he murmured. “Let me show you how perfect you are for me.”

With that, he crashed his lips to yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he encouraged you back against the couch. His hands were everywhere, his touch gentle yet urgent as he pushed your shirt up, his palms hot against your bare skin.

You arched into him, your body desperate for his touch, your hands seeking purchase on his arms.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over your head, his hands immediately returning to explore your newly exposed skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down the valley between your breasts and along your stomach. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You shivered under his touch, your breath catching in your throat, every nerve in your body on fire. “Buck…” you gasped, the word more of a plea than anything else. “Please… I need…”

Buck’s eyes darkened slight with desire, his fingers hooking into the waist of your sweatpants and pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion, baring you to him completely. “I know what you need,” he murmured, his mouth trailing kisses down your hip and inner thigh. “I’m going to give you everything you need, baby. Just trust me.”

He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider for him. A thrill of anticipation shot through you as his breath ghosted over your core, his lips following the path his breath had taken. “Beautiful,” he repeated, his voice a low, reverential murmur against your skin. "Absolutely perfect for me,”

He ran his tongue tentatively along the length of your slit, drawing a shudder from you, his hands gripping your thighs tight as he teased you, taking his time to lavish attention on every inch of you. You arched against him, your hips rolling, seeking more of his touch. “Please,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer. "Please, Buck…”

Buck’s grip on your thighs tightened at your words, a low grumble rumbling in his throat. “Not yet, baby,” he said, his breath hot against your core. “I’m not done showing you how perfect you are.” He gave your hip a gentle squeeze. "Relax. Let me show you.”

With that, he licked a long, slow stripe up through your folds, his tongue flicking against your clit briefly before moving back down, drawing another shudder from you. He repeated the motion, over and over, his tongue working with purpose to show you how deeply he was lost in you, in the feel of you, the taste of you.

Every touch of his tongue was a jolt of pleasure, your nails digging into his scalp as you arched against him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Buck—” you gasped, your thighs quivering under his grip. “Please, I can’t—”

Buck pulled away, his chin glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You can,” he said, his voice a low, raspy rumble. “You will. Just a little longer, baby.” He teased a finger into your entrance, and your breath caught in your throat again. “I just need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

He moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a bruising kiss, his body pressing you down into the couch. You could feel the hard length of him, still trapped in his jeans, and you rocked against him, desperate for more. “Buck, please,” you gasped. “I need you, please…”

“Soon, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his hips rocking against yours, just enough to make you gasp again. “Soon. I promise.”

He reached between your bodies, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing them down his hips just enough to free himself, the hot length of him resting against your thigh as he kissed you again. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice a low, reverential murmur. “So perfect for me.”

His hands gripped your hips, angling them up to meet him, and he began to press into you, slowly, inch by inch.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, the stretch of him filling you, the heat of him surrounding you, the pleasure of the friction as he moved inside of you.

“Perfect,” he murmured again, his lips against your ear. “So goddamn perfect, god I was made to be with you like this,”

He began to move after a few stationary moments, his hips rocking against yours in a steady, measured rhythm, your bodies moving together in a desperate dance, the pleasure building with every movement. “You feel that, baby?” he gasped, his voice rough with desire. “You feel how well you moulded to fit me?”

You nodded mutely, your voice lost in a gasp as the pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke, every touch of his hands, every movement of his body.

“That’s how I know you were made for me,” he continued, his voice ragged with desire. “Your body fits with mine, like two pieces of a puzzle. You’re mine, baby, don’t ever forget that. You were made for me, and I’m never letting you go.”

His pace picked up, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, his breathing ragged with desire. “Don’t ever think you’re not perfect,” he whispered, his lips against your ear. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, baby. And I’ll keep going until you say you believe me—”

His body was pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment. You could feel every muscle of his body taut with tension, every line of him pressed against you.

“Don’t ever doubt how much I want you,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. “I’ll show you over and over again until you believe me, oh god, baby, I’m never going to stop needing you like this. Never.”

His thrusts were increasingly ragged, his rhythm faltering as his climax tried to sneak up on him, only for him to force it down so he could focus on you.

“Say you believe me, baby,” he gasped, his voice a pleading murmur against your skin. “Say you’ll never doubt what you mean to me, because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted— everything— and I can’t live without you, baby, I can’t—”

“I believe you,” you gasped, your own climax building within you, teetering on the edge of release. “I believe you, I do, Buck, I believe you—”

“Say you won’t ever doubt yourself again,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire. “Say you’ll believe me when I tell you how perfect you are, because you are perfect, baby, and I will fuck you like this every day if that’s what it takes to make you believe it—”

“I won’t,” you gasped, your words punctuated by a gasp as your eyes squeezed shut from the stimulation. “I won’t doubt myself, I promise, but please, Buck, I need–”

“I know what you need, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to give it to you. Over and over and over again, until you’re so full of me, and so sated that you’ll never doubt us again.”

His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his own climax, as he sought to bring you to the edge, to push you over and bring you to the release you needed.

“Come for me, baby,” he pleaded, his voice ragged with desire. "I need to feel you come apart beneath me, I need it, baby, come on—”

You cried out at his words, your body shuddering with pleasure at the combination of his touch and his words, the pleasure within you cresting and crashing over you in a wave of ecstasy. Your body arched against him, your hands clinging to him as if your life depended on it, your breaths coming out in gasps.

Buck groaned as he felt you come apart beneath him, the feeling of you clenching around him drawing a guttural moan from him. “Oh god, baby,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “That’s it, oh god, baby, I’m right there, I’m right there—”

His pace quickly picked up, his thrusts ragged and desperate, his body tense with the need to join you. “I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “Gonna make you mine, gonna make sure you know you’re mine forever—”

His thrusts became erratic, his breath coming out in gasps as he rode the edge of his orgasm. “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna come inside you, okay?”

“Yes,” you gasped, you hands desperately clinging to him, “yes, please, I need it, I need you—”

With a final, ragged gasp, he came hard, his body shuddering as his orgasm coursed through his torso and down his legs, spilling his release into you, white and hot and possessive in a way his words would never be.

He collapsed against you, his body trembling, his breathing ragged. “God, baby,” he panted, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually,” you murmured, your own breathing still slightly ragged. You reached up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. “You’re damn convincing, Buckley.”

He chuckled at your comment, his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him. "I meant every word, baby," he murmured, his lips drifting up the column of your neck to your ear. "You're perfect for me, and I'll keep proving it to you until you believe it yourself.”

You hummed contentedly at his words, your body relaxing against him, boneless and sated. You could feel the warm, sticky aftermath of his release between your legs, and you tightened your thighs together involuntarily at the sensation. “I think I believe you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing small circles along his back.

He chuckled again at your words, his hands roaming your body, tracing a lazy path along your curves. "You're damn right you believe me," he said, his voice still rough with emotion. "And if you ever forget it, I'll just have to remind you again. Over and over and over...”

He rolled the two of you over, pulling you close against his chest and wrapping you in his embrace. "But for now," he said, his voice softer now, "I just want to hold you. Just feel you in my arms, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing a slow, soothing circle on your back. "I love you, you know that?" he murmured, his voice gentle and full of tenderness. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I'm never letting you go.”

You smiled at his words, snuggling closer against his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin. "I love you too, Buck," you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "More than anything.”

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 2

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 2: | HE'S AN IDIOT |

The following morning was filled with the sound of waves and the soft hum of voices as you and Sarah joined a beach cleanup, mingling with the community, hands busy gathering discarded cans and stray wrappers tangled in the sand.

After a couple of hours in the sun, the cleanup wrapped up, and you and Sarah made your way back to her house. She was off with Topper, laughing and relaxed on her boat, while you headed into the kitchen, hoping for something quick to eat since breakfast had been a hurried affair. Just as you grabbed a bag of chips and a drink, you turned and nearly collided with Rafe, who appeared out of nowhere in the foyer.

You both froze for a split second, and the chips slipped from your grasp, tumbling to the floor. Rafe leaned down, mumbling, “Shit, sorry,” as he retrieved the bag. His fingers brushed yours for an instant, sending a spark through you that made your heart race.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” you said, trying to make light of the moment even as your stomach twisted in nerves and curiosity.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable, but his usual confidence wavered. “I wasn’t expecting you here,” he said, his voice low, almost distant.

A slight laugh escaped your lips, though it felt too light for the weight between you both. “Like you didn’t expect me in your room the other night…”

Your words seemed to make him tense even more, his gaze darting around the room as though searching for an escape. His eyes looked a little glazed, and you wondered again if it was the lingering effects of that night, or whatever it was that had him on edge lately.

“I’m sorry about that,” you added, the words catching in your throat. “Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have done it.” Your heart sank a little as you spoke; had you really pushed too far?

Rafe’s eyes softened, just barely, and he shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to be sorry about it,” he said, though his tone carried an unspoken weight. He looked as if he wanted to say more, to reach out to you, but something was holding him back.

