#i love them so much i hope this doesn’t flop i will cry

[unknownarmageddon]

my god. these bitches gay

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just��chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[s0urw00lf]

maybe ron weasley angst + fluff? something along the lines of maybe reader being a little insecure about his relationship with hermione but he doesn’t realize it until you’re vying different and once he realizes he makes up for it🫶 thank u!!!!

Only you

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Summary: Ron is kind of an idiot and hermionie is a girls girl. And Harry is… Harry.

Warnings: angst, fluff, like two uses of “y/n”

AN: thank you for requesting, this is my first time writing for Ron so i hope you enjoy, he is a bit daft in this but he makes up for it.

You and Ron have been dating since third year, admittedly it was a little early to start dating but you didn’t mind because everything was and now two years later still is going strong. At least you hoped so. Here recently Ron had been paying a little more attention to hermionie than usual. Harry, Ron, hermionie and yourself had been friends since first year so you were always around each other. But he seemed to be taking more of an interest in here than lately and it was starting to tick you off.

That's why you're sitting right now with a frown on your face watching Ron and Hermione whisper to each other, whatever was being said it seemed like a passionate intense conversation. "What do you think they're talking about?" You asked Harry who sat in front of you taking a bite out of a sausage. He paused looking from you to them and tried to listen in, but after a second of not catching anything "Homework maybe?" He shrugged, briefly glancing back at them before returning to his food. You sighed, pushing your breakfast away, and turned to Ron tapping his hand that rested on the table to catch his attention. "Hey, Ron I'm gonna go back to the dorms, I think I forgot something," you told him, hoping that he'd offer to come along with you, but no. "Okay, see you in class love" he quickly said, turning back to Hermione and continuing his sentence. You felt like your heart dropped from your body, usually, he'd kiss your forehead before you parted ways, or some sort of loving gesture but not this time.

The anger that now coursed through your veins was burning hot and you had to hurry away before you said something you would regret later. That had been your last straw with him, you huffed loudly and nothing short of ran out of the great hall back to your dorm somehow not stopping until you reached the door of your dorm. You flopped down on your bed face buried in your pillows and screamed. All the anger you had needed to be let out somehow and breaking the dorm wouldn't exactly be the best way so you had to settle with that. Soon enough your yells turned to heavy breaths and those turned into tear-filled sobs. You sat like that for about 30 minutes before you realized you were late for class. "Shit" you muttered grabbing your school bag and sprinting as fast as you could without falling to class.

Thankfully the class was working in groups so nobody noticed you enter the room. You made your way to your usual seat beside Ron, only to see it occupied by your bushy brown-haired best friend. You wanted more than anything to ask why she'd been there and why he'd all of a sudden spent so much time with her but Professor Snape was watching you through his glasses no doubt waiting for you to take a seat. You let out an angry huff and made your way to Hermionie's usual seat beside Harry. "Hey where've you be- were you crying?" Harry asked concerned at the sight of your red puffy eyes. You shook your head "No, was doing some skincare and got it in my eyes when I realized I was late for class" You lied, not caring if he believed you or not, taking out your textbook and turning to the same page as him. You tried so hard to focus on Harry as he explained what you were doing in class but you couldn't when you heard Ron's nervous laughter from behind Harry. And it kept going like that throughout the day, barely able to pry your boyfriend away from Hermione and Harry being completely oblivious to your sadness.

So by the time dinner rolled around you were completely drained, feeling like you'd just have to accept that your boyfriend had feelings for your only girl friend. 'Why was he acting like this' 'Does he not love me anymore?' 'Did I do something?" 'say something?" "Does he think she's prettier?' You thought while laying on your bed staring at the wall just how you planned to spend the rest of your night until you heard a knock at your door, knowing that it wasn't Hermione or one of your other roommates because they would just walk right in unless the door was locked (which it wasn't). You lightly groaned getting off your bed to open the door, being met by your red-headed boyfriend with a worried look and a plate full of your favorite foods.

“Can I come in?” He asked gently, you contemplated his request before nodding and moving over so he could walk through. As you closed the door he sat on your behalf in his usual spot. “Harry said he didn’t think you were feeling well today so I bought you some food,” he said, holding the plate out to you. You grabbed it and placed it on your nightstand, you’d eat it later. “Harry's right, I'm not feeling well, but I’m not sick,” you said slowly. “But Harry said your eyes were red and your face was puffy like you’d been-“ “Crying? Because I have” you interrupted him. “But why?” He asked completely clueless. “Because Ron, I can't do it!” “Do what love?” He asked concerned.

You stuttered trying to form the right words "Watch you fall from her" you said, voice breaking as another round of treats fell down your face. His once concerned look was now replaced by confusion "Love what are you-" "Hermione, Ron I can't sit and watch you fall for her. So if you feel anything for her please. Please tell me so I can exit the picture" you sobbed. “Love what are you on about” he asked, not being able to make any sense of what you’re saying. You sighed now feeling a bit of anger arise “It’s all you’ve been doing Ron. Spending your free time with her, breakfast with her and now she’s sitting in my spot in class what else could it be Ron? You’re falling for her. Why am I not pretty enough for you? Or smart enough? Or maybe I’m being too overbearing and it’s pushing you away” By this point you were no longer sitting on your bed, you were pacing the room like a maniac spilling out all of your internal thoughts without even thinking.

Ron stood up grabbing you to stop your pacing. His blue eyes were now teary like yours “My love do you really feel like that?” He asked desperately. your anger rose “No Ron I'm crying because I'm having the time of my life right now.” You sarcastically replied, words a bit muffled because of your stuffy nose. Ron grabbed your face and brought you in for a kiss. It was rough but so full of passion, you’re not sure he’s ever kissed you like that. You leaned into the kiss tasting the salty tears on his lips putting every bit of emotion you felt into the kiss.

He pulled away breathing heavily, he caressed your face as you looked him in his eyes searching for his next words “y/n the day that I leave you would be the day I die. You take up all of my thoughts from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep at night, y/n I couldn’t leave you if I tried. You are my lifeline and I can't live without you. You fill my heart, mind, and soul. The only way you’ll get rid of me is if you tell me to go and I’m sorry I’ve made you feel otherwise.” Ron said, his voice filled with nothing but vulnerability.

New tears filled your eyes but for different reasons. You knew Ron was not one with words, but everything that’d just spilled from his mouth made you feel like you were on cloud nine. This time it was you who initiated the kiss, his lips molded against yours perfectly as if he was made for you. You pulled away but stayed nose to nose. “I love you, Ronald Weasley,” you said with a soft smile. He smiled as well “And I love you… I’m pretty sure I just gave the best love confession known to man” he joked. You giggled backing away from him to get a better look. “Come eat your food,” he said gently pulling you towards your bed.

[enchantedflameandflower]

Perhaps you could write something? It’s my birthday and everyone seems to have forgotten. Maybe you could write Billy finding out it’s the readers birthday coming up and she’s crying because she doesn’t have family or friends and she’s alone, so be make sure she has a great day. (Fluff or smut, idk)

Yes! Happy belated birthday!!! I really wanted to get this ask out before everything else I’m working on because I know this feeling and it totally sucks. Billy would absolutely kiss it all better. Hope you all enjoy! (And happy birthday again anon! Thank you so much for the ask!)

Billy x you

You’d made it to nearly 7pm before the first tear finally slipped down your cheek, leaving a cold, wet trail in its wake.

Fuck it. You were proud of yourself for making it this long. You didn’t even bother to wipe it away. Another birthday, come and almost gone, without even a text. Yeah you had a few friends but it wasn’t worth it to truly open up to anyone anymore. Not really. But the older you got the harder it was to spend another birthday alone.

You were just about to go for the cheap liquor in the cabinet so you could take a sleeping pill and just drink until you passed out when there was a knock at your door. You almost thought of just ignoring it but what the fuck. You didn’t even care at this point if you were murdered by some psycho.

You opened the door and nearly dropped the bottle of vodka from the surprise. It was definitely a crazy person but not one that was going to kill you. At least not on purpose.

“Billy…” you managed to stammer out. “Uh…what…”

You’d been helping him out for awhile now when he needed information, you’d let him buy you a few drinks in payment now and again and you’d had the hottest fucking make out session at his office late one night a few weeks ago - until you’d been interrupted and decided it was probably for the best. He’d never come by your place before though and you knew it was ridiculous to be surprised he knew where you lived.

“Can a poor bloke come in, or ya gonna make me get on my knees and beg, doll?” he grinned.

Your stomach flip flopped wildly but you stepped aside, still at a loss for words, and - you couldn’t help it - quite intrigued.

“What are you…?”

“Came by to take ya out. Ya want to change? Nothin’ fancy or anythin’, just a dive I like down the street.”

“Take me out?” God you sounded so stupid but it’d been an awful day and you just couldn’t process anything and all of a sudden he looked so fucking good standing in your living room, and even though it was for the best you could not help thinking about all the dirty thoughts you’d had about him since that night. All of them included him naked and ravaging you, making you come until you couldn’t move anymore.

He grinned then, his dimple showing, and you wondered if he could tell what you were thinking. “Happy Birthday, doll. I meant to be here sooner but I got stuck with work.”

“How do you know when my birthday is?” you asked, shocked and looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Ya said somethin’ about no one callin’ you last year and I didn’t know if ya had anyone else this year either. Ya shouldn’t have to be alone if ya don’t want. And I’ve wanted to take ya out anyway.”

Tears stung at the back of your eyes again, this was almost impossible to believe, but you took a breath and pushed them down. “Yeah,” you smiled up at him. “I’ll change, it’ll just be a minute.”

~*~*~

You threw on your favorite pair of jeans, some boots and a nice tank top and Billy took your hand as he led you down the street. It was a dark, weathered looking bar but you didn’t mind. He sat you down in a booth in the back corner and went to the bar to order. “They have the best chips…er, fries,” he amended as he sat down across from you. “Loaded, you’ll love ‘em.”

One of the waiters brought the plate of loaded fries over along with two drinks. Billy ordered your favorite and you felt all your depression over this stupid day start to melt away.

“Thank you,” you murmured taking a drink and humming. It was good.

