#if the cringe does not kill me first that is.

[dood-itsradical]

Same Difference.

Pairing: Jake Kim x F!Reader

Summary: Never the one to speak of your father, Jake beat you up to it. Finding the irony of the situation.

Genre/Trope: Fluff, established relationship, friends to lovers.

Details: 1.1k words, tomboy!reader, f/name stands for father's name, reader's dad is gen 0 hotshot.

A/n: It's only been two days since I last posted. I'm just itching to write/post and not doing it actually makes me tweak. I love feeding y'all 😔 As always I don't do requests.

Masterlist

"Hellooo...! Earth to (Name)."

The snapping finger finally released yourself from your daydream.

"Huh?" You turned to Jake. "Oh, sup J." You brushed your hair back.

"You alright? How far are you?" He leaned on the desk to your side. You shake you head, ignoring his question. "Sorry, what were we talking about?"

"Right." He nodded, decided not to pry on you further. He gestured the boxes and files, "You were helping me getting rid of these junks?"

Giving him a weird look as you put two and two together since it's obvious that he could've just given this task to anyone.

"If you wanna hang you could've just said so, you know." You deadpanned.

He shrugged innocently, "Guilty but I wanna be careful. See if there's some stuff I might wanna keep."

You grimaced, pulling a grin. "Might."

"Might." He cringed. "Because see this." He pulled out old photos to you. Most of them were Gapryong Kim, no doubt. Few were him with other folks.

You took them from his hand, looking closely for yourself, "What are you hoping to find? I thought you hated the guy."

"Can't a guy look around without feeling bitter? I ain't a sissy."

His casual reply made you rolled your eyes. But you get him. And good for him for getting over the grudge. Or not. It's no rocket science that he's just hiding it for the sake of his image. Especially to you. To anyone, really.

"Huh."

"What?" You turned at him.

"Didn't know he and (F/Name) knew each other. Not surprised but, damn."

Your brows lit up but luckily he didn't notice. You leaned closer towards him to take a good look at what he meant. And well what'd you know? His old man and your old man standing together.

"You...know him?" Jake nodded, "Not much. But I heard enough. I always wanna learn (F/Name) fighting style. That fist. I just couldn't get it right." He formed his own fist, demonstrating his failed attempt.

Your gaze trailed at his body posture curiosity. You take notes to what he lack. Almost as if you're be able to scan him right here and then.

"Like this." You instead automatically showed him how it's done without feeling like you're showing off. You aren't. You're just show what you know. So forming a fist of your own, you leaned your upper body forward slightly and push the air, mimicking a subtle punch.

"This?" He followed you, again still getting it wrong. You shook your head, scratching your neck, "It's a bit complicated. I don't know how to explain."

Jake grinned and relaxed his body once more. "Don't be like that. Teach me. You know didn't you? I've never seen you kick ass up close before, it's not fair."

You only chuckled and continue with the junks. But does he stop talking about (F/Name) after that? No. And it confuses you. What did he see in your father that you don't? To you, he was just a guy with knowledge to pass down before he grow old. But an old fashioned influencer? You legit thought the guy was a nobody. He was an isolated man. Respect or feared by many. Never in your life thinking he'd get out there. Let alone having friends. Friends are too generous. Colleagues are more like it.

"Does he...have any kid?" You didn't know why you asked that, but you were mindful enough be vague about it. You were quite curious now that you know your pop was, or still is a big shot. Might as well use the privilege by hearing it from Jake.

He nodded, tossing the papers into the burning barrel. "One. A son. Never seen him. People said he's good too. His first kill was when he was nine."

Your face hardened. First kill. Nine years old. You really didn't wanna hear about that. Seems like words do come around here. And a son. People refer you as 'the son'. It makes you wonder if that's what your father rather see you as or you just look like one. Besides, you hardly get by proper friends back then. Son or daughter, same difference. They were all afraid of him. The thought still makes you slightly somber. Your movement slowed.

Jake notices but continue, "Got something you wanna share? I won't bite. I'll get it if you have a bitter pasts with him. Consider how knowledgeable you are." He tossed the last one in his hands then sit down on a portable chair. "But I'm curious about what you've learnt. Hell, I'm not gonna lie, I'm very curious. So...why not be a doll and share it? With your favourite boy Jakey?"

Your solemnity faded, replaced with a snicker, "'Jakey'? You really know how to persuade me. You persuade better than girls do."

"Yes, well, it's part of the big deal." He lays out his one-liner like winning an award. You laughed, tossing the papers towards him but missed completely as they flew to the opposite direction. "Oh my God. You're not gonna stop using that, are you?"

He laughed with you, leaning back only to lose his balance and landed his back on the ground. You both shared another round of laughter.

"Okay but seriously. I can't know?" He kept himself laying on the ground for a bit, eyes stayed on you.

"I never said that. I'll be honoured to teach you." You sighed, stretching your arms. "Besides, I hate to keep you in the dark. We're friends-"

"Boyfriend and girlfriend." He quickly corrects you.

"Right, sorry. And I'm too guilty for not telling you that (F/Name) is actually my dad."

He nodded, "Yeah, I totally get that. I'd be to- wait." He paused, "...What??" now standing up to look at you properly. He comes forward and grasps your shoulder firmly with intense eyes. "Please. Teach me."

Save to say he took it pretty well. And as promised during your spare time you spar with him by teaching him what your father had taught you. Seeing him so concentrate surely piqued your interest. You have so much to focus on. From fixing his postures and techniques to his constant shirtless, sweaty, covered-in-tattooed self.

"That's it for today." You exhaled, wiping your sweat with a cloth.

"You go ahead, I'll meet you inside later." He insisted. But you didn't leave yet. "You could use the break too. I hate to...hit the shower alone." You muttered, hoping he didn't hear that part. But he did, now staring at you like a deer caught in a headlight. Now you feel embarrassed. You're no better than him. Flustered as he is.

"Nevermind, um, forget I said that." You turn your head sheepishly. He was quick to catch up with you. "No, no. I'll come too."

"No, it's fine-"

"I'm coming, no take backs. You, me, shower. Yes? Yes. Okay." He fastened his pace, pulling you by his arm effortlessly. He's totally gonna be the death of you.

[idontplaytrack]

janis or regina x reader where no one (including their friend group) knew that they were dating. until one day reader gets injured at school somehow and they rush over to help her.

Take another step

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, some squabbling, fluff

A dodgeball to the head unravels a chaotic situation on a whole new level (I had too much fun with this fic lol💀)

The sound of Mr. Park’s whistle pierced your ears, as was the pain piercing through your head. Janis saw the dodgeball get thrown at your head in the midst of the chaos among both teams. You had already lost your balance, so that and the pushing and shoving caused you to fall. The game was promptly stopped, Janis also came up to you to help you out of the crowd of fellow students. And then, you just threw up. Everything was a blur, but you knew you weren’t exactly okay. You had a concussion.

You remembered mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ to Janis because you barely missed her Converses. And then…your world turned pitch black.

Your eyes slowly peeled opened, but instantly shut again due to the bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling. You groaned, then heard movement beside you and two people squabbling quietly. Wait a second…you knew those voices.

“y/n?”

“What?” You murmured, very slowly turning your head as you vision came into focus on the dark haired artist with dark purple streaks in her hair. “Wh- why are you here? Uh—” You looked at the person next to her. A blonde, standing next to Janis, in between Janis and your mother.

“How are you feeling?” Your mom asked.

“My head kills.” You grumbled, wincing.

“Yeah, you have a pretty bad concussion.” Your mom frowned. “But your friends are here to see you.”

“Um— okay.”

Janis wasn’t actually your friend. And especially not Regina.

”When can I go home?”

“They’re gonna keep you here for a couple days because of the concussion.”

You sighed, defeated. “Guys, just…go home. I’ve got nothing to do. I just wanna sleep.”

Regina shrugged, then left, “If you say so.” Janis stayed behind, waiting for Regina to leave first. “I’ll go get a coffee, just rest up for now, alright?” Your mom squeezed your hand as she spoke.

“Okay,” You swallowed thickly, “See you later.” You watch your mom leave, then looked back at Janis, “And why are you still here?”

“Um.” She started. “I helped you up after you fell get out of there. Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well, I am. So you can go now, I’m sure you have better things to do than being in the hospital with me.”

Janis squinted at you, “I’m just worried about you.”

“Okay, but why? I know we’re in some of the same classes and all, but we’ve never really talked unless we had to work on projects together.”

“Because…” Janis cleared her throat, “I’m uh, I care about you…?”

You were too out of it, and just speaking your mind currently. “Oh, okay.”

“Regina says she likes you.”

You scoffed, “I don’t think so. I’m in her Burn Book. She wrote some nasty shit about me, Janis. Does she think I don’t know it just because I choose to keep to myself?”