You couldn’t help but smile, though it felt bittersweet. “Are you going to Kelce’s party later?” you asked, hoping to bridge the awkwardness lingering between you two.

“Yeah,” he replied, a faint smile playing on his lips as he nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay, see you then.” You glanced at him one last time, wanting so badly to understand what was going on behind those conflicted eyes before you turned and left the room.

As you walked away, you felt his gaze on you, lingering even after you’d turned the corner. Rafe seemed lost, struggling to find his footing, caught between the pull of his own feelings and whatever else haunted him. It was clear he didn’t know how to act around you, as though every word or touch might unravel something inside of him that he was afraid to face.

•°•°•°•°•°•

You arrived at Kelce’s party with Sarah and Topper, the evening air warm against your skin. You were wearing a white swimsuit underneath a nearly sheer black dress, its delicate pattern of pink roses giving it an air of elegance. It clung to your body just right, the subtle transparency leaving just enough to the imagination. You had spent the last half hour watching Sarah and Topper, noticing the way they seemed lost in their own world as they playfully splashed around in the pool. Their laughter echoed through the yard, carefree and full of excitement.

Earlier, while getting ready for the party, Sarah confessed to you that she was ready to take the next step with Topper. Tonight, she said, would be the night. There had been a glimmer of nervous excitement in her eyes, a kind of anticipation that only firsts can bring. Now, as you watched them sneak away together, you knew what was about to happen, and your heart swelled with protectiveness for your best friend.

As the night moved on, you made your way back into the house, hoping to find a place to sit down and relax. That’s when you saw Rafe, sitting on a couch surrounded by people—girls and guys, all vying for his attention as he passed around small bags of coke. You rolled your eyes, the sight of him dealing drugs like it was just another casual social activity filling you with annoyance. You hated that he was caught up in that lifestyle, and even more, you hated that he used them too. It was something that separated you from him, something you wished he would stop.

Despite your frustration, you found yourself drawn to him. He seemed to sense your presence immediately, even as he was in the midst of his drug transactions. You sat down across from him, not close enough to join the chaos surrounding him, but just close enough that your eyes could meet. Rafe’s gaze flickered over to you, his expression softening into a smile that was just for you. He never offered you drugs, never even tempted you with them. He had always kept that world at a distance from you as if he was protecting you from the same things that consumed him.

Minutes passed, and soon Topper appeared, his face dark and clouded with frustration. You noticed immediately that something was wrong. He didn’t look happy, not like he should have after being with Sarah. Worry twisted in your gut, and you didn’t need to ask to know that things hadn’t gone as Sarah had planned.

Without hesitation, you stood and went to find her. When you finally spotted her outside, she was already heading toward the gate, her face streaked with tears.

“Sarah!” you called out, hurrying to catch up with her.

She turned to face you, and the sight of her tear-streaked cheeks broke your heart. "What happened? Did Topper do something?" you asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Sarah shook her head, trying to wipe away the tears. “No, he didn’t do anything. I just… I thought I was ready, but I wasn’t.”

Her voice trembled, and you could see the weight of her decision hanging over her. “It’s okay,” you whispered softly, your hand brushing her arm in comfort. “It’s okay to wait. You don’t have to rush anything.”

Sarah sniffed, her lips quivering. “He wasn’t happy about it,” she admitted her voice small and filled with doubt.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of Topper being upset over something so personal. “Screw him. Guys like that—they only think about one thing,” you told her, a little fire in your words, hoping to make her feel better.

A small, broken laugh escaped Sarah’s lips, and she smiled through her tears. “You’re right.”

You smiled back, relieved to see her spirits lifting. “Do you want to go back to the party?” you offered.

Sarah shook her head, wiping the last of her tears. “No, I think I’ll just head home. I don’t feel like partying anymore.”

“I can come with you,” you said, ready to leave everything behind to make sure she was okay.

But Sarah smiled weakly and shook her head again. “No, stay. Have fun. I’m just going to sleep.”

You nodded in understanding, watching as she walked away. Once she was out of sight, you made your way back inside, your heart still heavy for her. As soon as you entered, your mood shifted sharply when you saw someone you hadn’t expected—your ex-boyfriend. He was standing across the room, eyes locked on you like a predator sizing up his prey, and you felt a wave of discomfort roll through you. The memory of him stung like an old wound. Six months together, and it all crumbled when he cheated on you while on vacation. The betrayal cut deep, and though you had ended things swiftly, only Sarah knew the real reason. Seeing him now, with that familiar smirk on his face, made your skin crawl.

You quickly moved over to where your friends were gathered around Rafe, hoping to avoid any confrontation.

The moment you settled into the group, one of your friends leaned in, her voice full of curiosity. “Hey, isn’t that your ex?”

You barely spared a glance in his direction, rolling your eyes as you nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“Why did you two break up anyway?” she asked, her voice light, unaware of the storm those words stirred in you.

Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped from your mouth. “Because he cheated on me.”

The room felt like it froze for a moment. The words hung in the air, and you instantly wished you could take them back. But it was too late.

Rafe, who had been leaning back lazily, suddenly snapped to attention. His eyes shot up from where he sat, his expression darkening as he processed what you’d said. He didn’t like hearing that. The idea of someone hurting you, betraying you like that, made his blood boil. He had sensed something was off when you broke up, and noticed the sadness in your eyes back then, but he never knew it was because your ex had hurt you that badly.

Anger surged through him. How could anyone be so stupid, so careless, to hurt someone like you? Rafe's jaw clenched, the coke in his system amplifying his emotions, making the fury harder to contain.

Before you could even brace yourself, your ex started walking toward you, completely unaware of the conversation he was about to walk into. His casual demeanor made your stomach churn. He had no idea that everyone knew now—everyone knew what he had done to you.

“Can we talk?” His voice was calm, almost pleading, as if nothing had happened between you. As if he hadn’t shattered your trust and left you to pick up the pieces.

Before you could respond, Rafe was already on his feet, moving with a quickness that surprised even you. “She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

You blinked, stunned by how swiftly Rafe stepped in, the way he positioned himself between you and your ex, like a shield. “Uh, yeah... I don’t,” you stammered, nodding in agreement with Rafe. You couldn’t help but be surprised by his protectiveness, but a part of you felt grateful—like he’d been waiting for this moment, waiting to defend you.

“I just wanted—” your ex began, but Rafe cut him off again, his patience wearing thin.

“Nobody cares what you want,” Rafe snarled, his voice dripping with hostility.

Before you could even process what was happening, Rafe grabbed your hand, his touch firm but careful, and dragged you away from the tension-filled room. Your heart raced, not just from the confrontation but from the way Rafe was holding you—protecting you.

He didn’t stop until he had you pinned gently against the hallway wall, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. His body was close to yours, his blue eyes searching your face with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the rage he’d shown moments before.

You nodded, your breath still a little uneven. “I’m fine, Rafe. Thanks for that, you didn’t have to—”

Rafe cut you off, his voice filled with determination. “Of course I did. He’s an idiot.”

You laughed, the tension melting away for just a moment. “Yeah, he is.”

“Biggest one I know, besides myself,” Rafe added, a self-deprecating smirk pulling at his lips.

You shook your head softly. “You’re not an idiot, Rafe,” you said, your voice gentle.

But Rafe’s expression darkened slightly, his eyes flickering with something deeper. “Of course I am,” he corrected you, his voice lowering as he leaned in closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “You wouldn’t even be with him if I tried something with you sooner.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? You weren’t sure how Rafe felt about you before, but now… now you knew. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Do you want to show him that you don’t belong to him anymore?” Rafe’s voice was rough, but his words sent shivers down your spine. There was a rawness to his tone, a need that mirrored your own.

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you whispered, “How?”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just let me lead the way,” Rafe murmured, his voice almost soothing. He was waiting for your permission, waiting for you to tell him it was okay. “Okay?”

You nodded, unable to form words, your body already reacting to his closeness. Your heart pounded in your chest as you bit your lower lip, feeling the heat of his body radiating against yours. When you felt his fingers brush along your inner thigh, a soft gasp escaped your lips, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you.

“Can I touch you?” Rafe asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his hand hovering near your covered core.

“Please do,” you whispered, your voice shaky with need.

The moment his fingers made contact with your swimsuit, brushing over the fabric covering your most sensitive spot, you nearly collapsed into him. Rafe’s hand moved slowly, deliberately, teasing you until you were trembling against him.

“Shit… you’re wet already,” Rafe breathed against your ear, his voice filled with lust. His touch was confident, fueled by the coke and years of pent-up desire. Your body reacted on instinct, the alcohol making your inhibitions fade, allowing you to give in to the moment fully.

“I bet you were like this that morning when you were grinding against me,” Rafe’s voice was husky, each word sending goosebumps down your skin.

You couldn’t answer at first, your breath coming out in short gasps as his fingers continued to tease you through your swimsuit. But when you finally found your voice, it was barely a whisper. “I was,” you moaned, the confession slipping out between breaths.