“Aw it’s nothin’,” he waved his hand in the air. But you could tell he knew how much this meant to you.

The fries were even better. You’d barely eaten all day and they were amazing. When you moaned out lout at how good they were, licking your fingers, he gave you a cheeky, knowing grin, clearly pleased with himself. You knew exactly what he was thinking and it felt really fucking good. God, you needed this.

The two of you shared the fries and just talked about everything. You made a joke about some ridiculous C-level supe and he laughed out loud, a deep rich, sound with a real smile. The whole thing nearly made you climb on his lap right there in front of everyone. You remembered exactly how he had felt when he’d kissed you weeks ago, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you against his swelling cock, his tongue plundering your mouth while his beard rubbed against your sensitive skin. Fuck you wanted him so badly.

The bar wasn’t too crowded but there was a group of girls at a table in the middle, laughing and having a good time. At one point some old rock song came on the jukebox and they got up, dancing around. You couldn’t help smiling, watching them. You hadn’t done anything like that in forever. Maybe sometimes it was worth it to get out, just let go and have fun.

Billy was watching you while you watched them and you caught his gaze as you turned back. There was a glint in his dark hazel eyes and it made your stomach flutter hotly. It was the first time you let yourself believe maybe there was more to this than him just being nice because he felt he had to.

At some point you got up to go to the restroom and when you returned, Billy had fresh drinks. He scooted against the wall as he watched you walk toward him. His gaze slid over you, head to toe then he was nodding for you to sit beside him instead of on the other side of the table.

You eagerly slide into the booth, pressing against his side as he lifted his arm for you to cuddle up close.

“You’re too good for me, love. But I’m starting to think I don’t give a fuck.”

You hummed happily and took a long drink of your alcohol. It was just enough to lighten your mood and make you just a bit tipsy, not too much.

His warm fingers brushed over your arm, his thumb rubbing your shoulder and you let you own hand fall to thigh under the table. It was firm and hot and you must have made some kind of stupid sound because the next you knew Billy gave a low chuckle.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” you murmured softly. You truly had not felt this good in a very long time “I never - Just thanks. I owe you one.”

You felt Billy lean over to kiss the top of your head. “Ya don’t owe me nothin’, love, though if you have somethin’ in mind, I certainly won’t argue…” His voice had dipped a little low and a shiver went through you at the implication.

One more big gulp and you were finished with your drink. “Walk me home?” you asked, turning to look up at him.

The look on his face said it all.

This time he had his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body as he walked you back.

When you paused to unlock the front door of the building, he rubbed his hand back and forth over your hip and you fumbled the key twice before you got it in.

By the time you got to your own door you were almost shaking, you were aching for him so badly. And fuck, he seemed to know exactly what was happening because he spun you around before you could even try and get the key in again.

His eyes were dark and full of heated desire and you moaned out loud as he wound his strong arms around you and pulled you against him.

“Do ya want me to stay?” His big hand was sliding down and groping your ass, pulling you up and into him before he’d even finished the question.

“Fuck yes, Billy…” You were so hot and slick for him already you wouldn’t care if he took you right here in the hallway and you’d already decided this was absolutely the best birthday you’d ever had.

~*~*~

I didn’t want it to get crazy long but if y’all want a part two of birthday night with Billy I would looooove to write it, I have a bunch of ideas, let me know!

If you have also put in requests or are waiting for the next part to glimmer please know I will ABSOLUTELY write your request as soon as I’m able. I LOVE all the requests I’ve gotten so much! For my long Billy fic, I am very close to being done with the next part! ❤️ (OH MY GOSH I JUST REMEMBERED WHAT THAT CRAZY UNEXPLAINED NOTE IN MY BILLY NOTES WAS FOR WOOOOOO)

karl urban masterlist

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! I hope you’re doing well and that you had a wonderful weekend:) My request (if you can) is short and sweet: the first time meeting Jamie’s mum! Maybe a heart to heart between the two women (you loved him first and because of that it is my honor to love him for the rest of my life typa deal) IDK anyway have fun with it and thank you!!!

Done! I love Georgie so much. Like, she gives off total mom vibes in the way where she seems like she’d try to be the sunlight in everyone’s day, you know?

there is happiness

You’re not taking a bus to fucking Manchester. Shit, you’ll take the train or a cab or maybe even walk before you get on a bus for upward of four hours with the Richmond Greyhounds. 

So why are you packing things into a duffel bag to do just that? It probably has something to do with the man sitting on the floor, debating which pants to pack. 

“Do you think I should take the Calvins?” he asks, pretending not to notice the murderous glare you shoot at him. 

“Don’t know why it matters,” you reply carelessly. “No one’s going to be seeing them anyway.”

Jamie gets up and slides his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

“Aw, don’t be so hard yourself babe,” he says. “You’re not no one.”

“You know what I mean,” you say, hugging his arms closer. “I’ll have you know I am very, very upset at you.”

You can feel his smirk against your neck. “Right, yeah, if upset is a new aneurism.”

“Euphemism,” you correct. “Wait. Shit. Or is it aneurism? Hey Siri, what’s the difference between a euphemism and an aneurism?”

Siri responds from your phone. 

You say, “Ah yes, an aneurism is what I’m going to have on that fucking bus ride on the way to meet your mum for the first time.”

Jamie flops backward onto the pile of clothes on the bed. “Babe, I don’t know why you’re so stressed out. It’s just my mum. She don’t bite.”

“Ok, sure. Yeah. I’ll calm down if you tell me exactly how many people you’ve brought home to meet her since making it to the Premier League. Actually, you know what? I’ll make it easier for you. You can even include platonic relationships.”

Jamie’s silent. 

“E-fucking-xactly. It’s just been Roy and Keeley. I wasn’t even this stressed when I met Ted because he likes everyone, but this is your mum. What if she hates me? It’s scary.”

“It’s not scary,” Jamie laughs. “She’s gonna love you.” You’re standing in between his legs now and he pulls you on top of him. “You’ll be fine, love, I promise.”

—

The bus ride was as expected. Smelly, loud, and filled with laughter. The team is still getting in the swing of things without Ted, but they seem to be picking up where he left off. 

You’re not really tired, especially since it’s mid-morning, but you’re pressed against Jamie’s side and he’s warm as always, so you find yourself drifting off.

—

The boys check into their hotel. You’re not staying with Jamie because the boys have all sorts of team-building things going on and Jamie’s mum insisted that she needs girl time.

You squeeze Jamie’s hand the entire way over to his mum and Simon’s place and he doesn’t even make any jokes about it, just squeezes back. 

Your heart rate shoots up a million times when Jamie knocks, then slows down about 10% when Georgie swings open the door and grabs you in a hug, barely giving Jamie any notice. 

“What the fuck?” he asks, amused. “Hey Simon, how’re you doing?"

“Oh lord, I told myself I wasn’t going to cry,” says Georgie, wiping away a tear. “Never thought he’d come home with a real, actual girl.”

Jamie makes an offended noise. “The fuck do you call all the girls I’ve been with?”

Georgie swats his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, love. None of them were built to last. Only one I sort of liked was that Keeley Jones, but I was never quite convinced you were right for her. But this one- well, must be the first girl you’ve brought home since primary school.”

“Come inside, come inside,” says Simon. “No sense standing in the doorway with the food getting cold.”

He ushers everyone inside and to the couches, and Georgie is latched onto Jamie’s arm now. He’s chattering away about the upcoming match and Roy as the manager, leaving you to take in your surroundings. There are photo prints on the walls and soft lighting and a table with photos of Jamie at every age. 

You smile at him as a baby, same giggly face as ever. 

It’s a nice evening. Simon’s made dinner and Georgie can’t stop beaming or ruffling Jamie’s hair. You’re the only other person on the planet allowed to touch his hair without warning.

He has to leave all too soon (“It’s a pillow fight, babe, and Sam’s fucking asking to get decked in the face,”) so you kiss him goodbye then head inside. It’s just Jamie’s family minus Jamie, and you have no idea how it’s going to go. Is this the moment Georgie tells you she actually hates you and you need to leave her baby boy alone? 

No. What happens instead is she takes your arm and leads you up the stairs to Jamie’s old room.

“Hasn’t changed since he left,” she beams. “Now come on, let’s chat just us girls! I feel like I already know you, what with the way Jamie talks about you all the time. Hardly a word out of his mouth that isn’t about you or footie.”

You grin. “He’s a man of singular tastes, that’s for sure.”

Georgie laughs. “Oh, I bet you’re good for him! Don’t let his head get too big, that’s for sure. My wee sexy baby always did need someone to take him down a few pegs here and there. But don’t let him fool you. He’s fragile as the next person, that one.”

You smile and say, “You two are so similar. He calls himself a ‘sexy baby,’ or a ‘wee sexy lad,’ all the time. And he can’t fool me. I know exactly who he is.”

Georgie’s eyes twinkle as she squeezes your hand. Not quite as strong as Jamie, but still the same type of grip. “Oh I’m sure of that, darling. I’m glad he’s got you all the way out there in Richmond. He’s been alone for a good while.”

You’re well aware of Jamie’s history since leaving Manchester. 

“You know, Keeley’s actually the one who kind of kickstarted all of this,” you say. “We’ve been friends for ages, and she- well, she sort of helped Jamie become a better version of himself.”

Georgie laughs. “Oh, you don’t have to sugarcoat it for me, love. I raised that lad, remember.”

“Ok, fine,” you say smiling, “She broke up with him because he was a massive prick, which started this whole redemption arc and she kind of forced us together at this event and, well, you know the rest. I just feel really, really lucky to be with him. Like if I were anywhere else at any other time, we could have missed each other. I could have missed him so easily.”

You shake your head. It’s hard to imagine a life without Jamie, and you wonder where you’d be at this exact moment if things had gone differently. What would be happening if you’d fought Keeley just a little more?

It doesn’t matter because Georgie’s squeezing your arm and saying, “But you’re here, darling. And it’s so wonderful that you two found each other, because I haven’t seen my baby smile like that in ages. I’ve got no worries about either of you.”

She pulls you into a hug, and it’s all you can do to keep from tearing up. 

God, who knew Jamie’s family would be so quick to accept you?