“Well she just told me she does and we got into a little bit of a fight.”

“Fight for what?” You looked at her, puzzled.

“I told her that you most likely knew about the Burn Book. Like— what she wrote and stuff. She’s just insisting you don’t, because you don’t have a clue what’s going on.” Janis explained, “So then I told her, it was up to you to choose between her or me. We’re both gonna woo you.”

Woah.

“Um…” You sniffled, “I’m sorry what? Did you just confess to me? Me.”

“Seems like I did. While she left, so…” She grinned cheekily.

“Thanks for helping me out. I didn’t throw up on your shoes, did I?” You cringed.

“No, you’re good.” Janis laughed a little, leaning slightly closer to look at you. You laughed at the proximity of your faces, feeling just a tad awkward. After all, she did just confess to you. While looking at your current pale face, messy hair and bloodshot eyes. You also definitely had a bump on your head somewhere. That’s why it hurt. So damn bad.

“I’m gonna throw up.” You looked at her dead in the eyes when you said it. She was totally unfazed and just stuck the emesis bucket under your chin.

“This sucks.” You sighed.

“I feel ya.” Janis was still smiling. You weren’t used to it, but you were…okay with it. Why were you okay with it? “I hear you were supposed to tutor Regina?”

“Yeah, for algebra.” You laid back cautiously. She got rid of whatever was in the bucket and returned. “Norbury asked me to. Now I’m just…here. And I’m not too sure I wanna do it.”

“Then don’t.”

“Do you think she’ll let me off the hook?”

“I mean, Norbury—”

“Not Norbury. Regina. I’ll still see her anyway, God knows how. But you did say she’s trying to woo me too.”

“We’ll see.” She wiggled her brows playfully.

“Right, we will.”

“Hey, um, once you’re able to get outta here…should we go somewhere? Just the two of us?”

“We kind of are alone now, so…” You joked.

“I mean- yeah.” Janis laughed, “But I was thinking, something nicer than this. When you’re not feeling nauseous and achy and stuff. Only if you want, of course.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The smile on Janis’ face returned, “Put your number in. I’ll text you once I get it planned.”

You took her phone and put your number in.

“Great.” Janis slid her phone back into her pocket, “Do you want me to go so you can rest? I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay, Janis.” You agreed with a little nod, “Thanks.”

“I’ll text you.” She squeezed your hand lightly, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, “Take care.”

Janis left, so you were alone. Left alone with that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach and your throbbing head. You were dozing off when the door opened, a nurse came in to check your vitals. You didn’t have to be awake for that so you just proceeded to drift off to sleep. When you woke up, your Mom was asleep in the armchair near your bed. The clock tells you that it was way past dinnertime, but you were hungry. You see a coffee cup on the table— your Mom’s and a brown paper bag next to it. You sat up straight and scooted closer to the table to pull it closer to yourself. Quietly, you dug through the bag and found a sandwich and a brownie. You put the sandwich back then began eating the brownie contently, you felt pretty great right now considering the nausea. At least you felt like eating. And could keep it down. You found your phone after your little dinner and decided to check your messages. You’ve gotten a few from Janis, which wasn’t too surprising. But you also received a couple from Regina. She didn’t even have your number in the first place, that was weird.

Right, your moms were friends. Taking in a deep breath, you put your phone away then got up to use the bathroom. Your Mom woke up when she heard the footsteps.

“Mom, I’m okay. Just gotta pee.”

“I know, sweetie. Just making sure.” She said.

“You could’ve went home to sleep, Mom.” You told her, leaving the bathroom door open slightly. It was late and you weren’t feeling the best so you didn’t really care. “Nurses and doctors are like, ten feet away.”

“I know, but I just don’t want you to wake up and suddenly realise I left you here alone without telling you first.”

You chuckled, “Okay. I appreciate that, thank you.”

“How’s the pain?”

“It’s…there. Kind of annoying but isn’t as bad compared to when I first woke up. Did you know I threw up once?”

“When I went to get coffee? Yeah. It’s normal though, with concussions. But I get that it sucks.”

You washed your hands then walked back to your bed with the IV pole that was connected to the back of your hand.

————

The next week, Regina shows up at your on a Tuesday, claiming that she used the excuse of you having to tutor her to get out of hanging out with Gretchen and Karen because she wanted to be with you. She’s been texting you sometimes over the week, but you truly couldn’t show any real interest in her because you were just reminded of how she’d hurt you with the Burn Book, and thinks that you had zero clue.

The silence was out of shock as she stood before you on the porch. You gave her a forced smile, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanna see you. I need to talk to you.” She said, looking at you. Her gaze was soft, she seemed genuine, but you couldn’t get past that mental hurdle just yet. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure.” You stepped to the side so she could walk in, then you shut and locked the door. 

With the silence between both of you, it did not take long for you to start talking. Talking about how you knew about the Burn Book. More specifically what was written about you.

“Janis told me about the agreement you two had.” You began, “I’m gonna be honest with you, Regina. She’s winning. Because you hurt me and assumed that I had no idea about it just because I wasn’t here on the day that the Burn Book got dropped in the hallway. The people talk, Regina. A lot. I’ve been hurt before, but they never become like you…crushing on me, or so you say. How do I believe you? How do you expect me to believe you?”

She looked at you blankly for a bit, then said, “You’re right, it’s wrong for me to assume. I never should’ve done any of it. But I cannot change what’s already been done. If you’ll let me, if you’ll give me a chance…I’ll show you that I can change. That I’ve been trying to change.”

“Regina, I’ve known you for almost seven years.” You continued, “You’ve never once made me feel comfortable in your presence. I’ve known Janis for three and barely talked to her before she stayed with me in the hospital after you left that day. She made me feel…normal. I didn’t have to keep running my replies through my head, I didn’t have to worry about my hair, my clothes, my facial expressions.”

Her face fell, her gaze turned sad, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t know it was okay to like a girl. I couldn’t accept it, I couldn’t accept myself. I’m still struggling, but I’m sorry for what I’ve said and what I’ve done to hurt you. I thought if I did that to you, my actual feelings for you would go away. But it didn’t — and I just feel like shit.”

Seeing her sad made you so uncomfortable. You could never be at ease in her presence. 

“I get that, but I cannot let this continue. I just can’t see myself being with you. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Regina nodded, “Thanks for letting me talk.” 

“Least I could do is hear you out.” You replied.

“I’m sorry about the concussion. Shane’s a horrible player.” Regina continued.

“I’m getting better. It’s fine.” You managed a chuckle, eyes somehow welling up with tears. You actually spoke up, and she didn’t stop you.

“I got you a little something on my way here.” She took a Twix bar out of her purse, “Heard this was your favourite so I wanted to cheer you up a little.” 

“Thanks, Regina.” 

She smiled, though a little sadly. But she knew she wasn’t going to get more out of this than an acquaintanceship or friendship— someday, maybe. Regina’s got to move on from this rejection, but ultimately right now, now that she’s gotten an answer from you for her burning question, she just doesn’t want you to hate her anymore.

“We’ll uh, take it a day at a time, shall we?” You said, “You’re on probation.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up, excited for a moment.

“Show me you mean it. I don’t want to see or hear you making others feel like shit. Like, actually.” 

“I heard ya. You have my word.” 

Regina left immediately after that, and Janis texted you right as you laid down. This goes on for a bit until you decided to make dinner for yourself since your Mom was going to be working till late. Janis texted you to ask what you were making for dinner. You texted her a photo of a packet of instant ramen.

> Do you want to go out for dinner?

You squinted, re-reading the text.

You were tempted. Very tempted, but also very nervous.

Where? <

> You pick, I drive :D

Smooth, ‘Imi’ike. You know how to make a girl smile <

> I try :p 

> Pick you up in 20!

Okay then, so it seems you were going to dinner with Janis. You left the unopened pack of instant noodles on the counter then scurried to your room to go get changed after letting her know your address. You were staring at your wardrobe for what seemed like ages before you got annoyed and just decided to put on a t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts. This wasn’t a date. 

This wasn’t a date. Was it?! Oh gosh.

Janis pulled up in front of your house on the dot, you grabbed your phone, wallet and keys and shoved them into your sling bag before going out. “Hi, pretty girl.” Janis smiled, reaching over from the driver’s seat to open the door for you. 

You looked away for a split second before getting in to hide your flushed cheeks. She doesn’t say anything about it, so maybe she didn’t notice. It was getting kind of dark out anyway. “So…where are we headed?” Janis asked.

“Um, maybe pizza?” 

“Well then, pizza it is.” Janis grinned, then drove off further away from your house. She had her playlist playing softly through the speakers, not your type of music, but you didn’t mind. It was pretty good. “Doing any better?”

“I mean, I’m going out to dinner with you so I would say so.” You laughed. “I’m going back to school tomorrow. Have some questions for the French worksheet, but that can wait.”