Rafe groaned, the sound deep and primal. His fingers began to rub your clit through the fabric, slow at first, then faster, and it sent your senses spiraling. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck as waves of pleasure coursed through you. You moaned his name softly, the sound of it making him grow even more eager. He was skilled, knowing exactly how to work your body, pushing all the right buttons to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“Is your ex watching?” Rafe asked, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You managed to rise up on your tiptoes, glancing over his shoulder. There he was—your ex, watching with eyes full of jealousy and frustration. He had never been able to get this close to you, never touched you the way Rafe was touching you now. He had cheated because he couldn’t wait because he thought he could manipulate you into sleeping with him. But now, seeing you with Rafe, he realized just how wrong he had been.

“Yeah, he’s watching,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Good,” Rafe smirked, and in one fluid motion, he moved your bottoms aside, his fingers brushing over your bare clit.

The shock of his touch made you moan louder, your body pressing into his as your legs began to tremble. Rafe’s fingers worked faster, rubbing your clit with expert precision. You clung to his shoulders, unable to hold yourself up as your body buckled under the pleasure.

Once again you stole a glance over Rafe’s shoulder, searching for your ex, wondering if he was still watching. The sight of him seeing you with Rafe had fueled you earlier, a sense of satisfaction curling in your chest. But when you looked now, he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had left, unable to stand the jealousy burning through him, knowing that you had moved on in ways he hadn’t expected.

But you didn’t tell Rafe. You didn’t want him to stop. Not now, when you were so close, your body trembling as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten with each passing second.

Rafe’s breath was hot against your ear as he spoke, his voice dripping with desire. “I knew it,” he whispered, his words making goosebumps rise on your skin. “I knew you wanted this as much as I did.”

You could only moan in response, your legs starting to shake as he increased the pressure, his fingers circling your clit faster.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened, needing something to hold onto as pleasure washed over you, wave after wave. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as the orgasm crashed over you, more intense than anything you had ever felt before. You moaned Rafe’s name over and over, the sound of it sending waves of satisfaction through him.

Rafe’s arm was quick to wrap around your waist, holding you up as your body shook with the intensity of it all. You buried your face in his chest, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you tried to steady yourself, the overwhelming sensation still coursing through your veins.

Rafe chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You okay?”

You looked up at him, still a little dazed, but a slow smile spread across your lips. “Perfect,” you breathed out, your body still buzzing from the aftermath. The intensity of it all had left you feeling lighter like something had shifted between the two of you, something you could never take back.

Rafe grinned down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and hunger. He had imagined this moment so many times, but having you here in his arms, breathless and flushed because of him, felt better than he ever thought it could.

After a few minutes, the two of you returned to the main room where the party was still in full swing. Your heart pounded in your chest as you scanned the room, hoping your ex wouldn’t try anything else. But there he was, standing near the table, hunched over doing lines of coke with a couple of other guys. The sight of him filled you with satisfaction—he had lost, and he knew it. You clung to Rafe’s arm, feeling his warmth, his presence grounding you.

Your ex looked up, the fury in his eyes was unmistakable, and the look on his face sent a chill down your spine. The rage was clear in his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he saw you cling to Rafe’s arm. He had never been able to handle his jealousy well, and now it was eating him alive. He thought he could guilt-trip you back into being with him, make you think you were naive and innocent, but you weren’t playing into his games anymore.

Your ex sneered, his voice low and venomous as he hissed, “What would Sarah say if she knew her brother fucked you?”

The room seemed to be still at his words. The air grew thick with whispers, people turning to glance at you and Rafe, eyes wide with curiosity and judgment. The accusation lingered in the air, heavy and dangerous, and your stomach twisted at the thought of Sarah finding out. Your best friend—what would she think? How would she react?

You felt the heat rise in your face, panic creeping up your throat. Your wide eyes met Rafe’s, silently pleading for him to do something, anything, to make this go away. But you knew Rafe didn’t care about what his sister thought the way you did. He didn’t care about their whispers or the gossip that was sure to spread like poison through your social circles. But the only thing that seemed to matter to him right now was you.

Rafe’s jaw clenched, the sharpness of his fury clear in his eyes. He didn’t need words to convey the rage simmering inside him. The moment he saw the tears welling in your eyes, something snapped. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous, each word filled with venom.

“Shut the fuck up!” Rafe growled, and before anyone had time to react, his fist flew through the air, connecting squarely with your ex’s face.

The sound of the punch echoed through the room, a brutal, sickening crack that silenced the crowd. Your ex staggered backward, his hand instinctively going to his face as blood gushed from his nose and mouth. He collapsed to the floor, groaning in pain, his hands now stained with red. Rafe stood over him, chest heaving, his expression hard and unforgiving.

Everyone around you stared in shock, too stunned to say anything. It was clear Rafe had broken his nose—the way your ex was gasping for breath, clutching his face in agony, only made it more obvious. And Rafe? He didn’t care. You could see it in the satisfied glint in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with the adrenaline of the moment. He had been waiting for this, waiting to finally put your ex in his place, to make him pay for what he had done to you.

You couldn’t help but feel a small, wicked smile pull at your lips as you watched your ex whine, blood dripping from his nose and down his chin. He deserved this. He deserved all of it, after everything he had put you through, after trying to come back into your life like he hadn’t betrayed you.

Rafe didn’t give him a second glance. He grabbed your arm with a firm but protective grip, pulling you out of the house and away from the whispers that had started to stir behind you. You barely had time to catch your breath before you were outside, the cool night air washing over your heated skin.

Without saying a word, Rafe grabbed his helmet and placed it over your head, the action so gentle and caring that it sent warmth through your chest. He secured it carefully before helping you onto his bike. Your legs felt shaky, your body still buzzing with adrenaline, but the moment you settled behind Rafe, wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt safe. You felt protected.

He revved the engine, and the roar of the bike drowned out everything else—the noise of the party, the whispers, your ex’s pitiful groaning from inside. As Rafe sped off into the night, the wind whipped past you, carrying with it the weight of everything that had just happened. You held onto him tightly, your face pressed against his back, your heart still pounding.

The ride to your house wasn’t long, but it felt different like time had slowed down. The tension in the air between you both was still palpable, a mixture of emotions swirling in the silence. When the bike finally came to a stop in front of your house, you hesitated, your arms lingering around Rafe for just a moment longer, not ready to let go.

Rafe turned slightly, his eyes searching yours with a softness that wasn’t there before. “If he tries anything else with you, just let me know, okay?” His voice was low, but there was an edge of protectiveness to it, a promise in his words. He was serious—he would handle your ex, no matter what it took.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “I will. Thank you, Rafe.”

He returned the smile, but there was something more in his gaze, something that lingered in the space between you. Just as you handed him his helmet, the front door to your house swung open, and your mother stepped outside, her expression surprised to see you.

“I thought you were going to stay at Sarah’s again tonight,” your mother said, her eyes flickering between you and Rafe, taking in the unexpected scene.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound as casual as possible. “She wasn’t feeling good,” you explained quickly. “So Rafe drove me back.”

Your mother smiled warmly at him. “Thank you for driving her back, Rafe,” she said, her voice kind and appreciative.

“Yeah, no problem,” Rafe replied, his voice steady as he gave her a nod.

With that, he revved the engine once more, the sound filling the quiet street as he turned and sped off into the night. You stood there, watching him disappear down the road, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Something had shifted between you two tonight, something undeniable.

As you finally stepped inside your house, closing the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that had happened. The confrontation with your ex, the way Rafe had stepped in, protected you and made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. It left a mark, something that would linger long after the night was over.

And as you lay in bed that night, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring, and where things with Rafe would go from here.

[leona-hawthorne]

My hogwarts house is hufflepuff and my favourite class is care of magical creatures :)

also i hope you don’t mind if i send a couple asks for the different things(? like the espresso etc sorry i’m dumb sometimes)

hey!!! you're not dumb bb, that's a totally valid question! you're welcome to send in as many requests as you want :) thank you for requesting, i chose theo for you—hope you enjoy 💌

1k celebration navigation

ミ★ LATTE ART... theodore nott

Out by Hagrid’s hut, you carefully balanced an armful of warm pumpkin pastries wrapped in a soft linen cloth, the sweet, spiced aroma curling up in the cold autumn air. Each step crunched in the frost-kissed grass as you tiptoed closer to Buckbeak, who eyed you curiously from his tether.

Your Hufflepuff scarf slipped down as you leaned over, and you pushed it back up with one elbow, squinting in concentration. Buckbeak tilted his head, his great orange eyes blinking with anticipation as you held up a pastry, your quiet offering to the majestic creature before you.

“Easy there,” you whispered, voice barely above a murmur. Buckbeak’s sharp beak was mere inches away, his feathers rustling in the faint breeze as he dipped his head toward the treat. You held your breath, smiling as he gingerly nibbled at the pastry, utterly enchanted by the way he ate so delicately for a creature so fierce.