—

It’s late now, but you’re positive Keeley is still awake so you open your phone to send her a message.

You could have warned me, you text.

Three bubbles appear, then: what do you mean babe?

You roll your eyes. Fucker. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your crazy football knockers are staring at me while I’m trying to sleep.

Keeley instantly responds with three angel emojis. I’m watching over you like a fucking guardian angel!

There’s a pause, then she texts, don’t know what Roy is. maybe the devil.

You snort at that. Roy Kent? Grump with a heart of gold? You don’t think so.

You close your text thread with Keeley and open the one with Jamie.

Nice football sheets, you write. Maybe we should get some for our room.

Jamie responds way too fast with an Amazon link and and an x. You smile then flip your phone over on the nightstand so you can get some good sleep, with Jamie’s guardian angels staring down at you.

[avatarkv]

A passage from Tuk-Tuk’s diary.

now playing: fourth of july, sufjan stevens. (for the feels!)

It has been 972 days since Neteyam died— or so I think. I’m not that good in counting, so I carve sticks on the walls of our house so I can remember. Sa’nok isn’t really fond of it. She says I’m dirtying the hut and forbids me to do it again. I don’t know how to tell her that it’s a way for me to remember without saying my brother’s name because if I do, sa’nok cries.

I don’t like when mama cries. and she cries all the time.

In the dead of night, when everyone is asleep and snoring, she cries. I hear her call for Eywa— but most of the time, she calls for Neteyam and I don’t know how to remind her that he isn’t here anymore. So I let her.

She cries when she makes meals and she thinks she’s alone. Ma forgets that I don’t have that many friends here at the reef yet, so I always stay close to home. I hug her tight. Sometimes, she wraps her arms around me too, but most of the time, she stares at nothing and I’m left to dry her tears myself. I think she gets embarrassed when I see her, so I lie and say I’m off to play with Kiri by the shore— but in truth, I stay behind, just in case she needs someone.

Sa’nok always makes Neteyam’s favorite and everyone always makes room for him at the table. I don’t know how to remind them that he’s not here to eat anymore, so I leave the empty plate alone.

Lo’ak cries too. He thinks he’s being sneaky when he takes too long to look for his things, but really, he just looks down because he doesn’t want anyone to see. Lo’ak doesn’t play with me anymore; he trains a lot more and he’s tougher— he’s like you now. I wonder if he’d swim with me in our Ilus again, but he always drifts off to see payakan, so I don’t think he will.

He’s more easily frustrated. Hurts himself when he misses the fish while hunting or when his Ilu is being difficult. I think he’s being too hard on himself, so I try to keep an eye on him. I don’t want to lose another brother— I promise I’ll look over him this time, great mother, just don’t take him away like you did with Neteyam.

Besides, he also has Tsireya. I think he’s in good hands.

I don’t mind that everyone cries. I cry all the time!

I hurt myself once when I was looking for shells. I scraped my elbow from the nearby rocks and it bled a little— it stung, but then I remember how Neteyam would pick me up and tell me that I was the strongest; that wounds like these wouldn’t last. He said he’d protect me as long as he’s near. Now that he’s gone, I think I have to look over myself now.

I rubbed the bleeding scratch until it became a red patch. As long as it hurt, I would hear him. As long as it hurt, I could feel my brother’s tight embrace.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who doesn’t see him. Everyone seems to carry on with their life with hints of him; Lo’ak would carry two bows (his and neteyam’s) Mama has his necklace and Kiri uses his hair beads. I wish I had something of him— but then I look around, and I see him everywhere.

His empty hammock, his favorite wooden bowl, and his songcord.

I look for you everywhere, brother, and I see you. I miss you so bad and I can’t talk about it, because if I do, everyone gets sad. Everyone misses Neteyam.

I think it will never get better. I think everyone will cry from now on.

☆ mauve here! posting something light before eventually carrying on with my series and stuff. just something to gather everyone's attention again! i fear i am flopping </3 anyway, hope everyone enjoys this mini series of tuk! i love her so much.

tags: @aonungsmate

[kairiscorner]

i just want what's best for you. — miles 1610 x reader

summary: no matter how much miles may love you, you still have to get through his mom for you two to be together. first impressions didn't go so well, and now... now you're starting to think she's right about you. but somehow, you both come to an understanding, and... eventually, an understanding can be made between you two. pairing: miles 1610 x gn!reader genre: slight angst + comfort word count: 2,045 request: Could you do a miles (42 or 1610 or both) x reader where his mom isn’t to fond of her but, it’s only because she doesn’t want to see him get hurt. And reader considers breaking up with him and his mom overhears and feels bad. a/n: hello lovely anon !! omg this was really fun to do ngl, I WILL BE SO CRUSHED IF THIS GETS FLOPPED RGHHHHH i will cry bUT ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, AND SORRY FOR THE CRAPPY SPANISH AND PROBABLY OOC RIO, I'M SORRY, I TRIED...........

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

meeting your partners' parents is never easy; it can be fun, if their parents take a liking to you and are amicable--maybe if they see you as family already for them, then you've hit the jackpot. though, in your case, you couldn't be any worse off than that. you did a few things that miles' parents didn't approve of, a few things that didn't settle right with them or made them slightly cautious about you. be it due to how you look, your lifestyle, your manner of speech and nonchalance around them, how you try a little too hard or not enough to get on their good sides--whatever it was, it didn't make them entirely fond of nor trust you, especially with the fact that you were dating their son and they have made it very clear to him: "no dating until you're 25".

they eventually gave in to miles' persuasion that he was 'old enough' to be dating, to be asking you out and going out with you, and being able to spend time with you without having to hide from his parents where he's been and what he's been doing. his father had to vouch for him, after he made miles swear he and you wouldn't be doing anything stupid nor hide anything from them, and though he trusts miles... he has little faith in you, seeing as how you two hardly speak and only exchange nods, glances, and greetings whenever you're around at miles' place. jeff isn't much of a problem for you, though, he's since accepted that his son loves you and that he wants to be with you--but miles' mom, rio, still hasn't come around to that fact.

in complete honesty... every time rio looks at you, you feel like she's glaring at you, staring you down, sometimes outright judging you in her head. miles swears she doesn't mean anything bad with how she looks at you nor how she speaks, even though she may sound dismissive around you. you try to believe miles, even though it does sometimes come off that rio wants nothing between you and her son. but that whole blind fantasy came crashing down around you during dinner one night when rio confronted miles passive-aggressively and a bit subtly on why his grades seemed to be going down and why some nights, he's out of his room when she comes in.

you were going to speak to miles in the kitchen, ask him if he'd like to watch a movie tonight in his room since you two hardly have time for each other these days, but you stopped in your tracks when you heard rio and miles' voices in the kitchen, sounding as if they were arguing over something. you crept close to the doorway, knowing that eavesdropping on their private conversation was wrong, but you wouldn't have stayed if you just didn't hear rio utter your name, followed by: "i don't even know why you picked them, but mijo, i... i have no reason to believe they're not the reason why you're so distracted these days. don't you think that, maybe... they're a bad influence on you?"

a cold stinging feeling shot up your body and spine as you heard rio talk about you like that, with your eyes widening as you realized what she just proposed to miles: she thinks you're a bad influence on her son. miles defended you, however, claiming that he hasn't even been able to see you for days at a time, that you're busy with personal stuff and school--that you aren't a bad influence on him, none of this is your fault. rio tried to hear miles out, but none of it was computing to her; in her eyes, her son was a good boy who couldn't do anything to disappoint her, maybe do a few wrongs here and there, but he'd never let something like a bad performance at school progress, and he would especially quit sneaking out at night after the first few times, right?

"mom, i'm telling you, they're not involved with anything bad, i'm not involved in anything bad! i just... look, i'm..." miles stuttered as he tried to explain to his mother all these anomalous occurrences and his behavior recently, and due to this hesitation, rio's resolve to pin the blame on you had only gotten worse. "mijo, look at me. please, just... tell your mom the truth. i don't want you to get hurt, to jeopardize yourself and your well-being all for some... person you like. what is it you're doing that's distracting you? is it them? it's gotta be them, otherwise you wouldn't–miles! aún no he terminado de hablar, jovencito, vuelve aquí!" rio called after her son as miles had enough and ran off out of the kitchen, feeling frustrated that his own mother couldn't even believe him that neither of you were up to anything bad. if he lied again, she'd be pissed; and if he told her the truth, she'd be even more pissed, it was a lose-lose scenario for him that had no good solution. at least... not one he'd like.

you crept up the stairs and knocked on miles' door, calling out to him in a soft voice. miles opened the door a crack, and once he verified it was indeed you, he opened the door wider and faced you properly. before you could get a word out, he immediately wrapped you in a big hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "man, babe, i'm... oh, am i glad to see you..." he whispered as you hugged him back, a little saddened at what you were about to tell him, about to do to him.

miles pulled away eventually and welcomed you into his room, closing the door behind you two as you he told you could sit down by his bed, as usual. you hesitantly sat down next to him, tensing up a little as you took your seat on his plush bed. he looked over at you with concern tinting his eyes; he reached out for you as you looked down to the floor, away from him. "hey, babe... what's wrong? did i do something, did something... happen?" he asked you as he brushed away the stray hairs on your forehead as you looked at him with sadness filling your frame. you breathed a sigh of reluctance as you fidgeted with your fingers, feeling that if you did this, you'd be doing him and his parents a favor--but on the other hand, you'd be crushing him to bits.

you took in a deep breath and finally exhaled after holding it in for a bit as you gazed back at him, with miles looking at you so anxiously and murmuring if you were alright, if he could do anything to help, but... this was all that could be done now. "miles... you can't be dating me anymore. i'm sorry, it's... my fault." you said in a quieted voice, though the way you said it sounded very vague, miles still felt incredibly crushed and confused by what you meant that 'it was your fault'.

a look of hurt dashed his face as he brought his hand upon yours and reassured you that, no, whatever you meant, it couldn't have been your fault. he tried to comfort you and help you realize that whatever was going on between you two, he'd make up for it. "is it... is it because we aren't able to, y'know, to... be together all the time? is that it...?" he asked you nervously as you shook your head, still looking away from him. miles heaved a little as he tried to calm himself down, rationalize first what could've been the reason why you wanted to suddenly break up with him after he just defended you in front of his mother without you knowing... or... or did you?

