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trashytracktales · 1 month ago

Note

I absolutely love your writing!!!!!! I have a bit of a longer request, you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to.

Lando and y/n meet through a mutual friend, and they both feel an immediate attraction. A few months later, they’re on a group trip—maybe at a beach villa or a mountain house for skiing. One day during the trip, they both decide to stay in, each thinking they’re alone.

Lando, believing he has the place to himself, starts masturbating on the sofa in the living room. Around the same time, y/n comes into the living room, planning to watch TV. She spots Lando on the sofa but doesn’t immediately realize what he’s doing as she was behind the sofa and a few steps away —until he moans her name. She kind of hides herself and spies on him until she gets enough courage and goes to him and asks him if she can help him and basically she goes on her knees right in front of him and starts sucking him off and he’s so surprised and turned on that he doesn’t know what to say or do other than moan her name and praise her

Deep in the Alps | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Sorry for keeping you waiting, I had a few works in progress + another request that came in before this one. Enjoy 🤍🎀

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𐙚 summary ──── What begins as a private moment turns into something unexpected and, with a few days of vacation left, Lando is determined to make every moment count, setting the stage for an unforgettable getaway that blurs the lines between friendship and something far more... exciting.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, slight fluff & smut, teasing, explicit language, horny thoughts, masturbation, blow job & oral sex ─ (m)receiving, low-key whiney Lando.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.1k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 2, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── The amount of Lando requests I get is stupid. Keep 'em coming 🤞🏻

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OF ALL THE people in his friend group, Lando looked forward to winter break the most. He loves summer, but nothing compares to a holiday deep in the Alps, away from cameras and prying eyes.

Their cabin is covered in a generous layer of snow that glimmers like a sea of diamonds under the pale winter sun. The air is crisp and cold, and everyone is excited for today, considering how much it snowed last night.

The group dynamic is diverse, having friendships that have been inseparable for years, while others are still navigating the early stages of familiarity.

She met them through Pietra a few months ago, but this is the first time she joined the entire group for a holiday. As expected, Lando is the central piece who draws attention through his bad jokes and easygoing charm, being a constant source of amusement for everybody. She, on the other hand, is content to sit back and observe, though she’s found herself smiling at his antics more often than she’d care to admit.

Their days so far have been a blur of early mornings spent carving down snowy trails, afternoons in crowded lodges sipping hot chocolate or mulled wine, and evenings around the fireplace, sharing stories and making more plans to hangout in the future. It was easy for her to fit in because everyone seemed — at least at first — to go out of their way to make her feel welcome and included.

Today, however, a dull headache throbs at her temples, forcing her to opt out of skiing, retreating to her room for a nap and leaving them to bundle up and head out to the slopes.

Lando also stays behind, claiming he’s exhausted from the previous night’s gaming sessions with Max and Morgan. But in reality, he’s just craving a moment of quiet, which is a rarity for him.

Outside, the snow glistens with an almost blinding brightness, reflecting the sunlight in too sharply. Lando had made a point to pull the curtains earlier, and now, the dimly lit living room is perfect for lounging on the couch with a blanket draped over his lap. The movie playing on the TV is a vague blur of sound and color in the background, abandoned halfway through in favor of his phone, which is much more interesting at the moment.

He scrolls through his Instagram feed, pausing on a group photo they took when they first arrived at the location. The image lingers on the screen, and his focus sharpens, studying everybody's face until he gets to her. She’s in the center, barely noticeable because of how small she looks like next to the others, bundled up in her pink jacket, her knit beanie perched perfectly atop her head, with loose strands of hair curling around her face. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, and her smile is soft but radiant.

Lando exhales sharply, the pressure building low in his stomach catching him off guard. He tries to shake it off, tries to remind himself that she’s just a girl that hangs out with them from time to time.

Just a girl. That's all.

However, he can't explain how she managed to get under his skin so quickly. They are polar opposites of each other, and Lando noticed that. She's so quiet and reserved, yet somehow captivating in a way he can’t quite understand — it’s frustrating, really. Maybe that's exactly what gets him, making him wonder what it would take to make her lose that composure.

No. He can't go there.

Although…

He lets his thumb brush against the screen, zooming in on her face. A low groan escapes his throat as he recalls the way she looked last night, perched on the arm of a chair while everyone chatted around her, her lips quirking up at his dumb joke; she was the only one that understood it, and he caught that. Such a stupid joke, it wasn't even funny. But she laughed.

Why does she have to laugh at his jokes? More importantly, why does he want to make jokes all the time, just so he can hear her laugh?

“Get a grip, mate,” he whispers to himself under his breath, his free hand shifting lower, sliding under the waistband of his sweats. It’s instinctive, his body reacting to thoughts he’s been suppressing for a while now. “Not that kind of grip, fuck’s sake.”

He can't stop but think of how she would've laughed at that, too.

Lando closes his eyes, his strokes slow at first as he lets the thoughts flood in — it’s a good thing no one can read his mind at the moment. He thinks of her lips and how they part slightly when she’s surprised, and the way her teeth graze her bottom lip when she’s lost in thought. He can't help but imagine those lips closing around his cock, and what her voice would sound like if he fucked her pretty mouth.

“Come on,” he gasps, frustration tugging at the edge of his patience.

His pace quickens as his mind wanders further, seeing her with his mind's eye lying delicately beneath him, small and innocent, breathing in short spasms, and asking him for more. Her softness and the way she carries herself makes him want to see her like that — in a different light, flushed and undone. The image of her laughing at one of his ridiculous attempts to impress her spurs him on, and his hand tightens, his strokes becoming rougher as his breathing grows heavier.

That's when she realizes what she's walked in on.

All this time, she thought she was all alone and, judging by the scene in front of her, he thinks that, too. Her heart thuds wildly as she tries to process it, too stunned to move another muscle. His breaths are ragged, and she feels the tension radiating off him even from where she stands, frozen in place — at the base of the stairs, behind the couch. She knows she should leave and spare them both from an embarrassing encounter, but something keeps her there.

Closing her eyes, she squeezes the railing nervously. She barely got rid of her headache, but now her head's all dizzy from Lando's rough grunts that are echoing throughout the room.

He sounds as if he ran a marathon, barefoot, in the rain.

He sounds tired, but he's aggressive, like it's making him mad — the rhythmic slap of his fist against skin making her mouth water and stomach tighten.

He sounds... delicious.

And then, her eyes snap open.

She blinks rapidly as if that will help her hear better. His voice, low and needy, whispers her name like a prayer, again and again, a desperate sound that escapes his mouth deliberately. It echoes in the room and within the walls of her skull, pulling Lando deeper into the fantasy that he’s helpless to resist — and her, towards him.

Heat floods her cheeks, a mix of surprise, shock, and something deeper spreading through her as she tries to control her breathing.

How can she simply leave, when her name hangs on the corner of his mouth, so drenched in want? It's too late now. She doesn’t think anymore, doesn’t stop to analyze what she’s about to do; she simply trusts her instincts, as she always did.

Lando doesn’t hear her approach, lost in the haze of his own thoughts, his hand moving rhythmically under the blanket. His moans get increasingly louder, so obscene in her ears. It's like they call for her, alluring and profound, and she can’t say no.

Quietly stepping closer, she leans over the back of the couch, her hand reaching out as if it has a mind of its own. When her fingers slide over his, Lando's body stiffens, his breath catching in his throat.

“Relax,” she whispers, her voice soft and filled with anticipation, causing him to drop the phone somewhere on the couch.

He tilts his head back, wide eyes meeting hers, his face flushed and disbelieving. Her sweet perfume takes over his senses, getting him high on it.

He's surely dreaming, because there is no way in hell that she is real.

“What—”

“It's okay,” she assures him, her hand gently guiding his to resume its movement. “Let me help.”

Lando yelps, his head dropping back against the couch, their faces so close to each other as her grip steadies him, matching the pace he had before. The light weight of her hand over his sends a jolt through his body, his brain so close to shutting down for good, while his chest is rising and falling rapidly as she coaxes him closer to the edge.

What in the fuck is happening?

“Does that feel good, pretty boy?” she asks, her lips dangerously close to his.

Lando nods as his hips jerk involuntarily. He refuses to believe it's because of the pet name she just gave him; he is way too strong to fall for that.

Still, he closes his eyes again, biting at his lower lip to stop his whimpers from cascading out of his mouth. There is a small trace of cold sweat pooling on his forehead as her hand moves with his until his entire body tenses, and he finally lets out a deep, guttural moan, her name falling from his lips again, more like a warning this time. He knows he's close, so he tries to push her hand away to avoid the mess that he's about to make. But she stays ferm, using her free palm to push his head in the crook of her neck and caress his cheek softly. His breath falls hot on her skin, and when she starts encouraging him, it's enough for Lando to let go, thick splashes covering his lower abdomen before he can even think. The rest spills over their their joined hands, managing to get another grunt of pleasure out of him.

“There you go,” she says, tracing her thumb over his cum-soaked head, feeling him throbbing beneath her touch. “Such a hot view.”

For a litte while, the room falls silent except for Lando's labored breathing. She moves to sit beside him on the couch, giving him a moment to recover; his eyes are still closed, because how the fuck is he supposed to look at her now?

After that, she throws the tissue box at him, letting out a soft chuckle at his pathetic attempt to catch it.

Exhaling sharply, Lando drags his hands down his face, still avoiding the eye contact. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

She chuckles again, studying him closely, while he squeezes his eyes shut as if he can erase the last few minutes from existence. Except he doesn't really want to.

They sit in silence for another moment before she shifts, crossing her legs and facing him fully. “Did it happen before?” she asks curiously.

His eyes widen slightly, finally looking at her, “What? Of course not.”

Her brow lifts, amused. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he insists, his voice pitching higher.

Her lips curl into a knowing smile. “You always glance around when you’re lying, like you’re checking to see if anyone buys it. You just did it,” she points out.

Lando sighs, dragging a hand through his curls. “Right. That obvious?”

She leans in, nodding, all the amusement gone. “When?”

He hesitates, clearly debating how much to say, but her expectant gaze leaves him no choice. “It started after the Singapore weekend,” he admits, his voice low.

Her mouth goes dry. That was the weekend Pietra first introduced them. Lando had won that Sunday, and the after party was the craziest she'd been to yet.

“You wore that top, and—”

She frowns. “That top?”

“You know the one,” he says, gesturing vaguely at his chest. “It was black, low-cut, and — look, you just looked really good, okay? I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“My top?” she grins, leaning her elbow on the back of the couch as she watches him squirm.

Your tits, he wants to say, but stops before he embarrasses himself even more.

“You've never said anything,” the girl continues, “Why?”

Lando breaths in slowly, running a hand through his tousled curls again, the tips of his ears burning. “Because of P,” he admits. “She told me how much she liked having you around, and I didn’t want to mess that up. She’d kill me if she thought I scared you off or made things weird.”

Her brow lifts, amusement flickering in her expression once again. “You’re scared of Pietra?”

“A little,” he jokes, though his crooked smile falters under her probing stare. “But mostly, I didn’t want to ruin anything for you. I figured it was better to keep my mouth shut. You seem to enjoy your time with us, and I want you around, too.”

She tilts her head, studying his face in the dim light. His piercing eyes are framed by soft, dark brows, and she can’t help but imagine tracing her fingers through his soft curls. The faint facial hair adds a maturity to his otherwise boyish features, making her swallowing hard.

Bottom line, she is attracted to him, even more so now that she knows the feeling is mutual.

“Well, that’s… considerate,” she replies, her lips curving slightly.

Lando chuckles nervously, though the sound dies quickly when her hand moves, her fingertips brushing over his bicep. The contact is featherlight, but it sets his skin ablaze, his breath hitching as she lets her hand glide down his arm, tracing the curve of his muscle with an idle curiosity that feels anything but innocent.

“And now?” she comes back to her initial curiosity, her voice dipping, almost teasing. “What’s stopping you now?”

His throat tightens, words tangling in his mind as she looks at him, her eyes glittering with something that makes his cock throb against his thigh. Lando was sure that he had her figured out. But now, as she leans closer, her lips parting slightly as if to taste the tension hanging between them, he realizes how wrong he was.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” states Lando, ignoring her question, “The ones who seem all shy and innocent, hm?”

“I am shy and innocent,” she agrees with a nod, which makes him scoff. “Alright, maybe not that shy. Or innocent.”

Recognizing that doesn't make Lando's job any easier. Quite the opposite. He's more intrigued as to what secrets she may be hiding beneath her deceptive surface.

“So… since we agreed on that. Is there something else I can help you with?” she murmurs, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she gazes at him expectantly.

Lando brings his hand to rest on hers, his restraint hanging by a thread. “You don’t—have to.”

“But I want to,” she rushes to say, her tone decisive.

With that, she shifts slowly, lowering herself to her knees in front of him with an ease that makes his chest burn. Her hands rest lightly on his thighs, her gaze lifting to meet his, and in her eyes, he finds no hesitation, no doubt. Only intent, want, and excitement.

Stil, he needs to ask, “Are you sure?” he breathes, his voice barely audible.

Instead of answering using her words, her fingers grasp the edge of the blanket, freeing him from under it. She has to muffle a groan of surprise when she sees all of him in its entirety, still half-hard, resting heavily on his thigh.

“See, I knew you had a pretty cock,” she says matter-of-factly, mostly to herself. “I mean, it makes sense. So is your face.”

Lando’s hands flex at his sides, “You’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, but he doesn’t stop her as her fingers curl around his length, her movements deliberate and sure.

“Oh no,” she teases sarcastically, her grin widening as she leans forward, her touch igniting a fire that spreads through him like wildfire. “I kind of hoped it would be the other way around.”

“That can be arranged,” he assures her, hissing at her movements.

She needs both of her hands to take him properly: one wrapped around the base to hold him steady, while the other pumps him a few times to get him hard, before dragging her mouth down the sides. And, because she's the literal devil, she makes sure she holds his gaze while she takes the head in her mouth — warm, inviting, and so wet.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hand fisting the blanket at his side.

She starts slowly, testing her movements first. It's a good thing she's already imagined this before, and now her mouth water on its own when she takes him in, inch by inch. Until she gets to her hand that stokes his base lightly. It makes her feel so full, which is ridiculous considering that he's about to fuck her mouth, and not her pussy. Still, her walls clench hard on nothing as she pulls him all the way out.

“Fuck,” he repeats, “Your mouth is so—fucking hell. You feel so good.”

The cold air after she pulls him out is enveloping his needy cock from every direction, forcing a string of whimpers out of Lando’s throat. It only make her smile as she keeps his eye on him, turning back to licking from the base all the way to his tip, where he started leaking in the meantime, as if she didn't help him jerk off only a few minutes ago.

It's hard to stay focused on her when her tongue seems like it wants to send him into a coma, but it's even harder to take his eyes off her. She looks so good on her knees that his hand almost searches the couch looking for his phone to snap a quick picture. Instead, he is content to imprint her on his memory, confident that he won't forget what she looks like, with her lips around his cock, sucking the life out of him as if hers depends on it.

Even so, Lando needs superhuman powers not to grab the back of her head to guide his cock deeper. He can't do that, though. She did offer to suck him off, but Lando doesn't know her limits yet, and he doesn't want to cross them without knowing. Alternatively, his fists squeeze tighter, sliding his body down on the couch to be closer to her.

Luckily, she gets the memo, taking him deeper into her mouth, bobbing her head a few times before she drags her tongue against the underside of his cock. The feeling makes every cell in his body burn, one at a time. He's had people going down on him before, but no one managed to get all of him in one go, and certainly not the way she does — opening up so wide for him until the tip of her nose taps gently on his base, making her drool messily all over him.

It’s almost too much, and so overwhelming that he forgets how to breathe for a few seconds, the tension in his lower abdomen building at an alarming pace.

“Shit, Lando,” the girl sobs, her eyes teary, “You're big,” she adds, her voice raw as she continues working her hand up and down his length, while catching her breath.

He doesn't need an ego boost, but he's happy to take it as long as it comes from her.

Lando's head falls back against the couch in surrender, just as she squeezes at his thigh with her free hand, only to bring him back to her. But the slick, pornographic sound her hand makes as she rubs him sends Lando straight to his own personal heaven, where his senses are activated exponentially. He's far too lost in the way she makes him feel, that only her mouth sucking hungrily on his tip can bring him back. Her tongue starts circling around it, and Lando’s eyes snap open while he rolls his hips back into her mouth.

She moans in protest, pulling him out again, “Eager boy,” she whispers out of breath. “Are you close?”

“Mhm” whines Lando, finally rising his head to look at her.

And what a rookie mistake that was.

Somehow, she managed to keep that innocence he saw in her ever since they met for the first time. Her big, deer eyes looking back at him while her cheeks are flushed pink, her lips swollen and her chin drenched would usually be his undoing. But she’s still mouthing around his cock, holding him in her delicate hand, so oblivious to the fact that Lando will see exactly that image whenever he closes his eyes, for a long time to come.

Starting now.

She chuckles at his choked hum and the way he seems like he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, “Where do you want it?”

Inside your mouth.

All over your tits.

On your face.

Her colorful giggle brings him back once again, realizing much too late that he said it all out loud.

“You look so hot when you're desperate,” she says, her lips shiny with spit and pre-cum, squeezing him slightly as she traces her thumb over his leaking head.

Normally, he’d have words to counter that, but all he needs right now is to cum, cum, cum. Except she unexpectedly frees him from her grip, forcing Lando to snap at the loss of contact, her lips leaving him cold, wet, hard, sensitive, and so fucking close to the edge.

His legs tense, and a low, guttural groan escapes him without permission. “Why did you—” he begins, his voice breaking. His head snaps forward, another whimper slipping from him as he watches her, wide-eyed and wrecked, struggling to catch his breath. “Fucking hell, what are you doing?”

She silences him by peeling her pajama top off in one smooth move, tossing it aside without hesitation. The gesture is rapid and deliberate, and Lando’s jaw slackens as he takes in the sight of her bare skin, the curve of her chest illuminated by the faint light that’s coming from the TV. His hands twitch on the couch as if he doesn’t know whether to reach for her or keep himself anchored to the seat.

Without a word, she leans forward, her eyes locking with his as she takes him back into her mouth. Her gaze never wavers, and Lando feels like he might combust on the spot.

So beautiful.

She smiles, intertwining her fingers with his, while her other hand wraps around his length, stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. The intimacy of it all, the eye contact, and the sheer devotion in her movements make his mind travel far away.