“That’s right, dinner first.” Janis nodded, “Good to have you back in school though. We’ll settle the French homework after.”

You’ve been cooped up at home for the last few days, you didn’t exactly have the motivation to do much even around the house. So, you didn’t force yourself to go out. You were still somewhat dizzy, and sometimes you’d suddenly get nauseous. But, a whole lot better in comparison to your first day in the hospital. You hummed, nodded, then looked out the window. “You alright? Should I turn back?”

“I’m okay.” You assured, looking at her for a moment. You saw how worried she was and felt bad. “Just the headache.” You explained. “I’m sorry.” She replied, “Do you need Tylenol? I have it in the glove compartment.” 

“I already—” Your eyes screwed shut, “I already took one.”

“Close your eyes for a bit then, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” Janis suggested, “Maybe the lights are making your headache worse. You like Pepperoni?”

“Okay.” You muttered. “Yeah, that’s my favourite. With hot honey.”

As you turned your head to face the window, you nodded off quite quickly thanks to the movement of the car. So, lucky for Janis, you didn’t notice that she was smiling at you— in her words, ‘like an idiot’.

Awhile later, the car comes to a stop at a light. Swiftly, Janis made a pickup order for pizza— one pineapple and one pepperoni with hot honey. As soon as she put her phone back down, the light turned green. So she continued to drive to the pizza parlour. Once at the pizza place, she collected the pizzas and returned to her car. You seemed fine, but she was still a bit worried nonetheless. It also wasn’t too long before Janis arrived at the destination she had in mind. 

She parked the car but left the engine on. Tapping your shoulder, she said, “We’re here.” 

You stirred in your sleep a little bit but woke up soon enough. Where the hell were you?

You squinted your eyes again, trying to get used to the dim surroundings. “Where are we? Did you take me to this secluded place to murder me? I’m shocked.” 

“Woah, woah.” She snickered, “Calm down, I’m not Jade West plotting something against Tori Vega.” Then you saw her turn to face you, shifting in her seat. Janis unbuckled your seatbelt and you were so taken aback, you held your breath. You couldn’t exactly see that since it was dark. You just felt it until you saw her look right into your eyes. “Hi~”

Well, there it goes. You were blushing— again. God, why is she so pretty?!

“Where are we?”

“A place… to eat our pizza that wouldn’t hurt your eyes and your head.” Janis grinned cheekily, getting out from the driver’s side and opened your door for you. Sticking her hand out, you held onto it without even processing what you just did. You were…spacing out a little.

You blinked profusely, snapping back into reality when you felt a tap on your nose. “I know you’re recovering from a concussion, babe. But don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry, I just— sorry—” You rambled. She leads you a little ways away from her car. 

She laughed, finding this so freaking cute. “It’s okay, ‘cause you’re cute.” Janis squeezes your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, “Sit down.” You two were now standing under a tree. She sat down on the grass, then you followed suit a second later. 

“Okay, eat up.” Janis opened up the box containing the hot honey pepperoni pizza first for you, “It’s still warm.”

“Is this—”

“Yup.”

Now you were the one smiling like an idiot. “Wow, thanks.” You chuckled.

“No problem.” She said back, helping herself to a slice. 

As you munched on your own slice, you finally got the chance to look up and around you. You saw the stars, and were quickly in awe. “Okay, this is amazing. Thank you for taking me here.” 

“Hey, I wasn’t going to let you suffer under bright lights and neon signs if that means you can’t have a good time tonight.” Janis replied, “Now that I think of it, you’re not gonna puke are you?” 

“Not anytime soon, I don’t think.” You answered with a laugh, “I also have a touch of emetophobia so I’m just lucky I was that out of it in the hospital.” 

“Aw.”

“I deal with it.” You shrugged.

“Of course, but if you need anything let me know how to help, okay?”

You only nodded since your mouth was full. “I bought drinks too, what do you want? Water or Sprite?”

“Water’s good.” You replied, glancing at her. She opened the cap for you and you took it from her, mumbling a soft thank-you. “Um, also, earlier today…Regina came over to talk to me. But instead, I told her I knew about what she wrote  about me in that dumb book. Told her I couldn’t picture myself with her at all because she’s never made me feel comfortable in her presence— ever.”

“She didn’t give you too much trouble, I hope.” 

“No, actually. I said all that to her, and she proceeded to tell me she basically did what she did because she didn’t know how to deal with her feelings for a girl. She didn’t know it was okay to like a girl, and thought that if she bullied me or you for that matter…that her feelings would change.” You sighed, “I feel for her, but she did hurt me. I didn’t know why, and even if I do now…it doesn’t change the past.” 

“It must be difficult too since your moms are friends.” 

“We only had to spend time in the same place because our moms wanted to hang out sometimes. She didn’t talk to me, I didn’t talk to her. It was really tense and awkward though.” 

“I bet.” Janis smiled, understanding deeply, “Okay, so enough about that. Tell me…about you.” 

“Not much going on in my life, Janis.” You shrugged, “Parents know I’m gay, Dad hates it, hates me. Mom pretends to not acknowledge it around him. But I know she’s okay with it. I mean…I don’t tell her things because I’m still a bit cautious about it since she might tell my Dad. But yeah.” 

“Luckily for me, my parents are both okay with it. My mom’s bi actually.” Janis said back, “I also know that thanks to my culture, with what I was taught from a young age about the people of my home…I didn’t have to hide it. I just existed. And then I came over to the mainland and all of a sudden it’s a big deal.”

“I love that you’re so…you.” You laughed awkwardly, “Okay that’s so random, you get it, right? Like I went out to lunch with a girl from my class in freshmen year and I kept thinking people were staring at me because they were thinking that I was on a date. But no it wasn’t. At that point I wasn’t even out yet, but I knew that I definitely liked girls. I just wasn’t sure yet if I only liked girls.”

“Trying to figure that out can be tough, honey.” Janis nodded, remembering her own experience. “It’s like, it’s a natural attraction for us but actually knowing that it has a label? Like woah.” 

————

“Well, this is you, pretty girl.” Janis’ car slowed to a stop in front of your house— almost four hours later.

“Thanks for driving me home.”

“Of course.” Janis flashes you a smile, “Good night, y/n.” 

“Night, Janis.” You smiled back, “Thanks for dinner.” 

“Anytime, y/n. Anytime.” Janis leaned closer to you and just held your face in her hand, “And um, tonight’s not a date. I’ll be texting you soon about the deets for our very first one”

“Feels like it to me.” You sulked, “What do you mean it wasn’t?”

She laughed, stroking your cheek, “Okay, but officially, officially— we’re going to this ceramic painting thing on Friday.” 

“Oh.” You smiled excitedly, “On Friday?”

“Mhm.” She confirmed, chuckling at your excitement, “We have a half day so I’ll pick you up at 3 if you wanna change or anything.”

“Alrighty, sounds good.” You nodded, face still in her hand. Inches away from hers. Janis tilted her head as if it was a silent ask. You gave her a look and she just smooched you on the cheek, the kiss soft and sweet. Fluttering like it was a butterfly— kinda tickled, but not enough to make you laugh,

“Good night, Janis.” You told her, in a hurry to get out of her sight because you felt like you were going to explode or die from embarrassment because your cheeks got so hot.

“Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

Best night ever? Yeah. 

You couldn’t wait for Friday. You also couldn’t wait to go back to school tomorrow— you were going to be able to see her every other class thanks to your schedule for that day. So you were beyond happy about that, and to have some level of normalcy in your life again.

Friday rolled around pretty quick, and you were relieved because the school week was over. Once the last bell let out, you rushed to Janis’ locker. Damian beat you to it. “Hey, girl.” 

“Oh!” You gasped, “Hi. I’m just— waiting for—”

“Janis? I know.” He laughed, “This is exciting. About time, though.”

You bit back a laugh, “Okay. Good to see you too, I uh— I’m a little nervous, not gonna lie.”

“Oh, don’t be. She really likes you.”

“I know, it’s just. A thing—”

“First date?” He asked knowingly.

You nodded, sulking. “So?”

“You’ll be fine—”

“Hey, dude. What’re ya saying to her that’s got her sulking.” Janis appeared, putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Nothing bad, y’all.” He clutched his chest dramatically, “Just assuring her that everything is gonna be fine. She’s nervous.”

“Damian!” You chided.

“What? She’s gonna know anyway.” 

“I’ll see you on Sunday.” Janis said, looking at Damian, “Leave her alone.”

You decided your outfit was fine so you just followed Janis to her place. She lived in the garage, she pretty much had her own little apartment in this space. “This is pretty cool.” 