how could you explain to miles that a breakup isn't something you wanted, but felt was best for... well, not for you two, but for his parents to quit getting on his case? you didn't hate his parents, not one bit, you understood their concerns if you were in their shoes–but you didn't know what else to do, you couldn't stand seeing miles get chewed out by his own mother for your sake. you sighed as you tried to hold back your tears, as your throat flared up as you kept your sob in and shook your head. "it has nothing to do with you, miles. like i said, it's... it's my fault. i'm sorry, look, i don't... i don't think i'm good enough for you." you tried telling him without breaking down right then and there as miles kept getting his heart pierced in every which way with every word you uttered.

miles tried to understand, but most of all, he kept rambling to you how you both could make it work, he'll be there–it isn't... whatever happened between you two, it isn't your fault. miles teared up a little as he kept holding on to your hand, but his tears finally fell when you let go of his hand and got up to leave. "wait, love–!" he called out for you as you opened the door and, surprise-surprise, his mother was there by the door, listening in on you two with a sad expression.

you yelped when you saw her, with her yelping as well–miles yelped at the both of you yelping, and rio had to tell you both to calm down... no one need to break up with anybody. "i came to say that... that i'm sorry, mijo, and... i'm sorry i've been so cold to you." she said as she looked at you with guilt and remorse in her eyes and tone. she sighed as she leaned against the doorway and looked away from the two of you.

"i don't hate you, i'm just... scared, is all. i'm worried you won't love my boy as much as you say you can, because... i can't control either of you, i can't know what you both do at all times, especially you, miles." she said as she pointed at miles, with miles looking at her with a confused gaze. rio sighed again as she walked over to you and looked up at your eyes, placing her hand on your chin to get you to look at her square in the face.

"i'm sorry if i made it seem like... it was your fault my son hasn't been honest with me–" she said as she shot miles an angry look, "–but you have no fault in this. i'm sorry, just, mother instincts got out of hand." she apologized as you smiled and nodded. "it's okay, mrs. morales..." you said as she smiled. "you know, i kinda like you a little better now. 'mrs. morales', finally..." she said with a smile as you chuckled, with rio telling miles he can still be with you and go out with you if he promises never to sneak out anymore and to get those grades back up.

miles nodded as he told his mom he has to talk to you, alone. "okay, but no locked doors–" "yeah, yeah, got it mom!" miles called out from behind the door as he closed it on her. you rubbed the back of your neck as miles looked down at the ground, the both of you feeling really awkward but pretty relieved at the same time with how that 'breakup' between you two was very short lived.

miles cleared his throat as he began to speak, but you rushed up and hugged him, murmuring how glad you are that you didn't have to leave him. miles reciprocated your hug and whispered back to you he'd never let anybody–not even his own parents–get in the way of him loving you dearly. he was just glad his mom, though very slowly–started to realize you weren't a distraction to him, but someone he cared about.

he understands all she wants is the best for him, but... maybe now was the time he decided what was best for him on his own, and that'd be with you by his side, letting him love you wholeheartedly.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless

[querenciasturniolo]

same ⮕ m.s.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: swearing, crying, anxious thoughts, kissing

summary: nick gives you some much needed advice, and things don’t go according to plan

a/n: (part two to obviously) i wasn’t expecting the amount of love i got for obviously, and i was SO excited for this part two that i tried to get through all of my requests so i could focus on this. thank you, i had SO much fun writing this 💓 i hope i tagged everyone !!!

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

part one || part two

tags: @222-lia , @black-yn , @lvrsparadise , @gwenloremain , @athenalive , @mxriverse , @notmarnaa , @rainsoakedphoenix , @peter-knows-spiderman , @sunflowerchild27 , @strniolo , @jellybeanbby , @oneirophobic , @landryz , @umichlover , @ot5xhabit , @edensocool , @floofparker , @friedfirewagonhorse , @avamartino , @hoshhoshh

You didn’t answer the text.

You tried, you really did. You had ‘yes’ typed out and drafted, but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d pick Nick up from the house, or he’d get an Uber, but you couldn’t step foot in there.

You’d never been one to run away from anything, especially when it could start conflict, but this was…uncharted territory. Matt didn’t text you again after that, but every time Nick saw you, he complained about how Matt was acting like a kicked puppy, and today was no exception.

“I just don’t understand why he’s moping around all the time.” He said, flopping down on your bed and groaning. You couldn’t take hiding this from him anymore, so you sighed and opened your phone, opening the text from Matt and showing Nick. He glanced over, his eyes scanning over the text for longer than it should have taken.

It was quite a few moments before he reacted, but after fully processing it, he shot up and whipped around to face you, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Why haven’t you answered him? It’s no wonder he’s all out of whack!” Nick exclaimed. You knew he didn’t mean it in a mean way, but it still felt like a jab to your chest. You groaned and grabbed a pillow, pulling it over your face to muffle your scream into it. You pulled it away and hugged it close to you.

“I don’t know! I can’t…I can’t bring myself to answer it. I want nothing more than to answer him. Like, if he feels the same way that’s great and we can go from there, but if he doesn’t but still wants to be friends, it’ll be awkward even when I do get over him and, fuck! I don’t know what to do.” You completely let everything out, all of the worry and stress and frustration towards yourself completely diminishing as tears pooled in your eyes and a choked sob left your lips.

The crazy thing was that you knew that your crying wasn’t because you were hurting or sad—it was just such a relief to finally get everything you’d been feeling off of your chest that your body reacted in the only way it could. Nick wasted no time as he pulled you into his arms and held you, letting you get it out of your system before saying anything else.

When the tears finally stopped and your breathing was even, Nick pulled away but kept his hands on your shoulders. His eyes were locked on yours, full of love and care.

“First, never hold anything in like that. I don’t care what the topic is, it’s not worth the pain of keeping it in.” He said, his voice soft but stern. You nodded and wiped at your cheeks. Nick sighed and looked down, pulling his hands to his lap and fidgeting with his fingers before he looked back up. “Second, you should talk to Matt. He’s the only person that can find a solution to this situation that will be good for the both of you. He is the one you should be telling your worries to, because he is the only other person that knows exactly how you are feeling.”

You loved and hated when Nick was right. You knew you could only avoid this without going completely insane for so long, and eventually you’d have to get over yourself and just talk to him, even if it didn’t go well. Regardless of the outcome, you grabbed your phone and finally sent the message, locking it and dropping your phone into your lap.

Nick’s smile was all of the reassurance you needed.

You’d been pacing in your bedroom since Nick left, each minute on your clock going up making your heart race that much faster. Matt had told you he was on his way ten minutes ago, which meant he should be walking into your apartment at any moment, and it was agonizing.

Waiting had never been your strong suit, and the torturously slow build up was the proof. You had decided against doing this a million times, telling yourself that he wasn’t coming and you should just text him nevermind, but then having to convince yourself that he was coming and that you needed to chill out. It was a vicious cycle.

The sound of him knocking on your door made your skin crawl, every atom in your body at attention as you walked through your apartment and hesitated before pulling the door open. Matt was standing there, his eyes darting from the floor to you when you gestured for him to come in. You led him to the couch and sat down, not a word spoken between you until you finally looked into his eyes and word vomited all over the place.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, and it’s okay.”

Matt sighed and looked down. “Y/n.” He said, but once you start you can't stop.

“I just don’t want you to feel awkward and there’s this weird tension around every time we’re in the same room.” You said, Matt looking up with his mouth agape.

“What? Y/n—”

You dropped your head and looked into your lap. “I just hate the thought of losing you in any way, I just want you to know that it’s fine and I can get over this so you don’t have to feel wei—”

You were cut off completely when your head was lifted and Matt’s lips were on yours. Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks, his thumbs resting on your cheekbones. It was over soon before you could process it, your eyes opening when he pulled away to see him looking at you sternly.

“Would you shut up for a second?” He said, his voice tinged with the slightest bit of amusement. You nodded once, your wide eyes watching his every movement.

“Now, I want to say that you ignoring me sucked.” He started. You opened your mouth to apologize, but the look on his face had you shutting it completely and waiting for him to finish. “Thank you. It sucked, but it’s okay. I’m just glad that we’re talking now.” He said.You nodded as he sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Now that it seems I’ve made my feelings clear, I have some questions for you.” You nodded again, not fully able to speak yet.

“So, you like me?” He asked. You sighed, nodding reluctantly for the third time. You’d answer the next question out loud, once your heart had left your throat. Matt nodded and looked down, his cheeks pink. “For how long?”

You thought for a moment before scoffing—you couldn’t think of a specific moment. “How long have we known each other?” You asked humorlessly, Matt smiling and lifting his head.

“Where do we go from here?” He asked. You were staring at the pillow separating the two of you, pinching at it and removing nonexistent pieces of lint. You had absolutely no idea. You’d told yourself that you had to convince him that it was okay if he didn’t feel the same so many times, that you didn’t even think about what would happen if he did.

“I don’t know.” You said, finally looking up and meeting his eyes.

Matt was already watching you, his eyes soft and a faint smile on his lips. He hummed and pursed his lips, feigning being hard in thought. You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as his face lit up.

“How about—we take it slow, and let things happen naturally? The only thing we know for certain is how we feel.” He suggested, your heart racing as you processed the possibilities. “And no overthinking, just go with the flow.” He said, your smile growing as you nodded.

“I can get down with that.”

[beomiracles]

「 PRETTY PRINCESS 」 ─ epilogue "long story short"

SYNOPSIS taking a wrong turn in the 4th dimension Beomgyu finds himself two centuries behind his own with no way back, though meeting a pretty princess like you, does not seem so wrong.

pairings timetraveler beomgyu x princess female!reader

DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE FINISHED ALL OF PRETTY PRINCESS.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yeonjun’s harsh voice startles Beomgyu from his sleep as he groggily sits up on the couch. “Pipe down will you? It’s 8am..” he whines as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. 