His muscles tighten, his free hand gripping the back of the couch for support as he feels himself throbbing against her tongue. He can barely form a coherent thought, his body shaking with the effort to hold on just a little longer, even though he knows it's a losing battle.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs, his voice raw and heavy with need. “Such a perfect mouth, I’m—”

That’s when she pulls back again, and he curses loudly at the loss of her warmth. But before he can beg her to come back, she leans over slightly, guiding his cock as his release spills over her bare chest, the warmth of it contrasting with the cool air.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Lando cries out, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. “That's so hot.”

She lets out a soft sigh, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she tilts her head, still maintaining that piercing eye contact.

Lando can’t breathe. He doesn’t know whether to apologize for the mess or worship her for the sight in front of him. Either way, he doesn't even have time to decide. The next second, her mouth falls open, sticking her tongue out to rub his sensitive tip against it, cum and spit dripping down all over her chin.

“Holy shit,” he finally continues, his voice shaky as his eyes are raking over her with a mix of awe and disbelief.

His fingers, still intertwined with hers, tighten their grip, and before she can move away, he uses the leverage to pull her on top of him. She gasps softly at the sudden movement, bracing herself on his shoulders, her flushed face just inches from his.

“Oh, hi,” she says, the sudden closeness catching her off guard.

“Hi,” replies Lando with a little smile in the corner of his mouth, “Swollen lips suit you,” he teases, his voice thick with lingering desire and a touch of his usual smugness. His eyes gleam with a mischievous light as he brushes his thumb over her lower lip, smirking when she playfully hits his chest in response. “Although I’d say you’re missing something.”

“You don’t say?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “And what’s tha��?”

Lando doesn't let her finish before closing the space between them, capturing her lips with his. The kiss is messy, unrestrained, potentially gross, but he doesn’t care about the lingering remnants of spit and his cum still on her. If anything, it seems to spur him on, his tongue exploring hers with a slow intensity that makes her feel like she’s the only person in the world that has ever caught his attention.

When Lando pulls back, his lips glistening just like hers, he chuckles, wiping his jaw with the back of his hand and giving her an exaggerated grin. “My turn?”

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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luvergirl-866 · 2 months ago

Text

something like love

part - 3

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

c/w - language, slight homophobia

a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!

Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.

What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.

It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.

Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.

Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?

Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.

Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”

The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”

“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”

Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”

“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”

Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”

“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”

“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it’s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.

“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.

“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.

“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”

Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”

“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”

Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?

It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”

“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”

“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”

Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”

Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“

“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.

As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.

But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.

“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”

“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”

Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.

“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”

Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.

“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.

“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”

Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”

Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.

“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”

“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”

Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”

“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”

“Yo!”

—————————————

Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.

Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.

“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”

“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.

They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.

She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”

“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.

“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.

“Huh?” Paige says.

“You said something.”

“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”

“Paige.”

“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”

“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”

“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.

“Are you dumb?” Paige says.

“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”

“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.

It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”

Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?

“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”

“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”

Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”

Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.

They’re inches apart.

Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.

Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.

Paige gasps.

Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”

Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.

Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.

—————————————

They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”

Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”

“Good, good,” Dean nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”

He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”

Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.

“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.

“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”

Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.

“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”

Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.

“So, where’s Josh?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”

“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Dean won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.

“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Josh isn’t here, is he?”

At this, Dean perks up, closing the trunk door.

Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”

“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”

“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Dean says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.

Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”

She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.

Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.

“Mom, Dean,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.

She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

Amy places a hand to her chest and Dean walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

#azzi fudd #fake dating #paige buckets #paige bueckers #pazzi #pazzi fics #the people's princess #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb

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makiquas · 3 months ago

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Its Butchtober. Bear with me for a second as I rant about children's cartoon ships, butchphobia, the conditional acceptance of butches in sapphic spaces on the basis of desirability, and feeling erased as a butch kid.

It's so funny that I realised early on as a 2000-2010s teen/kid how a lot of so called "sapphics" of social media are really, really anti butch4butch, only by interacting with certain subsets of Catradora and Appledash haters. It may be flippant to connect butchphobia with children's cartoons, but you cannot deny it is there. We finally had two canon butch4butch and masc4masc lesbian animated ships. And the fandoms decided that the best possible reaction to this is to violently hate on the ships for bullshit reasons and write up masterdocs about how the butch character actually looks better with a femme character instead (in both cases–Rarity and Glimmer, who is arguably feminine but not femme, but that's a conversation for another day, how the SPOP fandom waters down gender identities for aesthetics).

This is not just about two cartoon ships; this mindset of seeing two masc lesbians and immediately going "actually they act like bros; but this BUTCHFEMME couple has real chemistry" comes off sounding really, really bad in 2024 when you have no idea how butch identity operates, outside of depicting us as pants-wearing sexually aggressive muscular women. Butches ARE bros, even the ones who kiss each other. Camaraderie and tomboyish swagger *is* a part of their life. It's not our fault you are too fanfic trope-pilled to read these interactions are sexless friendship bantering.

It's also quite concerning, given how there are only a handful of butch4butch books in the market, and almost all of them talk about the stigmatizing of relationships between two butches/studs/masc lesbians. There are many butch lesbians who themselves face internalized butchphobia because of societal standards and expectations of being turned into the "gallant" provider of femmes. Butch and femme are not always inherently complementary, butches can be attracted to other butches, there is no "natural order" model of lesbian/sapphic attraction and your thinly veiled butchphobia is really off-putting, given you guys don't seem to extend that same rhetoric to mascfemme ships like Korrasami or Caitvi, or femme-femme ships like Harlivy.

Here, I must mention relationships like Rei and Kaoru from Oniisama E, or Jess and Lupe from A League of Their Own, who have bucket loads of chemistry but still have some vehement antis only because both the lesbians are masculine. (What's funny is the new wave of lesbian Oniisama E fans are almost all Rei/Kaoru shippers despite the show putting them into two butchfemme pairings.) Something something to be butch4butch is to be failing the tests of palatability and desirability according to conventional models of societal norms. Forever.

Again, one may have valid reasons for disliking these fictional ships (what, I genuinely don't know). But it *is* weird that you guys can watch fifty white fem4fem sapphic shows in a year and read 100+ GL with the same feminine girlish blonde and brunette/pink haired archetype and not bat an eyelid, but conjure a world of made-up "platonic" dynamics just because you read every butch4butch interaction as fundamentally platonic.

A lot of you love to throw around Stone Butch Blues as a catchphrase to educate strangers on the internet about 1950s-70s blue-collar bar culture and USA butch femme history, but how many of you actually know that within the book itself, the lead character acts prejudiced and hates on another butch for being butch4butch? How many of you know that she apologizes to her friend at the end for her hateful remarks? Fun fact: when you ostracize a butch for not fitting into your butch-femme subculture aesthetic, you're no better than lesbiphobic bigots actually.

Anyway, here are some butch4butch resources if you are a baby butch4butch and feel alienated by these kinds of weird rhetoric in online and fandom queer spaces too:

Butch4Butch romance books

My Butch4Butch books masterdoc (**being updated regularly**)

Leo Wilder's Butch4Butch writing (18+)

Butch4Butch photography archive (insta)

Boyish² Butch4Butch yuri anthology (insta)

@milsae Butch4Butch artist (tumblr/insta)

This post is made by a trans masc butch of color. Terfs, racists, biphobes and radfems kindly do not derail or interact.

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pnghoon · 6 months ago

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his muse

NISHIMURA RIKI [니키] ── 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

୨୧ pairing : !nonidol artist !riki x insecure fem !reader ꒰wc : 1.3k꒱

୨୧ genre + content warnings : fluff, mild angst, themes of mental health, insecurities, not proofread.

୨୧ synopsis : in which the talented artist in your art class uses you as his inspiration for his next art project.

writer's note ─ guys look who's in her writer era rn...(pls don't kill me i'll post a bot as soon as I can (っ◞‸◟ c) anyways is this cringey..bffr. this was a little rushed, but if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

every monday, you sat in the very back corner of the art class, hiding behind your sketchbook like it was a shield. it wasn't that you disliked people—it was quite the opposite. but after years of feeling like you didn’t quite fit in, you’d become more comfortable with the quiet company of your own drawings.

the art room was a sanctuary for your overactive mind, the smell of pencils and paint grounding you as you buried yourself in your sketchbook that seemed to never be seen not in your grasps. art was your escape, a way to calm the swirling doubts and insecurities that threatened to overflow. it was a safe place, a world where you controlled the narrative, where the flaws you saw in yourself could be erased with a few gentle strokes of an eraser.

across the room sat riki with his easel, eyes flicking between his canvas and you. you never noticed his gaze, too wrapped up in your own world of ink and charcoal. riki, however, had noticed you from the very start. he was the star of the art class, his talent and charisma shining brightly, while you preferred to stay in the shadows, content with your obscured invisibility.

it all started with a simple sketch. riki's eyes would wander to the corner of the art room where you sat regularly, quietly perfecting your sketches. he couldn't help but be captivated by the way you looked—the natural beauty you seemed to obtain. looking at you was like a breath of fresh air to riki, and before he knew it, he began to absentmindedly sketch you in his notebook. his pencil danced gracefully across the pages adorning his sketchbook, capturing the rarity of your smile that, when it did appear, could light up the entire room. he detailed how your soft hair framed your face perfectly and the way you seemed lost in your world of unique sketches.

as the days went by, riki found himself increasingly drawn to you, basking in your presence while also capturing your essence on paper. your every move, every subtle expression, only encouraged him to continue drawing you, each sketch more intricate and heartfelt than the last. and as the days continued to fly by, those graphite drawings were transferred to big white canvases, riki’s gentle hands preciously stroking lines of perfection on the pristine surface as his project started to slowly come to life.

as another monday approached, the school’s art class gathered in the same art room, plagued with the smell of paint and the sounds of chatter. you were working on your own project when riki approached you, a charming smile tugging at his lips and his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“hey, i was wondering if you’d like to come to my art show next friday. it’s going to be at the gallery downtown.”

you blinked up at him, surprise evident on your face at the sudden question. "me? are you sure?" you practically blurted out, your eyes glancing around you like you were checking if it was really you he was asking.

"of course," he said without a single stutter and a simple nod. "i’d really like you to be there y/n."

your heart fluttered, and you found yourself reluctantly agreeing before your insecurities could convince you otherwise. the rest of the week passed in a blur of nervous anticipation. your mind would often wander to why riki would invite you out of all people to his art show. he was a great artist, but he wanted you specifically?

no matter how hard you tried to push the curiosity to the back of your mind, you often found yourself lying in bed at night, thinking about it. so to keep your mind busy without the thoughts of the approaching art show, you drew. you drew until the erasers on your pencils were worn down to thin layers of rubber. clearly you found solace in your drawings, using your skills to sketch out your worries and fears, finding a strange comfort in the activity.

the day of the art show arrived, and the gallery was filled with stunning artwork. your mood was already down when you glanced at yourself in the mirror before you left, feeling a bit of distaste for how you looked in the outfit you were wearing. you were already late as it was, so you knew you wouldn’t have time to change. luckily, you knew that the sight of new art pieces would bring your mood up.

you wandered through the displays, admiring your classmates' talents, but your mind kept drifting back to that nagging topic that seemed to not want to leave you alone: riki's invitation. what had he created that he was so eager for you to see?

when you reached riki's section, your breath caught in your throat. there, among his vibrant paintings, was a series of drawings that unmistakably depicted you. drawn with such delicacy, riki’s spread captured you in every piece, the lines and colors bringing out a beauty you never saw in yourself. you stood in front of them, stunned, a mix of emotions swirling within you.

“do you like it?” riki's voice broke through your thoughts. he stood beside you, his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

“riki, this... this is me,” you whispered, stumbling on your words a little as you tried to process the hand-painted pieces in front of you.

he nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. “yes, it is. i wanted to show you how i see you. you're beautiful, even if you don't realize it.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, a mixture of embarrassment and admiration swirling inside you. “all those times you were so focused on your canvas in class...they were all dedicated to me?” you spoke out, shock and hesitation evident in your voice as your eyes scanned every line and detail on the painting.

“but… i never knew you were drawing me,” you said softly, your gaze averting to the ground for a second to hide the way your cheeks were dusted a light pink.

he laughed lightly, watching your gaze falter from him for a moment as he nodded his head. “i didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. i wanted to show you how incredible you are, through my eyes.”

you listened to his explanation, unsure of what to say at that moment. you desperately wanted to thank him, to tell him how much this meant to you. but the lingering thoughts about the way you looked and the idea of others seeing you in his art held you back. soon enough, your self-doubt bubbled up once more, making you look away. “but...why me? there are so many more interesting subjects—i’m just...me.”

riki paused for a moment, before gently taking your hand, his touch gentle yet grounding. “exactly. you’re you, and that’s what makes you amazing. i know it’s hard to see yourself that way, but i wanted to show you what i see. every time you pick up a pencil, you create something extraordinary. that’s the real you.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mix of overwhelming emotion and gratitude. “thank you, riki. i never thought anyone saw me like this.”

he squeezed your hand, his eyes sincere. “you deserve to see yourself the way others do, the way i do. and if it takes a bunch of paintings to help you realize that, then so be it.”

you smiled through the tears, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. for the first time in a long while, you felt seen—not just as the quiet girl in the corner, but as someone truly beautiful and worthy.

riki’s art had given you a gift more precious than words. it was a mirror reflecting not your insecurities, but your inner strength and beauty. and in that moment, surrounded by his paintings, you slowly began to believe in the image they portrayed.

the gallery buzzed around you, but all you could focus on was riki and his unwavering support. “thank you,” you whispered again, and he simply smiled, his own eyes shining with pride as he whispered back, his arms pulling you into a warm embrace that was like a balm to your worries.

“no, thank you. for being my muse, for being you.”

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @luvvsim @jakesangel

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demonicbaby666 · 1 year ago

Note

Can i pls request, Reader and JJ are arguing, Reader confesses her feelings in the heat of the moment, and JJ kisses her. (Jennifer Jareau x reader)

Flirt

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff and bit of angst

Words: 4k+

Warnings: swearing and that’s about it

Summary: You and Emily flirt. It’s never amounted to anything and you’re more than happy about that because it’s all fun and games. Though everyone on the team seems to enjoy the laughs that come from all the interactions the two of you share, one person has never seemed that amused. JJ.

A/n: I’m not sure if this is the vibe you wanted but I hope you enjoy nevertheless! <3

It’s standard, expected even. Friends flirt, and it’s an unspoken agreement, but very much known, it’s all fun and games. The fact that Morgan and Garcia had subjected the whole department to a workplace seminar on appropriate work etiquette - chocolate thunder is not nearly heard as much these days - made you feel a hell of a lot better about the one-liners you and Emily throw at each other on a daily/hourly basis.

The work-wives dynamic you have going isn’t just fun. In truth, it makes workdays easier. The heavy loads brought on by cases take their toll on everyone, and, it’s fair to say, a laugh never hurts. No one on the team minds, well, almost everyone. Hotch, Morgan, Rossi and even Spencer all laugh along, encouraging nicknames, adopting them at times, but not JJ.

She’s never outwardly said anything. Then again, she never needs to. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she never laughs, smiles, or gets involved in the flirtatious banter you and Emily have. At first, it was easy to push aside and ignore, but after around four months of cheeky remarks from Emily and yourself and six months of working with the team, it’s hard not to pick up on the less-than-subtle eye rolls and disdain.

When the two of you are alone, it’s okay. It’s nice. You’ll joke, and now and then, she’ll throw around a particular comment that’ll make you blush, and it’s something you do in return. It remains a rarity, though. And you’re glad for it. Not because you don’t like JJ in that way. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. When JJ compliments you, you feel it all over your body, and you’re sure she sees it. It’s not nothing, and that’s dangerous in a place where workplace relationships are more of a no-no than a yes-yes.

In the office, no matter how hard you try to avoid her, you always bump into her, sometimes quite literally. The coffee you spilt on her white shirt you can still smell. It’s a fond memory, which is unexpected, but that’s only because the moment JJ looked at you, her lips curled up at the sides, and you’d both burst into fits of laughter before she asked to borrow a top from your go bag, a top you’d yet to get back, you never ask though.

JJ mainly keeps to her office, buried in mountains of paperwork. The few times she ventures out to talk to Hotch or visit Garcia, and you happen to run into her, it usually results in you stammering and sounding like a complete idiot, your words running away from you. It’s astonishing how easy it comes to you with Emily and with JJ, nothing. How it is you have blossoming feelings for JJ and can barely function and would sooner hit Emily over the head with a frying pan than kiss her - though you know she certainly wouldn’t disappoint - and can charm her to your wit's end, you don’t know. You know for sure that it’s inconceivably and utterly torturous.

“Hey, short stack,” Emily calls out when you're in her eye line. She’s carrying what is probably, her third coffee of the morning, if not her fourth or fifth, judging by the pep in her step at 9 am. She drifts towards your desk, wafting memories of laughter through rising steam.

“Where’s mine?” You nod to the mug in her hand and try to avoid yawning.

It’s a joke, and maybe it’s the early morning, or the caffeine has fried her brain, but Emily doesn't register that. She looks down at her coffee, back at you, repeats the process another two times, and then unceremoniously shoves the piping hot brown beverage at you. It spills over the rim, she hisses, and you chuckle. Compassion doesn’t come easy when you’re uncaffeinated and sleep deprived.

“Nuh-uh. That has enough sweetener in it to kill a small child.”

“Good thing you only act like a child then,” she playfully jabs, still holding out the coffee. It’s a generous offer, spur of the moment offer, but generous nonetheless.

Alas, you decline. Dropping your bags and shaking your head from side to side, you let out an amused sigh, “I’ll make my own love.”

The coffee machine isn’t far, and it’s non-negligible that you’re in dire need of caffeine, so you start walking over, assuming Emily is following close behind as usual. “Do we have a case?” you don’t bother turning, knowing she’ll be craning over your shoulder any second.

“Yup.” It’s not Emily, though, “I’ll be coming with you guys on this one.”

Turning slowly, you smile at JJ. With her sudden presence still registering, you don’t even want to think about how forced your smile may appear, even if it is genuine, “It’ll be good to have you around.”

She steps closer to grab a stirrer, and you ignore the tension working its way down your spine.

“It'll be nice to be around.” she smiles, and your knees go weak. There's something about her smile. Big, small, soft, forced, it’s never mattered. Every time your legs become jelly, and your heart beats faster.

It's a mystery how she has this much effect on you after six months. It's like the whole world goes hazy. All that matters is JJ, then before you know it, words aren't wording, and you're not, well, you-ing.