“Happened because of a ‘my roof my rules’ argument. This garage is a separate building, so it’s technically my roof.” Janis explained, “I’m just gonna get changed real quick then we can go, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your time.” You slowly sat on her couch. You hear her walking behind you and the sound of a door opening— her wardrobe. Obviously you knew that she was getting changed so you just stared at whatever was in front of you. “Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” She nearly snorted. 

“Just waiting for you, Janis. I’m okay.” 

She changed into this fluffy green and black striped cropped sweater, and dark grey ripped jeans. Then, her usual black Converses were swapped out for dark green ones. “Let’s go.” She took your hand into hers and walked the short distance to her car like this with you.

During the drive, you two just chatted about anything that came to mind. You and Janis were so engrossed in the conversation that you didn’t even realise that you were already at the workshop. 

You picked out a mug, and so did she. You were just having fun with your painting but Janis was absolutely in her element. You knew she was an artist, and you’ve seen her art pieces…you’ve just never seen her in action. You never thought you would. You could not believe you were on a date with Janis ’Imi’ike.

“You painting that for me?” She snickered.

“Are you?” You went along with it.

“Actually, yeah.” Janis smiled, taking a sneaky peek at you.

“Oh.”

“Don’t be so surprised.” Janis chuckled, “If you’re that surprised by this, what’s gonna happen during my next surprise?”

“Your next—”

She had this mischievous grin on her face again, it was awfully endearing. 

“I’m just waiting to ask you out again, y/n.” That grin doesn’t leave her face. She glances at you then was equally quick to return her focus to her little project. Two hours and two painted mugs later, you walked out of there with paint splatters all over your white t-shirt. Most of which were intentionally done by Janis to make you laugh. It worked, and also pretty much got a new shirt— kinda. It actually looked good. 

“You wanna go for pizza?”

“Not really.” You answered, still holding her hand. 

“Not hungry?” Janis asked, checking the time on her watch.

“Not with my head trying to kill me.” 

“Let’s go home.” Janis looked at you sadly, snaking a careful arm around your waist while the both of you walked through the lot to locate her car. “You okay to spend the night?”

“Yeah, definitely better than being home and having to hear my Dad yell at her. They got into it again last night.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about it for the night at least. It’ll be nice and quiet at mine.” Janis kissed the back of your hand. Hearing the chirp of her car, you opened the passenger door promptly and got seated. Janis also wasted no time and began driving once you had buckled your seatbelt. “Do you mind if I nap?” 

“No, not at all. But, if the headache’s are still going on…it’s been two weeks already. Might be a good thing to tell your doctor that.” 

“I’ll call Monday.” You answered quietly, eyes half open. 

“Alright.” She didn’t press for more information out of you, obviously. You were uncomfortable right now with the persistent headache after the concussion. Fucking Shane. 

You woke up right as Janis stopped the car and turned the engine off. “Right on time.” She smiled sweetly, “Let’s get you settled then you can get some proper sleep.” 

“What? It’s so early.” You couldn’t help but laugh a bit. 

“A proper nap. After you take something for your headache.” She corrected herself, taking you by the hand and leading you inside the house through the front door, “Just grabbing the meds, water and something to eat so it doesn’t hurt your stomach. Ibuprofen might work better for you if Tylenol doesn’t help.

You didn’t object, knowing she was most likely right. Also the pain, was a little too much right now. That tended to make you a little more withdrawn than usual. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor? Because a head injury is no joke—”

“I’m good, I just need to tough it out.” 

You sat down on Janis' bed, she handed you a granola bar and you unwrapped it so you could eat it, and the ibuprofen then take a nap. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Need anything else?”

You silently shook your head. After eating half of the bar, you popped the pill into your mouth and gulped the pill with a swig of water. “If you want to change into something more comfy…I’ve got you covered.”

“It’s okay, Jan. I just want to sleep this off.”

Janis sat next to you, ultimately deciding to lay down next to you. “I’m sorry you’re in pain.” 

“I’ll be okay.” You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to lay on your side. You met her gaze. She caresses your cheek, “It’s okay if you don’t feel good , you know? Don’t have to hide it with me. I wanna help you.”

You exhaled slowly, licking your lips. A painful lump was forming in your throat. You swallowed harshly, “I know, it’s just not easy for me to…ask…for help.”

“That’s alright, I know this feeling. You’re okay. I promise, you’re safe with me.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[waterdroid]

I had the dumbest, least-canon idea of all time and had to put it in comic form. Enjoy!!

[etirabys]

how to get support from my friends about my writing without having any of them read my writing?

[grooviestsadpapaya]

Literally I cannot possibly have anyone I know in real life find out about my comic or I will have two worlds collide and that would be bad,,, is this normal

[longagoitwastuesday]

I keep thinking of that reply in my Odysseus/Agamemnon post about how I regard differently Odysseus' and Agamemnon's actions, while acknowledging that at times Agamemnon is written as a sweet man and Odysseus is always straight up shitty, and how it was taken as some sort of defense for Agamemnon and as a form of pointing out the double standard; and that wasn't at all what the post was about for me, even though I can see where they were coming from. To be honest, given I didn't imagine it would spread anywhere other than my own blog, I didn't explain myself very well (or at all).

The fact is that when I talked about Odysseus not caring about hurting someone else's child to start and end a war I was indeed comparing his actions to Agamemnon's, but my words about supporting Odysseus' wrongs and cheering him in his terrible actions, while in a joking tone, weren't entirely a joke. I do think that Odysseus does some very shitty acts, and some quite terrible ones depending on the sources. That's a fact, that he does is at the core of his characterisation and it's what makes him so much fun; but not even when he is at his most cruel does he harm his family, his own son. Agamemnon, while sweet and loving at times in some texts, at his worst is willing to sacrifice Iphigenia. When readers regard with more sympathy Odysseus over Agamemnon despite both being responsible for children dying, I don't think there's a double standard in this aspect at all considering it's never his own kid Odysseus harms. And that's the key, I think.

Odysseus and Agamemnon have very different priorities, a very different view on loyalty and duty. It could be said that Agamemnon acts out of selfishness, but it could also be read in a kinder light, saying that Agamemnon is ruled by the gods first, and by his role as head of the achaeans; Agamemnon is not entirely himself. In opposition we see Odysseus acting perhaps mainly for himself and his own family and men; yes, he is a king, but he has not the role Agamemnon has. As a consequence, Agamemnon submits his family's wellbeing to the war, to the gods, while Odysseus stops the plow before hurting Telemachus but is (depending on the source) the cause of Iphigenia's sacrifice and Astyanax's death.

Both Odysseus and Agamemnon have reasons to support their actions, and both can be sympathised with; it's fiction after all. When it comes to fiction, at the end of the day which character a reader is drawn to or sympathises with is mainly an issue of personal taste, but I suppose it also implies a certain level of one's own views or preferences on morals, what makes us find certain actions more justifiable, or tasteful (perhaps that's a more accurate word), than others. Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter, no matter how sympathetic or understandable the reason, generally sits worse on people than Odysseus doing the same with someone else's kids, because they're someone else's. This different emotional reaction they provoke has place not just metanarratively, but also inside the very story; it is narratively significant, given it determines how their arrival home plays out, how their wives react to them, and thus their futures. Ultimately it determines whether they live or die.

I think both terrible acts go in line wonderfully with each characterisation, showcasing the role they hold in their world, what they value, what they care for, what they're willing to sacrifice for themselves and the others, how much of their own they're willing to give and bend. While looking at the wider picture it could perhaps be drawn that Agamemnon is the better person out of the two, but Odysseus' selfish actions are perhaps easier to empathise with, especially from a modern viewpoint. Odysseus is treacherous and prone to betrayal, but not against his own; Agamemnon follows the rules of the gods. How fitting in that context that Odysseus doesn't die at the end of his story, that he cheats the death heroes so often are fated to, almost as if cheating the narrative itself, bending the rules of the world he is ascribed to; how fitting in the context of those texts that point towards Sisyphus being his father. But that's another topic, and I've already talked a lot.

[stoatsaturday]

WHEN I SAY I'LL GET USED TO A WORLD WITHOUT YOU BUT I'D RATHER JOIN YOU IN HELL

[todayisafridaynight]

I bring it up because I just wanted to know no I can be proud of Daigo too!!!

i think it's ok to be proud of daigo dojima for getting this far with The Nastiest deck of cards he was dealt :) good for him :)

[chisatowo]

I am BORED someone give me enrichment NOW

[navree]

I think if they are going to make an Aegon a full on rapist they should do the Brothel Queen(s) so that the Black's image can suffer a similar blow because let's be real, people are already justifying B&C so there's no way they are going to be viewed as bad people. I feel sorry for Alicent obviously because I love her a lot and honestly I will cry if the BQ end up happening because she really can't catch a break (and I would also feel terrible about Helaena because she did nothing wrong, but it just makes no sense for her to be made to suffer it too).