“You here for detention, too?” a low voice drawled from behind.

Startled, you jerked around, clutching the pastries close as if they were some illicit contraband. Standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets and one brow raised, was Theodore Nott. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, his blue eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and amusement. You swallowed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Oh, no,” you stammered, clutching the linen-wrapped treats a little tighter. “I, um… I’m not here for detention.”

“Really? And here I thought Hufflepuffs didn’t break the rules.” He nodded toward the pastries and Buckbeak, a teasing gleam in his eye. “Guess I’ve been proven wrong.”

You laughed nervously, shifting on your feet as your face grew warmer. “I—well, I just thought Buckbeak deserved some treats for being so well-behaved in class earlier… it’s not really breaking rules… is it?”

You felt shy as he looked you over, amusement dancing in his eyes. Though his expression was soft, there was a certain intrigue behind it, like he’d discovered a particularly interesting book on a forgotten shelf. “Depends,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with a subtle tease. “Does feeding dessert to a hippogriff happen to have any ulterior motives?”

His words made you laugh, the tension slipping away, and you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Not at all. It’s not like I was bribing him for something. And it’s just a one-time thing, I swear.”

“Good to know,” he replied, his tone softer, and his gaze didn’t leave yours. “What’s your name?”

You hesitated, the lingering warmth on your cheeks flaring anew. “It’s Y/N.”

He gave you a slight nod, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, Y/N… I’m Theo.”

“I know who you are…” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. The blush on your cheeks intensified, and you looked down, too flustered to meet his eyes.

His smirk grew, and he chuckled softly. “Ah, you do, do you?”

You managed a small nod, glancing up just enough to catch the way he was watching you, an unreadable warmth in his gaze. In that moment, you felt it—a flutter of something new, something curious and exciting. 

Buckbeak, having grown impatient, let out a gentle squawk, pulling both your attention back to him. You offered him another pastry, and Theodore watched, an amused smile still playing on his lips.

“I think he’s got you wrapped around his claw,” he remarked, gesturing to the eager hippogriff.

You laughed, feeling a sense of ease despite the flutter of nerves. “Maybe just a little.”

Theodore stepped closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Next time you come out here to spoil Buckbeak, you should save me a pastry. I wouldn’t mind a taste of your little misbehavior.”

You blinked, the fluster returning as you realized he was flirting with you. “I… I will,” you promised, your heart fluttering.

With a final smile, he turned to leave, but not before glancing back at you. “See you around, Y/N.”

You watched him go, your heart racing with the thrill of the unexpected encounter. As Buckbeak nudged your hand, eager for more treats, you couldn’t help but smile, already planning your next visit to Hagrid’s hut and wondering what it might be like to spoil more than just the creatures.

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 5

James Potter x Reader

Summary: The search for your mystery suitor draws to a close as you finally make an advance on your lovesick admirer…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, idiots in love, oc!friends, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, secret admirer trope, strangers to friends to lovers, James gets his confidence back, aggressive flirting, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 2.6K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Hi boys, hi Jamie!” James almost fell off his chair, gripping the table and steadying himself. Sirius snorted at the flustered boy, stumbling and flailing at the nickname.

You had approached the Marauders that morning with books piled in hand, fulfilling Remus’ offer to study with them once again that weekend. With Charlie and Hope using their free time to visit Hogsmeade, you were left to flirt with the young Potter all you desired.

You had told your friends about the growing suspicion surrounding the boy that morning, and James was about to find out just how dedicated you were to the investigation.

James watched you eagerly, eyes wide at the sight of you sitting next to him once again. “Hi, love,” he sighed, still staring in awe at your freshly washed hair and bright smile. While he tried to match your style with the affectionate nickname, his voice was laced with shaking nerves as he sought that courage that came so naturally around other girls.

The other boys were openly snickering at his lovestruck face, assuming you had caught onto James’ enamoured gestures by now. Remus pushed the History of Magic textbook between the two of you, though he didn’t say a word about actually using it. He was far too fascinated with the promising tension developing between you and his friend.

“I’ve been having the most eventful week, lads,” you began, motioning for the boys to lean in closer, with James inching his chair across to touch yours. “Someone in this school has been sending me love letters.”

After a beat of shock, all four boys started rambling exclamations of surprise and curiosity, as if they didn’t already know about your secret admirer. James gulped at your confession, mentally cursing himself for waiting just too long to react naturally. “Oh, really! That’s news! Do you, um…have any idea who it is?”

You met the boy’s gaze and whispered, “I have my theories…I mean, so far we’ve deduced it’s a boy with high intelligence, a good heart, and a crippling obsession over me.” James’ breath hitched, eyes flickering from yours to Remus’, before landing back at you.

“Well, I can’t blame him love! Who wouldn’t be obsessed with a pretty thing like you,” Sirius smirked, “In fact, I have some theories of my own about who this boy could be…”

“Well, my suspects have been narrowed down to about five Gryffindor boys, and I’m really hoping it’s the cutest one,” you held back a giggle at James’ parted lips. He prayed to Merlin that you could possibly consider him an option, let alone think that he’s the one you found the most attractive.

“But to be honest, with the way he writes about me I think I’d jump him the second he reveals himself to me, handsome or not,” you said noncommittally.

In that moment, James threw all his reservations out the window. He no longer cared if you noticed his obsession with you, the lingering stares, the flustered reactions. He wanted all of you, and he just had to do something about it. There was no point in letting his nerves dictate his behaviour around you, not after you had just given him the James Potter Flirting Experience™ opportunity of a lifetime.

“Well, say you did care about what the boy looks like…what’s your type?” James leaned closer to you, a softened grin lingering on his lips as he spoke teasingly.

You gasped, clearly shocked by his sudden change of behaviour, but responded nonetheless. “Oh I don’t know, probably…” you looked James up and down, slowly taking in his form.

“Someone tall and athletic. I definitely prefer kind boys, but he can have a little mischief to him. Probably someone with darker hair- make that curly dark hair. Light brown eyes have always caught my fancy, oh! And I love a good pair of glasses, especially when they come with a big brain and a handsome face behind them.”

James was only inches away from your face now, his small smile had grown into a stretching, flirtatious grin, smirking at you with red cheeks. His hair was curling around his smitten face as he bent to meet your eyes, forearms crossed and resting on the table.

Three mouths hung open at the explicit display of attraction in front of them, eyes sliding back and forth between you and James, as if following a thread of affection forming between you two.

“Well, are there any boys on your list that might…match that description?” Peter squeaked to break the tense silence. You held James’ gaze in your own, smiling innocently at the boy like you hadn’t just made his entire week.

“There is one, he’s my primary suspect. Though, I’m not sure there’s much evidence to prove it’s him sending me the letters…” You broke his gaze, finally looking around at the other curious faces surrounding you. “It could just be wishful thinking.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

After finally making some productive efforts to study, you and the boys began claiming your belongings that were scattered across the table and making your way to dinner.

Walking down the hallway, James matched your pace and gazed at you through his thick lenses. “So, I know you and your friends normally sit at the end of the table during meals, but we were wondering if you lot wanted to sit with us tonight,” he quickly explained as the Great Hall came into view. “I…we really enjoy your company, and honestly we regret not befriending you sooner.”

Remus and Sirius had their backs turned to you and James, though you had a feeling they were quietly giggling together at his attempted invite. “Only if your friends agree, of course! No pressure…” he trailed off, looking anywhere but your eyes as his constant fear of rejection returned and sparked nervousness in his unsure voice.

“I’d love to sit with you! I mean, all of you. I’ll grab my friends,” you replied as the doors to the hall opened and you made your way inside.

“Brilliant.”

Scurrying over to your friends, you cleared your throat and made your announcement. “My dearest, loyal companions. For one night, and one night only…can we PLEASE sit with the Marauders? I think James and I are really making some progress here and they’re honestly not that bad!” Ok, maybe more of a blurted confession than an announcement, but the intention was there.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it, if it means so much to one of my best friends. But what happened to the Gryffindor ego that seems to follow those boys around everywhere they go?” Charlie asked, a tinge of confusion lacing her giggling voice.

“I haven’t quite figured that bit out yet, but I think there’s more to them than meets the eye. They’re actually quite lovely,” you explained, watching your friends slowly stand from their places at the table and fall into step with you, plates in hand, agreeing in their trust of your judgement.

“You know,” Hope whispered as you approached the group, “I’m really proud of you. You’re opening up, it’s refreshing to see. And you’re starting to convince me that this house might actually be not so bad, after all. You’re really brave.”

You grinned at the girl, arm taking her shoulders in your grasp and squeezing in appreciation. “That means a lot, Hope, thank you.”

“Hey! We didn’t think you’d come!” Remus exclaimed as the three of you piled into the space saved next to James. “Although, James did get you a plate of food in anticipation.”