You’re saved by Hotch catching your eye as he darts from his office to the briefing room. He waves a file, and the team makes their way over. You try not to stare at JJ walking in front of you. Her hair’s swaying, and if you don't avert your gaze, she's sure to turn around and catch you. There's a little voice inside you. It's telling you not to look away because if she does turn around, you'll see those eyes again, and your tummy will do that weird flippy thing that you'd only ever admit to yourself you've grown to love.

Pull yourself together! You scream to the insipid voice in your head.

You manage to look away. Appreciate the clarity of not being lovesick for two seconds before Emily swoops in, loops her arm through yours and forcibly skips you both into the room. It gets a chuckle from the team, and you glance at JJ to see she’s already got her head down, looking through the case file. She shuffles in her chair, you can only assume sensing your leering eyes, and without raising her head, she looks at you through her lashes.

There's nothing remarkable about how she looks at you; it’s rather ordinary, which motivates you to sigh and slump down on the nearest seat available. Everyone grabs a case file, and you spend that time contemplating who’s feeling more deflated, you or the indented cushion beneath you that is teetering on the brink of death.

It takes a particular type of subtly and poise to mask your rising self-pity, the likes of which you can only hope you possess. Around the table, everyone is listening to JJ, and you ought to do the same. It’s choosing the lesser of two evils, you either focus on what JJ is saying and risk looking like you’ve just been gut punched, or stare blankly into the space between JJ and the projector and come off as a well-rounded put together human.

The latter worms its way on top, the main victory point being that it’ll result in fewer questions asked. Through the garbling, a few words make sense, it’s enough to piece together, and you’re sure time on the jet will equip you with all you need to know.

“Wheels up in twenty.” That, you register.

You’re standing, then you’re walking, then you’re in an SUV, and someone’s talking next to you or, rather, at you. It’s hard to mind, though. Emily makes good background noise, and she seems to drown out the looming thoughts, leaving you to the blur of people and buildings passing by.

Footsteps soon reach your ears. Rossi’s perfectly polished shoes smack against concrete, then metal, as he ascends the stairs to the jet. You know you should get out; your legs, however, ignore this. Emily pulls the keys out and opens her door. Any second, she’ll pick up on your hesitance, and it’s game over. For the duration of the next two days, knowing her, she’ll be on the lookout for any suspicious activity regarding your behaviour if you don’t start moving.

So you move.

Following Emily, the hairs on your neck tingle, and a shiver runs down your spine, despite the warm spring breeze. The signs point to someone looking at you. Turning, you see JJ and Reid walking behind you, neither looking anywhere in your vicinity. JJ seems suspiciously interested in the jet's exterior. Nothing to call home about, though. In her defence, whenever anyone speaks to Reid, they find it hard not to let their mind wander, no matter how hard they are listening.

Nothing outside of the usual occurs when you get on the jet. You sit across from Emily as she slumps down on the first seat available by the front of the plane. It's not that you don't contemplate sitting anywhere else. Who are you kidding? It's not like you don't consider sitting next to JJ, but with all the awkwardness - self-perceived or very much real - you can't stomach the thought of infringing on her and precipitating another chance for you to make an idiot of yourself.

Chancing a look back at JJ, there's the faintest slither of disappointment that comes with watching her haphazardly throw her bag on the chair next to her. It’s unlike JJ to be so indirectly direct in deterring physical closeness.

It’s twenty minutes into the flight, and you and Emily are at it again. In both of your defences’, it wasn’t unsolicited. On the stand, you’d confidently plead you were rabbit holed into discussing how many times you’d had to pretend to act like a couple to deter leering men away, and on top of that, describe, in detail, how you’d mastered the fine art of always getting away with it. Apparently, small talk isn't a thing anymore.

It's been ten minutes of this, and you need to relieve yourself before the next onslaught of laughter results in a change of trousers. You nudge Emily, let her know you'll be right back and turn to head to the back of the jet.

It seems the new norm; whenever an opportunity to glance at JJ’s appears, you take it. Maybe it’s that you’re only just picking up on the habit, something to think about for the duration of the flight, perhaps.

JJ has scarcely moved, one knee up, head turned, eyes out the window. The bag remains unscathed, sitting idly and just as lonesome as the blonde. It's out of respect, for the booming thoughts going through JJ’s head and the physical presence of an ‘I don’t want company’ sign, you stay on your path. However, when you return, her bag is gone, her knee is down, and her attention draws to the direction of the toilet door closing.

The empty seat is beckoning you, calling to you, and though you have enough willpower to return to your own and pretend you haven’t seen anything, laugh about stupid late drunken nights, you choose to save the willpower for a rainy day and sit next to JJ instead.

“Hey,” it’s light, friendly and casual. Smashed it.

Blonde hair, partially bathed in unfiltered sunlight, glides over toned shoulders, and your stomach lurches. “Hey there,” she says. There’s a smile present that’s timid and, for some reason, making you feel a little uneasy because usually, JJ’s smile reaches her eyes, and this one doesn't. The blue orbs are illuminated only by the balmy glow slithering in through the window, and though they’re still as breathtaking as ever, there’s a sadness in acknowledging what’s not there that you can’t seem to shake. “You okay?”

A few seconds, a full minute? You don’t know how long you’ve been staring.

“Uhhh… ya, sorry,” you stammer over your words. There’s a curious look in her eyes, and her eyebrows knit together, “Tired, that’s all. I must have zoned out a little.”

The fingers lying over her knee twitch, and she inches forwards. There’s a split-second thought that maybe she’ll let them run their wanted course, seeking to provide some comfort by brushing over your arm or leg. They remain in her lap.

She’s touring your face, and it's hard to stay impassive when you’re starting to feel more self-conscious than a preschooler entering the lunch hall for the first time. There may as well be turbulence because your body is acting accordingly. You fidget. The paws of your fingers rub over the lines of your palms.

“Are you sleeping?” She’s settled on staring into the dark expanse of your under-eye circles that are half-hidden under shitty concealer.

The worry in her eyes that continuously search your face for an answer to her question is starting to drive you mad. You shrug and turn, relieved that the sinking in your stomach is less vomit-inducing, “Not really, but I manage,” you mutter, eyes wandering over the coffee pot and idle mug.

Whether she believes you is up for debate. A cold chill runs down your arms, and you can tell she’s still staring. A weight suddenly falls on your thigh. With enough speed to snap your neck, you turn.

It’s on fire. You’re sure that your thigh is about to burst into flames, along with your scorching cheeks. No. Your whole body is on fire because JJ’s smiling at you again, and her eyes have stopped searching for evidence of lack of sleep, and they are brighter, gentler and more compassionate.

“This is prime napping time,” she says suggestively.

“Tempting.” you chuckle, or more accurately choke out, shaking your head and paying attention to her hand now moving in circles. Yes. You’re sure. You are on fire. Scorching burning molten lava is slowly replacing the blood coursing through your veins, and you’re going to die on this plane.

Your eyes aren’t the only pair on JJ’s hand placement. As you lift your gaze, JJ’s flickers up too a moment later. Her smile hasn’t faltered. In fact, it may have even grown wider. But you aren’t sure because, at this point, you’re convinced this is all a hallucination.

Finally, she removes her hand to tap her shoulder, “I’m pretty comfy, you know.”

It’s baiting a child with candy, and it’s working. “Well…” you lower your head to the side, and you rest it on JJ’s shoulder, smiling at how easily and perfectly you fit together, “I’ll test that theory out and get back to you.” The end of the sentence is partially yawned out, sleep already weighing heavy on your eyelids.

Sleep hasn't come easy to you over the last week, and it’s a curious thing to ponder upon that JJ is the answer, yet, also part of the problem. Plaguing your mind with her incomparable beauty and so forth. For now, you were too delirious from waking up from the best nap you’d had in… forever…

It isn't hard to admit that JJ was right, she’s inexplicably comfy, more comfortable than your bed, but the brain fog that accompanies your light sensitivity, forcing your eyes closed again, has rendered you incapable of communicating that intelligently.

“I wish I could sleep on you every night.” you sleepily slur, nodding right back off to sleep.

It’s two seconds for you and twenty-three minutes for everyone else. You wake up, jolting your body upright. The words you’d said are still fresh on your lips.

“I-” turning to JJ, dread starts to set in. She’s got the most shit-eating grin on her face that she’s trying to cover with the palm of her hand, and if you weren’t morbidly embarrassed, you might have considered punching her.

She’s snickering now, her hands thrown up in mock surrender. “Theory proven.”

If looks could kill, she’d be stone-cold by now. The worst part is none of this is necessarily her fault, and you know it. She only tugged at a loose string you easily guided her to. Yes, it was pointed out to her in a state of delirium, but that is on your head.

“Bedhead,” JJ coughs, the sun hitting the side of her face angelically.

Pursing your lips and keeping your accusatory gaze fixated on her, you comb your finger through your hair. “Now you're just trying to get a rise out of me,” you grumble.

“Pfff,” she rolls her eyes, smirks, then looks at the papers scattered across the table, “You’re cute when you’re sleeping. Drool and all.”

She’s so fucking smug that part of you dies as a wicked, treacherous girly smile forces the sides of your lips to twitch. “I'm leaving now.”

You drop down across from Emily. She looks at you with an eyebrow raised, then at Reid and Morgan, thinking they might have some insight.