But who am I going to lie to, they'll probably manage it terribly like they've done Alicent's rapes to date and they'll still find a way to make Alicent love Rhaenyra which makes no fucking sense

I think I've been open about my not wanting the Brothel Queens to happen, and honestly that's not going to change. It's a personal thing mostly, I genuinely don't care if it's a good narrative choice or if it would balance out bad portrayals and offer a more grey view of Team Black; any positives I might potentially feel about it are going to be washed away a million times over by how sick the whole thing makes me. I have no, none, zip, zilch, zero interest in watching scenes of two women imprisoned into literally sex slavery and forcibly raped for days on end in any situation, especially when those women are a) characters I like who're already going to be going through some heavy traumas and b) are 1) a woman who was a victim of marital rape since age sixteen and 2) a woman who's had a full psychological breakdown and is completely incapable of taking care of herself in any way let alone performing in a sexual situation. This could be the most well crafted storytelling with the most profound message and the utmost narrative consequences and I won't care, I do not want to see it and I will never want to see it and I get bile in my mouth even thinking of the fact that Mushroom even thought about making it up (which I'm gonna be honest, I'm firmly in the camp that he 100% did) because he found it hot.

And honestly, I don't think it'd be good storytelling, I think it would be really cheap. This show's parent series was notorious for using rape and sexual violence for titillation and shock value, something that HOTD has really shied away from (there's one on screen rape to the best of my recollection, Alicent's, and I actually didn't mind how they handled that in the show, starting it with the shot of Alicent's ruined fingers on the bed as she starts doing her nervous picking and then makes herself stop was incredibly haunting, it's the fandom's reaction to that scene that's insufferable), and going back to it is just gonna feel lazy and unoriginal to me, and more like the writers going "look how awful this is! aren't we so edgy and groundbreaking! aren't you shocked!" over and over. It'd just feel lazy to me.

The thing is, Team Black fans are going to justify anything their faves do, and that would likely include the Brothel Queens storyline, likely under the guise of Alicent deserving it or it being a just punishment for calling Rhaenyra's kids bastards. And listen, no shade, Aemond's gonna be committing war crimes right and left in the Riverlands and I'll be there in my full "you're doing amazing sweetie dot jpeg" era, I get it. But anyone who isn't a full stan, any casual watchers or anyone who's on the fence or just watching the show for the Hell of it, even them Burlington Bar folks, they're going to see the Blood and Cheese scene (provided it stays book loyal in its entirety and doesn't cut away from anything, which I'm hopeful for) for the horror that it is, and for the stain on Team Black that it is. We don't need gratuitous and graphic sexual violence to hammer the point home, especially when Rhaenyra's rule over King's Landing is already filled with a bunch of butchery that made the people turn on her and her family, and even more especially when we know what'll happen to Helaena eventually.

Listen, at the end of the day, you can give me any excuse in the world, that it'll make people realize Team Black are not morally superior, it'll make Team Green more sympathetic, it'll be good drama, it'll be a good storyline, it'll be a compelling narrative, it'll be profound, God himself could descend from the Heavens and tell me that he's ordained that if we get a Brothel Queens scene the entire viewing public will become fanatical Greens supporters, and it will not ever change the fact that I do not want this storyline to happen. Ever.

[strwbrymlkshake]

I don't think I've ever been in a relationship this healthy before I don't know what to do 💀

[xazse]

okay hear me out…. reverse hybrid au… with tigerhybrid!sukuna bc nobody else can handle him because he’s so aggressive and overbearing .. so reader is their last resort zoo caretaker and they’re is shocked at how it’s like reader has a leash on tigerhybrid!sukuna 😚

I’VE GOT IT?

Synopsis: You’re head of a completely different department so why are you being asked to help with an odd situation?

Warnings: Female!reader + Mean!Sukuna + cringe tropes (sorry) + Hybrid!Sukuna: ears and a tail + heat + cumming inside + doggy + NOTPROOFREAD!!! + obsessed!Sukuna

Pairings: Tigerhybrid!Sukuna x female!Reader

Notes: I’m really working to improve my writing for you guys!! Esp my non-English speakers

“Miss please you know we would never beg like this if it wasn’t urgent.”

“I don’t specialize in that field, how many times must I tell you?”

You were getting sick of these scientists coming to you more often than normal, there’s three right now begging for you to take on a case that you didn’t want to do.

“Sukuna is out of control, he’s already injured five of our best, now they refuse to work with him”

“And I should be the sixth?” You say with a quirk of your brow.

They all stop and stare at one another, you have a good ass point what makes them think that you’ll be the antidote for their beast they decided to keep.

“Like I said, my stance on this won’t change.”

Another voice in the doorway of your office speaks up: “I’ll upgrade your pay and have you transferred up.”

Your ears perk up at this offer, to go even further where you are right now means business and a fuck ton of money. On the flip side it means facing whatever they’re against but you’ve always been a little greedy for money so you oblige.

The scientists made sure to throw you in the thinnest garments: “to let him know you don’t have anything on you.” As they put it.

They also had told you no sudden movements and to talk with him in a calm manner, show him you aren’t afraid and find out what’s been making him so angry lately. Easy peasy except your life is on the line!

You disregard any negative thoughts of death and make your way into the place where they keep their hybrids, it’s like little apartments where they can do as they please in return for information on their biology, as far as you know they love it here. You’ve once met puppy!hybrids Satoru and Suguru they were very sweet men, needy but sweet.

Your first step into the apartment is met with a strong smell, a smell of something primal if that even has a smell. It’s warm.

You start poking around his place, checking his fridge and looking for anything out of the ordinary, nothing seems amiss though. It’s not until you come up to one of the doors and hear slight noises. You press your ear up closer making the noise more clearer: whining it sounds like whining.

Could he perhaps be In pain? You knock three times and announce you’re coming in. The door clicks and you start slowly pulling it open. You see the man in all his glory resting upon his bed, arms wrapped around his pillow and an unreadable expression.

Sukuna is big, he’s a big man compared to all the other hybrids, he’s brimming with pure muscle. Does he workout in here? Your thoughts are interrupted by slight growling: he’s warning you. Step any close r and he will have no choice but to harm you.

You pay him no mind, instead you step fully in and start looking around without a care in the world.

“You’re making trouble- why is that?” You say while looking through his dresser.

“You’re being extremely nosy, leave before I kill you.” He threatens harshly.

“If you harm me I’ll have you sent somewhere else, I know where you come from and I’m assuming you don’t want to go back.”

The room goes eerily silent like he’s making a choice, he opens his mouth to speak but a groan accidentally slips past his lips.

Oh… the big oaf is in heat, and top scientists couldn’t tell or try to track his cycle?

“You in heat big guy?”

“No-“

“Such a liar, I’m not here to make fun of you, I’m here to make sure you get proper help.”

“The only way I’ll get proper help is if I fuck someone.” So damn blunt you think to yourself.

He continues speaking: “I think you know they won’t allow that though.”

“Would you like some toys? I can request that for you.”

“Useless.”

You let out the loudest sigh and plop down on his fluffy bed. Bending your head in his direction you see he’s not looking at your face but your body, eyes fully trained on your pert nipples because of the cold.

You allow the poor suffering hybrid to mount you, putting a good bit of his weight on your back you can feel the outline of his thick meaty cock resting near your cunt and ass.

He’s hard, fully hard and probably has been for a while: you feel almost a little bad.

Sukuna doesn’t waste anytime grinding down against you, it feels so fucking good, his cock is accepting anything even if it’s the bare minimum. Everytime he meets your ass he whines, such a needy tiger you coo.

He’s ignoring all the dirty little comments you send his way too focused on the only good sensation he’s felt for a while, his hand doesn’t compare to your rounded ass. You reach between your legs and pull his shorts down, letting his cock bob free for a minute before he’s pushing up against you again.

He’s producing so much precum that youCan feel it through your silky garments.

“Smells so good… really good.” “Mhhhphmmm-“ he’s now being open with his groans too focused on the feeling of his tip prodding your clothed pussy. His swishing tail is within your eyesight, you grab it and rub it for extra stimulation.

You help him a little bit by bouncing your ass against him. He places his head in the crook of your neck and starts nibbling on your neck, you can feel how sharp his damn teeth are and pray to yourself he isn’t going to bite you: killing you in the process.

He doesn’t do any of that instead he just lightly bites, using no strength at all. While he’s busying tearing up your neck you slip your panties off, grabbing his fat length and teasing your wet hole. Just feeling it in your hand has your body burning up in arousal it’s been a while since you’ve had a cock, especially a cock his size.

You slowly start inching it in, the stretch is so damn unbearable and uncomfortable. When he feels what you’re doing he starts moving his hips already. An impatient thing such as him isn’t gonna wait. He gets about halfway in and you feel a thick liquid fill you, did this beast just cum? Already?