His roommate stops in his tracks as he takes in the state of his friend. From the black dress pants to the white shirt that looked far too expensive to be owned by Beomgyu himself. “Just exactly where have you been?” Yeonjun questions as he gives his friend a skeptical look. Beomgyu grins as he straightens out the sleeves of his shirt. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

Yeonjun scoffs, “try me.” He folds his arms across his chest as he cocks an eyebrow expectantly and Beomgyu sighs. “Wait a minute”, his roommate then says as his expression morphs into a glare. “Where’s my watch?” 

Beomgyu almost chokes on the water that he was chugging down his dry throat as he gives Yeonjun a shy smile. “Well, y’know how things get lost and uh..” A small shriek leaves his lips as his roommate swings at him. “You reckless son of a bitch!” Yeonjun scowls as he chases his younger friend around the small apartment. 

The chase ends with the two of them on the living room floor as Beomgyu begs for mercy. Huffing out a breath of air, Yeonjun leans back to let his friend get up into a sitting position. “How did you even get back home?” he asks, seemingly getting over the loss of his dear watch. 

Beomgyu groans, “that’s a long story.” Raising an eyebrow, his roommate gives him a look of disbelief. “I mean…we have time don’t we?” Beomgyu then hastily adds as he rubs the back of his neck. Yeonjun looks as if he’s about to say something but stops as his gaze flickers over his friend once more. “Fuck man, have you been crying?” 

Quickly averting his gaze, Beomgyu coughs into his hand as he shakes his head. “Allergies”, he mutters as he gets up in search of something. His friend doesn’t seem convinced as he remains seated on the floor, leaning against the soft cushion of the couch. On the coffee table in front of him, Beomgyu’s phone suddenly chimes with a notification. — But what catches Yeonjun’s attention is the new wallpaper on the device. 

“Who’s that?” he asks as he points to the picture of a young woman in a beautiful sheer pink gown. She smiles at the camera and if Yeonjun didn’t know better, he’d think it was a portrait from two hundred years ago. 

Joining him on the floor, Beomgyu shoves a few allergy pills in his mouth before reaching for his phone. He smiles as his gaze, too, shifts toward the picture. “That’s an even longer story.” 

Yeonjun opens his mouth, as if about to say something when he’s suddenly interrupted by the doorbell. Both of them turn their heads toward the hallway, “I’ll get it”, Yeonjun offers as he gets up. Remaining on the floor, Beomgyu slides a finger across the screen of his phone, seemingly entranced by the image. — Much so that the muffled voices from the hallway don't reach his ears. 

It isn’t until his friend calls out for him that he snaps out of his trance. “Hey, it’s for you”, Yeonjun says as he ventures past him and flops down on the couch. Frowning, Beomgyu gets up and as he turns the corner to the hallway, he freezes in his tracks. 

“Princess?”

#serene adds ✎... pretty princess has finally come to end, I hope you guys have enjoyed following this series as much as I have writing it! the amount of love and support I have received during these months is honestly so unreal to me and I cannot thank you enough !!

this series will forever hold a special place in my heart, and to think that I have written over 60 pages worth of content for it...welp! again, thank you everyone who saw it through to the end with me, you mean the world !!!

taglist ✎... @sweetpotatogyu @velvetmoonlght @seokqt @yunjinsbbg @f4iryfever @theresawtf @leeminhosairfryer @beomies-world @soohashits @mitchko11 @moon368 @unknowzzn @n1k1mura @beomtasticc (if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[seiya-starsniper]

For the gentle prompts: "you look so cozy" for dreamling

More birthday fills🎂 RETIRED HUMAN DREAM LET'S GOOOOOO 💖💖💖 Enjoy this soft little slice of domestic bliss anon, hope you're staying warm!

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

Hob Gadling has lived a long life. A long, rich, beautiful life, full of wondrous discoveries and terrible heartbreaks, hard lessons and thrilling adventures.

There are, Hob thinks sometimes, few experiences left in the world that are truly brand new for him. The realization does not make him want to live less, for he always finds a thrill in experiencing something familiar, just in a different way, a different decade, a different century. But he does occasionally mourn the fact that the gap between novel experiences has grown longer and longer.

When the role of Dream of the Endless is passed on, and the facet known as Morpheus is cast off and left to his own devices, he stumbles wide eyed and weary into the arms of his oldest friend. That event alone is an entirely unprecedented experience for Hob, who has never seen Morpheus as anything other than infinite and otherworldly. But in this exact moment Morpheus is mortal, and so very fragile, and Hob vows to himself that he will not let this man walk the earth alone for as long as they both lived.

Over the next few months, Hob rapidly realizes that every experience with Morpheus is something brand new, for both of them. Morpheus has never been anything other than Endless, and Hob has never had to teach anyone the basics of being human. They fumble and fight, laugh and cry, and then at some point through it all, Hob realizes he’s in love.

He has no idea how to go about confessing to his friend of 600+ years though. At least that will be a new experience for them both too.

On a cold and rainy evening, Hob returns to their shared flat after a long day of lectures. The weather outside was utterly miserable, and he was looking forward to planting himself on the couch and watching TV, while pretending to accidentally cuddle with Morpheus.

Except, Morpheus is fast asleep on said couch. And wearing Hob’s forest green fluffy robe despite very much having his own matching robe in midnight black.

Hob swallows as he takes in the sight. He wants to take out his phone and snap a photo. He wants to burrow himself in Morpheus’s side and never let him go. 

Before he can do any of these things, Morpheus stirs awake and yawns, only startling the slightest bit once he notices Hob is home. 

“Hob?” Morpheus asks. “I—I apologize, I did not mean to fall asleep here.”

“You looked so cozy I didn’t want to disturb you,” Hob replies, smiling as Morpheus rubs the sleep from his eyes and looks around. Suddenly, the other man’s face pinks, and he must realize what it is he’s wearing, for he wraps his arms around himself, as if that will somehow hide the fact that he’s wearing Hob’s robe.

Hob snorts and then nudges Morpheus’s feet with his knees. The raven-haired man brings in his knees, and Hob flops unceremoniously onto the couch, patting his lap to indicate that his friend could place his feet there. Morpheus does so easily, and Hob tries not to yelp when he realizes just how freezing cold Morpheus’s feet are. 

“Green’s a good color on your,” Hob says, placing his hands on Morpheus’s ankles and rubbing small circles to warm them up. He grins, and Morpheus huffs, his blush even more pronounced now that the subject is out in the open.

“Yours was more convenient to locate than mine,” Morpheus replies, still not meeting his gaze. Hob knows that’s utter shit, they hang their robes next to one another over hooks on the bathroom door. But he hums and accepts the flimsy excuse, before he grabs the remote off the side table and turns on the TV.

They watch a silly movie for the next few hours, and settle into easy conversation, Morpheus asking clarifying questions on pop culture references he still doesn’t quite grasp, and Hob explaining some of the minutiae of human chores when they’re mentioned in casual dialogue. 

They order take-away eventually, eating peacefully on Hob’s couch, and then the next thing he knows, Hob is waking up with a serious crick in his neck, the TV long turned off due its power saving feature, and with Morpheus curled into his side. Hob jostles the other man lightly, laughing when Morpheus groans in obvious displeasure at having been disturbed.

“Wake up sleepyhead it’s time for bed,” Hob whispers to his friend. 

Morpheus blinks up at him, still half asleep and Hob can’t help but lean in close, like he’s ready to tell his friend a secret.

But then Morpheus leans his head up, and their lips brush in an accidental kiss. 

Hob freezes, unsure of what to do. His eyes are wide open but Morpheus’s are shut. The other man lets out a pleased hum at first, and then a moment later they snap open as Morpheus belatedly realizes exactly what he’s done. He pulls away and Hob—

Hob leans down and kisses his friend of 600 years on purpose. 

Morpheus  kisses him back.

Hob sighs happily into the kiss, and Morpheus wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him down onto the other side of the couch. Hob goes easily, carefully placing his body atop his oldest friend’s, all the while refusing to let go of his mouth. Morpheus tastes like starlight, even though Hob knows that shouldn’t be possible. He’s mortal now, or at least as mortal as Hob is, which is to say, not very. But he’s no longer Endless so nothing about him should feel so otherworldly. 

But maybe Hob’s just projecting. Maybe he really is that far gone for this man. 

“You desire me,” Morpheus whispers, his voice tinged with awe when they take a short break from kissing.

“I do,” Hob answers. “Have for a little while now,” he admits. 

Morpheus’s brow furrows.“But…you didn’t before—”

Hob shushes him gently.

“We didn’t spend time like this before,” Hob whispers, pressing his forehead to Morpheus’s. “You were never this accessible before you were human. I’ve always found you beautiful, even before, but it was always look, don’t touch.”

Morpheus nods in understanding. There was never a chance for the idea of them before, not when Morpheus was still Dream, and Dream of the Endless carried the weight of the entire unconscious universe on his shoulders. Not when he held so much baggage he knew Hob could not help him carry. 

“But now?” Morpheus breathes, his voice so hopeful, so longing, so human, it nearly breaks Hob’s heart with how much he loves him.   

“But now,” Hob replies, touching his hand to Morpheus’s check, admiring the way the other man’s eyes flutter shut in pleasure. “Now we have all the time in the world to love each other, if you’d like.”

“I would—like that,” Morpheus says, opening his eyes once more. “It will be new for me, to love as a human.”

Hob smiles, and presses a kiss to the corner of Morpheus’s mouth. 

“It’ll be new for me too,” he replies, grinning against his friend turned lover’s mouth. “Everything is new and beautiful with you.”

[shingekinomyfeelings]

too much, not enough (Reiner x gn reader; hurt/comfort)

swf. unspecified setting/timeline. ~450 words. mild warning for depictions of depression

Reiner finds you in a vulnerable state and offers an assurance.

notes: I wrote this after a nasty fight with someone left me feeling like a POS, because I guess this is the kind of thing I wish I had someone to tell me when I'm fucked up. It's super short and I'm pretty sure I was crying my eyes out while I wrote it, but it did make me feel better, so I hope it does the same for someone else.

Reader is gender neutral, and this could easily be either canon universe or an AU; it's up to you, friendos.

Originally published March 2023.