“I need a new mattress,” you huff before looking out the window for the rest of the fight, leaving Emily more confused than when you’d first sat down.

~~~

“Emily, you already know who you’re with,” Hotch smirks, “You both head to the crime scene.”

“God forbid they’re separated,” Rossi lightheartedly quips.

“Oh god,” Morgan sighs, a second too late to warn you.

Emily’s behind you. Her fingers come to your shoulder and dig in almost painfully, “My precious,” she says with her best Gollum impression, then hisses because you’ve delivered a swift elbow to her rips.

She relaxes her grip on you, and while everyone laughs at the idiocy displayed, you mockingly pout at her, “Want me to kiss it better?”

She smirks, “Save it for later,” she slaps your arm and starts walking towards the car, “Come on, let’s get going.”

From the passenger seat window, you see the team, and it’s the same old. Everyone’s dispersing, still smiling and relishing in the small break they got from the morbidity of the job, even if it was only for a minute, except, of course, one person. She’s looking off distantly again, fingers thrumming against her thigh, bottom lip between her teeth, and mindlessly nodding at something Hotch says.

Emily hits the gas, JJ becomes a moving blur, and then she’s gone.

About an hour later, you and Emily are walking into the precinct. Everyone’s heads turn as you both walk in, bickering.

“What's happened now?” Reid asks.

You shove your finger in Emily's direction, “She wouldn't let me drive.”

“Because you're a maniac behind the wheel,” Emily tries to reason.

“And you’re a spoilsport,” you grumble, sitting on a free seat between JJ and Morgan.

“I swear, sometimes you're like an old married couple, the two of you,” Garcia remarks over the phone and nods scatter around the room.

“Excuse me,” JJ stands up and leaves abruptly.

There’s a split-second choice to make, compliantly sit back, as you’ve been doing for weeks, or get up and find out what’s going on with JJ.

It takes looking at the team's faces to realise that if you don’t go, someone else will. Maybe it’s selfish. You know you’re probably not the person she wants to see, and deep down, you know she’s angry, and she’ll lash out. But maybe she’ll reveal the truth despite her rage, and that’s motivation enough to get up and chase after her.

“JJ! Wait up!” You call after her, picking up a light jog, your laden footsteps echoing in the small corridor.

She turns a corner and slips out a side door, likely under the assumption you don’t see her. When you open the door, a small side alley comes into view, and then you notice JJ with her back resting against a wall. She looks utterly defeated, but there’s a resting fire there that you see when she looks up at you.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You walk towards her.

Wearing that distant look again, she says, “It’s the case,” it’s so painfully obvious it’s a lie you can’t stop your brow from rising. She notices and rolls her eyes, “What?”

“Oh, come on, JJ. We both know it’s not the case,” you lean against the wall, turning to the side to look at her. She peers out into the alleyway, “You’ve been acting off all week.”

“We don’t have time for this,” she huffs, pushing herself off the wall. She’s probably right, but there’s no point in either of you going back inside when there’s a big chance your minds will dwell on this interaction.

You reach out and wrap your hand around her wrist, “JJ, talk to me.”

“Will you just drop it!” She yells, yanking her arm away.

“What's your problem?!” you’re sure people can hear you from inside, but the heat is rising within you, and JJ’s bringing it out more and more with her pointed glare.

“What the hell is your problem?!” She sneers.

“Really, JJ?”

“Yes.” she crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows expectantly, enough to push you over the tipping point.

“You know what,” you start, stepping forward, “You are! You’re my problem, JJ.”

“Oh.” She drops her arms down, and there’s a flash of hurt flickering over her features that’s not quite settling but not entirely leaving either.

You let out a heavy breath, “That’s not-”

“Forget it.” she steps away, and it’s infuriating because you’re being stripped of the opportunity to explain, and even if you don’t know what you’re going to say, she’s not giving a chance to think.

And now It’s late to stop yourself, the words are coming out without your consent, and there’s nothing left for you to do, “I like you!” you blurt out.

JJ turns on her heels. Her mouth is hanging open, “What?”

“I like you,” you say, this time a little quieter.

It’s a shock that she’s surprised, given that you have been under the impression you’ve been indisputably evident with your affections towards her.

“Honestly, I thought it was obvious.” You channel your inner voice, it’s small and meek, and you’re not pleased with the fragility of your voice, so you lower your gaze to your feet. A small rock takes your interest whilst you wait for the inevitable sound of JJ’s footsteps fading away.

Instead, they grow louder until the small rock is joined by a pair of black boots and a finger presses to your chin, forcing your head up. Then she kisses you.

It’s light, her lips brushing languishingly against yours, willing you to match their slow rhythm. It takes a few seconds, and you’re back in your body. You part your lips, letting the warmth of JJ engulf you. The kiss is slow and passionate. JJ moves her hands to your waist, pulling you closer against her and a sudden hunger grows low in your stomach, promoting you to nibble at her lower lip.

Your hands are on her shoulders, and she’s moving forward where there’s nowhere to go. You’re only aware you’re moving when you feel the cold surface of brick hitting your back.

A groan tumbles from your mouth, and JJ takes the opportunity to plunge her tongue in. It’s all teeth and tongues from there. You’re both panting and taking in gulps of air where you can, yet still refusing to unfurl yourselves from one another.

Eventually, the need for oxygen mounts to an all-time high, and you pull back, resting your head against the wall as JJ peppers kisses along your jawline.

“How did you not see?” you say between soft moans.

“I’m not a profiler,” JJ mumbles into your neck. She lifts her head, and you see her eyes are shimmering with humour.

“You’re also not blind.” you smugly point out.

“Neither are you.” She smirks.

A few seconds are spent simply smiling sweetly and dotingly at one another, eyes darting to and from eyes to lips. Then you’re kissing again, and the alleyway and the world seem to fade away, leaving only you and JJ.

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#jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau x reader #Jennifer Jareau #jennifer jj jareau #Jennifer Jareau fluff #Jennifer Jareau angst #criminal minds

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hyperactively-me · 1 year ago

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okay okay okay, i know you get sooo many asks for king!ghost/princess!reader au, and we love them all and eat them all up--so i understand if you never answer this one... But i've always wondered, esp after he gifted reader his knife, what the heck was simon doing in the hall, cleaning his knife *that* night. Like I think about it often, was he going to talk to her (lil scandalous in the middle of the night)? Did he happen to be walking around and see her? Was he making sure she was okay? Was he feeling bad because he knows what it's like to have your family ripped away and although it is for the better, he feels remorseful for the reader? I mean, obviously reader felt someone watching her, how close was he??? Watching her be free and open in her lil sanctuary (thinking about how she'd have to find that in his kingdom/castle)? I NEED ANSWERS LOL

king!ghost x reader -- knife explained (flashback to the first couple of chapters, specifically "knife"; written in Ghost's POV) hopefully this answers your question 😉

It’s been a sleepless night. He couldn’t sleep. The woman betrothed to him was a complete and utter mystery. He had never seen anything like you, the way you so openly displayed your disdain and disgust to him.

Yes, he knew that he was not very well-liked outside of his own kingdom. But, this is a woman who is supposed to be his wife. He recalls the fire in your eyes, the unwavering determination that matched the contempt in your voice. It was a stark contrast to the delicate and obedient bride he had envisioned you would be. What a spoiled little princess you turned out to be.

And, he didn’t mean to be intimidating on purpose, that’s just how he carries himself outwardly. He was accustomed to commanding respect and obedience, even if it was born out of fear, no matter who the person. But, you were different. You had risen up against him because of your fear, and unashamedly at that.

It kept him wide awake, the way your face twisted into a frown every time he stepped into a room, or the way you turned up your nose when he tried to speak to you. He thinks back to the dinner earlier that night, the way your knuckles were white as you gripped your dinner knife, fork stabbing into the innocent food being served. He had to bite back the urge to laugh; laugh at the thought of you being difficult on purpose. Until, it had finally hit him, that you were acting like this on purpose. It wasn’t just a ruse, your defiance, and fear, was quite real. You were not the stereotypical demure bride.

He shifts in his bed once again, staring at the ceiling, and he finds himself drawn to the challenge you presented. It was as if you held the key to a mystery he couldn’t resist unlocking. A woman who dared to challenge him was a rarity, and the prospect both unsettled and fascinated him. He couldn’t dismiss the fact that you had piqued his curiosity in a way that no one else ever had.

Ghost finds himself torn between frustration and intrigue. He never saw himself fit to be a husband, yet here he was. The usual tactics that had subdued others seemed to have no effect on you. Instead, it fueled your defiance, making you even more resistant to his authority. He should’ve known that you were going to put up a fight in the first place. Yes, he knew that noble women were trained to be blushing brides, but the mere thought that you had to give up your life in your home kingdom as you know it for a man you’ve never met, and a man known for wars and bloodshed at that? Who was he kidding?

Of course you would despise him from ripping you away from your family, from the comfort of your home. Hell, he went through a similar situation with his own family. The mere notion that he was inflicting the same things he went through on you made his stomach churn. He needed to get up.

With that, Ghost shudders, rising from his bed, needing to clear his mind. He pulls on a pair of black pants and a black tunic alongside his balaclava, grabs his knife, and slips out of the guest room. The castle is shrouded in silence as Ghost moves through its dimly lit corridors. His mind races with thoughts of you, the enigmatic woman who now shared his fate. The air is deathly still and the moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the castle grounds.

Ghost happens upon the hallway that leads to the garden. He notices the wooden doors are slightly ajar, pricking his instinctive protective senses. Immediately, he makes his way over to the door, reaching out to grab the handle. Before he can step outside, he hears a rustling of fabric and looks straight through the crack.

There you were, in all your glory, standing outside in the garden, a robe wrapped tightly around your frame. Ghost hesitates for a moment, torn between retreating unnoticed and going outside and confronting you. The moonlight accentuates the curves of your silhouette, and he can’t help but be captivated by the vulnerability you’re displaying outside, a stark contrast with the defiance he had grown accustomed to.

He leans against the doorframe, his presence still concealed in the shadows. It’s like you were a different person, the way your hand gently caresses flower petals as you stroll, the gentle breeze playing with your hair. There’s a rawness in your gaze, a depth of emotion that intrigues him more than he’d like to admit.

For a bit, Ghost remains hidden, an unseen observer of the woman who challenges every preconceived notion he had about his future wife. As if suddenly snapped out of his trance, he takes a few steps back, feeling as though he’s intruding on something personal. Ghost feels guilty for watching you so… calm in your garden.

He retreats, his footsteps carrying him away and down another hallway, the faint moonlight filtering through narrow windows his only guide. With a deep breath, he comes across a rather comfortable looking chair sitting in the hallway; one that’s surely only used as a mere decoration. Regardless, he sits down and pulls his knife out.

He twists it in his grip a few times, admiring the way it looks in his hands. He brings it closer to his face, inspecting the blade with scrutiny, until he notices a few smudges on it.

Can’t have that, can we? He thinks to himself.

The blade, a symbol of his title and the harsh realities of the life he leads, demands his attention. He meticulously cleans the smudges from the weapon, treating the knife as though it’s a holy item. Ghost’s hands move with a practiced precision, the rhythmic sound of the cleaning echoing in the silent corridor. The blade, once tarnished, now reflects the faint moonlight streaming through the windows, a gleaming testament to Ghost’s meticulous care. He wonders if you’ve ever had to wield a weapon before. Most likely, no. He would change that, once he trusted you more. Couldn’t give a combative person a knife now, can we? I’ll give you more time. But, I don’t doubt for a moment that you wouldn’t be able to carry such a thing in your pretty little hands.

Suddenly, a rustling of fabric pricks his ears. He immediately stands from his seat, the legs of the chair scraping across the floor. He knows it's you.

No use in you running now, he thinks.

“What’re you doin’?” he calls out, knowing damn well that you’re most likely going to lash out again.

He watches you as you slowly turn around, fear etched into your face. A change from your usual frown and furrowed brows. Ghost can see the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, the robe clutched tightly around you as if it were a shield. You take multiple steps back as your eyes flit down to the knife in his hand. He knows he must look intimidating right now, dressed in all black and a skull balaclava concealing his features, wielding a hefty looking knife. Yet, how soft you looked mere moments ago, your lips parting so prettily as your eyes rest on his figure.

“What are you doing?” you motion to the knife in his hand.

He swivels his head down at the knife in his hand, a faint smirk playing on his lips. You can’t see it, thanks to the balaclava. How predictable, of course you were going to point that out. Without hesitation, he takes the knife and flips in his hand before sheathing it in his pants pocket.

He watches you wince at the sudden movement, a flash of guilt courses through his veins for a moment. But he remembers that he can’t have you thinking that walking over him like you do now is acceptable.

“Thinkin’,” he responds, voice gruff. You flash him a look of confusion, still wary of your position. Ghost takes a step forward, his silhouette partially illuminated by the moonlight spilling through a window. He watches you take a quick step back, suddenly hating the way you look so small.

“What are you doin’?” he asks again, crossing his arms in front of his chest to act as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He can see the wariness in your eyes, the way you stare at his muscles, the guarded stance, and it amuses him, even though he tries not to show it.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business as to what I’m doing in my own home,” you retort, squeezing your robe tighter around your body.

He takes a breath, a low chuckle escaping. But you’re right. He has no right to question what you’re doing in your own home. After all, he’s the one who’s a guest here, not the other way around. You have the right idea being wary of him, a monster of a man, being awake and roaming the palace halls at this hour of the night. But, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of protection for you. A woman alone at this hour of the night?

He brushes off those thoughts, not wanting to let you win. Yet, he also wants to answer a small question he has. Would you back down? Now, at first, when he thought he would be receiving a blushing bride, he was going to treat her as kind as he possibly could. But now that his “blushing bride” is a noncompliant, fiery woman, he wants to make sure of another thing. That you would have the ability to stand up for yourself even in moments of pressure, especially in moments of pressure from him.

“Listen here, sweetheart,” he says with another hidden smirk.

“I’m not tryin’ to pry, but you've been actin’ a certain way ever since I’ve arrived. I don’t appreciate it,” he states plainly, shifting slightly.

He doesn’t miss the glare you throw at him, fingernails clutching into your robe tightly. How he wishes those fingernails would be buried in his back.

“Well, you can mind your own business. I don't need your so-called ‘concern.’ Why do you think I’m acting this way?”

A really good fuckin’ question with an equally obvious answer, is what he wants to say.

But he refuses to answer, pride welling up inside of him. Ghost takes a cursory glance at you again, noting the way you’re almost curled into yourself. You’re afraid of him. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing beneath the willow tree, how carefree and soft you looked then.

Without thought, Ghost takes a step towards you again, but this time, you don’t move. How intriguing. He takes another step, waiting for you to give in, back down from whatever you’re thinking about right now. He takes another step, giving you another chance to move, a chance to show him that you're not willing to back down. How perfect. Put me in my place, this is what I deserve, he thinks.

Ghost is now mere inches away, and you still haven’t moved. Good princess.

Your neck is craned up to look at him, disdain written on your face.

He reaches his fingers up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your skin as he makes his way to push stray strands of hair behind your ear. And the most surprising part of it all is that you let him. Now, he thinks he’s misjudged you. A spoiled princess? No. A woman who knows how to stand her ground.

He can see you go as stiff as a board under his touch, your chest heaving as your heart rate picks up. He can see the pulse in your neck clearly. His eyes flit towards your bosom for a split moment, then he pulls his hand away.

“Hmm,” he hums, a glint in his eyes. Interesting.

And, without a word, he makes his way down the hallway silently, heading in no particular direction. He can feel your eyes boring into his back, and he feels a flash of pride, secretly hoping his stature impresses you. I know it does.

At the end of the day, he doesn’t aim to break you; he just wants to figure you out. You’ll both be officially bound together in the next few days when he finally proposes to you, whether you like it or not. He can’t deny the conflict within himself — the desire to unravel you clashes with the knowledge that he’s pushing the boundaries. All these contradictions, and you’re driving him crazy. Why does he want to kiss you and fight you at the same time?

He pulls the knife back out from his pocket, studying the reflection of his eyes in the blade. He wants to get to know the woman he had seen out in the garden.

Time will tell.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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wildsupernova · 2 years ago

Text

counting calories.

Summary: Since middle school, you’d been starving yourself in an effort to achieve the same body as all the other girls in your grade. When you start dating Steve, he’s the only one that seems to notice.

based on trauma comfort prompt 13 from the x reader prompts list: “when was the last time you ate?”

pairing: steve harrington x reader

Warnings: mentions of symptoms of eating disorders

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: hi everyone! i know it’s been a while, but i wanted to start trying to get back into writing again. this fic, while inspired by the prompt, pulls from the struggles i faced for a long time with body image and eating issues. what’s described in this fic comes largely from my own experiences with eating disorders, and may not look the same to the struggles of others also suffering. i’ve been lucky enough to have a support system around me to help me recover, but remember that recovery is not linear. to anyone else suffering, things can and will get better, and i know it can be hard, but don’t be afraid to ask for help! i hope this brings you some sort of comfort, and helps you know that people care about your recovery. <3

x reader prompts list | complete masterlist

You were trying. Not very hard, but you were trying. You told yourself that was all that mattered, that you were making some sort of effort, but in all reality you were just trying to make yourself feel better about giving up. The only thing you were trying to do was starve yourself and convince everyone around you, including your reflection, that you weren’t.

Your body image issues started young. Growing up, you didn’t look like the other girls, all sunkissed skin and long legs that they started to show off more the older they got. You didn’t get the middle school growth spurt that made so many other girls need a new bra two cup sizes bigger or a new dress with a longer skirt because their curves couldn’t be contained in their old ones anymore. You didn’t lose the baby fat everybody else seemed to know how to slim down, your face never seeming to look any older than a child. While everyone else around you grew into their bodies, yours never changed.

You saw how all the other girls drew attention from the boys in your grade. You’d heard plenty of the boys whisper to each other about whose ass looked best in their new jeans, or which girl had the best cleavage in her low cut t-shirt. At the public pool during the summer you watched as the teenage boys go googly eyed at the big chested lifeguard, and you watched silently as your friends garnered the attention of any boy you’d had any interest in. In your mind, the only thing holding back from gaining their attention was your pudgy stomach and lack of curves.

So, around the beginning of eighth grade, you stopped eating as much. Breakfast became nothing more than half a bowl of cereal dumped into the trash or a thin slice of buttered toast, never too many carbs or too much sugar. Lunch was a rarity, something you’d just rather not eat because you couldn’t count the calories. Dinner was shoveled in your mouth in a desperate need to quell the hunger that had been building ever since your missed lunch, guilt and regret taking root every time you cleaned a plate. You were much too scared to try and make yourself throw it all up, instead doing workouts in your room every night in the hope it would burn off the extra calories.

The cycle continued and never stopped, even when senior year began and you finally grew into the body you’d been vying for since middle school. Despite your body finally catching up to your age, you still saw something different when you looked in the mirror, a mess of extra fat and too many curves. Nothing ever looked right to you, shirts not hanging the right way, pants always too tight, despite being made to fit that way. So you continued your cycle of skipping meals and desperately trying to work off the few calories you did consume, forcing you to struggle with violent migraines and an overwhelming exhaustion.

Dating Steve Harrington didn’t help matters. You attributed his interest in you to your efforts of starving yourself, convinced that your system had finally worked in your favor. After extensive trial and error, your efforts had finally paid off, gaining the attention of the boy you’d been chasing after for months. He was everything you could have asked for; sweeter than any guy you’d ever met, always making time for you even when his schedule was full, calling every night to tell you how much he loved you and how he couldn’t wait to see you again tomorrow. For the first time, you were over the moon with happiness, intending to hold on to the relationship for as long as fate would allow. In your mind, keeping Steve interested in you boiled down to one thing. He’d surely leave if your body wasn’t perfect, so you did what you could in an effort to stay as slim as possible.

You’d been disappointed when you weighed yourself two mornings ago. You’d gained weight since the last time you’d checked, a disappointing step you felt led you in the wrong direction. For the past three days, you hadn’t eaten anything but a couple thin slices of toast and a few granola bars throughout the day, eating only enough for you to be able to stay awake and avoid passing out on your bedroom floor.

Steve had begun to notice something was off about you. It had been your usual Friday night date night at the diner, but instead of ordering your usual burger and fries, all you’d gotten was a small vanilla milkshake and a caesar salad. The next day, when he’d visited you on his lunch break to bring you lunch at work, he’d pretended not to notice you ball up the other half of your sandwich and throw it in the trash along with your unopened bag of chips.

It became hard to ignore when you visited him at work to drop off lunch, sandwich and chips stapled inside of a brown paper bag. The bell atop the Family Video door jingled as you pushed it open, skipping across the dingy gray carpet in your beat up and sharpie-vandalized Chuck Taylor’s. Steve flashed you a smile from behind the counter, one you couldn’t quite fully return due to the pounding headache caused by yet another day of granola bars and water.

He leaned over the counter to press a soft kiss to your lips as you handed him the bag, muttering a ‘thank you’ against your skin when his lips trailed to your cheek. You sat cross legged atop the counter as he opened the bag and looked inside, stuffing it under the counter to dig through on his lunch break.

You sat and talked for what felt like forever, the store empty aside from Robin and the occasional customer that stopped in and decided not to rent anything. Your watch beeped as the clock hit 1:30, signaling your coming shift at the arcade and the end of your conversation with Steve. By now, your head was pounding behind your eyes, as if someone was inside your head with a hundred tiny hammers and chisels. The nausea was beginning to kick in as your stomach swam, trying to digest food it couldn’t find, and your eyes were starting to droop from exhaustion. Hoping to leave the store before Steve noticed, you hopped off the counter a bit too fast, head spinning and causing you to lean your hand against the counter for support. The nausea in your stomach only got worse as did the pounding in your head, knees beginning to buckle under your weight. Steve rushed to your side, placing one of his arms around your waist to steady you.

“Woah, woah, it’s alright. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” You looked down towards the ground in an effort to hide your reddening cheeks, embarrassment warming your ears and face. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just stood up too fast, I guess. I have to get going so I’ll see you later okay?” You made a move to rush out of the store, but Steve’s hand around your wrist stopped you, his arm lightly tugging on yours to guide you back towards him.

“When was the last time you ate?” You didn’t fully register the question at first.

“What?”

“When was the last time you ate?” Steve repeated his words, firmer in tone this time, urging you to tell him the truth. The lie slipped off your tongue like it had with your parents and friends, floating into the air before you could pull them back.

“I ate lunch before I came, I had a sandwich and a-”

“A salad, yeah, you always have a sandwich and a salad. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, everything is always a sandwich and a salad. You need to come up with a better lie if you want to convince me you’re taking care of yourself properly.” “But I am.”

“No, you’re not. I’m not blind, Y/N. Every time I bring you lunch or we go for a picnic, you always toss half of your food back into the bag and throw it away. Whenever we go out to eat at the diner you only ever order that stupid salad that can’t be filling in any way because all it is is lettuce and some caesar dressing. You’re always popping pain killers because you always have a headache, you're always tired, you're always annoyed by the tiniest little thing. I know what happens when you don’t eat. Now be honest with me, when was the last time you ate?”

There was a moment of silence that floated between the two of you, Steve’s eyes staring down at you as if he were begging you to tell him the truth. You opened your mouth and shut it again, unsure of what to say, whether you should be truthful or tell yet another rehearsed lie that he’d likely see right through. Instead of making a choice, you said nothing, shifting on the balls of your feet and ringing your hands together as your eyes counted the stains on the carpet.

“Hey, look at me.” Steve put his hands on either side of your face, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. “You can talk to me, okay? I want to help you, but you have to be honest with me.”

“I haven’t eaten anything since Monday.” The confession rolled off your tongue like bile, words tasting sour as they left your lips. Steve’s eyes widened, taking a small step back in shock.

“You haven’t eaten anything in three days?” You shook your head. “Why?”

“Steve, I gained three pounds since last week. I was worried that if I ate too much I’d keep gaining more weight and then I’d get fat and then you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

Saying it out loud, it all sounded completely irrational. You were an adult now; you should be worried about college applications and moving out of your house, not how many calories you ate in one day. It all sounded so stupid once you finally admitted it, and the shame began to manifest itself as shaky hands and tears.

“Who told you that you were going to get fat?” You shrugged, lacking a solid answer. “Sweetheart, gaining three pounds doesn’t mean you’re getting fat, it’s totally normal to gain a little bit of weight here and there.”

“But-”

“No, no buts. If you keep starving yourself like this, you’re gonna make yourself really sick. Even worse than you feel right now.”

“But if I eat too much then…”

“Then what? If you’re worried I won’t love you anymore when you get ‘fat’,” He held his fingers up by his face to make air quotes around the word. “Then you don’t have much going on in that brain of yours because you should know that I’ll love you no matter what you look like.”

“Really?” He laughed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, of course. It doesn’t matter what you look like or what you weigh. I love you because you’re you, not because you look like some magazine cover model.”

“I guess I always just kind of…assumed.”

“Well, now that your assumption has been proven wrong, will you please start taking care of yourself again?”

You hung your head, another flush of embarrassment tinting your cheeks.

“I…I can’t. I’ve tried to before but everything always falls back to what I’m used to.”

“Then let me help you, okay? Let's work through this together, starting with you eating a proper meal.” Steve went back behind the counter and pulled out the brown paper lunch bag, setting it on top of the counter and pulling out everything inside.

“Steve, I can’t eat your lunch, what about you?”