“Nhhhnn.. fuck-..” this doesn’t deter him because he’s sitting fully on his knees and pulling you flush against him, his entire length snuggly inside your pussy. He doesn’t wait to bounce you back on him, you can’t comprehend anything properly so shocked by how he just made you take every inch of him.

Your lashes flutter closed as he ruts into you like you’re the damn sex tox he’s been given, one he wasn’t gonna take care of properly. His hold on you is extremely tight so you can do nothing but take him fully, even when your walls threaten to constrict around him he pushes through it and keeps fucking Into you.

You allow him, allow him to thrust like a wild animal, mercilessly pulling all the way out of you just to slam back in. Drool is seeping down your neck where he’s latched on in droves. He’s far too gone, pussy has never felt this good.

By the end Sukuna is still rutting uselessly, he’s not even hard anymore he just can’t stop leaking cum nor has that good euphoric feeling stopped. He’s made a mess of your pussy, his cum and yours seeping down your thighs and onto his ruined sheets.

Hes licking at your face and you can hear a deep rumbling in his chest, this big hybrid is purring in content. Any attempt to move from under him is completely halted, he won’t let you move even an inch.

He begins sucking on your nipples, they’re definitely gonna be sore later but now it seems he just wants comfort and you fully give that to him. Rubbing his ears and whispering sweet nothings to him.

After that incident Sukuna is completely attached, he constantly whines for you to come see him including the scientists also calling for you to calm him down. He won’t let you have a moments peace.

Even when you tell him you’re extremely busy he’s having none of it, if he wants you to laze around and do nothing but rub him or praise/coddle him he completely expects it!

As his mate you’re meant to be with him all the time you should be grateful he’s even letting you leave the nest.

You were left fully shocked when he first called you his mate but the scientists explained that you were his first and now you are his last, they had all praised you because testing was made easier if you were there.

They’re all surprised to see him completely like mush under you, like one time when it was time for his blood to be drawn he made you come and sit in his lap while he had it taken. The doctors said he seemed to be completely smitten with you, in love and so possessive.

[luveline]

pls spencer and bombshell reader where she like sacrifices herself for him or does something outrageous for him. i love your weiting!! 💝

You don’t have any other choice, Spencer’s on the other roof being held in a chokehold by the UnSub —rational thinking goes out the window. He sees your face and, though he’s starting to look a little blue, gestures wildly for you to not do what you’re thinking. 

You jump. 

You take the landing hard —you ran hard, jumped harder, cringing as the grit of the rooftop tears through your shoulder. You roll into it. In one moment you’re standing, and then you’re knocking the assailant off of your boyfriend just before he falls unconscious. 

You forget everything you’re supposed to remember, flipping the UnSub without care onto his front, yanking his arms back, and cuffing him tightly. He’s a serial child murderer, so it’s kinder than he deserves. 

“Stay down,” you warn, cuffs so tight you can see the perp’s hand changing colour. You’ll have to fix that soon, but you have more important matters at hand. “Spencer?” 

His answer is hoarse, “Yeah.”

You leave the UnSub where he’s laid down and rush to Spencer. You drop to your knees beside him, alarmed that he’s still curled up and gasping. “Hey, hey, what can I do?” 

He grabs your arm and sucks in another breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“Why did you do that?” he asks. 

“What?” 

“What did you do to your arm? Does it hurt?” 

Spencer can barely breathe and he’s asking you if you’re okay. You can see the spots in his eyes. Fuck, he scared you. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly, holding him by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?” 

Your shoulder stings like you’d landed on glass and there’s an ache in your bones from the impact, but the source of your racing pulse is the look on his face, as though he might still pass out. You cringe at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it’s Morgan and Hotch making their way across the gravel top to help you. You turn back to Spencer in relief. 

He takes another huge breath. “Good job,” you say quietly, but saccharinely, rubbing his poor chest. “Do you want to sit up?” 

“I can’t.” 

“Okay. Alright. Just take a breath.” 

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” he croaks, putting his hand over your heart. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Just breathe.” He says your name like a secret. “Just breathe.” 

Of course. He’s lying on the ground panting for his life and he’s telling you to calm down. 

Morgan has the UnSub up and moving. Hotch kneels beside you both, face lined with poorly concealed stress. “You okay?” he asks. “Spencer?” 

“She jumped across the roof.” 

“Spencer.” You’re half wounded, half humoured. 

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you both. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Spencer almost got choked out.” 

Hotch looks as though he might give in and rub his face, but he pats your arm instead. “Okay. Reid, can you stand up?” 

“Tell her she can’t– can’t jump across rooftops,” Spencer says, suddenly full of indignation as he pushes up onto his elbows. He looks like he’s been hung upside down and shook. 

“Well, clearly I can.” 

“L/N shouldn’t be jumping across rooftops for any reason, but you’re both…” Hotch smiles wryly. “I almost said unharmed.” 

Spencer flops down onto his back. When he speaks, he sounds in a strange place, close to tears and laughing alike, “You have to look at her arm.” 

“I think you both need to see a medic, but first, why don’t we all calm down. Let’s regain our senses, and prevent any further unnecessary pain.” 

Spencer gives your leg an uncharacteristic whack. He’s so messed up from the chokehold that it’s more like a stroke, but you feel the tap for what it is. He’s saying Don’t do that to me again. 

“He really was gonna kill you,” you say, sorry. 

“I had it.” 

“Respectfully, baby, you did not.” 

[mrs-weasley-reid]

MADE HIS MARK

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Synopsis: a shivery trip to a liquor cellar turned into a steamy secret between friends and a not-so-subtle reveal between a small herd of colleagues. Word Count: 5k+ WARNING: SMUT. please, please, MDNI !!! penetration (piv). unprotected sex (but fr wrap it up!!!). fingering (a lil bit). obsessed!spencer (bc why not?). ex friends with benefits to lovers. a pinch of angst if you squint. cursing. troublemaker spencer reid and reader. not proofread!! A/N: heavily influenced by the song Dress by Taylor Swift. I love me a TS song. I'm obsessed, and I saw the opportunity. Also, this is my first Spencer Reid smut fic. Be nice, and tell me what you think!

  The sharp brush of spring and little kisses from the evening air prompt you to savor the shivery feeling on your skin.

  You take a deep breath before sliding your heels off, dangling them in your hand as you trail down the maze of a hallway in Rossi’s lavish home. Your dress is now a product of a shoddy decision. 

  All you knew was how presentable and wedding-appropriate it was, but you never realized why you would wear such a dress barely sewn for the crisp evening weather in May.

  “Hiding from everyone?”

  A smile instantly layers over your painted lips before you can even raise your gaze ahead. There’s this tickle of warmth that sparks inside of you the moment you hear his voice. Hands shaking in an intense subconscious buzz of excitement. Thrilling.

  No other than Dr. Spencer Reid is ten feet away from you, standing lazily against the wall. His hair is messy from all the magic tricks he tore out to Jack and Henry and, funnily enough, Penelope, too.

  Bright gleam shines on your face, flashing a saccharine smile you can only muster when the receiver is him. You shake your head.

  "Are you?"

  One hand in his pocket. Spencer shyly nods, “I ran out of magic tricks, and Jack figured out one of my tricks halfway through my little show.” He explains without persuasion, staring into space with playful horrid written all over his face.

  You steal the half-full glass from his other hand, cringing at the taste of sparkling cider. “One sip won’t kill you, you know…” You say, shoving the glass back into his hand.

  Spencer laughs, “You’d love to see me drunk, don’t you?” He quips, a sheepish smile growing with each syllable.

  “Very much so,” You nod, making a beeline to the kitchen to find some kind of beverage that’ll knock you out ‘til the next day.

  He follows you like a tail. Your senses feel his warmth, his breath fanning against your exposed back. The feeling of his tall presence behind leaves your breath hitching between inhales and exhales, and you’d love more than his figure on your trail. You ache for something more than the image of him in your wake. You need him merged with your soul, his body tightly pressed against yours. You crave something harsh.

  It’s wishful thinking.

  “What took you so long? Did you not notice I was gone?” He wonders.

  Or is it?

  “It’s cold out here, you know,” Spencer pouts in your peripheral. 

  You want your lips to wipe them off, then turn them into an O.

  “Aww, does pretty boy genius feel lonely?” You tease over your shoulder, tapping his chest with the back of your hand. Your brows jump, twisting on your heels to face him. “I’ll be damned,” You exclaim, pushing your palm against his pec with more pressure.

  It's been so long since you touched him with more than an accidental brush of your fingertips. His body stiffens under your light squeeze. And the thirst for more slowly dries the circumference of his throat.

  “Reid, when’d you get this fit? No wonder women are all over you.” Genuine curiosity takes over, looking up at him with fluttering lashes.