You’ve been staring at the wall for longer than you realize, curled on your side on the bed, wrapped in an air of listlessness and lethargy. That’s how Reiner finds you, as he has before, and he doesn’t need to see your tired, reddened eyes to know that you’re struggling again.

He makes his voice soft – as soft as he’s able, anyway – as he calls your name, and you respond with a delayed lift of your hand before you let it flop back to your side. Reiner crosses the room and clambers onto the bed to lay curled around you as best he can.

“Hey, dove.” He tugs you against him and rests his chin on your shoulder, his stubble scratchy against your skin, and you can feel his voice rumble in his chest as he asks, “You wanna talk?”

You’re slow to speak, knowing that when you do, the tears will start flowing again, and reply haltingly, “Do you ever feel like... you’re somehow simultaneously too much for everyone, and not enough for anyone?”

Reiner blinks, considering how to answer the question. He could tell you, and he’d mean every word of it, that you’re never too much for him, that you’ve always been enough, but he knows as well as anyone can that simply telling someone that their self-loathing assertions are wrong doesn’t really make them disappear. So, after a brief pause, he answers honestly, “Not as often, since I’ve been with you.”

You take a deep breath and try to steady your voice, but it still comes out as a half-whimper, “Sometimes I don’t understand why you put up with me.”

“Hrmm…” Reiner tucks a few errant strands of hair behind your ear and out of your weary face. “Same reason you put up with me?”

You can’t help but sound borderline offended as you reply, “But I don’t ‘put up’ with you, I love you. Even when you do make me aggravated now and then, it’s always been worth it for all the other times I have with you.”

He very gently raps his knuckles against the top of your head, his voice still soft. “So, same reason, then.”

This brings on a fresh wave of tears as you reach to take his hand in yours and press your lips to his fingers, trying not to tremble or cry. He kisses your jawline and intertwines his fingers with yours to give your hand a tight squeeze. “You can cry if you need to. I’ll stay here.”

And then all you can do is let yourself cry softly, until the tears slow and the sound of his breathing lulls you into a rest.

And outside, you can hear birds singing...

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[papil0nglegs]

Is it casual now? ❤️‍🩹

Scout x reader *in situationship

A/n: I FORGOT I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS AHHHH, ok this is where I actually take a break from writing. Just thought I’d give you guys something to eat up before I leave! Don’t worry I’ll be back, don’t miss me too much <33

Warnings: Situationship, ‘breakup’, angst with bittersweet ending.

Dividers by Strangergraphic-archive

God he does not know how to handle this. You being in a situationship hurt him. Not only does he love you, but you were in a never ending cycle of lust, false hope, and rejection. He’ll talk to spy about it but there’s only so much he can do, he knows how to pull the ladies but doesn’t know how to pull them out of something like this.

It just felt like a wound that kept getting rubbed with salt. He saw how much you forced yourself to change just so that you can think of having a slim chance of being with them. He hated it, it drove him insane.

“Spy, I feel like I’m losing my damn mind!! I can’t stand seein’ them like this, it’s been drivin’ me nuts.”

“Relax boy, you’ll be lucky to be able to snap them out of it before they sabotage themself.”

Cease-days were no longer days where you and scout can fool around all day. Now you woke up everyday at 5am to get ready to spend the entire day with them. Shaving every inch of your body, spending hours on your makeup and hair, and looking for an outfit that’ll be sure to make them happy. You’d come back to the base at 12-3am, no one saw how ruined your makeup was from wiping your tears away after another day of nothing but desperation.

Once you came home at 6:00, just in time for the sky to turn a light grey. All the mercs were sound asleep, except for scout. He doesn’t sleep until you come back.

You immediately flopped yourself on your bottom bunk face first into the pillow, not bothering to take off your shoes or even undo your hair. Scout stared into the wall side of his bed and heard you cry, your pillow muffling your voice. Scout was the only one who heard you that night, he closed his eyes, trying to think of ways he can get you out of this mess you kept crawling back to. But he didn’t know that you were basically dragged out of it that morning.

The morning was pretty rough on you. The alarm clock along with the sounds of bickering the mercs caused didn’t allow you to sleep another minute. So you basically forced yourself to wakeup, which was enough to motivate scout to confront you about what was going on. He offered to just have a little chat with you, and you obliged. Now the two of you were sitting on the side of your bed, staring into the ground.

“Listen toots, I’m just thinkin’ that.. none of this is good for you. I mean, it’s been gettin pretty ugly ever since you’ve been visiting that guy. I’m your friend, y/n, and I need you to know that I love you and you can’t keep doin’ this shit to yourself..”

You stared into his blue eyes, and all you could do was, laugh? But your eyes were watering, were you crying or was this all a joke to you? Thats what scout kept asking himself, until you later began to frown, and your laughs turned into sobs. You leaned against his shoulder, your tears staining his sleeve. He didn’t care, he just kept on rubbing your shoulder, leaning his head against yours. He felt upset for you but also somewhat relieved, if anything, this was better than whatever you had to go through before this.

After he helped you through the breakup with a guy you’ve never been in a relationship with, you wrecked their house while they were at work. I mean, fuck around and find out right? Neither of you had the nuts to go straight up kill him but something is better than nothing. While you’re at it, why not set his house on fire! Unless they’re still in there.. wait whys their car still in the driveway?

[adrift-in-thyme]

Congrats on the follower milestone, Trin!! For the lil fanfic suggestions, how about Sky and Warriors bonding? I do love how you write emotional hurt/comfort, and it would be cool if Wars were the one comforting, but these are all just suggestions! No worries if you don't feel inspiration from this prompt :) Hope you're having a good day!

Tysm @unclemoriarty !! And thanks for the prompt! I love writing Wars and Sky, especially when it’s angsty ;) I hope you like what I came up with!

No warnings, just some angst

———————-

Sky brushes a hand roughly across his eyes, trying to do away with the moisture there. He doesn’t deserve to cry. Not after everything. But the Shadow’s words still echo in his mind, a sentence he never wanted to shoulder.

…and yet has for years now.

“Have you told them yet?” Crimson eyes gleam in his mind’s eye. Cool metal presses against his neck. “Have you told them that you are responsible for all their pain?

“Tell me, hero, have you informed them of the curse you allowed to take root in your souls?”

Seeing their faces had been the worst of it. Worse than the wounds the Shadow had inflicted, worse than the fear and pain. They had looked at him, questioning, confused, and all he could do in the aftermath was spew a choked explanation full of excuses.

“I should’ve stabbed him right then and there. I shouldn’t have given him the mercy of another moment of life.” That is what it really comes down to. His foolish belief that he had won, that he could spare the fading god a few more seconds to breathe his last.

Decency and morality are things he clings to. They’re what make him a hero. He has no plans to release them now. But…

He gazes out into the dim light of a cloudy day, wincing as even that much brightness assaults his aching eyes.

But in this moment he is beginning to think his decision was more pride than anything else. Or…perhaps it was just exhaustion. A yearning for it all to be over so he could go collapse in his friends’ waiting arms, safe at last.

It doesn’t matter either way. The point is that he failed. And now others must shoulder the repercussions of that failure.

“Hey, Sky.”

He jolts abruptly out of his thoughts, breath hitching. In an instant, he is on his feet. But it is only the captain standing there, looking a bit damp from the drizzling rain.

“Sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sky shakes his head, forcing a smile onto his lips.

“It’s fine.”

He turns away, flopping defeatedly back down onto the ground. If Warriors knows it for the sign Sky means it to be, he doesn’t indicate as much. Instead, he comes to sit down beside him.

“It’s not a very pleasant day today, is it?”

Sky doesn’t answer, but he can feel the captain’s eyes on him, searching, questioning, perhaps even judging. He fights not to crumble before their scrutiny.

“No,” he croaks, finally, “it’s not.”

Warriors has turned now to gaze out into the endless gray. Sky still feels exposed, raw. Suddenly, he has the distinct yearning to claw out of his own skin.

For another agonizing thread of minutes it is quiet. Then, Warriors speaks, his voice soft.

“We aren’t angry at you, Sky.”

Sky looks down at his boots and doesn’t reply. The silence is agonizing, but speaking is far worse.

Warriors allows it for a short while more.

“Did I ever tell you how the War of Ages began?” He says, finally, still soft, far softer than the captain usually sounds.

Sky shakes his head. Warriors chuckles, short and bitter.

“I figured as much. Well, you should know…it started because of me.”

Sky’s eyes widen slightly. He turns to Warriors, but the captain is facing away still, expression carefully guarded.

“A woman named Cia became obsessed with me without me even knowing it. She attacked Hyrule to get what she wanted. I wouldn’t give in — and neither would anyone else — and in the end we defeated her. But to get there, to obtain a victory…”

He ducks his head, that hollow chuckle ringing out again. It tears Sky’s heart in two.

“It’s what it means to be a hero, Sky,” he murmurs. “To lose, to fail, if only to succeed in the end. We carry heavy burdens — every single one of us.”

Finally, he turns to Sky, a sad smile on his lips. Gently, he puts a hand on Sky's shoulder.

“But if we stick together we’ll be alright. Trust me.”

Sky swallows hard. Tears still pick at his eyes and the lump in his throat warns of the sobs that are still to come. Far away he can make out a dark haze amongst all the gray — rain approaching fast. He watches it through blurred eyes.

“I’m sorry about the war,” he says, quietly. It’s not enough — he knows it isn’t. What can he say to wash away Warriors’ guilt, his pain?

“Not your fault. And I didn’t tell you to gain your pity. I told you because I wanted you to know that I understand. And I know the others do too.” His arm is around Sky now, drawing him in, nudging away his barriers. “That’s why we don’t blame you. Why would we when we all bear our own guilt?”

Sky inhales shakily. The rain is even closer now. They will likely be soaked soon. But with Warriors warm and steady beside him, he can’t bring himself to care.

He doesn’t deserve this comfort. The war that had made Warriors a hero wouldn’t have even happened without his failure, after all. Yet, he feels incapable of pulling away.

“I’m sorry anyway,” he murmurs, thickly, because words are all he has to offer. “Even if you don’t blame me for the curse…I’m sorry.”