“I’ll walk a few blocks to the sandwich shop and get something later. Right now, you need to stop worrying about me and start worrying about yourself.”

Steve sat there and watched as you slowly ate the meal, holding a quiet conversation with you to distract from how hard it was to swallow, or how everything you put in your mouth tasted like it had no flavor. He didn’t let you leave until everything in the bag had been eaten, despite it making you late for your shift, promising to bring you lunch everyday and sit with you if that’s what it took for you to stay on the right track.

He kept his word, bringing you lunch every single day and holding conversation so you didn’t have to think about what it was you were eating. Each day, the food tasted better, and each day, you stopped thinking so much about what it was you were eating. Sure, there were the bad days, but recovery always had the bad days, the days where you would weigh yourself and cry about the result, or the days where you had no appetite and the simple idea of eating made you want to throw up. But Steve held your hand every step of the way, guiding you through the bad days and congratulating you on the good ones.

Getting yourself back to normal was something you never thought you’d be able to achieve. Turns out, all you had to do was ask for a little bit of help.

#steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve x reader #stranger things angst #women writers #angst prompt #x reader #fic prompt

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randomperson99sworld · 4 months ago

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Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~ Part 41 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly) , physical abuse (Not by Dean).

Word Count: 1,230

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as I’ve been writing it lol. They’re just so FLUFF Stated as always this story is cross posted on Wattpad. Happy reading! ♥️

The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. Dean woke to find Julia still asleep beside him, her hair fanned out across the pillow, her hand resting on his chest. He smiled slightly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

It was peaceful here—something he wasn't used to.

Slipping out of bed carefully so as not to wake her, Dean got dressed quietly. He stepped outside onto the small porch of Julia's place, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. It felt good—normal, even. A rarity in his life.

As he stood there, watching the world wake up around him, he felt the weight of everything he was carrying start to creep back in. The Mark of Cain still lingered on his arm, a constant reminder of the danger that loomed ahead. But he had to believe that, with Julia and Sam by his side, they could find a way through it.

When he went back inside, Julia was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on her clothes. She looked up when he walked in, smiling softly.

"Morning," she greeted.

"Morning," Dean replied, leaning against the doorframe. He hesitated for a second before saying, "Was thinking... maybe we could hit the road later. See if there's a case or something. I need to keep busy."

Julia raised an eyebrow, standing and walking over to him. "Back to the grind already, huh?"

Dean gave a small smirk. "You know me."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "Alright. But only if we stop for pie on the way."

Dean chuckled, a genuine smile on his face for the first time in what felt like ages. "Deal."

And just like that, things felt a little more normal.

After leaving Julia's place and swinging by the bunker to pick up Sam, the trio hit the road. Dean drove, his usual classic rock playlist blaring through the speakers. Julia sat in the passenger seat, leaning back comfortably while Sam was in the back, going through their intel for the case they'd picked up��a string of disappearances in a small town a few hours away that fit the description of a vampire nest.

Dean, feeling lighter than he had in weeks, was in good spirits. He'd even gotten his pie after they made a pit stop at a diner on the way, and Sam couldn't help but notice how different his brother seemed.

"Alright, so the sheriff in town says six people have gone missing in the last two weeks," Sam said, glancing up from his laptop. "No bodies, just gone. But the disappearances all happened near an old industrial district."

"Sounds like our bloodsuckers," Dean said, taking a bite of his pie as he steered the Impala down the open road. "We take 'em out, rescue whoever's still alive. Should be a quick job."

Julia glanced at him with a small smile. "You always make it sound so easy."

Dean shrugged, licking the fork. "It usually is."

They arrived in town by late afternoon and checked into a motel, agreeing to head out to the industrial district after sundown. The plan was straightforward—Sam would check out the area for signs of the nest while Dean and Julia would secure the perimeter, ready to go in guns blazing if necessary.

As they prepared to leave the motel room, Dean turned to Julia, tossing her a machete. "You good to go, sweetheart?"

Julia caught the weapon with ease, spinning it in her hand before sheathing it at her side. "Always."

Sam shot them both a glance. "Let's keep this simple. In and out, no distractions."

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "We'll be back in time for round two of pie."

The industrial district was eerily quiet as the trio moved through the darkened alleys. Sam had found a lead—a nearby warehouse that had been abandoned for years and recently showed signs of activity. The strong, metallic scent of blood hit their noses as they neared the building, confirming their suspicions.

"They're in there," Sam whispered, glancing at Dean and Julia. "You guys ready?"

Dean gave a curt nod, gripping his machete. "Let's end this."

They moved inside, the moonlight barely illuminating the large, dusty space. Rows of old machinery lined the walls, casting long shadows, but it didn't take long to find the nest. In the far corner, the vampires were gathered around a few terrified captives, who were bound and gagged. The vamps were too busy arguing over their next meal to notice the Winchesters and Julia sneaking up.

Dean smirked, giving the others a nod. "Showtime."

They launched their attack swiftly. Dean swung his machete with precision, taking out the first vampire before it even had a chance to react. Julia followed suit, fighting side by side with Dean, her movements quick and practiced. Sam focused on getting the captives out, guiding them away from the danger while Dean and Julia mowed through the remaining bloodsuckers.

One of the vamps made a break for it, but Dean was faster, grabbing the creature by the collar and decapitating it in one swift motion. Blood sprayed across the floor, but Dean didn't flinch, his focus sharp.

In less than ten minutes, the nest was destroyed, and all the vampires lay in pieces around the room.

"See?" Dean said, wiping the blood off his machete. "Easy."

Julia shook her head, laughing. "You make it look that way."

Sam approached, leading the freed captives out. "They're safe. I called the cops—told them we found them wandering outside. Should cover our tracks."

"Nice work, Sammy," Dean said, slinging his machete over his shoulder.

As they left the warehouse, Julia walked next to Dean, bumping his shoulder lightly. "Not bad for your first case back, huh?"

Dean smirked, glancing down at her. "Not bad at all."

Back at the bunker later that night, the trio settled into the library, a much-needed sense of calm returning after the successful hunt. Sam buried himself in research, while Dean and Julia sat across from each other, going over the details of the case with a sense of satisfaction.

Sam eventually looked up from his book, eyeing Dean. "You seem... different."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"

"I don't know. Lighter," Sam said with a small smile. "Happier."

Dean shrugged, glancing over at Julia, who was trying to hide her smile. "Maybe I'm just getting my groove back."

Julia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Or maybe you're finally realizing that you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time."

Dean shot her a look, but there was no denying that she was right. Ever since Julia had become a bigger part of his life, things felt... easier. The Mark of Cain was still a looming threat, but with Julia and Sam by his side, Dean felt more equipped to face it.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, waving her off. "Let's not get too mushy, alright? We've got work to do."

But despite his usual tough exterior, there was no hiding the small, genuine smile that crept onto his face as he looked around the room. For the first time in a long time, things felt... good.

And for now, that was enough.

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yanderes-galore · 2 years ago

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Yandere! Rarity Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Marking (in a way), Jealousy, Forced companionship, Kisses on the cheek.

Rarity can be a very needy yandere towards her darling.

She has a tendency to want to be the center of attention and can be surprisingly obsessive and possessive towards her darling because of this.

Rarity would be Obsessive, Possessive, Clingy, Invasive, Easily jealous, and a bit Forceful towards her darling.

Rarity is a fashion designer that always pays close attention to detail, she’d also want to know just everything about her darling.

While Twilight studies everything about her darling, mostly personality, Rarity studies things like your figure along with your personality.

It just comes with her profession, honestly.

She’s a fashion designer, since she first met you she’s wondered what you’d look like with one of her outfits on.

Rarity would also stalk her obsession, making sketches in a notebook about you.

She seems like she has a knack for art due to the amount of sketches she has to do for dress making.

In that notebook of hers she’s drawing you in all sorts of outfits.

Something that screams you yet at the same time it’s obvious to tell SHE made it for you!

She gets obsessive over getting things just right, both in her relationship and in the gifts she gives you.

She works effortlessly, day and night, just to make sure she makes things perfect for you.

If she adores you, expect many different gifts in the form of clothing.

“Here you go, darling! I made sure it fits you nicely and matches your colors. May I… put it on you?”

Rarity would get all giggly about you when she’s around you.

It’s partly because she’s nervous about being around you.

Rarity can also get possessive of you if she’s feeling jealous.

Even when seeing you wear what she made for you… it irks her when you talk to someone not her.

You’re like a jewel she refuses to give up and is willing to throw a fit about it.

She even feels betrayed when you don’t wear something she makes for you everyday-

“Oh… was that one not to your taste? I can make so much more! Would you wear any of these!?”

Out of all the Mane Six, she’s probably the quickest to be deranged.

A twitch in her eye, a forced smile, she’s the easiest to lose it mentally over her darling.

The constant stress of her work certainly doesn’t help.

She’s also nervous about you finding out just how much you affect her life.

Are the constant requests of you going to the spa with her too much?

Is inviting you over so often too much!?

You don’t think she’s too clingy, do you!?

Her jealousy when you’re not around her can actually make her confrontational.

She’ll insert herself in a conversation and make some excuse about why you can’t speak with that young stallion/mare over there.

“They don’t need to talk to you, sweetie. I say we should go… do something else.”

There’s points she can get genuinely mad when you’re not around, snarling at people who even dare call themselves close to you.

She tries to hide it when you’re around, however.

She’s yet another yandere who cares about her appearance, especially when her darling’s involved.

If you think about it, her dressing you up is akin to a doll.

It can also be her form of being possessive over you, marking you as hers without any cuts or bruises.

Even better if she makes an outfit signed in her name!

She can get so clingy and invasive about her darling.

You may want alone time, but Rarity is always there to fill your empty home with her company.

Rarity isn’t as clingy as Pinkie, but she wouldn’t mind a hug.

She prefers a kiss on the cheek, both in the friendly greeting way and the romantic way.

It fits her style more, plus she feels blessed when she feels your lips on her cheek.

She may just faint...

Rarity is forceful if you don’t agree with her on something.

Like, maybe her clothing is too flashy on you and you want to wear something more casual.

She’ll disagree with you and try to convince you why having her flair on you is a good thing!

Then there’s an argument, usually resolved by her making you something casual to appeal to you still.

She’s a manipulator and will definitely control what her darling does.

After all, you’re her most precious doll.

She must make you shine in the world!

She’ll never share you, however.

You’ll always only be hers to stylize and love.

“Darling~! We’re on a strict schedule today, I have so many more outfits for you to try!”

#yandere mlp #yandere my little pony #yandere rarity

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angelhummel · 2 years ago

Photo

And now for Santana! This is a little overlook of her season 2 wardrobe, as seen in Every Santana Lopez Outfit series. Brought to you by AngelHummel uwu

The best part about this season is that halfway through, we ditch the Cheerio uniform for good and get to see some actual outfits in this every outfit series. Outside of her uniform, Santana wears 73 unique looks this season. While variety is the spice of life, and it’s much easier on the eyes, we aren’t done with the old faithful red, white, and black just yet

Did you know that several changes are made to the classic Cheerio uniform from season one to season two?

For starters, the red piping around the arms has been removed. The WMHS logo seems to have shrunk a bit, and is situated on a plain white panel across the chest, with less stripes framing it. The white panels on the sides have also been removed, which makes sense because those panels only match on the fitted skirts, not the flared ones, and I’m pretty sure they never wear the fitted skirts again

Personally I like the s2 look better. It’s cleaner and more cohesive

And while we see the same variations of the s1 uniform repeated again with the new uniforms, we also get some original changes this season as well. Season 2 Cheerio uniforms are seen...

~ minus shoes ~ plus a blue Katy wig ~ flared skirt plus pompoms ~ Christmasified (plus cardigan, scarf, candy cane striped socks, and candy cane earrings ~ plus spooky zombie makeup

But Santana wasn’t only flaunting her Cheerio pride this year. She also got her gleek on with nineteen fun costume looks. Most were matching or coordinated ensemble pieces for group numbers. But we also got to see Santana as Magenta, Madonna, a candy striper, even as Rachel!

Speaking of Rachel, Santana clearly took some style inspo from her best frenemy. The minute she dropped the high pony, Santana started rocking some all too familiar fashion accessories. During season 2 she wore 13 headbands

Now while Rachel favors bright colors, Santana goes for fun patterns and textures in her wardrobe. So that’s what I’ve decided to quantify here

Her fifth most popular wardrobe staple was florals, with 7 looks featuring flower patterns from bold to sweet to groovy

In fourth place we have animal inspired pieces, including both furs and animal prints, which show up four times each

Third place with ten looks is leather, seen in a variety of jackets and even a vest, often dotted with studs or dripping in fringe

Her second most popular clothing staple is good old stripes, which make an appearance 12 different times throughout the season

And for Santana’s most popular wardrobe staple, which makes an appearance in a grand total of 16 flawless looks is... denim! (Which might not seem too remarkable but given how these girls dress, a simple pair of jeans is a rarity)

And as usual we’ll close this style summary out with my top 10 personal fave looks for s2 Santana

#glee #santana lopez #santanalopezedit #gleeedit #every sl outfit #mine #my edits #season 2 #my 1 and 2 fave looks are ones i always try to give her on sims lol

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lepusrufus · 2 years ago

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Have a tiny little drabble from the goddesses AU, with a little twist aka being from Jinx's point of view. I'm almost sorry for her for having to deal with these yearning idiots.

///

"She's a bit stuck up though, isn't she."

Jinx snorted at the comment, followed suit by an amused chuckle from Vi. They both looked at their fellow goddess, prim and proper as ever. She was talking to the others near where an orchestra was playing a soft tune in the spacious ballroom, too far away to listen in on their little gossip. Only the piercing blue eyes of her hound fell on them for a brief moment before focusing on something it deemed more important.

Not that any of the other gods were paying them much mind to begin with, lounging with glasses full of golden liquid among the white columns that lined the space. It was a rare moment of tranquility for the pair of them, when neither felt too keen on causing trouble. That is, a rarity for the younger goddess of luck -or lack thereof-, who seemed hell bent on creating chaos more often than not, wherever she went. Vi, on the other hand, had long since started to favor keeping away from the rest and their inevitable scowls that followed.

"Oh, she is," Jinx agreed with a comically animated nod.

Then her expression turned pensive, her magenta eyes narrowing as she watched the subject of their current gossip. Caitlyn looked every bit the part of someone born a literal god -though the word tended to lose its novelty after a century or so of being surrounded by them- with her flowing dresses that blended perfectly into ceremonial hunting uniforms, the sharp features and the way she spoke as if she held all the knowledge in the universe.

Maybe she did, but Jinx wouldn't believe that for a single moment.

A member of the council said something, the golden guards over his shoulders shaking slightly with laughter, and Caitlyn responded in kind with her own soft laugh and nod. So at ease among the most powerful beings in the universe, because she herself was a perfect piece that fit into Piltover’s godly puzzle. Except she wasn't. Oh, she was anything but at ease, and Jinx could see right through her stupid regal façade. The way her smile was just a bit too tight and body language too guarded to be actually happy about the situation at hand. The way her eyes would drift from time to time in their direction. No, not their direction. Vi’s direction.

Jinx sighed and rolled her eyes, tearing her gaze from the other gods and back to Vi. She had that expression. The pensive and uncertain kind of mix that made her eyes resemble thunderstorms even more than usual. She swore there were gray clouds twisting and turning in her irises.

"She's not all that bad," Jinx finally said, though couldn’t help the huff that came afterwards.

Vi didn’t respond for a few moments. Couldn’t really. She just watched Jinx with a furrowed brow and confusion latched onto her features. At least she didn't look like a yearning idiot anymore.

"Are we talking about the same person here? Caitlyn?"

Jinx only let her head loll to the side to look at the other goddess, otherwise not moving from her crossed arms position. With an unimpressed expression, she simply hummed an affirmative answer.

Vi snorted at that. "Since when do you like Caitlyn, huh?" "I don't, you idiot," she deadpanned, already over the small bit of compassion she momentarily felt for the utter tragedy unfolding before her poor eyes.

#this is actually very angsty if you have context #but since you don't...#enjoy the disaster lesbians being disasters :3c #goddesses au #piltover’s finest #fanfics

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wizkiddx · 3 years ago

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hiiiii !!! if you are accepting requests at the moment, can i ask something about reader and tom expecting a baby, one day while he’s drunk she sees him flirting with another women and when she confronts him he snaps at her and tells her he’s not ready for this “shit”. So they broke up and broke contact for months, until he shows in her apartment regretting his words and they talk but she suddenly at that moment gets into labor?!? I remember seeing a concept similar in a movie but I would love if you couldn’t bring it to life! Thank you so much in advance, appreciate your work a lot 🧸🤎

right so I loved this so much it has become a multiple parter and im not even going to apologise. so thanku so so much anon for getting me out a little rut!!!

summary: when toms caught out all hope looks lost - probs part 1 of 3 but it could get a bit longer too lol

warnings: serious angst, reference to abortion, cheating, a whole lot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi babe, just to let you know Yamna’s invited me out for dinner this evening so don’t worry if you get home early and im not back! I love you x”

It was a spur of the moment plan, which was a rarity recently. The past 5 months since you’d found out, you could name barely 5 occasions you’d been out past 8 oclock- trading your heels for fuzzy slippers and dresses for massively oversized tops and joggers. It wasn’t how you had expected to be spending the summer before your 25th birthday but it was now your life. The rooftop bars, the wild nights, the get aways had all sort of been cancelled for… for the rest of your life.

Because an 8 month pregnant belly isn’t something you can ignore.

Sure…. it wasn’t the plan. Not the plan to be pregnant with your boyfriend of only 6 months, who at the time you didn’t even live with. But you were making it work. And now, you were just excited. It was the start of a new story with Tom, and you’d got past the phase of being sad and mourning your youth. Because the little bubba inside of you, she was pretty awesome and you really couldn’t wait to meet her.

So yes, you had been home alone eating ice cream from a tub when Yamna knocked on the door. She’d been one of your best mates for as long as you could remember so when she’d turned up unannounced with mascara smeared under her eyes you’d cancelled your plans of a pathetic alone evening. Her boss had just given her the sack - which was no surprise. He was a backwards tory old git who couldn’t handle the fact Yamna was a woman doing the job better than he could ever dream of.

So yes, you’d suggested going out to the fancy new bar down the road - to celebrate the fact she no longer had to put up with the arsehole. Obviously you couldn’t drink and neither did Yamna, but you go to a bar for the atmosphere - and the selection of mocktails they had was insane.

Your boyfriend Tom was already out, he said he had a meeting and then dinner with some execs he needed to shmoosh. Of course you didn’t mind, but he had been working a lot recently, in order to be able to have the time off when your baby girl arrives.

So after sending a little text and giving Yamna another hug to try and turn the evening from disappointment to celebration you walked out the door with a smile on your face. Maybe you could pretend, just for an evening to not be pregnant and whale-like?

///////////////////////////

The bar was just a 10 minute walk so it wasn’t long before the two of you were soaking up the atmosphere. It was all decorated in a rustic fashion, with old exposed wood and dangling lightbulbs from the ceiling and the drinks were incredible. The type that have dry ice or flames or some other sort of fantastical display of edible decorations. Even Yamna had perked up, especially when a guy from the table across had bought you both a round of drinks.

“I’m just gonna pop to the loo.”

“Do you really need the toilet or do you just want to parade infornt of the fit rich man who keeps looking at you?”

“ Is both an option?” You laughed as Yamna slipped off her stool, winking rather dramatically as she did so. She was unbelievable - but at least this way she wasn’t thinking about her work, or lack thereof, anymore.

Happily you sat scrolling though your phone, seeing that tom had messaged you with an okay, before flicking through instagram.

And that was where the happiness ended.

For in a hurried manner, with a face looking a lot more ghosted than when she left, Yamna took her seat again.

“Are you okay?” Immediately your worry took over, the way she was biting her lip and not meeting your eyes not helping.

“I um yeh-yeh. Just I think I saw Tom.”

“Tom as in my Tom?” Her almost guilty looking nod had your scrunching your eyebrows, why was it such a big deal Tom was inside?

“He didn’t see me I don’t think but er… he just looked pretty close to a girl and I-“

To be honest you stopped listening at that point, heart dropping out the bottom of your chest. Because it made sense, he had been so distant recently and even if you’d been lying to yourself that it were work - this seemed much more likely. Whilst nodding along, pretending to listen to Yamna, instead your attention was solely focused on fiddling with the promise ring he’d got you after the two of you decided to keep the baby. He’d been so committed, so ready for this unexpected news. He’d said he was in for the long haul.

“Y/n?”

“sorry I um… it’s probably just a work colleague he needs to sweet talk. I’ll um-I’ll just go say hello.”

“I’m coming with you.” She spoke astutely, very much forcing herself into the situation.

“No no I’ll… I’ll come back if I need you, just wait here.”

Her face was so grim and destitute, as much as you were pretending it was okay - you knew it wasn’t. Before Yamna could protest further, you slipped off your seat ( clumsily thanks to the elephant belly) and walked with fake confidence back inside.

It took you barely 3 seconds to hone in on Tom, call it mothers intuition. He was on a booth in the corner with 5 others on his table but none of whom you recognised. It was 2 other guys and 3 girls - the six all paired off in mathcingly initimate conversations. Apart from that you payed almost zero attention to the others, attention solely focused on your boyfriend and the girl he had his arm round.

She was everything you weren’t. She was skinny - you, as previously mentioned, looked like you had a beachball stuffed under your top. She was blonde with sleek and perfectly styled waves at the tips of her long her - yours was thrown into a messy bun due to the last minute plans.

Most importantly - right now she was wrapped in Toms arms, whilst you stood alone watching.

God knows what came over you, but with confidence you never normally had you marched up to the table, just waiting at the end. One of the men you didn’t recognised, arrogantly asked you ‘can I help you’ - but you completely disregarded it, eyes solely fixed on Tom. He took a moment more to look away from the leggy girl, but as soon as he did his eyes grew massively wide.

“Y/n I-I-“

“Fancy bumping into you, I thought you were out with work executives?” Frantically casting his gaze across the table, you could see the cogs whirring to try and come up with an explanation.

“No I-I was but then Charlie here came over, we used to be mates at school and-“

“Oh fuck off Tom., I cant deal with this right now.”

You didn’t even have the energy to listen to his clearly fake excuses as to why he’d landed himself in that situation. You also certainly did not have it in you to maintain the strong face, you could feel everything shattering inside of you.

Because it was so blindingly obvious by how he had acted. You’d caught him out and you both knew it.

And it fucking hurt like hell.

So you exited the bar as fast as physically possible, hearing the shouts of both Yamna and Tom behind you. You didn’t know what you needed in that moment - except that neither of them were the answer. Tom though, presumably the faster of the two, managed to catch up - grabbing your arm to make you halt in the road.

There was this moment between the two of you that time almost seemed to freeze. The two of you, in an otherwise pretty empty residential street, at 9:30 at night, in a moment that you would never have again. From your point of view, you saw the slightly bloodshot and bleary eyes, widened with panic and fear. For Tom he saw the floods of tears down your cheeks, which you hadn’t even noticed were freely streaming.

But in that moment there was, at least, the slightest bit of peace. The slightest bit of hope - that he could explain, that he had some ludicrous but valid reason for the situation you had walked in on. Just a smidgen of hope that this were recoverable.

But then he had to open his bloody mouth.

“Y/n I swear nothing-“

“That didn’t look like fucking nothing!”

“It was I swear! We just-“

“Tom this is your one and only chance. I don’t care if your off your face, if you don’t give my a miracle of a reason as to what the fuck THAT was - then I’m gone.”

“Don’t say that Y/n, you don’t mean th-“ He tried to grab your hand which you snatched away, like you had just scalded it on a hot plate. Like he had hurt you.

“I swear to god I’ve never meant anything more. So cut the shit.”

“FIne-fine! Um so we were at the meeting and then on the way out I bumped into George and hes been a good mate of mine for years.” All you did was hum, arms crossed and making sure you had a metre of distance between the two of you.

“So he said god you look like you need a drink and I agreed because its been stressful as hell recently.”

“Oh its been stressful; for YOU has it? I’m so sorry Thomas, has it been hard for you while i’ve been throwing my lungs up with morning sickness? Has it been stressful that I’ve been running on zero hours sleep because she kicks me all bloody night? ” Your words were laced in a posioned sarcasm, to which Tom just stammered to.

“Please just let me.” Given he was supposed to be fighting for you, he sounded pretty darn defeated already.

“I said yes to the drink.” He skipped out the bit that had angered you, to which you rolled your eyes at. “And one turned into two and more and then I don’t know-“

“Your going to have to try a lot harder than that.” You deadpanned, taking a small step further back still.

“I mean it! The girls were all his friends and we were just talking.”

“Just talking? All pressed up and arms round her?”

“Yes!” As indignant as he retorted, it didn’t not make up for what you had seen with your own eyes.

“Your such a bullshitter Tom!”

“God why wont you just listen to me?” He cried, wobbly doing a little 360 on the spot, in what appeared to be exasperation.

“Because your just spouting fucking lies! And you try and blame it all on poor little tommo being stressed which is-“

“I HAVE BEEN! Running round after you! I’m just tired of this shit!!! So kill me, for having one night of freedom!”

Tom was too deep in his angry lecture to take any notice of you. Which is why, once finished, he waitied, breath heavy and nose flaring. He was waiting for you to scream back at him. To give it back. He was too drunk to notice the change in your demeanor.

“I’m tired of this shit.”

It was just reverberating round your head. Again and again and again. He was tired of your relationship and you hadn’t even become parents yet. He was at his wits-end and the baby was still unborn. What the fuck was going to happen when baby arrived? Clearly there was no hope. It was dead. Your relationship was dead with no chance of revival.

Because he’d said it. Your relationship was shit, and nobody can put up with something they hate for that long. Not 18 years. Not while bringing up a child.

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

?to be continued?