  Spencer scoffs, leaning down eye to eye with you, “I’ve always been hot.” He retorts with a straight face. The confidence radiates, and it does something in the pit of your stomach.

  A brief silence whooshes between your bodies, and the next thing you know, both of you are laughing ‘til your cores cramp.

  You gasp for air, head against his sternum, hand still placed over his pec. “Don’t ever say that in front of Morgan. He might get a stroke.” You begin walking once more, turning your back to him. 

  “I am! Don’t you agree?” You do. He banters a few feet away, keeping a safe distance—or so help the impulsive thoughts that are whirling around his mind. A playful grin works his facial muscles out, only hoping that you didn’t notice the way he takes in your scent like a bait set out for him.

  Spencer didn’t even need to run to catch up with you. His strides are five times longer than yours.

  You feel a soft fabric cover your shoulders, accompanied by a heavy arm that burns your skin in pure reflexive need. “I thought you were cold?” You ask, glancing to your left, where Spencer walks beside you.

  Spencer shrugs, “Rather feeling cold than you getting a cold tomorrow morning. The chances of me getting sick from being cold tonight versus you sneezing on me like a troll is 15 to 85 percent.” He replies calmly, earning a light smack from your hand.

  You roll your eyes, but your smile never travels far. It only happened once. And you both swore once was enough.

  The two of you became friends during your time in the Academy. You’ll never forget the first time you met him. The urge to shove a sock inside his yapping mouth over the repercussions of shaking someone’s hand. Most people say the two of you are best friends. Somehow, his intelligence didn’t set you apart. You tolerated his constant rambles, and he tolerated your random bursts of sass. 

  It's more than that though. The entanglement was more than two friends. More than innocent study sessions. More than a trip to the nearest shooting range.

  As two twenty-one-year-olds who's never felt the most sensual touch before, one minute of forced proximity and all hell broke loose. What seemed so platonic was sexually intimate behind closed doors.

  However, in lieu of staying attached to the hip, the two of you went your separate ways after graduation. You went to pursue each respective interest. You both said no hard feelings. And both believed things would never work anyway, because no one was willing to put in the work.

  The two of you reconnected when you joined the BAU team almost a year ago. Meeting him once again was nerve-wracking. With unresolved fallout and nonexistent communication, it scared you a bit. But you should’ve known Spencer Reid has always been different—good, different. The bond you had didn’t seem too damaged. If anything, it was merely locked in a vault and became stronger than ever before. You managed to be civil—become friends.

  And since then, you never ran out of ways to be in each other’s vicinity. Or he just always succeeded in keeping you interested in his antics. Or you’re just addicted to him more than you’d like to admit.

  But friends don't shake from mere self-control. Friends don't choke on breaths when the other touches them. Friends don't—

  “What percentage of alcohol will you get from Rossi’s cellar?” He curiously asks, his warmth keeping you from shivering.

  The damned dress.

  And his damned loose tie.

  You chuckle shakily, “You’d love to see me drunk, don’t you?” You mimic, throwing back the same antic he used not a few minutes ago. He rolls his eyes, and you open the door to the cellar. “I was tasked to choose the best whiskey ever made.” You announce, sinking deeper into confinement.

  “So you lost a bet.” Spencer laughs, following behind. He shakes his head when you nod yours. “You don’t even drink whiskey.” He smirks.

  “Go back out there, then,” You shoo him away, waving your hands. “I didn’t ask you to join me on my quest.” You add in a giggle, tying your hair up in a messy ponytail after setting your shoes on the table in the middle of the room.

  You don’t see the way he swallows at the sight of your nape. The same way you hadn't notice his self-restraint for the past year, for the entire evening, dipping his hands in his pockets to hide his clenched fists. Because if he doesn't, they just might crave the feeling of your skin against the texture of his palm.

  “And what if you can’t reach the best whiskey?”

  “I’m a federal agent, too, Reid. I’m smart enough to figure that out.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re similar to a hobbit.”

  The brows on your face lift over your forehead. "Excuse me?" Your mouth fall agape in disbelief, scoffing.

  Spencer shrugs, "You're excused."

  Amusement twitch the ends of your lips. "You sure you're not drunk?" Your eyes narrow, scanning him from head to toe.

  "I'm not." He defends. Scarlet skin glows underneath the soft light. Spencer averts his eyes, stealing a mouthful of a sigh from the chilly air. Okay, maybe he stole one glass of scotch from the unit chief, took a sip, and felt his body on fire, so now he's settled down for ciders the entire evening.

  You smirk, "Then, why are you being so clingy?" Arms cross over your chest. You raise a brow in question.

  Spencer rolls his eyes, silently clearing his throat. "Why not? There's no harm in hanging out with you." His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek.

  "There is when said friend is acting like a clingy boyfriend." You say, skimming through the shelves of liquor adorning the walls from ceiling to floor.

  “Right,” Spencer states blandly, finding himself a seat. “I’m just a friend. I can’t act any other way. I can’t even give you any affection, huh?” He deadpans, tracing the wood patterns on the table.

  Your eyebrows crease in the middle of reaching for a bottle. You slowly go up behind him and smack the back of his head without warning.

  “Ow!” He hisses. “What was that for?” Spencer complains, face scrunching in temporary pain.

  “For being weirder than usual.” You say, hitting his shoulder. “Stop it.” You scold, finger-pointing over his chest.

  Spencer is not one to be petty. Never petty over the boys you mingle with for a short period. Never be petty over your tendencies to somehow land on the worst species of men. Since the two of you reconnected as colleagues, he's minded his business. Why now? And why the hell is your heart pounding obnoxiously?

  He theatrically rolls his eyes, “Am I wrong? Aren’t I just your friend?” There is something in his tone that you can't distinguish. His face is awkward and reserved, as always, but something is different.

  You know. You just love lying to yourself.

  “What else are you going to be?!” Even you are surprised at the volume of your voice.

  The creak of the small open window fills the room. None of you dares to say a word. No one dares to breathe within each other's personal bubble.

  You break eye contact first, stepping away, but Spencer has other plans. His hands land on your waist, gripping the flesh to keep you between his legs.

  “That’s a question I’ve been asking myself,” The luminescence of his eyes turns a shade darker. Chocolate hazel eyes gradients to deep earthy irises. Or it may have been the dim lighting in the room and the glass of wine in your system.

  You swallow—roughly like a ball of sandpaper rows down your throat. Fingers lace above his textured ones, wrapping over the long digits to get their bruises off your skin.

  “It’s a simple question. There’s no reason to dread it.” You almost stumble on your words, taking well-needed pauses to huff a small breath. You try to break his grip on you, but they don’t budge one bit. 

  The more you attempt to remove his hold, the more they tighten against the little fabric over your skin.

  Your brows knit. A sigh of defeat escapes your lips as your gaze travels back to him. “Spencer, stop—” Your spine shivers when he starts to lazily move his thumbs in slow, firm strokes.

  Spencer stands in silence, staring at you like you are a doe he preyed on. His eyes start to make your legs melt, and your heart races wildly.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  His gaze flickers over your lips, “Why don’t you answer the question for me? Since you’re so smart, it seems.” A tone of clear mockery spills from his lips. Spencer smirks under his signature smile—smug and utterly amused by the sound of your small, hitched breaths.

  “Can you stop kidding around?” You prattle. A peel of awkward laughter shoots straight down your bones. It was all you could do to relieve the growing tension between your thighs. Or else you’d jump on him like a desperate psychopath.

  "Who says I'm kidding around?" Spencer narrows his eyes. "I never kid around." He squeezes your sides once more and grins when a soft gasp rattles out of you. He hasn't done that in so long, and the nostalgia and buzz spark something in his chest.

  Thick, airy gulp forces itself down your throat. You know why he does it. The same pattern of movements you knew so well in your younger days. The days you spent with him.

  "We can't." It is almost inaudible, but he catches it. You lightly shake your head, backing away, "I-it's not— We can't."

  Spencer raises his brows. "What are you so afraid of?" He reads your features for a moment. The gentle touch of his gaze along your searing skin is electrifying.

  You nibble at the corner of your lip, "Let go of me, Reid." And it seems you love lying to him, too. Because you don't want him to let go. Desperate for his touch. The soft trail of his thumb. The primal clutch of his fingers, like they were claws. It was all too intoxicating to ever want him to let go.

  “Answer the question first.” He flashes the smirk he’s been trying to hide like a villain, exposing his true colors. “I dare you.” Spencer challenges.

  “You know the answer.” Your chest feels like exploding.

  “Say it out loud, then.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because we’re not leaving this position until you do.” His voice sparks fire in your core. Spencer doesn’t let his eyes stray from your moving lips. If anything, he makes a point that he is, in fact, staring at them like a starving lion, ready to pounce at any given moment.

  Oh.

  Well, isn't he such a sweetheart to feed you just what you crave? You don't know where it comes from, nor do you care, but there's at least four liquid cubic centimeters of boldness that flows through your veins.