Warriors doesn’t reply. But he coaxes Sky closer until the Skyloftian is resting on his shoulder. And when the rain comes pouring down and Sky shatters beneath it, Warriors holds him tightly while he sobs.

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. (5)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Breakfast dates can turn into a shitshow if you allowed pressure and stress to get in the way of your sweet conversation. Plus, it turns out that Toto Wolff knows who she was- only telling her about it as he recalls what he saw few years ago.

Content warning: A case of burnout, brief use of explicit language, people trying to cope by flirting (Tilly), Christian Horner, journalists being too much, Tilly trying not to cry by talking to herself.

Note: Thank you all sm for the 75 followers! I'm going try not to flop this time. Enjoy xx

masterlist

v. how to romance and cry in the same day

“…I have attached the document in this email. If you need help let me know…” 

I don’t need help. I need to quit. 

If anyone can see my face right now, they will run away knowing that they witnessed steam coming out of my ears. Or at least, that’s what Toto can see as I can see a frown on his face. The paper in his hand is long forgotten as he continues to show his concern. I’m still not looking at him, instead I’m staring at my screen hoping that it’ll crack from the anger that I’m feeling. 

Who the fuck decided that it’s a good idea to email someone on a well deserved paid vacation for work? When you can simply just have the person in the next room do it?

Clearly, them. I huff out silently. In an office with fifteen writers, they decided that underappreciated workers should do the revising. I wasn’t alone in this.

They insist on having me work on it, obviously as I remember the 5 missed calls from the office. They have enough time to call me, why can’t they have the time to do it themselves?

“…Schatz?” 

I jump in response to the sudden call from Toto, my hands accidentally throwing the phone away. I curse beneath my breath before I reach for it, throwing it into my purse. 

His eyes are laced with curiosity, “Are you alright?”

I nod, now remembering I have a company. One that I’m supposed to be entertaining instead of taking the piss from Vogue. “I’m alright, how’re you liking the scone?” 

“It’s good,” he nods before he sets down the newspaper in his hand. “You have not touched your food yet.” 

Right. My hand reaches for the crumpet in my plate, my teeth digging into my breakfast as I chew quietly. My eyes are still staring elsewhere, and clearly it’s beginning to bother Toto because of the constant dissociation. 

“You’re not alright,” he deduces, making me nod in agreement. There’s really no point in denying. Throughout the beginning of our breakfast, I already told him about my work. He knows how miserable and pathetic my life is, and what did he do as he listened? He smiled kindly, his brows laced with concern, everything that I had seen from other people. But he listened, and I like him for it.

Not wanting to elaborate anymore, he notices how quiet I am and so he decides to say, “You were enjoying your research paper years ago, but you do not look like someone who’s been happy with your job for a while now. You should leave the company.” 

I pause, looking up at him. He does… “You remember me,” I watch him nod in confirmation as I continue, “you know who I am. From Dubai.” 

He only shrugs like I just asked him if the sky was blue. How can he sit here and act like it’s a normal Tuesday? Does he even know what kind of effect he had on me? This utter— he knows who I am and he doesn’t even mention it until now!

He doesn’t read my mind, but he explains, “You are an impressive woman. It’s difficult not to forget about you when you speak so passionately about writing and your courses back then.” 

“It was a short-lived conversation, was it not?” I ask him, wondering how he’d managed to remember that whole fifteen minutes. Those fifteen minutes of nothing but university work and exchanging questions felt like a long time. 

“I admit, it took me the whole day to figure out who you were,” he chuckles, making me smile. “The conversation we had was… memorable to say the least. But it turned foggy the moment I became Team Principal.” 

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” I laugh quietly, “If anything I feel bad for not asking for your name. Your teammate had done it for you. Torger.” 

He nods, recalling what he’s just talking about before I rattled off about Dubai. “But there’s just something missing from you now that you had back then…”

“…what is it?” Is he this observant? Has he stared at people for a while before telling them what he has noticed?  

“The smile on your face,” he answers, his voice showing nothing of emotion as he says, “you still have the passion for it but now… the smile isn’t there anymore. At least the one that goes from one ear to another.” 

I can’t even speak. Thank goodness he continues on, “Would you consider it a dream if everyone’s making it a nightmare?”

If the silence wasn't deafening before, I can barely imagine being talkative now. He holds my stare, his eyes softening at the sight. I look pathetic, I just know it. 

“I… I don’t even know,” I murmur, running my fingers through my hair. “It’s not easy to get away from the company. I’ve been writing for them and if I left then… I’ve no one to use as a reference… or even take my projects. Seeing as it’s under their license and all that.”

“Ah…” Toto replies quietly, nodding at the response. He leans forward, making me look at him as he says, “But between your ambition and health, I think that you should see your health off first. If they are making it hard for you, your goal is harder to reach.” 

My view of Toto Wolff just changed here. Me, sitting across from him with the pessimism that my life carried— I can see him in a new light. 

I can see myself in a new light. He isn’t wrong. How am I going to do well in my career if my employers are the exact reason why I’m miserable in the first place? How am I going to find inspiration if all I feel is isolated and locked up?

Why do I continue to act like they’d give me a chance? I’ve brought up the discussion of getting a promotion for two years, and my career is a discussion that they continue to put on hold. 

No fuck that. 

But still… I can’t quit my job, can I? How am I going to be a successful editor if I’m going to leave?

My inner dialogue clearly has an effect on behalf of Toto’s entertainment. His handsome smile, from what I gather is a rarity, appeared right in front of me as I gulped. Toto isn’t wrong. If I want to be better… just find a place who’s more than willing to help me. 

I reach for my tea as I ask, “How are you as handsome as you are good at giving out advice?” 

His chuckle melts the stress away for a second, his amusement becoming more clear as he continues to stare at me. Is this what they call heart eyes? Yeah I really don’t want to listen to Daniel or Lewis. 

“And how are you as beautiful as you are stubborn?” He asks back, making me giggle quietly as I sip on my tea. 

“It’s a requirement if you wish to oppose Christian Horner all the time,” I jest, “you can get away from trouble easily.” 

“I’ve seen it yesterday,” Toto sighs contentedly before he smirks, “I am more worried about being disarmed by your strong will and beauty instead of the higher up’s rules and regulations. I hope you’re not the one I have to face in case our teams get into an altercation. I do not enjoy losing to Red Bull, of all things.”

—

The restaurant, while it is in a secluded location by the Silverstone Park, was jam-packed by the time we left after finishing our breakfast. We need to head to the venue soon before Christian gets there. Then maybe I can shit on his life about being late. Maybe. 

But our arrival at the Silverstone Circuit was more chaotic. 

“Shit,” I curse out, grabbing my Red Bull ball cap from my purse and slipping it on. I can’t even see anything besides from the dark abyss that I called my purse, my hand trying to get a feel of my sunglasses. It doesn’t take me a while to find it and put it on, looking at Toto who’s already on his way out of the vehicle with his bag. Unbuckling my seat, I look at the passenger side as Toto swings it open. He gestures for me to come out, and I do so with a murmur of thanks. 

By the time I hopped out of the passenger seat of Toto’s Mercedes, I was already welcomed by the clicking of the cameras. Alongside the annoying noise are questions coming from journalists who wish to ask questions about the qualifying today.

Looking around, however, I notice that there are a certain amount of paparazzi that I grew familiar with. I knew them by faces. And knowing them, they didn’t want anything that had to do with the race weekend. I just went on a breakfast with a CEO and we’re already adding fuel to the fire that was the British media. I gesture at Toto to speed up his walk while we pass by the cameras and the questions. 

It’s either I gesture and he won’t understand or I drag him. But grabbing him by the arm will only cause an uproar in the gossip world. People are always thirsty for drama. Getting involved with me, a Hearth child (one that hasn't been on a date for a decade AND presumed to be the It Girl by the media), will only cause more stress on Toto’s behalf. I am not about to let him get through that.

But he doesn’t understand what I asked of him non-verbally, instead he turns around to provide quick answers to questions about today and what may happen tomorrow. I wait there impatiently, looking down on the ground as I wish to no longer gather more attention regardless of the amount of photos already taken of me by standing there. 

“What’s your relationship with Tilly Hearth?” 

“What are your thoughts about her job in Red Bull?” 

“Are you two dating?” 

“Toto!” The Mercedes’ PR assistant finally comes as she excuses herself, putting herself in between her boss and the cameras as she asks to have them step aside. Certain paparazzo finally looked at my direction, realizing that they haven't asked me anything yet. I gulped, already backing away from the scene.

The PR assistant tells them that Toto will have enough time to answer later on, but by the time that Toto turns back, I’m already speed walking to the Red Bull hospitality.

And it doesn’t end there. Daniel and Sebastian caught me walking from the direction of the dispersing crowd— where Toto was— and decided that this was their chance to tease me. 

Now I’m here with my phone in hand, Daniel still poking me at my side as I grumpily look at him. Apparently, seeing workplace romance is a rarity and so he’s taken this as an opportunity to tell me that he wants to see how my slow burn “relationship” with Toto goes. Relationship. Really!

My phone pings as Daniel perks up and asks, “That Toto?” 

I glare at him, “Don’t you even, Daniel.” 

“Tilly,” I turn around and face Christian. He gestures for me to follow as I wave at Daniel, telling him I’ll be back. 

Christian pulls me out of the garage as I cross my arms. Sensing my annoyance, he sighs as he reassures me, “I’m not saying anything—“

“—yet,” I interrupted him.

“But I arrived just about twenty minutes ago and there are journalists asking about you,” I frown at that. Surely he doesn’t mean… “And Toto. They said you two got here together?” 

Oh… of course. Yeah, he does mean the one thing that I hoped he wouldn’t bring up. 

“Did you see my Bentley parked outside?” I sarcastically reply. It’s too early for my behaviour, I admit, and it even pisses me off because I can’t be nice to him. But instead of allowing him to reply, I add, “It’s not much of a big deal, is it?”

“It is,” he shakes his head. “Some people are assuming you’re either working for Mercedes or that you’re spying on—“

“Oh for god’s sake,” I roll my eyes. “I am not, I promise. Why am I even swearing I’m not doing anything stupid? I don’t think whatever I do outside work is going to be reported to my father or something.” My hands will literally carry 20% of Red Bull. What makes them think I’ll do something stupid like sell my shares to other rivals?