~~~~~~~~~~gahhhh I hope u enjoyed! I also REALLY CANNOT THINK OF A NAME FOR THIS MINISERIES --> if anyone can think of something pls inbox me!!! ~~~~~~~~

tom taglist: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol

#tom x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom holland one shot #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #angsty #pregnant!reader

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reidgraygubler · 4 years ago

Text

caught in the nets (spencer reid/reader)

Title: caught in the nets

Requested: no

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: smut, fluff

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrive sex, unsafe sex, public sex (public bathroom), fingering, handjob, grinding, groping, heavy petting, fucking with fishnets on, tipsy sex, possessive), hand on jaw/neck (no pressure), swearing, drinking, mentions of a gun, mentions of casework, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3,944

Summary: Spencer loves what reader is wearing while out at a bar with the team

A/N: hi guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Here’s another thing i wrote. this is another thing I was super excited to write. AND I wrote it for one of my bestest friends @spencer-reid-in-a-pool for pom’s server fic swap. I wrote it in literally two days bc I had a week to write it. But it does have a prompt and a few other things she likes in it! also quick shout out to @newportonmymind for proofreading this!! i really appreciate you! I really hope you guys enjoy this piece! Thank you all so much for the love and support! I appreciate it and you! Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Rough cases will always be the worst. Sometimes they felt hopeless, like we weren’t able to figure out how to save a victim. In the end we were able to save the victim and arrest the unsub. But it was still rough.

So drinks were a must when it came to the end of rough cases. I know it’s a bad thing to turn to drinking in a rough time. But sometimes nothing helped more than a drink. It was easier to relax with a little liquor in your system. Well, it was easier for me to relax with a little liquor. I couldn’t say about the rest of the team.

I was the one who offered up the idea of going to a bar when we returned home. I just needed a little something to help me unwind. Luke, Penelope and Tara were the next to say they’d be coming. After some light convincing, Emily, JJ, and Matt agreed. David was quick to leave before we could get to him about it.

Which left Spencer. At first he put up a fight, arguing that he had to go home. Home to what? We have the same situation. Eventually Penelope wore him down and got him to go.

“Okay, I’ll meet you guys there. I need to change out of these clothes.” I looked down at the business attire I had worn on the plane. I really wished I had changed out of them too, and into something more comfortable.

“Sounds good, Sweetness! See you in a bit.” Penelope looked at me with a smile. I returned the smile before collecting my things from my desk, and leaving.

Part of me wanted to wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants. But I also wanted to wear jeans and a tee-shirt, just to be comfortable. I also wanted to wear something more… party like. Mostly because we’re going to a bar, where there were going to be lots of people. Mmm…

I went with the latter. My outfit ended up consisting of a plain black top, paired with short-shorts and a “comfortable” pair of heels. Under the shorts I wore one of my favorite clothing items, a pair of black fishnets. They were one of my favorite things because I always gained the attention of someone. And I usually enjoyed that attention. I just don’t know whose attention I wanted.

Once I was satisfied with how I looked, I grabbed my bag and left for the bar. I was the first to leave the BAU, but the last to show up to the bar. Even Spencer was there before me, which was a rarity.

“Hey sorry I’m late. Traffic was nuts… And I just wanted to look nice,” I laughed nervously as I looked down before sitting beside Penelope. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I tried to avoid the feeling of the stares. At first I tried to not be self-conscious, after all I was the one who wanted to dress a little more… sexy and get the attention of others.

“What are you wearing?” Luke asked after he took a sip of his beer. I looked down at my attire and shrugged.

“Wanted someone’s attention. Figured I’d get it here.” I gestured around the room towards the many groups of people. “Already got yours, Lukey-poo,” I cooed as I looked at him. He looked back at me with a weird look in his eyes. “Where’s Spence?”

“He went to get a drink.” JJ nodded towards the bar before sipping her drink. I looked over my shoulder and towards the bar. My eyes quickly identified the lanky and awkward body of Spencer standing beside the bar as he waited for a drink.

“Has the bartender been flirting with him the whole time?” I looked back at the team with wide eyes. Tara looked over at JJ with a smug smile before nodding. “No ones gonna save him?” “Figured we’d give him a try first.” Matt shrugged as he looked back at me. I let out a mildly annoyed sigh before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Emily asked as she looked at me. I smiled as her eyes very slowly lingered down my body. There was an obvious struggle, and I liked that. I was definitely getting the attention I craved tonight. Even though it’s from my superior.

“Gonna go save boy wonder from inevitable embarrassment that he will probably succumb to.” I rested my hand on the table as I looked at the team. JJ and Emily shared a knowing glance. “And I’m getting myself a drink.” I shrugged before shoving my hands in my small pockets and walked towards the bar and Spencer.

“Hey Spence!” I exclaimed as I looked at him. He looked away from the bartender and smiled. His smile, however, quickly melted away and a hungry look took over his eyes.

“H-hey,” he mumbled before looking back at the bartender. She looked between me and Spencer before muttering a few profanities and walking away. I smirked before taking the space up beside Spencer.

“You seeing something you like, Reid?” I asked as soon as I noticed him staring at me again. I leaned over the bar beside him and smiled.

“I.. Uh, I…” He cleared his throat before looking away from me and down at the counter. Well, maybe I did know whose attention I wanted…

“Anyways, I’ve come to save you.”

“Save me?”

“The bartender…” I whispered before nodding in her direction. Spencer looked down at her and we both caught her looking between us before dropping her gaze.

“The bartender?”

“Just get your drink and come on,” I laughed before standing up and away from the counter. Spencer looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. He was obviously confused as to what I was talking about. But I’ll honestly save him the embarrassment. “Oh, wait. I want a drink too!” I exclaimed as I leaned over the counter.

Once we both had our drinks, I silently led him back to the table. I enjoyed the feeling of people’s eyes on me as I walked by them. I could even sense Spencer staring at me. To be fair, my shorts were a little on the shorter side…

Maybe the attention I was getting was from the person I wanted it from the most…

Spencer and I returned to the table, and we were quick to join into whatever conversation they were having. The entertaining stories that Matt told about his kids made everyone go into a fit of laughter.

The laughter only grew the more drinks that everyone had consumed. We weren’t exactly drunk, well some of us weren’t drunk. But when someone in the bar orders a round of drinks for the table, it’s hard to say no.

JJ, Spencer and Matt were the only ‘mostly sober’ ones. Followed by Tara and me being tipsy, but sober enough to know what was happening. Penelope, Luke and Emily had enough to drink and had left the table to go dance with each other and random people in the bar.

“I wanna dance,” I muttered as I looked down at the table. Matt cleared his throat, causing me to look up at him. He was nodding a Spencer, who was looking around the room at all the other people. A small smile grew across my lips before I jumped from my seat. Spencer and JJ both looked at me with shock on their faces.

I looked right at Spencer and smiled. “You.” I pointed at him. “Me.” Then I pointed at myself. “We’re dancing,” I spoke as I jerked my thumb behind me. Spencer’s face fell slightly as he watched me walk to stand in front of him. I smiled as his eyes lingered on my body for a brief moment before landing on my face. “Come on. Let’s leave mom and dad alone.” I lifted a hand for him to take. He looked at it for a moment before hesitantly placing his hand into mine.

Once he stood, I dragged him over to the dance floor, where we both stood still. I didn’t know what was going through his head, but I wished I did. His body wasn’t tense, in fact I could tell he liked that I was being daring and the close proximity I was in.

We, and by we I mean me, hardly danced. It was mostly just me. And my dance moves consisted of me grinding on him. Which seemed to rile him up enough to entertain me. I enjoyed it more when he rested his hands on my hips and held me in front of him.

I looked around the room at all the people, watching as they continued dancing with their friends and people. Then I looked back at Spencer before grabbing his hand. His once hazel eyes were blown out black and a look of hunger and lust was settled in them. He looked like he knew what he wanted, and he was about to do anything in his power to get it too.

I looked away from him and around the room, again, looking for a familiar face. It wasn’t that I needed someone to save me from this moment. No. I needed to make sure none of our friends saw what I was about to do next.

I turned to face Spencer again and pressed my chest to his. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled them flush against his. The breath was knocked from my lungs when I felt how hard he was through his slacks and my shorts.

I grabbed his wrist and turned away from him before dragging him out of the bar and towards the bathrooms. He didn’t say anything when I pulled him into the women’s bathroom and into a stall. I’ll forever be grateful for that too because I don’t know where else we would go to.

I pulled him into a stall and locked it before pushing him against the door. His lips quickly attached to mine, and before I knew it his teeth grazed across my lower lip. And just like before, when we were out in the bar, his hands fell back to my hips and he pulled me against him. He rolled his hips to mine, pressing his bulge into my body.

“I can’t believe you,” Spencer groaned against my mouth. I looked up at him and smirked. “Why’s that? What makes me so unbelievable?” I whispered as I pressed a hand to his front. Spencer’s body froze and a hiss came from his lips.

“You coming to this bar, dressed like that, acting like you own the place,” his voice was low as he spoke. I smiled before I looked for his belt. “Acting like you aren’t arousing every man-- and woman-- here. That’s right, I saw the way Emily looked at you,” he continued as he looked at me.

“I just wanted attention from someone. But I’m sure happy that it’s your attention that I’m getting, Spencer,” I whispered before I pressed my hips against his.

“Well… I don’t think you’ll be getting attention from anyone else other than mine from now on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re mine now, Sweetness,” he mildly mocked the pet name Penelope had given me earlier today. I stared at him, my breathing growing shallow. “And no one else’s.” Goosebumps grew like fire across my skin once I realized the honesty and reality of his words. Or, well, I should say his possessiveness. At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted or believed what he said, but a moment passed and I realized… I wanted it so bad.

We both fell into a silent stare down. My hands, however, kept busy as they looked for his belt. But then a smirk grew across my lips the second I realized he still had a hard on waiting for me.

I was quick as I tried undoing his belt buckle, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But he obviously did when I began struggling and fumbling for a moment.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me, Reid?” I whispered as I carefully slipped my hand into his pants and briefs. My question was otherwise rhetorical. I knew for a fact it was a gun. But I also knew it wasn’t a gun.

Spencer took a deep breath of air once my hand was wrapped around his length. I smiled as I slowly moved my hand back and forth, gently applying pressure.

“It’s a gun,” Spencer returned, keeping his voice low, “But I’m more than happy to see you. Trust me.” I could tell he was trying to be sly with his words. Because when he started talking his voice was deep and a little rough, but as he continued on talking, they got a little shaky and a little bit higher. I wanted to mock him, but I knew better than to do that.

“Oh… I do,” I whispered as I quickened my pace. My lips were hovering over his. His breath fanned across my face, and I could just barely smell the gin and tonic he had drank earlier.

My heart was beating hard in my chest because I was about to fuck my co-worker in the bathroom at fucking bar. I wondered if his was doing the same thing. I wondered if his thought process was the same as mine too.

I also wondered if he felt the same way. Maybe I’ve always wanted the attention from Spencer. He was right there, and always has been, and always will be. Plus we’ve known each other for years. So what’s the harm? Maybe he felt the same?

The grip Spencer held on my hips started to tighten as I continued to stroke his length. I could feel his tension growing the longer I went. My lips slowly curled at the corners as I realized how much I was going to enjoy this.

Then it happened. Spencer flipped our positions so I was pressed against the door. Both of my wrists were in one of his hands, held above my head. His other hand was already messing with the button of my shorts.

“You think you’re the only one who can do that, Sweetness,” he whispered before pressing his lips to my neck. It was his turn to grind his hips against mine, easily taking my breath away again.

“Spence…” I gasped once his hand was finally down the front of my shorts. I tried hard to pull my hands from his hand, but his grip only tightened.

“See, two can play at this game,” he spoke softly as he swiped a finger up my slit. I bit my lips together as he gently moved his finger around the sensitive nub between my thighs. “But unlike you I’m going to let you finish.”

“I was go-oh…” I whimpered as my knees buckled down causing my hips to grind on his hand. He smiled before carefully pushing a finger into my entrance. It was suddenly hard to concentrate as he curled his fingers just right.

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer murmured against my ear before moving his mouth to the corner of my mouth, then to my neck. A small moan fell from my mouth as he sucked a spot onto the base of my neck.

I stayed silent as Spencer continued whispering dirty things in my ear. Part of me almost forgot who I was with. Not because of what was happening, but because of what he was saying. I had no clue Spencer could say such dirty things. My train of thought was all over the place, derailing the moment I would gain a coherent thought.

Once I did eventually finish on his fingers, he pulled his hand from my shorts and looked down at me. It was a silent moment of a stare down. I was quiet because I was sure of what was about to happen. I was about to fuck Spencer Reid. I was willing to bet Spencer was calculating how long the events of everything would take. I didn’t care, I just wanted it and I wanted it now.

I broke the stare down, looking down at his slacks and the bulge that was still pressing against the fabric. I silently undid the button and zipper and pushed his pants down.

Spencer stopped me before I could do anything else. I looked up at him, my eyes staying on his face as he pushed down my shorts. Then it happened. I was expecting sex to happen like normal. Half naked.

I furrowed my eyebrows when he started getting ready. My tights were still on me properly. He didn’t forget. Man has the best mind in the world. He wouldn’t forget about my tights.

“Wait,” I whispered as I went to pull my tights off, but Spencer stopped me. His hand wrapped around my wrist before he pulled it away. “I gotta take my tights off if we-Oh…”I looked up at him with wide eyes once I realized what he wanted.

“Keep them on,” he whispered so softly I almost didn’t hear him. I nodded lightly. Truth be told, I could see the appeal in it. I did wear the fishnets for a reason. And I knew how I looked in them.

“I can do that.”

Spencer hoisted one of my legs around his waist and pressed my body against the wall. I stared at him, my arms wrapped around his neck to keep me up right. He also helped keep me up by keeping his hands on my hips. Once I was steady, Spencer ripped a hole in the crotch of my tights.