You glanced at the boy’s bashful smile, then down at the plate he placed in front of you. Charlie, Hope, and the remaining Marauders shared knowing looks.

“Oh! This is my favourite! How did you-“

“I see you take a serving every night-“

“Thank you, Jamie, you’re so kind…”

The nickname came to you naturally as your rambling distracted you from considering what you were saying. His cheeks glowed with that familiar red tint, grinning at you with squinted eyes and a puffed chest.

The conversation carried naturally between James’ friends and your own, all giggling and smiling at each other’s witty remarks. As the night continued, you found yourself slowly leaning more into James, a service to his heart which he gratefully accepted with open arms.

His arm moved to rest across your back, hand pressed into the seat beside you and inching you slightly forward on your chair, a position that almost mimicked an embrace without being too daring.

You felt warm near his toned chest, glancing at him affectionately every now and then. You missed every time he glanced back with that same lovesick expression.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask! Seeing as we have a curfew for the next few days, and the History of Magic assignment is due next week, I thought you might want to pop by our dorm to study sometime.” Remus had been such a supportive new friend towards you over the past few days, intentional or not, so you nodded eagerly at his proposition.

Walking back to your dorm after a long dinner filled with laughs and smiles, you and your friends wished the others goodnight as you parted ways. Your eyes lingered on James, as his did you, before turning to your group with a smile. The silence only lasted a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD HE’S OBSESSED WITH YOU!”

“Charlie! Keep your voice down!”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James started jogging to keep up with Peter and Sirius as they left the grounds of Hogwarts. Escaping the school was a three man job, much to James’ disappointment. Remus was left in the dorm to study with you, meaning he was obligated to join the trip. What could be more important than spending time with you?

“C’mon, Prongs, head up! You can get some sweets to woo her with on our way back,” Sirius reassured him. The days spent studying with you meant the group had missed the school allowed trip to Hogsmeade, something James insisted would be worth sacrificing every butterbeer for.

“We’ll be quick, I promise! You know I can’t survive without sugar in my system!” Sirius continued rambling as the three entered Honeydukes just before closing.

James quickly gathered a bag of chocolate frogs, buying way too many for just one person so he’d have an excuse for offering them to you. They quickly payed and dashed out of the store as the workers began to turn off the lights and lock the doors.

The walk back to Hogwarts was cold and windy, but James didn’t care. He’d get to spend time with you in the comfort of his own room, all the people he cared the most about in one place. He was planning how he would confess to you on the way back, playing out every scenario in his mind.

The best case in his imagination was simply holding up a blue envelope, wiggling his eyebrows, and grinning at you like a fool while you jumped into his arms and kissed him to death.

James had a stupid look of burning adoration on his face as the three finally entered the common room and headed to their dorm.

“Honey, I’m home!” Sirius called to Remus as he opened the door. “We brought necessary supplies and-“ He was cut short by the sight in front of him. Slowly, he inched further into the room, rounding the corner and letting Peter in with a gasp. Peter then made room for James in the doorway, glancing at him with sympathy.

The chocolate frogs dropped to the floor.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The night was quiet in the Marauders’ dorm room. Remus had taken his seat on his bed as you were sat at his desk. The soft scribbling sounds of pen against paper filled the otherwise silent space as the two of you enjoyed the warmth of your newfound friendship.

After a few hours of comparing notes, quizzing each other, and chatting about your friends, Remus stood from his bed. “I might go get changed and wash up, you need anything?”

You glanced at your almost empty pot of ink, then to the fading pigment leaking from your quill. “Do you have any spare ink?”

“I don’t have any, but James definitely would. He wouldn’t mind you using it, Merlin, he’d probably thank you for touching his possessions. Try his desk over there,” he nodded across the room, leaving you to search for supplies with a chuckle.

Moving to James’ desk, you carefully shifted through his neatly organised stationary. Textbooks lined the point where the desk met the wall, and you spotted an unopened bottle of ink right next to the stack.

As you reached for the bottle, you noticed something sticking out of the closest textbook, one for your shared Potions class. The paper was dusted in a light blue shade.

You shouldn’t look through other people’s belongings, you thought, and bit back the curiosity nipping at your integrity.

You turned back to Remus’ desk, ink in hand, knocking the textbooks over in the process.

“Godric! So clumsy…” you mumbled, picking up two textbooks, a few pages of notes and…a baby blue envelope.

You stared at the material in your hand, brain refusing to believe what your heart knew to be true. Your eyes slowly drifted from the envelope in one hand to the notes in the other. The stationary, the handwriting, the nervous interactions…it all made sense.

“Honey, I’m home! We brought necessary supplies and-“ Your eyes met the source of the sound, Sirius standing in the doorway with his mouth agape. He slowly entered the room, followed by Peter, then by James.

Your face glowed with a guilty expression as James dropped his most recent purchase. You stared at him in confusion, which he returned with a look of embarrassment. You then remembered to address the elephant in the room: the envelope in your hand.

“Oh, Merlin, James- I’m so sorry! I ran out of ink and Remus said you wouldn’t mind if I used yours while he went to wash up, so I took it and knocked over all your books in the process, it slid out and I didn’t know what to do, it’s all my fault! I’m so sorry, I didn’t want it to happen like this…”

James’ expression shifted sympathetically at your rambling, composing himself and moving closer to your worried form. The other boys quietly walked back out of the room, giving you some privacy as they shut the door behind them.

“No, darling, don’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault,” he said with faltering confidence, “I meant to tell you, I really did. I was going to talk to you after my next Quidditch match - assuming we would win - because I needed the confidence to tell you. I’m so sorry, love, I really am. I hope you aren’t…disappointed…” he looked at his shoes, voice nothing more than a whisper.

“Did you mean it?”

“W-what?”

“Everything you wrote to me, did you mean it?” You clarified, a hopeful feeling washing over you. James gulped, shifting his weight between his feet as he blushed harder than ever before. “I meant every word.” It came out as a hoarse whisper as he choked on his nerves.

“Good, because I really like you, James. I honestly always have and I hadn’t even said a word to you until this year- But I desperately wanted to believe you were behind all of this, because I think you’re so charming and smart and, surprisingly, very kind.” You caught your breath after your confession, heart racing as a proud, self-assured smile emerged on your otherwise shy face.

Silence fell upon the room. You searched each other’s gaze for any evidence of ingenuity or doubt. You found none. James eventually made a sound from his parted lips.

“Willyougooutwithme!?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

AN: Oh my god this is a long one! But you KNOW I had to make some serious progress on this relationship >:3 I hope this reveal hit the spot! I’m going to be a bit busy over the next few days but I’ll definitely try to post the next part ASAP (as soon as I’ve written it ;-;) Again I’d just like to say thank you so much for all the love on this series! This is my first real writing project in a while so it’s been a blessing to have so much support so early on in my blog’s lifetime <3 Be sure to comment to be added to the tag list and like/reblog if you enjoyed!!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Tag List:

@1-queenofpotatoes-1

@caspiankingofnarnia

@thesuitelifeofafangirl

@moonydoodlez

@fionnalopez

@kawaiiarbitervoid

@kc2sstuff

@rafeyswrd

@mads12043

@spicybearnaise

@ch3rry-vine

@probabydeadbynow

@ilovejamespottersomuch

@mqg125

@sofiacblair

[royaltea000]

I’ve never felt so conflicted about a franchise in my life but at least this dude was hot

[treason-and-plot]

Roy takes a lot more care than usual choosing what to wear before he goes downstairs to join Anya, but he needs the time to steady his nerves and to think. He hopes the lump in his stomach can be dissolved with a couple of beers. Not too many, because he needs to keep his wits about him. He cannot underestimate Anya, that much he realises. She may be young and lacking in life experience, but her intuition is as sharp as her cheekbones.

She is waiting for him on the black leather couch, staring at the news on the TV. The volume is so low he can barely make out what the news anchor is saying. He goes to the fridge and grabs a beer and sits down next to her.

“You took a while getting changed,” she says.

“I couldn’t find my socks,” he says, taking a long swig from his beer bottle. ”I think the maid is getting our laundry confused. Do you know if you have any of my my socks in your sock drawer?”

“I’ll have a look,” she says.”But I think we have more important things to discuss right now than socks, Roy.”

She shoots him a reproving look. He tries to look appropriately sombre.

“Why were you so weird and evasive when I tried to talk to you about Dad?” she says. “It really confused and hurt me, Roy. I needed you to be there for me and….you let me down. I was completely devastated and it was like you didn’t even care. What Dad did nearly tore my family apart. Don’t you get that? I mean, you’re supposed to be my partner, my emotional support in times of crisis. And now I feel like….I don’t know. Like I can’t rely on you. I just feel like...you’re not the person I thought you were.”

[cloveroctobers]

CUT TIES — Terry Richmond [Fall Crumbles] 🤎

A/N: There’s enough Terry to go around right? This is inspired by two things…OFC a song + taking another chance at writing something influenced by Love is Blind. Who saw that wasteful reunion?! Anyways that is what this is so get ready for angst.