“Yes but be cautious,” he says firmly, “because no matter how you’ve insisted you’re not doing anything, the media can turn it all around.” 

“I know,” I roll my eyes again, I think they’ll pop out of their sockets soon enough. “I grew up in front of cameras, Christian. British media, even. Those journalists outside were people that asked a lot of questions whenever I’m out and about.”

“So you understand how ruthless they could get,” Christian nods, sighing as he leans against the surface. “I trust you enough with PR, I don’t even know why I even pulled you out of the garage when you can handle the journalists on your own.” 

“Because it’s with Wolff,” I smirk, “you’re worried about me being snatched by him, aren’t you?” 

He scoffs, a chuckle escaping his lips as he says, “He’s not exactly subtle on taking interest in you and your skills.”

“Hm,” I nod, looking eyes moving along the people that walked down to their respective garages. “Don’t worry, he’s not going to be able to discuss any Red Bull-Mercedes business with me. Not unless I have been put to work for it.” 

“Good,” he nods again, “good. I would hate to be in the way of your… whatever it is.” 

Wow, he’s pretty kind. Maybe because he doesn’t want to lose his patience early this morning. Good.

I’m still standing there when I ducked my head, hiding my face away as Toto walks towards their garage with selected people from his staff. Sensing that he’s away, I look up to see Christian’s smug smile. For someone who doesn’t like Toto, he seems to be enjoying whatever’s going on. Maybe he’s getting a laugh out of this predicament because I was so irritated yesterday–seeing me in a flustered state today is a different story.

“Is that it?” I ask him, my nose scrunching up in annoyance. 

He nods and then says, “I’ll stop bothering you about him for now. But, I’d also like to know if you’d be interested in joining the Sky Sports hosts sometime today. You’ve done public speaking before, no?” 

I look at him funny. Remembering that I just started today, I felt the need to nod. Nobody knew about my masters. Did they? It doesn’t matter.

“If I have to be,” I shrug. 

“It’d be a good thing to bring you there,” he tells me, making me want to roll my eyes. Just a few minutes ago, this man was coming after me about Toto. “Daniel and Sebastian would definitely have a field day if you’re the one interviewing them. What do you say?” 

“Is it scripted,” I ask, “or do I have to improvise?”

“To avoid problems revolving bias, I’d say scripted. Unless you’ve a question of your own. Be as entertaining as you want. As long as it’s not going to tell people that you favour one team. I think Sky Sports just want you to be there for the post-qualifying interview.” Me? Just me? No one else’s communications liaison?

“What kind of stories do you tell them,” I frown suspiciously. Second day of work and everyone wants me in their team. He is clearly hiding something. He’s been making sure that I’m doing my job exactly how they want it. Wherever I went yesterday, he made sure that I was the one in front of the cameras. Now he’s asking me to interview the drivers post-qualification. He knows something that I don’t.

“You’ve been mentioned a lot for the past few months,” he starts, “during meetings, FIA, to be exact–”

“I have a lot of questions,” I say, my mouth opened due to the surprise. I was never told about FIA, and being the hot topic of their delegations. 

“Your father’s an executive,” he reminds me, “and I know that sounds like Red Bull, or Ferrari or even McLaren are under FIA’s list of favoured teams.”

I scoff, “He owns the competitors in question.”

“I know,” he agrees, “but he only has enough power in each team. He cannot ever interfere with how they operate.” 

At least he’s smart enough to do that. If he badly wants his legacy to continue, I don’t think corruption is the way to go.

“What about me? Why am I the discussion of your…meetings?” I ask, internally smacking myself for prying. I always claimed that I liked the feeling of suspense. I didn’t care for details except when I could see them with my own eyes. Now, I’m a child during Christmas - except I'm dreading what’s coming.

He gives me a straightforward answer, “Julius wants you to take control of his shares. He’s up for promotion in the FIA but he can’t just carry us and the other two in his arms without being accused of conflict of interest.”

Oh. 

Oh.

That’s interesting. 

Not only is he asking me to do his part at these events, but he’s also selling me out to his own company just so he can continue being who he is in the federation. Greedy. 

He didn’t get the memo when I said I wanted to pursue fashion and journalism. He continues to put me in these positions– WITHOUT consulting me. For fuck’s sake!

My lips tighten, wondering if I can say no for today. Technically, I can say no. But my people pleaser demon decided for me.

“I’ll be there,” I murmur, my chest feeling heavy as I breathe shakily.

“What where?” He asks, confusion written all over his face.

“Wherever they want me,” I say, already feeling exhausted and defeated, “just—just have someone take us there before anything.”

“You got it,” he nods, reaching out to pat my shoulder before he walks off. 

I look down on my phone and read the text from my supervisor.

“I know you have a part time job this weekend but I would really really appreciate it if you send in your piece so we can go through it together this Monday. Thx xx”

I’m going to cry. Then, after that, I’m going to get ready to put on a smile in front of the camera. Charm works for so many people, at least according to my mother. What she didn’t know, though, is that my charm doesn’t do much to my father.

Maybe if I put on my fakest smile, that’ll charm the pants off everyone. I don’t like the thought of working here, but with no choice, I only have to stand in front of the camera and pretend that I’m enjoying it.

Where’s Toto when you want him?

[writethrough]

Hi, could you do either Billy Hargrove or Eddie Munson reacting to seeing their s/o who usually doesn’t like children, interact with a baby/toddler who they actually like? Maybe the s/o was hesitant at first but then the baby just became really attached to them? Ty <3

Little Chickadees

(Eddie Munson x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: None (I think)

Word Count: 889

A/N: Full disclosure, I really wanted to write both Eddie and Billy, but Billy's version has taken on two very different paths, so I need a bit more time with his. One is a little more wholesome and fluffy while the other is on the serious side. I'll link the fluffy one with this post, but not sure about the other since it won't have the same tone.

Thank you for the request! And I hope you enjoy it!

“Eddie, you literally hang out with children all the time!” you said, exasperated.

He gripped his chest as if in pain. “Ouch!”

You groaned. “You know what I mean. It’s just…Kids don’t like me, and I don’t like them. It’s a mutual dislike.”

You were rambling at this point, and both of you knew it.

All you wanted was to spend the day with your boyfriend, but because he was such a sweetheart, he had volunteered both of you for the petting zoo at the Fourth of July carnival. And where there were fuzzy, adorable creatures, there were screaming, crying kids.

“C’mon, it won’t be that bad!” He flopped beside you on his bed. “You technically don’t even have to watch them. That’s what their parents are for. You just have to make sure no one loses a finger to a goat.”

“That’s not helping,” you said.

“Or lets an alpaca loose.”

“Eddie!” You threw a pillow at him.

“Alright!” he laughed, “Alright, I’ll stop.”

You played with the chain hanging from his jeans.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he said, rubbing your knee. “But we should probably head over. I know how much you hate being late.”

You let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I guess.”

He offered you his hand, intertwining your fingers to lead you to his van.

You wished it had taken longer to get there. You would have rather listened to Eddie ramble about the most recent campaign than deal with the children of Hawkins.

At least the animals would distract you.

The baby goats were adorable, but you couldn’t help wincing when they bumped their heads together.

Baby ducks and chicks were waddling around in their pens, and the alpacas were corralled in fencing where visitors could see them.

“Think anyone'd mind if I took one of these guys home?” Eddie asked, holding one of the baby ducks.

You gave him a soft smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. “As much as I would love to see you play mother hen—or mother duck—I think stealing isn’t exactly the right answer.”

He puckered his lips in thought. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He set it back in its pen. “And with my luck, it’d probably like Uncle Wayne more than me.”

You hummed and kissed his cheek. “Guess you’ll just have to settle for me.”

You went to pull away, but he quickly caught you around your waist to kiss you properly.

“There’s no settling when you’re the most amazing person I know,” he said into your hair.

Your heart beat a little faster the longer he stared. He always looked at you like you were the only person in the room. And you counted yourself grateful you found someone as kind and loving as him.

“Love you,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his.

“Love you, too.”

Excited shouts and giggles drifted as the kids bounded to the petting zoo.

“Show time,” Eddie said, reluctantly pulling away.

You sighed for what felt like the tenth time. “Yeah, yeah.”

When you got to the main area, Eddie showed some little boys the goats. And when one of them headbutted Eddie’s leg, the boys all laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. 

And you briefly caught Eddie biting his lip to keep the groan back. He’d definitely have a bruise tomorrow.

Someone tugged on your shirt to get your attention. Holly Wheeler stood there with her head tilted back.

“Hey, Holly. Where’s your mom?” you asked.

She pointed to her right, where her parents were having what looked like a disagreement.

“Okay,” you nodded, “why don’t we look at the baby chickens? How does that sound?”

She nodded excitedly.

“Alright, Holls.” You gently picked up one of the chicks. “Sit next to me, and you can pet him.”

You both sat on a hay bale, and Holly was transfixed by the creature.

“Just use one finger and be super careful,” you said.

She slowly ran her finger down the chick's back, barely any pressure applied.

“Soft,” she mumbled, a content smile on her face.

“You like him?”

She nodded again, starting her path from the beginning. The chick lowered its head, eyes closing as the repetitive motion put him to sleep.

You grinned. “Looks like he feels safe with you, Holly.”

She giggled but stopped petting him, not wanting to wake him up.

“Let’s put him back with his friends. Wanna see the ducks next?”

She was standing by their pen in an instant.

Her interaction with the ducks went much the same. And soon enough, Mrs. Wheeler called Holly back and gave you a wave of thanks.

You had just put the duck back when Eddie sidled up beside you.

“Kids don’t like you, huh?” he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You rolled your eyes. “It was a fluke.”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded as if it made perfect sense. “S’why you were so good with her, right?”

You pinched his side lightly. “Holly’s a sweet kid. Not like your little demons.” You nodded toward the group of boys now at the alpacas.

He shook his head slightly. “That goat had it out for me.”

You laughed, leaning into his side.

He kissed the side of your head. “Knew you’d be fine.”

You faced him. “Whatever you say, Dungeon Master.”

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