My teeth bit down on my lower lip as he dragged the head of his cock down my pussy. I almost couldn’t handle the way he teased my entrance. I wondered if he could see how frustrated I was starting to get. He’s a profiler. He should just know already how much I needed this.

“I swear to-” ‘God, Spencer.’ My words were cut off with a moan as he pressed into me all at once. It was hard to keep my head up right, and I fought for a moment before finally dropping it to rest on his shoulder. I brought my hand to my mouth and bit down.

Spencer moved a hand around to rest on my bottom. My mouth fell as his hand began massaging my flesh. That, paired with the way he began moving his hips started becoming too much for me.

He looked down at me, sweat beginning to mat down his hair to his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he picked up his pace. My leg around his waist pulled him closer to me.

“Don’t stop, please, please don’t stop,” I whined as he finally moved closer to me. My body began moving up and down the door. The cloth of my tank top had started riding up, and my hot skin was instantly touching the cool steel door.

Spencer lifted a hand to my head, placing it on the backside before pulling my face to his. His lips pressed everywhere on my face, not one spot was ignored. I pulled my hands away from his neck and grasped his shirt and tie, keeping him in his spot.

“You could’ve worn anything and I still would have wanted to fuck you. Sweatpants and oversized tee-shirt, that pencil skirt you wore back in Oklahoma… But the fishnets really do take the cake.”

“I-I knew someone would like them.” I tried to keep my voice steady. But it was so hard when pressure began growing in my stomach and between my legs.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? You here, looking like this,” his voice was almost a growl. My chest began heaving with each word he said and each movement he made. “Too damn long, that’s how long.”

Spencer removed his hand from the back of my head and dropped it to between my legs, resting it high on my thigh. His thumb moved back and forth on my leg, over the material of the fishnets. The look in his eyes drove me wild, and I loved it so, so much.

“Better me than anyone else. I’m not willing to share.” Spencer actually growled as he moved his finger to the crest of my legs. He smiled when I looked up at him with a mildly panicked look in my eyes. “Do you understand why, Sweetness?”

“N-no.”

“As I told you earlier, you’re mine,” he struggled as he tried to hold back a moan.

“Fuck,” I cried as my head dropped back down to his shoulder. I pressed a hand to the wall beside me. I gasped for air as the pressure in my stomach grew to the point of exploding.

“Only I can make you feel like this. You got that, Sweetness?” Spencer groaned, which quickly caused me to nod.

It was impossible to stay quiet as the pressure built up more. The situation was pushed more as soon as Spencer started moaning more into my ear. It was so overwhelming the second he said my name.

And then it happened. I finished before him. But it wasn’t too long after that a familiar warmth spread throughout me.

Spencer dropped his head to my shoulder, and we were both left in panting, breathless messes. My eyes were stuck open as I tried recollecting myself.

“I waited a long time for that too, Spencer,” I whispered, breaking the silence after a few minutes passed. He laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Of course you do.” I shook my head and pushed his body off mine. He looked down at me with a smirk. “What… What does this mean?”

“Could mean anything. We let things happen naturally, or we pretend nothing happened at all. I’d prefer the former, if I’m going to be honest with you.” He gently lifted a hand and rested it on my face. My nose twitched as soon as I felt something rolling down my thigh. Then my eyes widened.

“N-naturally… Yeah,” I whispered, mostly to myself, as I reached for a wad of toilet paper. I quickly cleaned up the mess that was between my legs and shook my head.

“We should go. Get you properly cleaned.” Spencer spoke up once I was done cleaning myself a bit.

“Well now we gotta go out there and pretend like nothing happened,” I whispered as I looked up at him. Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “Where did this sudden cockines come from?”

“When I realized you could have any guy in the bar… And you chose me.” He smiled before wrapping an arm around my waist. I widened my eyes as we exited the bathroom and entered the crowd of people together. People stared at us as we walked by, but I couldn’t tell if it was both of us they were staring at or just me. Spencer’s grip around my waist tightened as he pulled me closer to him. “Remember, Sweetness… I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” his voice was low. My body stiffened once the reality of his words hit me. His.

“Where were you guys?” Emily looked between Spencer and I. I looked at her with wide eyes, my expression telling her (and the rest of the team) everything they needed to know. I’m sure I looked like a hot fucking mess.

“Sweetness here was outside not feeling too well. So I brought her to the bathroom and helped her out a little bit,” Spencer lied with a smile.

Even he knew the lie was useless. But I think everyone would rather believe the obvious lie than rather just know the truth. To be fair, I’d rather tell them all a useless lie rather than the truth. “She still doesn’t feel too well. So I’m going to take her home.”

“Oh! Bummer! I hope you feel better!” Penelope was the first to speak up. I was thankful too that she played along because I really couldn’t handle that embarrassment…

“I will.. Hopefully by morning… I’ve got the best doctor I know taking care of me.” I smiled softly as I looked up at Spencer. He glanced back at me with a smile.

“Have a nice rest of the night.” Spencer nodded to the team before guiding me away from the table and towards the front doors.

“My place or yours?” I looked back at him once we were finally outside and walking towards his car.

“Mine.”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

taglist: @thebluetint @muffin-cup @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencersmagic @90spumkin @jareids @broken-stardust

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fan fic

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inkandpen22 · 3 years ago

Text

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 2)

Pairing: JJ x Reader / Topper x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, mild fluff

Part Summary: After the Labor Day Gala, the Pogues take Y/N back to the Chateau. There, JJ takes the chance to finally talk to her and Y/N starts to show the group that not all Kooks are the same.

Masterlist

JJ offers you his hand as you climb off of the HMS Pogue. He takes note of how soft your hands are, silently loving how tightly you're squeezing him. It makes him feel needed, but then he starts to wonder why would a girl who has everything possibly need him? You have the world at your feet and he only has loose change in his pockets.

The ride over to The Cut helped your intoxication ease up. You're still not confident enough to drive a car but capable of staying awake and be witty. You and the gang of Pogues approach the chateau, a place unlike anything you’ve ever been to. It’s colorful lights illuminate the yard and fire pit waiting to be used. JJ presses his palm to your back, worried that you may lose your footing, whether it be because of the uneven ground or your state of mind. Kiara leads the way into the house while John B and Pope linger behind, observing as JJ dotes on you. As he arm wraps around your waist slowly but surely, they exchange knowing looks. What JJ might see as progress, you view as a friend of Sarah’s being helpful. It’s not that you don’t find JJ attractive. You’ve noticed him around over a dozen times. You’ve always been friendly, but JJ has been nothing but reserved around you. You just wish you had spoken before tonight, under these circumstances. You figure he must view you as most Pogues do Kooks, as stuck up and spoiled. The screen door leading to the porch squeaks, breaking the silent stroll.

"OBX Princess has probably never been on this side of the island before," Kiara teases playfully as she enters the house to fetch you something to drink.

"I have actually," you state loud enough for Kiara to hear from the kitchen. "There's a little shop I like over here but even then, I will confess, it’s a rarity that I get to see this side of the island.”

“You talk about The Cut like it’s something worth seeing,” Pope jokes.

“Of course it is,” you reply though knowing he was only messing around. “It’s far more natural looking than what we call “nature” on the Figure 8. John B’s yard is more welcoming than the meticulously gardened one at my house,” you giggle lightly as you look around the porch.

The three boys all exchange quick glances, surprised by your backhanded comment about your half of the island. They would’ve predicted that you’d have nothing bad to say about your well-do neighborhoods considering you’re supposed to be the ultimate Kook.

"Sorry, it's a little messy in here," John B apologizes as he begins to toss things- from bathing suits to cereal boxes- off the couch.

You still linger by the front door with JJ close beside you, watching his best friend fuss. "It's perfectly fine, John B," you assure the boy with a soft smile. "Thank you."

"You never clean up for us," Pope mocks his friend in passing as John B heads inside with his pile of clothes.

"Oh shut up," John B nudges Pope in the shoulder, making him fall back into the armchair. His action only making Pope chuckle harder.

Shyly, you step over to the old couch, taking a seat at the end closest to Pope. JJ rocks on his heels nervously, unsure where to put himself. He wants to sit next to you and place his hand on your leg but he also doesn’t want seem like a total creep. Awkwardly, he determines to lean against the frame of the screened-in-porch. He's thankful that your attention is focused on Kiara as she returns, handing you a water bottle.

"Thanks," you smile, earning a similar expression from the Pogue. She settles down on a folded chair across the coffee table from you, watching as you crack open the bottle lid.

"How are you feeling?" JJ checks as you swallow.

"My heart feels like it's in my throat," you confess, swallowing hard, wondering if that would help. "But the fresh air from the ride helped immensely."

Pope frowns in the chair just beside you. "How many grams do you think you smoked?"

You shrug, starring off at the coffee table to think. "Couldn't tell you. It felt like I was in that locker room for ages though. I think Rafe buys his joints from a buddy of his from this side of the island," you glance between the three Pogues.

John B pops back out of the house. "Well, I suggest never taking anything from Rafe again," he exhales deeply as he settles down on the spot at the opposite end of the couch from you.

JJ internalizes a scream as he watches his best friend share the couch with you. ‘Look how easy it is you idiot!’ He thinks to himself. ‘All you had to do was sit next to her, it wasn’t like you had to put on a performance or anything!’

"Noted," you nod with a chuckle. Your brows scrunch together as you reach up into your hair. "Geez, this thing hurts," you huff under your breath. You begin to remove all the bobby pins your mom shoved into your hair and place them in your lap. She insisted on you having your hair up to show off the dress she picked out. Your hair begins to fall naturally in strands. Relief already spreads across your head.

JJ's lips part as he watches your perfectly shiny Y/H/C hair fall over your shoulders. If it didn't sound so creepy, he'd ask if you'd need help. He squeezes the wood panel behind him, suppressing his urge to run his fingers through your hair. "If you... uh..." he stammers, capturing your attention.

When your Y/E/C eyes meet his blue ones, it only makes him blush more. His fellow Pogues stare at him with a confused expression. Kiara wonders to herself what he was even trying to say. John B slouches in his seat as he turns his face away from you, begging for his friend to pull himself together.

JJ clears his throat, "if you... uh... want a change of clothes I could grab you something."

You nod, appreciative of his offer. "That would be great, thank you!" You hated this dress and everything required underneath it. You much rather be in shorts and t-shirts all day if you could. There's always been a piece of your that's been envious of the Pogues, it doesn't exactly matter what they wear as long as it's functional. Being a Kook means being done up 24/7.

JJ presses his lips together, giving you a sharp nod before jogging inside to find you something to change into. John B follows behind him, claiming that he's going to grab a case of beer for everyone. He watches as JJ has a quiet but expressive hissy fit all the way down the hall to the guest bedroom.

“Oh my God! Could I be anymore ridiculous!” The boy jumps up and down.

"JJ and Y/N sitting in a tree..." John B sings over his best friend's shoulder.

"Shut up, man," JJ grumbles, shoving his buddy away from him.

John B doesn't leave him alone, following him to his bedroom and standing in the doorway. JJ's room at John B's is utter chaos. He's in and out constantly that it's never been completely put together. All he has is a bed, an old butterfly chair from Kiara, and a chipped dresser. JJ's satisfied with though, as long as he doesn't have to go back to dad's house.

"You haven't stopped starring at her since I picked you guys up," John B snickers, watching his friend dig around his drawer for something clean. "Since when do you let people borrow your stuff?"

JJ stops his actions, pressing his palms down on the dresser. "She's... I don't know..." he struggles to find the right words as he focused down on his ring-covered hands. "I mean, you’re seeing it right? She's not like the other Kooks. I don't why she hangs out with those guys."

"Have you spoken to her before tonight?" John B asks, moving to sit on the end of JJ's bed.

JJ turns, leaning against his dresser with his arms crossed over his chest. "No, but you remember that night at the Boneyard?"

"How could I forget? You wouldn't shut up about her for weeks!" John B teases.

JJ grins, recalling the first time he ever saw you. "I didn't even know her name. Then, I saw her at the Cameron's here and there. I learned her name from Topper of all people. He called for her to join him in the pool. Whenever I was over there, she's smiled and waved at me. Then again, does that with all the workers the Cameron's have over there I guess. She’s just a nice person, treats everyone the same. I kept telling myself that the next time I saw her I'd talk to her... obviously I chickened out each time. Have you talked to her before?"

"Uh yeah, on occasion," John B exhales, trying to recall the times. "The first time I met her after the Boneyard, she and Sarah were tanning on the Cameron's dock while I was cleaning their boat. Topper and Kelce came over and Sarah went to go get them. I accidentally dropped a wet cloth on Y/N while cleaning off the side railings. Any other Kook girl would've had a fit, but Y/N just laughed. I don't know if she would've reacted the same way if Sarah and others were there, but I like to think she would've."

A soft smile appears across JJ's lips, his admiration of you only deepening. He envisions you laying out and the wet rag landing on you. No doubt John B freaked out and rushed out random apologies. You wouldn’t have been pretentious or hostile about the accident, that's not you. A reassuring smile would’ve immediately appeared on your face as you tell him it's alright.

"She tossed me the cloth with the brightest smile," John B continues with a soft snicker, proving JJ’s prediction. "And actually offered to help. Right when she was about to lend me a hand, Rafe and Topper came jogging down the dock. They got all defensive and led Y/N toward the house. It was ridiculous."

"I honestly hate those guys," JJ clenches his jaw.

"Y/N's cool though," John B tells his friend, pushing off his bed to stand up. "One of the most real Kooks I've come across."

"I can't believe I've never talked to her before," JJ huffs, tossing his head back.

"They're untouchable, you know? It's always been us vs. them," his buddy pats him on the shoulder as he heads toward the door.

"Not anymore. I don't care if it's impossible. I have to know her," he states with determination.

"She's here now, use that to your advantage," John B advises.

"Plan on it," JJ mutters to himself as his friend steps out into the hallway.

He had you here, within reach. JJ wasn't going to just let this opportunity pass him by. Topper, Rafe, the guys he hated that constantly have you in their hold aren't anywhere near here. He may never get a chance like this again. JJ's had this overwhelming feeling in his chest since he first saw you last summer. He knows you're meant to be his, not Topper's, not Rafe's, his.

As you and Pope continue your conversation about the history of the island, JJ appears in the doorway. He offers you a neatly folded stack of clothes ranging from an old AC/DC t-shirt that he stole from his dad to some old shorts of his that no longer fit. The Pogues wonder how long it took him to perfectly fold everything together. Your hands glide over his during the exchange and he ponders the sensation of your skin against his.

'You're so warm,' he thinks to himself.

"Thanks again, you have no idea how uncomfortable strapless bras can be!" You giggle as your rise to your feet to go change.

"The actual worst," Kiara agrees dramatically as she stands from her seated position. "Hey, I'm gonna come with you, I left my change of clothes in the bathroom!"

"Awesome!" You grin, following the girl inside.

Once you and Kiara have disappeared JJ plops on the couch next to where you would've been. He rests his elbows on his knees and hides his face in his hands. “Jesus and all that is good!" He yells, muffling the noise into his palms.

"What?" Pope laughs at his friend's expense. "Hoping she'd ask you to help undress her? 'Oh JJ, you're so sweet!' 'JJ, brush my hair!'” Pope mocks in a high-pitched voice.

“‘JJ, I loovvee you'," John B adds to the mix, pretending to pucker his lips at his friend.

"I think I'd actually go for a dive in the swamp if she asked me too," JJ concludes, coming to terms with how bad he has it.

"Just tell her! Put yourself out of this misery," Pope advises, earning a laugh from John B.

"It's not that easy," JJ groans, resting his head on the back of the couch.

"Why not?" John B presses.

"Because I don't wanna scare her off!" JJ snaps.

John B hosts a reality check for his friend. “Dude, you and almost every guy in the OBX are pleading for Y/N’s attention, including Topper and Rafe! You’ve seen how close Topper is to her, that’s what you’re competing with,” he reminds, making JJ’s heart sink. “Pull yourself together and impress her!”

“Be yourself of course,” Pope adds, ever the level headed mind. “But yeah you really need to step up your game. You’re sinking like the Titanic,” Pope mocks.

“It’s painful to watch,” John B adds with a laugh.

JJ exhales deeply, taking in his friends advice. How could he possibly compete with boys from the Figure 8. They’re your closest friends and have so much more to offer you. What you have with Topper is what JJ wants with you. Now he’s stuck wondering how he’s going to get it.

_______________________________________________________

After you finish changing, you find everyone outside. JJ swings in the hammock while Kiara and Pope sit on a log by the firepit talking. You approach the pair, feeling much better in JJ’s clothes.

"So, what did I miss?" You ask, clasping your hands together.

JJ didn't hear you coming, so when he glances in your direction and sees you in his clothes for the first time, he feels as though his head just exploded. His shorts are nowhere to be seen underneath the t-shirt that lands just above your knees. The collar is so worn that it nearly hangs off your shoulder, completely bare. Your loosely curled hair rests tucked over your one shoulder. He sits up to get a better look at you and nearly loses his balance in the hammock. The object rocks to the side and JJ curses loudly, catching himself from almost falling out. When he looks up, you and his fellow Pogues are staring at him, suppressing your amusement.

"Anyway...." Kiara breaks the silence and answers your question. "We were just about to start a fire. I actually promised Pope I'd help him find sticks-" she explains, rising from her seated position. "-He's afraid of going into the woods by himself," she adds in a whisper as she passes by you.

You giggle. “Anything I can do to help?" You offer.

"Nah, John B is looking for the lighter and more beer, so I think we're all good," Pope sighs and gives your arm a gentle squeeze. "Rest!"

As the pair disappear into the woods, you turn your head in JJ's direction. Right as he sees you turn, he falls back onto the hammock, pretending to have not been paying attention. You approach the blonde boy with a charming smile. JJ feels his heart skip with each shift of gaffle beneath your feet.

You stand over him, hands interlocked in front of you. "Can I join you?"

"What-" JJ's mind goes blank, forgetting how to speak English for a second. "Oh! Yeah! Yeah!" He rushes out, sliding over to the far side of the hammock to make room.

You lay down beside him, your body pressing against his. JJ finds it hard to breathe with you so close. You simply stare up at the stars. They're not as visible on the other side of the island with everyone's mansions blasting out so much light pollution. Your hand brushes against JJ's and he holds a ruthless internal battle. Does he hold your hand? Does he not hold your hand? What if you don't want him to hold your hand? But what if you do want him to?

"So, when you're not making drinks for Kooks, what do you like to do in your free time?" You ask the boy, not realizing that he's losing his mind.