WARNINGS: Reference to a intimate moment but a line at best?

જ⁀➴ ༄ જ⁀➴ ༄ જ⁀➴ ༄ જ⁀➴ ༄ જ⁀➴ ༄ જ

11:32pm

FROM: T. Richmond

I Need To Hear Your Voice…Can You Call Me?

Was the text message he sent you, which made you let out a long exhale.

11:43pm

TO: T. Richmond

I’m at work T [Deleted] Terry.

11:44pm

FROM: T. Richmond

I’m Aware. I’ll Feel Better When I Hear Your Voice…And I Know You’re Probably Saying That I’ve Got A lot Of Nerve To Say That To You Right Now…Yet This Will Always Be True, No Matter How Things Ended.

You were glad Terry can acknowledge that he did in fact have nerve requesting a call from you, when the both of you already had that final closure conversation weeks ago…however here he was back again, entering your life whenever he pleases.

Picking up your phone, after watching it ring for a while you debated about letting it go to voicemail honestly. You really didn’t need to hear many more angles about whatever situation Terry got fucked over in. Things seemed to be going well lately though, at least that’s what he tried to portray on social media…which was also new for him.

Always the type of man to be lowkey and out the way but after the exposure of being contestants on a certain love show, he stepped out just a little. It was never too much, Terry wasn’t the type of man to be in your face about his blessings but if things went south, then he had no problem stepping to you if common ground couldn’t be located.

“Hey,” He starts, his deep tone sounded as if he was ready to go to sleep, possibly lying down, whereas you were wired on your night shift, “Sorry for bothering you—

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but to let it slip through your lips, “Are you though?”

He hummed, “Nope, can’t say that I am, to be real with you.”

“Well, can’t ever say you failed at honesty.” You replied with a hint of sarcasm which made Terry chuckle humorlessly, “What’s up? What was so important that you needed to be on my hotline right now?”

It was Terry’s turn to roll his natural underlined eyes but he’s not trying to pick a fight or even think about you with someone else, “…the house is too quiet and I couldn’t sleep. The first person I wanted to talk to, to ease the loud silence…is you. I believe that’s how it’s always gon’ be.”

Not long after you called it quits, Terry closed on a house that he’s been eyeing long before he decided to go on the show. It was meant to be if they couldn’t get it sold. He of course talked to you about it once you were out of the pods, saying how some rooms needed Reno and asked your thoughts on if that could be your main home once married. Thankful that you already had your home that you owned at such a young age, You spoke about how much you already invested in your home and how you had no plans of selling just yet even if you two chose to get married.

Which isn’t something that he wanted you to do but questioned how this would work. He wasn’t down with sleeping in separate houses, although Terry knew it would take time to get everything right, the house he bought was livable and he wanted that with you.

Something that Terry always admired about you is, that you had your own mind and drive to do what you felt was best for you. He respected it, had to really learn how to when you said you two needed to put some distance between you after a final argument got too heated.

“…I’m sure you’ll get used to it at some point.”

“I don’t know if I agree with that.”

Terry listened to you sigh.

“I’m going to say something you won’t want to hear but I’m saying it anyway,” you start as you lightly flick your feathered pen back and forth at the desk, “You’re going to have to get comfortable being alone in that house, Terry. I know you’ve been used to being a lone wolf majority of the time…but you officially settled somewhere now and you’re building a life outside of the danger you once knew. Which I’m proud of by the way but you’re going to have to start finding comfort elsewhere or with yourself because I’m not going to provide that to you anymore.”

Terry was afraid that you were going to say this one day. Usually you both were good at having balance when your relationship was solid, giving each other the space needed and showing up when needed. Everything just took a turn once the chaos showed up again at Terry and his cousin, Mike’s business. This was the first time Terry ever lied to you and that came at multiple costs. It blew up in his face because leaving you in the dark and not communicating with his fiancée? led to being stalked and a home invasion that still haunted you.

Terry would always be sorry for that.

From bliss to passion to heat to closure to yearning. It was all stages of what this relationship was, for Terry it was the process of your love story whereas for you, it was part of your origin story.

“What if I say…I’m finding that’s not what I really want?” Terry speaks, “…That I don’t see much of a future without you in it? We talked through that hurdle, we wished each other the best after the reunion but what if that’s not enough for me? What if we’re each other’s best?“

This was another side you predicted would happen. One thing about you is, your mind was always turning just like the earth spinning on its axis. Which took another turn in your argument, speculating things that weren’t true once you found out that Terry lied about some new men targeting him. You predicted that once you both tried to move on and live without each other, the other would crack. It happened before, a month after the reunion when his aunt invited you to her forty-fifth birthday party. Your friends told you not to go and that night made you weak for Terry Richmond.

So weak you couldn’t feel your legs for days, Terry knew your body so well, had no problem burrying himself deep downstairs in his aunt’s basement, green hues trained only on you, while having your legs in the perfect V over his shoulders, and that man was a mountain.

A dangerous one.

Now it was your turn to fully stand on business and the year was coming to a close so you didn’t need Terry to find new ways in.

That was supposed to be understood but you both fumbled that at the party.

You had enough time to figure out what was best. Of course you experienced the what if’s yourself, been as loyal as they came but a structured life of constantly looking over your shoulder was just not it to you. To no longer feel safe with the man you thought you would grow old with. Now you had the world weighing in on what they’ve seen on their tv’s and online—you can handle challenges—you worked as a nurse on the oncology floor, however you have to be smart enough to realize when it was too much and that was enough to walk away.

“At a time we were,” you finally answered before reassuring, “Everything you’re feeling is valid. I hear you. I’ve been there and got through that. You will too.”

Terry’s silence was as potent on the phone as what he probably felt like the inside of his home was. The scratching of the branch that was too close to his bedroom window was similar to the clawing you were doing to his heart. He didn’t want to lose you for good, call him selfish but he didn’t want to just forget the unique connection you built.

Although he felt disrespected with the way you spoke (yelled) to (at) him during your breaking point, he was willing to come back and work through it but ultimately it felt like there was no trust there anymore. Terry did feel like you were looking for a way out because you two were “too” good together, unfortunately this was too big of a situation to come back from.

The stubborn one out of the two, Terry can sense that you already had your mind made up. Two tough conversations were had, one behind the scenes and another for streamers to dissect and formulate their own opinions on, should have been enough but Terry always kept his cards close. You were his most precious one, yet you were telling him how to store it away back into the deck for good.

“Is this really what you want? To fully walk away?”

A hint of annoyance hits you and could be felt as you start, “We went over this—

“So us going two rounds that day meant nothing?”

Sure it did.

“Terry that was goodbye, you had to have known that. The last hurrah. So let me make it clear this time without raising my voice because I know you hate that—and I’ve been working on it—I’m cutting ties.”

Half expecting the line to go dead, you still find yourself holding your breath as the quiet goes deadly silent. Until you hear shuffling on the other end, Terry’s sitting up on the edge of the bed now, feeling a stress headache arrive right on both sides of his temples which then radiate to the back of his neck.

“I don’t want this to come off the wrong way…but I love you. I need you to know that.”

That was obvious but again, sometimes love isn’t enough.

“Don’t do that.”

“What’s that?”

“Trying to find other angles to make this work. We tried after the big argument—that spark isn’t the same and would never be the same.”

Terry huffs, “Maybe we didn’t try hard enough.”

Grasping at straws, was not necessarily in Terry’s nature. He also knew that statement was just not true. Both of you put your hearts on the line and this was something the both of you would have never taken so lightly.

“…don’t let your loneliness overshadow what can’t be managed. We been made our decision but this is me finally enforcing a boundary.” You inhale air through your teeth before continuing, “You are headstrong, very structured and lived a life that I know nothing about if it comes knocking at our door again. What happens if we brought kids into that? It’s not that I don’t believe you couldn’t keep us safe, it’s the fact that our lives would always be at risk even if it’s not something you intentionally brought to the table.”

“We take risks every time we step out the door. That’s what life is,” Terry tried to reason, “I tried to leave the life I lived prior behind me, which is why I like to keep to myself and not open up. You changed that. I know we’ve been over this countless of times…I just don’t know if I’m ready to completely cut the rope. To never have you around is…a scary thought.”

In a minute, it wouldn’t just be a thought.

“It’ll be as if before we met. I’m not saying it’s easy by any means but I’ve accepted the art of letting go. Ending access to each other for real this time, does not automatically mean we never loved each other or there isn’t any more love there. If we fell back into each other, it would be a repeat of all the pieces we wouldn’t want to live with. It’ll be hard to fake and deal with.”

“Deal with?” Terry echoed in a tone that oozed frustration, “I’d be willing to be a team.”