JJ remembers what Pope and John B said, he has to pull himself together. He swallows hard, trying his hard to speak to you without stuttering like before. "Surfing mainly, hanging out with my friends, taking the boat out," he lists fluently, internally patting himself on the back. "What about you?"

"I love to travel, swim and go sailing," you name and there's a pause between you two.

JJ longs to hear more, but your mind begins to wonder as you stare up at the stars. JJ turns his head to the side, admiring how the glow of the Christmas lights in the trees shimmer against your tanned skin.

"Sometimes I'll be on my parent's boat by myself, and it takes every bit of me not to sail away," you mutter quietly, distant-mindedly. "It doesn't matter the destination. I find myself looking out to the horizon and dreaming of sailing out forever. I don't even think I'd look back..." When JJ shifts, you embarrassingly comprehend how much you rambled on. "Sorry, that just got really deep."

On impulse, JJ places his hand over your's giving it a slight squeeze. "No, no, I liked it! Tell me more?"

Your eyes flicker down to his hand resting over yours on your thigh. JJ hadn't even realized what he had done until he followed your gaze. He prepares to move it, but then you begin to flip your hand over, allowing your fingers to interlock. A rush of electricity rushes up JJ's arm from your hand. A wave of peace consumes him, something he hasn't felt in... well... forever. JJ watches as your eyes glide up and meet his own, the ones that made you awestruck on the boat ride here.

"What would you like to know?" You whisper into the small space between you two.

He shrugs, starting to feel relaxed around you and not a total spaz. "What else do you like? What's your favorite song? Movie? Show?" He lists one after the next.

You giggle at his enthusiasm, earning a grin from the boy. "Um okay..." you lick your lips, deep in thought, not noticing how the action made JJ swoon. "Well, that's kinda a hard one because I can't really select just one movie or song or show. What about you?"

He raises his brows, not having expected to answer himself. "I like The Beach Boys, Rusted Root, The Animals, Simon & Garfunkel-"

"Ah, Mrs. Robinson," you name with a smirk.

"You know them?" JJ looks surprised.

You laugh, kind of offended. "Do you think the Figure 8 is under the water like Atlantis or something?" You joke as your eyes fall shut with laughter.

JJ grins, glad to see you coming down from the events of earlier tonight. He was really worried for a while there. "I like your laugh," he mumbles before he has the chance to stop himself.

Taken aback, you turn to attention back to him. His eyes pour into yours with such admiration that it nearly makes you lose your breath. "I like your smile... when you show it," you add at the end with a smirk.

"I smile!" JJ pops himself up on his elbows, smiling with amazement at your remark.

"I think I may have seen it one time ever and that was earlier tonight," you describe with a giggle. "I always smile and wave at you whenever I see you with John B at Sarah's and you just ignore me. If you didn't help me tonight, I would've thought you hated me," you admit shyly.

JJ's face falters. He never realized that his shyness could make you think he ever hated you. If he wasn't kicking himself before, he surely is now. As you avoid his gaze, he lays back down beside you. Your eyes remain up toward the starry sky, too embarrassed to look at him.

Turning onto his side, JJ reaches out and tucks his fingers under your chin to make you meet his gaze. You do so, seeing his blue eyes starring into yours with a glimmer of guilt. "I don't hate you, Y/N... that would be... impossible," he whispers.

His words make your chest sink, but not with dread, with longing. How is it that this is the most you and JJ have ever spoken to each other? When you're with him it feels so normal, natural even. "Well good, I'm glad," you reply, feeling your cheeks warm up.

JJ leans forward, closing the space between you two even more. His brows scrunch together and his hand glides across your cheekbone. "You care about what I think of you?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" You wonder. You cared about what everyone thought of you, as every teenage girl does. Yet, for some reason, you care most about what JJ thinks. You suppose because of the circumstances of how you met. You'd hate for him to judge you or make assumptions because of a bad night.

"I'm just some Pogue," he shrugs, dismissing himself as nothing. "And you're..." he swallows hard, his eyes falling from your eyes to your lips.

"I'm what?" You press further, eager to hear what he has to say.

"The Princess of the OBX," he recites your nickname across the island.

You roll your eyes, focusing your eyes back toward the sky. "That name is so superfluous." You hated being called that. It made you feel like you were constantly on display, for everyone to gaw at, or worst, ridicule. Plus, it was Sarah's title first. It feels like you're always being compared to her, especially when you're out in public with Topper.

"I don't know what that means but I bet it is," JJ snickers.

You giggle lightly at his confession. You appreciate his quickness to agree, despite not knowing what he's agreeing with exactly. Growing more confident as he talks with you, JJ gains the courage to reach up and brush strands of your hair away from your face. Subconsciously, you lean into his touch, your lips brushing against his palm.

"I like your hair. It's so shiny and soft," he compliments softly.

Your eyes flicker in his direction as you turn your head into his hand. "I like your eyes. I like how blue they are, they're the bluest eyes I've ever seen. They remind me of soft blue sea glass." They're intoxicating to you. If weren't so shy around JJ, you'd be staring at him every second.

"I like how nice you are, even to those you don't have to be," JJ names next.

"I like how generous you are, even to a Kook like me," you continue the exchange of compliments with a self-deprecated snicker.

"No, don't say that," JJ shakes his head repeatedly, disapproving of your remark against yourself. When you roll your eyes, dismissing his words, he slips his other hand from yours and brings it to your face too. "I like you!" He confesses, much to your surprise and his own. "...Even if you are a Kook," he adds jokingly under his breath.

Your heart races as your chest rise and fall rapidly. JJ's eyes flicker about your face, anticipating some sort of reaction. Even if it's a rejection, he needs to know what you're thinking for his sanity.

"I like you too," you lick your lips nervously. "Even if you are a Pogue," you smirk.

JJ chuckles softly at your play on his words and is in disbelief that this is happening. For a year he's been so obsessed with you and one night has opened you up to him. He's afraid that he'll wake up soon and it was all a dream.

JJ props himself up on his elbow again, bringing his other hand down your cheek to glide around the side of your neck. "I'd like to kiss you," he mutters a matter-of-factly, his eyes locked on your lips.

Gently, you bring your fingertips to his hairline, brushing his disheveled blonde locks away from his face. "I'd like that too."

Goosebumps course over your skin before JJ even brushes his lips against yours. The anticipation is enough to drive you wild. Despite wanting this moment since forever, JJ is hesitant to make a move. Slowly, he brings his face closer to yours, hovering mere centimeters from your lips. With hooded eyes, your focus remains on his lips, eager to feel them against your own. After reminding himself of how much he wants this, JJ swiftly presses his lips against yours. They're as soft as silk and taste of spearmint. Your fingers slip through his hair to the back of his head and your gather the strands into a fist, deepening the kiss. JJ releases a deep moan at the action. Needing more, he moves to hover over you. As his legs become intertwined with yours, he glides his free hand down your side to grip your waist. You bring your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him down closer to you. You feel as though you'll never be fully satisfied. His touch is like a drug to you.

"We got the sticks!" Kiara shouts as she and Pope emerge from the woods, startling you both.

"Got the beer!" John B announces he steps off the porch.

JJ breaks the kiss, flying up from his position too quickly. He loses his balance on the swinging hammock and sways to the side. "Oh fuck, here I go!" He swears, rushing to catch himself on the ground.

You yelp as JJ falls off the hammock onto the dirt beneath you. Followed by a thud, you lift yourself up, peeking over the edge of the swinging object. "JJ! You okay?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he groans, his eyes squeezed shut as he catches his breath. "But I think my leg went the wrong way there for a second."

Kiara and Pope are oblivious to what just happened to their friend as they start up the music and fire. You slide off the hammock and land on your feet. "Here, take my hands!" You offer the hurt boy as he continues to exhale shakily.

"I don't think-" Before JJ can finish, he's flying up off the ground with a good yank on the arms from you. "Damn, Kook! You're strong," he compliments, making your heart race. Grinning ear to ear, he presses his palm to your lower back and pulls you into him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You check again, worry woven in your tone and on your face.

"Absolutely Baby," he nods, leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Come on guys!" Pope calls over to you, tossing sticks into the pit. He does a double-take, processing that he just saw JJ leaning down and giving you a kiss. "Did you guys see what I just did?"

"Yep," John B rushes out as he clears his throat awkwardly.

"A thousand percent," Kiara confirms, pretending as though she didn't.

"And here it goes!" John B exhales deeply to his fellow Pogues. Despite being happy that his best friend finally has his girl, he and the rest of the Pogues are well aware that a pairing like this comes with severe consequences.

_________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things

#topper #topper outer banks #topper obx #topper imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fic #jj #john b routledge #kiara #sarah cameron #pope #obx fanfiction #obx jj #rafe obx #obx #outterbanks

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ask-de-writer · 2 years ago

Text

FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC (Part 50 of ?) 18+ readers only (sex scenes)

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FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

Making Fiends and Influencing Ponies

An Anthro *Tail* of the Mane Six

Part 50 of ? (Work in Progress)

De Writer

54646 words (story in progress)

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This story is age restricted to 18

years or older!

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the start HERE

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As the others were dispersing, Fluttershy approached Rarity and Kin. “Um, I am the head nurse for the Gryphon Hospital. I have no problems with the Gryphons. It is the pony nurses. They seem to think that they are somehow better than me because they have uniforms and I don't. Can you set me up some uniforms?

“They need to have my wings and tail free. So much of the Gryphon language is in wing and crest sets. We found that I can use my tail like it was a Gryphon crest and using my wings is no problem at all.”

Kin nodded understanding. “I finally got a piece of paper with Royal Seals to prove that I know what I am doing, in spite of ME teaching Princess Luna! I have already heard some jerks saying things like, “How come she has THREE Royal Seals, where PROPER doctors only have ONE?”

She snorted, “I got three Royal Seals because I am the ONLY fully licensed Doctor of Trauma Treatment allowed to practice anywhere in Equestria, the Principality of Ponyville, and the Gryphon Empire!”

Fluttershy giggled, “There is no pleasing some folks. How are you going to prevent some idiot from smashing the seals with a hammer?”

Rarity smiled as she put down her Magic Net mirror. “We are already on it, Flutters. The same glass shop that did my front door will fully encase both of her original licenses front back and sides with pretty frames. They will be spell hardened like pieces of solid armor plate.”

Kin invited Fluttershy in to the shop, “Let's get you measured up for the new uniform, Flutters.”

As she sauntered into the shop, she commented casually, “I have heard about mares getting fitted in this shop! Pinkie Pie, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash have all spilled the beans on how much fun it is! I have heard that Princess Twilight is looking forward to more fittings soon as well. That leaves me as the only one of the Mane Six that you two HAVEN'T given a, umm, thorough fitting to.”

Rarity asked in concern, “Are you sure that you know what you are asking about?”

Fluttershy put a hand to her snout and giggled. When she had herself under control, she grinned, “That is so funny! Everyone thinks that I am some sort of innocent!

“Think, Rare. I live by the Everfree. Yes, I wrestle bears and roughhouse with the Stone Ridge wolf pack for fun. All of my forest friends come into season at least once a year. Not all of them are male / female pairings, either. Some use family groups to raise their young and find mates. Some find male / male or female / female pairings. I live with all of them. As long as they will maintain peace in my house, they are all welcome guests.

“Yes, dear, I do know what I am asking about.”

Slightly red of cheeks, Rarity said, “I guess that you do at that. Come on into the back, like we did for your bikini tops. These measurements are going to be more complicated thanks to your communication needs. For starters Kin is going to give you some words and phrases in Gryphon, and you repeat them properly. I want to observe the range of wing and tail motion that you will need.”

As Kin spoke and Flutters responded, the observant Rarity was making swift sketches of the necessary flexibility. She was quite surprised at some of the things that Fluttershy did with her tail!

The complexity of the measurements done and recorded, Kin cheerfully started massively adjusting the dress form! It needed a different set of breast forms, which she found among the new ones stowed in drawer. Wings followed, Kin choosing carefully among the over twenty different sorts.

Turning casually to the nearly nude Fluttershy, lounging comfortably in a stuffed chair, Kin smirked, “Eat now to fuel up for what's to come, or eat later to stave off starvation?”

Flutters shot back, “What's wrong with both? I have heard about your cooking, too!”

Swelling with pride, Kin replied, “Sounds great, Flutters. Go sit out front for now, um, dressed, of course. I have properly brewed Rom black tea in the urn. What would you like?

“Can you do me up a plate of filled croissants? Two or three ground vennison and at least two salmon? A bowl of blood sauce would be great if you can manage it. Mine always starts to clot after about ten minutes.”

Kin sang out from the kitchen, “On it, Flutters!

It was only a few minutes more before Kin emerged with two big trays of croissants, one with a bowl of bright red in the center. That tray she placed by Fluttershy. The other she put on a small table between two other comfortable chairs. She popped into the kitchen for big mugs of iced coffee for her and Rarity.

While she was in the kitchen, the front door banged open, jangling its entry chimes! Two ponies in nurses uniforms barged in, one pointing triumphantly at Fluttershy! “I told you that I saw the pea brained big tits come in here! Listen up, Flutterbutt! No new clothes will add one tiny bit to that tiny brain of yours!”

Kin stepped into the room, her magic shutting and locking the door! She casually offered one whipped cream topped iced coffee to Rarity and took the other for herself before sitting in padded comfort.

She gave the two a slit eyed level stare. “I have heard of your disrespect for my head nurse, our Gryphon patients and several other things. This time, I have heard it with my own ears. The two of you were summoned to my office for counseling three times. You refused to show up all three times. That alone is a fully justified firing offense.”

One interrupted, “How come She gets goodies and we don't?”

Kin suddenly smiled hugely. Rarity nearly choked on her coffee and croissant! Fluttershy managed to keep a straight face as she offered the tray. “Here, this time you don't even have to steal my lunch. The red sauce is lovely with the fillings in these.”

While waiting for them to take theirs, Fluttershy casually dipped the pastry that she was eating and took a healthy mouthful. The two snagged one each and dipped them.

As they began to eat, their lips peeled back, snouts wrinkled, nostrils shut tight! Disgust in every line of their bodies, they demanded, “What is this stuff?”

Fluttershy smiled as she munched chewed and swallowed in a leisurly way before saying mildly, “They are a bit of an acquired taste. Oh, you mean what you got? You got a minced venison filling and she got a minced wild pig filling.”

“WHY? Why would you even consider such a thing?”

“Courtesy. I am afraid that is a concept that you will never grasp. Around my house, depending on who is visiting, rudeness could get you seriously hurt or killed.”

“What! Who would do that?”

“Well, most of them, actually. It could be any of the brown or black bears, the Stone Ridge pack of Everfree Ridgeback wolves. Even the Manticore comes around sometimes. There are lots of others, of course but those are the main ones.

“Like good guests everywhere, they nearly always bring a little something for the pot, as it were. Not sharing what they have brought is seriously rude. They do understand that I like to cook my parts. At first, they were sort of like you. I mean wondering why I would do that to good food! Now most of them have learned to like it, same as I learned to like theirs.”

Kin smiled angelically as she lounged back, nibbling a chocolate filled croissant and sipping her iced coffee. Putting down the coffee she lifted a finger to point towards the ceiling. Getting back to something that you two said earlier? You remember, big tits, no brains?”

She leveled her finger to sight over it at the two. “Let's just follow that reasoning back and apply it to you! Since brains are in inverse proportion to breast size, you two are geniuses!”

They were starting to smile when one hesitantly reached up and clasped her bosom! “That was a very rude thing to say about our figures!”

Kin snickered, “Funny how that works! It was a great joke when it was you attacking your Supervisor of Nursing! Now that it is home to roost, it is an awful thing to say! Wow.”

Pausing to have a nibble at a chocolate filled croissant and sip some of her excellent iced coffee, Kin returned to the point that they had tried to divert. “Deliberately ignoring my counseling orders three times in a row is a prima facie firing offence by itself. Worse, there is more. Your attitude towards your supervisior and your patients is another. Many of the ones that I spoke to complained of your rude comments.”

“Like what? If they are coming here, they could at least learn Equestrian!”

Around another mouthful of venison pastry, Fluttershy commented, “Around a third of them understand Equestrian just fine. About half of those speak it pretty well. Your comments like, 'Wakey, wakey, Birdbrains! Here is your morning worms!' really did not sit well.”

Plaintively, one whined, “Why didn't they say something?”

Kin replied while stretching luxuriously, “They did. Just not to you. Nursing Supervisor Fluttershy took and documented many cases. A number of them complained to me, and several who were senior diplomats, complained directly to Princess Luna.”

Fluttershy quietly asked, “Kin, did you ever track the origin of those IV bottles of pony blood builders? The ones that I caught before the IV got started? The ones that are deadly to Gryphons?”

“I did, Flutters. They are listed as missing by breakage from Ponyville General Horsepital. I personally checked all of our meds before we opened. We did not have any of that sort at all.”

Fluttershy serenely dipped another croissant in blood sauce as she asked, “What about the swapped charts to give Gryphons with serious internal injuries charts from ones with simple broken bones?”

Kin aimed a pastry at the two. “Caught them in the act. When you found the so called errors, we just went through the Magic Net recordings in each tent to be sure that we got them all. Every case was done by these two.”

Turning to Rarity, Kin asked, “Love, would you get me a few sheets of paper and a pair of payroll envelopes?”

“We don't have to stay for this humiliation!”

Kin smiled like a shark. “Please do not. As this is your exit interview, if you leave before you get your pay packets, you forfeit them.”

She took a sheet of paper and wrote quickly and neatly. “Fired for cause. No rehire under any circumstance. See Equestrian Royal Justice file #GRY 731 A405 for details.”

Rarity stepped behind her cash register and asked quietly, “How do you want the draw, Kin?”

“Two separate draws noted that the Kindred Spirit Gryphon Hospital will make them up. 24Gold, 7silver and eight. Put one draw in each packet.”

Turning to the stunned pair, Kin proffered both a copy of their discharge note and their pay packets. “Count it now or accept what is there without question.”

As they were finishing their count up, there was a knock at the door. Kin's magic unlocked it. Two officers entered, carrying warrants. “Elanar Bigry and Howzit Wrang, we arrest you in the name of Princess Luna. Will you come quietly or must we use force?”

As they were led out, Princess Luna entered the shop! “I smell salmon pastry! Is there any left for me?”

A grinning Fluttershy pointed to the tray. “That one on the end. The blood sauce is lovely. We must pry the recipe out of Kin, she made it.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

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#FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC #Part 50 of ?#age restricted 18+#MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer #WORK IN PROGRESS

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