“Then why wasn’t that taken into consideration when those men shot up your business? Or me being stalked by one of those men at work? Then being followed home.” You felt your blood pressure rising at what you thought you forgave—but everything is a process, “Or when Summer and I went out to lunch, just to find out that she knew about the drive by before I did? Or how I almost got ran over on purpose in the parking garage at work? That didn’t feel like team work. I was in the dark when we needed to continue to be a piece of each other’s light from the damn sun rays. Being the last to know often, did not make me feel like a priority. I feel like that part of you, you wanted to shield me from all the time…so now I’m going to be a shield on my terms.”

Terry Richmond never wanted to be responsible for changing the trajectory of someone’s entire life in a negative way. Although you said the love shared wouldn’t just vanish, it did feel like you thought about it and had time to sit on it.

He could make this easy and give you what you wanted, should have and it was once something he actually agreed to. However people change their minds all the time and he never saw himself falling out of love with you.

It wasn’t about being trained, it was about being in love.

He clears his throat, “I had no intentions on making this conversation out to be difficult…I knew I’d get push back, it’s one of the things I love about you,” Terry says, “I just wanted to let you know that I miss you, that your voice is actually what makes me feel safe and probably always will. And that I hope I’d get the chance to love you more in every lifetime. That was part of what I wrote to you in our vows by the way and I still stand by those words. If I had more time, those words would be actions. I’d make up for it, if you just let me.”

Him saying that over the phone, did make you feel a way. It made the back of your eyes burn but the shield was already in the works of being fully up. You didn’t need to hear this, you never doubted Terry’s love for you but it was over, you had the scissors slowly running along what kept you connected. Terry didn’t get the choice to go back on the agreement, yes people change their minds all the time but there was no time to compromise.

“There’s no use in crying over spilled milk, Terry.” Is all you can say, leaving each other to listen to each other’s breathing before the man is finally hit with the call ending.

He’s left holding on tightly to his phone, taking in the sound of autumn’s whipping air outside of his home. Tossing the phone behind him on the bed, Terry gets to his feet, determination shining his in his eyes while he begins to put his mind elsewhere opposed to holding onto you.

As you sat at the front desk, you snapped out of the dissociation that wanted to creep in, to place your phone on charge. Then grabbed onto some scissors returning back to the craft project you were working on to help decorate this level of the hospital for the holidays.

Snip!

જ⁀➴ ༄ જ⁀➴ ༄ જ⁀➴ ༄ જ⁀➴ ༄ જ⁀➴ ༄ જ

More autumn anthology prompts here.

[act-nat-ural]

Something’s Different

When Shoyo had gotten back from his time in Brazil, he was… different. Yes, he had improved in his volleyball skills and had somehow gotten even more outgoing, but it wasn’t just that. He had changed… physically. He was significantly tanner than before, and if he lifted his arms the right way you could see his tan line peek out and tease you. He had also gotten a bit of a growth spurt, growing into himself. But what stood out to you the most? His muscles.

Currently, you two are supposed to be catching up after years apart, but you can't bring yourself to listen to a word he says. You watch entranced as his thighs flex as he bounces his leg, or his throat moves when he gulps down his drink, or when he moves his arms enthusiastically when he talks-

“Are you still listening?” He teases with a smile. Shit.

“Of course I am.” You chuckle and try to collect yourself. His eyes crinkle as he grins even wider and he rests his arms behind his head. Oh lord.

“Suuure. What's got you so distracted?” He asks curiously. You blink and try to come up with an excuse, face burning slightly, but he suddenly leans forward. You make a less-than-flattering sound and jump backwards.

“What the heck, Shoyo?!”

“You have something on your face. There!” He gives a cheeky grin and wipes a nonexistent crumb off your face. You blink, still flustered from his sudden movement. He’s laughing now, that carefree sound you remember so well, but there's something different in the way his eyes sparkle—more confident, teasing. You try to steady your breath, but it’s hard when your heart won’t stop racing.

“Y-You didn’t have to—”

“Just making sure you’re not too distracted, y'know?” he says, voice playful, but there's something else in his expression—something you can't quite place. "What’s going on with you? You’re acting a little… off."

"I’m fine," you mutter quickly, still trying to play it cool. But inside, you're completely off balance. You can't stop staring at his arms as he leans back again, the muscles there moving so effortlessly, his shirt stretching slightly. It’s a casual, carefree motion, but it makes your breath catch in your throat.

He raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he knows something you don’t want him to know. "Uh-huh. Sure you are." His tone is light, but there’s that little bit of mischief in his eyes—like he’s waiting for you to crack, to admit something that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

You wish you could focus. You wish you could just relax and catch up with him, like you’d imagined for years. But instead, you're stuck in this loop where all your thoughts seem to orbit around him, around the way he’s changed. The way he moves, the way he talks, the way he looks at you now.

"Come on," he says, breaking through your spiraling thoughts. He leans forward again, his eyes fixed on you with such intensity it’s almost like he's daring you to say what’s really on your mind. "Something's definitely up."

You swallow hard, nerves bubbling up. Your heart is pounding, and suddenly the room feels too small. It's just the two of you, but it feels like there’s a distance between you that wasn’t there before. The time apart, the changes, all of it feels too much to process in one sitting.

Without thinking, you blurt, “You look different.”

He blinks, a flash of surprise in his eyes, and then he chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Is that so? I mean, I guess I did get a little taller and, uh, bulkier…” His grin widens, clearly proud of the changes, and you can’t help but notice the way his chest expands as he laughs.

But you’re not just talking about that. You’re talking about the way he carries himself, the confidence that’s oozing from him now, in a way that’s both familiar and new. He used to be all energy and charm, bouncing around and smiling like nothing could keep him down. Now, he’s grounded, somehow, with a quiet intensity that pulls you in even more.

"That's not what I mean," you say, your voice quieter this time, softer. You’re not sure if you want to say the words out loud, but they slip out anyway. "I mean… you’ve changed. In a way that’s more than just, well, physical.”

His eyes flicker with understanding, and for the first time since you’ve been sitting here, his playful grin falters just a little. He leans back again, but this time there’s a more thoughtful look on his face.

“I get it,” he says softly, nodding once. “I guess a lot has changed, huh?”

You nod in return, relieved that he seems to understand. But at the same time, you feel that knot in your stomach tightens. There’s something unspoken between you two now—something that neither of you has addressed, but you can both feel it hanging there, suspended in the air.

The conversation drifts, and for a moment, you both sit in silence. It’s a comfortable silence, though, one where the tension between you slowly starts to ease. You’re not sure how long it lasts, but eventually, you find yourself laughing at something he said, and his infectious grin returns.

But this time, when his eyes meet yours, there’s a new layer of warmth in them, something that wasn’t there before. And just like that, the world seems to fall into place again. You’re still nervous, still unsure of where this new version of him—of you—fits into everything. But for the first time since he came back, it feels like maybe things could work out after all. Shoyo shifts closer from across the table, resting his fingers against yours in a way that doesn’t feel like an accident. He’s still the same Shoyo you remember, but somehow, you feel like you're seeing him in a new light.

“You know,” he says, voice dropping a little lower, “I’m really glad we’re hanging out again. I missed you.”

Your breath hitches, but you turn to look at him, offering a small, shy smile. "I missed you too, Shoyo."

He grins back, his eyes softening. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe this isn’t just about catching up anymore. Maybe it’s about something more. He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he gives you a playful wink and leans in, just enough to make your heart skip. It’s a little daring, but you don’t pull away.

You have no idea where this is headed, but for once, you don’t really mind.

[throwaway-things]

In the silence

The gentle hum of the BAU office buzzed around you, blending with the rhythmic typing of keyboards and the occasional murmur of conversation. You sat at your desk, your heart betraying a steady pace as you stole a glance at Spencer Reid. He was absorbed in a file, his brows furrowed in concentration, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. You admired how his mind seemed to race, faster than anyone else’s, solving problems in a way that felt almost magical. And yet, as brilliant as he was, you could never imagine him knowing your secret.

You had been harboring feelings for Spencer for longer than you cared to admit. The connection, at least on your side, had grown deeper over time. He was kind, intelligent, and so utterly unaware of the effect he had on you. You were careful—so careful—never to give any hint, knowing that revealing how you felt could change everything. Your heart was fragile enough without risking his rejection.

But Spencer Reid was not like everyone else. He saw things others missed, read people like they were open books. And though you had perfected the art of hiding, you knew, deep down, that no secret was safe from him forever.

One afternoon, while working together on a particularly difficult case, you noticed Spencer watching you out of the corner of your eye. It wasn’t the usual friendly glance, but something more intense. You tried to ignore it, focused on your work, but the sensation of being scrutinized sent your nerves into overdrive.

"Are you okay?" His voice startled you, gentle yet probing. You looked up to find his eyes—those deep, observant eyes—studying you. He wasn’t just asking if you were tired or stressed. It felt like he was asking about something deeper, something unspoken.

"Yeah," you replied quickly, too quickly. "Just focused on the case."

But Spencer didn't let it go. "You've been… different lately," he said softly, almost to himself. "Your body language, the way you avoid eye contact sometimes, the way your voice changes when you're talking to me— its noticeable"

Your heart stopped. He was analyzing you. You’d been so careful, so guarded, and yet, in that moment, you realized it was pointless. Spencer Reid had already figured it out.

"I… I don’t know what you mean," you lied, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of control. But the tremble in your voice gave you away. Spencer leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"You don’t have to say anything," he said, his tone so calm, so gentle. "I know."

It was like the world shifted beneath your feet. The secret you had carried for so long, that you had convinced yourself could never be known, was out in the open. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly terrified. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. You refused to cry in front of him.

Spencer shifted awkwardly in his seat, his face flushed with discomfort. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice soft but laden with regret. "I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. If I’ve done anything to make you feel—" He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. "I care about you, but… not in the way you might want."

The words hit like a physical blow. You were mortified, frozen in place as the blood rushed to your cheeks. Your worst fear had just materialized—he had figured it out, and now he was apologizing. It was worse than any rejection you had ever imagined.

"I—" you stammered, the words dying in your throat as shame engulfed you. You had never meant for him to know. You had never intended to put him in this position, to make things awkward or uncomfortable. But now, there you were, standing in the aftermath of something you had desperately tried to avoid.

Your heart broke, a quiet shattering that left you feeling hollow. Spencer was kind, as you always knew he would be, but it didn’t soften the pain. If anything, it made it worse. His apology wasn’t cruel, but it was final. You wished you could disappear, that you could take back every lingering look, every subtle sign you thought you had hidden so well.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice barely audible. You couldn't bear to look at him, the embarrassment too overwhelming. "I… I never meant for you to find out. I never wanted you to know."

Spencer’s brow furrowed, and for a brief second, you thought you saw a flicker of empathy in his eyes. "You don’t have to apologize," he said gently. "I just don’t want you to feel hurt because of me."

But you did feel hurt. Hurt, ashamed, and humiliated. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry, not to let him see how devastated you were.

Before you could respond, the door to the conference room opened abruptly. Hotch stood there, clipboard in hand, looking between you and Spencer with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Briefing in five," he said, his tone all business as usual. "We’ve got a new case."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. This was your escape. The interruption couldn’t have come at a better time.

"Thanks, Hotch," you mumbled, quickly rising from your seat and gathering your things. You didn’t dare look back at Spencer, afraid that any more eye contact might make your carefully held composure shatter completely.

As you stepped past Hotch, you could feel Spencer’s eyes following you, but you kept walking, grateful that the professional nature of the job had given you a way out. You needed distance—space to breathe, to process what had just happened without falling apart in front of him.

The hallway seemed longer than usual, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence. You blinked back the burning sensation in your eyes, your breath unsteady as you hurried toward the briefing room. There was no time to fall apart now. Work was calling, and you had to focus.

When you entered the room, you were greeted by the usual buzz of the team preparing for the case. Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were already seated, chatting about something you couldn’t quite focus on. You forced a smile and took a seat next to JJ, trying to look as though nothing was wrong, as though your heart wasn’t still aching from the conversation with Spencer.

“Hey, you okay?” JJ asked quietly, giving you a gentle nudge.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. "Yeah, just... a long day."

She smiled sympathetically, but thankfully didn’t press further. You were grateful. The last thing you needed was more questions when you were barely holding it together.

Moments later, Spencer entered the room, taking a seat across from you. You could feel his presence immediately, your pulse quickening as you glanced down at your notes, doing everything you could to avoid looking at him. He, too, seemed more reserved than usual, his expression unreadable as he set his file down.

Hotch began the briefing, and for the next hour, you did your best to focus on the case. It was difficult—your thoughts kept wandering back to Spencer, to his apology, to the crushing embarrassment of knowing that he was aware of your feelings. Every time he spoke, the sound of his voice sent a pang of sadness through your chest, a reminder of what could never be.

The following days passed in a blur. You immersed yourself in the case, using work as an escape from the overwhelming swirl of emotions you were struggling to contain. You avoided Spencer as much as possible, though it became increasingly difficult with every passing moment. The BAU was a tight-knit team, and it was impossible not to interact with him. Each time you had to speak to him or work alongside him, the tension was palpable, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging between you like an invisible barrier.

Spencer, for his part, remained kind and professional. He didn’t treat you any differently, but the subtle shift in your dynamic was undeniable. He seemed more cautious, more distant, as if he, too, was trying to navigate the awkwardness without making things worse. You wondered if he regretted saying anything at all—if he wished he had kept his analysis to himself.

But it didn’t matter now. The damage was done, and you were left picking up the pieces of your broken heart in silence.

--

Late one evening, after another long day of avoiding eye contact and burying your emotions in paperwork, you found yourself alone in the office. The dim lighting and quiet hum of the computer were a welcome respite from the chaos of the case, but your mind kept drifting back to Spencer. You had tried to push your feelings aside, to forget about that conversation, but it was impossible. The pain lingered, raw and unrelenting.

Just as you were about to pack up and leave, the sound of footsteps approached from behind. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice was soft, tentative.

You inhaled sharply, your heart racing. "Hey," you replied, keeping your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, pretending to be busy.

There was a long pause. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. Part of you wanted him to leave, to let the silence stretch between you until things faded back into some semblance of normalcy. But another part of you—one you hated to admit—wanted him to stay.

“I, uh… I just wanted to check on you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. "I’ve noticed you’ve been… distant lately."

You let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face him. “Distant? Yeah, well… I guess I thought that might be for the best.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, his expression filled with concern. "I don’t want things to be like this," he admitted. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Spencer looked at you, his eyes filled with that same empathy, and it only made things harder. "I understand if you need space," he said softly. "But I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid me."

But you weren’t ready for this conversation. You weren’t ready to confront the tangled mess of emotions that had been suffocating you for days. You couldn’t handle Spencer’s kindness, not now. Not when the wound was still so fresh.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice a little too sharp, a little too defensive. You turned back to the papers on your desk, pretending to be engrossed in work. "There’s nothing to talk about."

Spencer hesitated, clearly not buying your attempt to brush things off. "I know this has been difficult—"

“Spencer, I said I’m fine.” The words came out harsher than you intended, and you winced at the coldness in your tone. You couldn’t look at him, not now, not when the shame was still burning in your chest.

There was a long, tense silence. You could feel his eyes on you, searching for something, but you kept your gaze glued to the papers in front of you, refusing to meet his. You wanted this conversation to be over, for him to stop trying to dissect your feelings like they were just another puzzle to solve.

"I don’t want to push," Spencer said quietly, taking a small step back. "But I can tell you’re struggling. If there’s anything I’ve done—"

“Spencer, please,” you cut him off, your voice almost pleading now. "Let’s just leave it."

You didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t want to give any hint of what was really going on. You were desperate to keep everything vague and impersonal, to avoid the emotional discussion that was weighing on you. You needed him to walk away, to let the moment pass without probing further.

Spencer stood there, clearly not fully convinced but respecting your wish to drop the subject. "Okay," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "If that’s what you need."

You nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "Yes, that’s what I need."

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your unspoken truth hanging in the air. You could feel his disappointment, the unspoken tension that lingered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face it. Admitting how you really felt would only make things worse. It would only prolong the pain, and you couldn’t afford that.

Spencer lingered for a moment longer, as if he was about to say something else, but then he nodded quietly. "I’ll let you get back to work," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You simply kept your eyes down, waiting for the sound of his footsteps retreating as he left the room. When the door finally closed behind him, you exhaled sharply, the tension in your body releasing all at once.

You felt sick. Sick with the weight of your own unspoken truth, sick with the realization that you had just pushed him away. The idea of him knowing—of him seeing how much it hurt—was unbearable.

And so, you sat there in the empty office, your heart heavy with the truth you couldn’t bring yourself to say, knowing that, in the end, you were only hurting yourself more.

--

The following days were still a struggle. You continued to immerse yourself in work, using it as a way to avoid confronting your feelings. Spencer was courteous but distant, respecting your need for space. Every time you saw him, the old familiarity was tainted by the unspoken tension.

One afternoon, as you were sorting through case files in the bullpen, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to find Spencer standing there, a hesitant look on his face.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Do you have a minute?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding. “Sure, what’s up?”

Spencer took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever want to talk. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. The sincerity in his voice was both comforting and heartbreaking. You had spent so much time trying to distance yourself from him, but here he was, offering support in the most genuine way.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really appreciate that.”

He smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Anytime.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with a mixture of relief and melancholy. You realized that while you couldn’t bring yourself to discuss your feelings openly, knowing that Spencer cared enough to offer support was a small comfort. It was a reminder that even though things had changed, there was still kindness and understanding between you.

As you went about your work, the ache in your heart was still there, but it was slightly eased by the knowledge that you didn’t have to go through it entirely alone. The journey of healing would take time, but Spencer’s gesture gave you a glimmer of hope that, perhaps, things might eventually find a way back to a semblance of normalcy.