  Your laughter echoes in the cellar. “Please, or what?” You relax in his hold, convinced that he's just the same lanky guy you've always known. “You going to fuck me like a slut? Not exactly your M.O., pretty boy.” You tease, playfully tapping on his shoulders.

  A low, hoarse chuckle vibrates across his chest. With lust-filled gaze and a thin, mischievous smile, Spencer shifts his eyes to look straight into yours. 

  “Exactly.”

  Your eyes grow the widest they have ever been your entire life. “What—” Before you can stop him, his lips are already clashing against yours.

  Spencer holds onto you as if he is falling off a cliff, and you are a branch about to snap any second. He kisses you aggressively, pulling you so tight, like he needs you glued to him.

  You try to push him, but it doesn't take long until you give in. Until you kissed back.

  You kissed him back.

  You fucking kissed Spencer back.

  The hands that recently danced on his shoulders begin to tug on the soft curls over his nape. The weight of his lips is starting to make your legs wobble.

  Every scrape of his teeth against your stinging lips feels new. It isn't what you're familiar with. Your mind recalls his gentle touches and gentle words as if you'd break if he held you too tight. But the one kissing you isn't. The slice of his tongue over your lips is primal. He's not the Spencer you once knew. He's the Spencer you've been craving, so much so that the mere thought of bruises caused by his grip has been contaminating your mind since you started in the BAU.

  His kisses deepened, warmth enveloping the two of you despite the chilly breeze inside the cellar. With breathless and plump lips, a new strike of desire courses throughout your body the longer you kiss.

  Spencer breathes you in like oxygen, starving for more, never satisfied with just one gentle breath. It's new. And you love it.

  Heaving, you and Spencer pull away, lips detaching and reattaching like magnets ’til distance is too far to push back. His lips are a darker shade of pink, swollen, and adorned with smeared lipstick. You don’t doubt the effect of making out with him gives you any more leverage, imagining your lipstick thickly outlines all over the rims of your mouth.

  Judging by how Spencer stares at you like a satisfied drunken man, you presume he's loving every second more than he's prepared to admit. Most will wonder if his eagerness is merely a product of lost inhibitions. But a simple educated guess tells you that none of his actions are driven by alcohol. He's as sober as an ice cold water splashed over one's face.

  Spencer lifts you on the table, standing between your thighs. The fabric of his pants scrapes against your skin, and your aching cunt throbs at the feeling. He cups your face into his large hands, reattaching your lips once more like it’s an unforgivable sin to keep them apart.

  He pulls away after air fails him, resting his forehead over yours. “I want to be the only one who gets to fuck you like a slut, or so God help me—” Spencer closes his eyes agonizingly slow, “—No man near you will ever see daylight again.”

  Your heart pounds against your chest, and you mentally beg Spencer to do so too—pound against your hips like you’re banned from ever walking again. The pressure of his voice and hot breath fanning against the land of your skin is ecstatically satisfying. 

  Spencer's hand drives up the slit of your dress, and at that moment, you know exactly why you chose to wear such an article of unfriendly clothing amidst your intolerance to the cold wind.

  You wanted him to take it off of you.

  You needed Spencer to take the dress off of you and fuck you hard.

  The tickle of his lips trailing from your jaw to the spot underneath your earlobe has your back arching almost a hundred and eighty degrees. Ever the opportunist, Spencer takes it as his chance to pull you closer, squeezing your thigh with his palm.

  You throw your head back, giving him access to more eager-to-be-touched skin. Legs wrap around his middle in utter pleasure, “Spencer…” You whine breathily, eyes fluttering close at the way he holds your flesh with both hunger and caress.

  His mouth falls agape. Your voice. His name. It’s addicting. His world stops in a millisecond, reveling in the joy of your mouth, uttering his name with the intense pleasure he provides.

  “We’re barely starting,” Spencer whispers against your clavicle, snaking his hand under your dress to the lining of your underwear. He swipes over your clothed clit.

  You twitch under his touch. A total puppet wrapped around his finger while his literal thumb begins to toy with your clit. The pace makes you painfully and deliciously squirm.

  Spencer loves the image before him, especially the rise of your chest as he plunges a finger, then two, inside your needy cunt. It’s the first time he’s ever heard your moans so... needy and begging and desperate and sweet and hot and something he knows you’ve never reached the volume before with other men, and he’s hooked—addicted.

  “You have no idea what your dress did to me the whole night.” He muffles on your neck. Wet kisses echo at the touch of his lips. Spencer buries himself in your scent, one hand unzipping your dress. “No idea how much I wanted to take it off of you.” He whispers next to your ear.

  A hum spills at the ring of his words. His kisses start to sting, and burning hues form on your skin. Spencer marks you with his tongue and teeth.

  It's euphoric. His hunger. His need. And you want nothing else but to give him whatever he wants, the same way he gives you everything you need.

  The sound of his fly distorting in the air makes your skin tingle, nipples perk, and cunt quiver. You whine when he pulls away, already missing his heat. 

  Spencer’s eyes soften, “Are you sure you want this to continue? When we were friends with benefits things didn't work—”

  “Shut up, take my dress off, and fuck me, Spencer.” You heave, or beg, or whichever fits the way you eagerly undo his tie and unbutton his shirt while kissing the soft spot on his neck, marking him yours.

  The vibration of his chuckles sent delicious throbs down to your cunt, drooling to be filled by him.

  “Aren't you needy—” Spencer lifts his arms in defense, “—alright, shutting up now.”

  The cold is nowhere else but the back of your mind. You feel wetness on the peak of his boxers. Spencer's hard erection suffocates him, and you're eager to relieve him in every possible way.

  He immediately sighs when your dress droops down your waist. Spencer takes you in as if you're the most prized art in a museum. He takes every line, scars, birthmarks, or as simple as the crease of your breast into memory. 

  “So, so beautiful…” Spencer murmurs in sheer adoration and awe. He looks up as if God has listened to his prayers as if he’s a passionate believer. Thankful to have you within his reach.

  Warmth coats you with every sweep of his hand on every curve and slope of your body. He’s memorizing each soft plush and perfect flaw. The sentiment alone heightens your arousal like you’ve been touch-starved for years.

  A yelp comes out of you when he unexpectedly spreads the wetness on your folds, touching where you need him most. “Spencer, please…” It’s a plea. A begging need.

  He circles on your clit with more pressure than the first. “You ready for me?” A vigorous nod responds to him while you bite your moans to keep them at bay.

  Spencer pulls you closer by the small of your back. Your ass is almost falling off the edge of the table. The lacey cloth stretched on the side of your entrance. He aligns his slobbering tip with your equally desperate cunt.

  Unsatisfied by your response, Spencer grabs your chin with so much force your bitten lips set free. “I need a verbal answer, sweetheart. I need to hear your voice say the words.” He’s begging, too, aching to slam just about all of him in one push.

  The anticipation is frustrating. "I wa—" With a mere echo jumping out of your throat, Spencer takes it enough confirmation and thrusts his hips to meet yours.

  Temporary pain and electrifying pleasure cause your body to shake, followed by a pornographic moan that Spencer muffles with his hand over half of your face.

  Your mind spins around in endless bliss as his cock throbs at the pressure of your hold. Spencer doesn't move an inch, waiting for your signal.

  “Please… move. Now.” Your voice is caught in the middle of your throat, dragging into a lovely gasp when he pulls back slowly.

  With the tip of his cock the sole filler inside your cunt, Spencer thrusts back so fast, so good. He keeps a steady pace that leaves both of you a moaning mess. 

  Spencer pins your hips on the table, making sure he satisfies you with every force. He sucks a breath in, dizzy at the sight of your breast bouncing on his beat.

  Can he surpass the knowledge that other guys have seen you undone like this? Never. Will he clash heaven and hell for the sake of pleasing you? The almighty and the merciless needn’t make yet another bet because they know Spencer will drag anything, anyone, to kneel before you.

  Because Spencer needs you undone like you have never been before. He craves to be the first to fuck you like it's the last thing you’ll ever do.

  You're addicting. An influence he freely lets himself get sucked in. Spencer wishes he could brand himself with your name, eager to be yours. He's desperate to be called yours.

  Spencer adorns your skin with red and purple hues, beaming at the sight of his marks with every echo of his lips popping yet another possessive tattoo.

  The pleasure he gives sends you beyond time and space. Euphoric daze fogs up your brain. Vision locked inside your skull, eyes permanently rolled into sensual darkness.

  “Spence…”

  Fuck. The nickname drips perfectly off your lips. You and only you can make his cock even harder just by saying his name. He doesn’t try to keep his head from spiraling into desires, desperately imagining all the ways he can own you.

  You gasp shakily, feeling the knot in your abdomen begin to tighten. One, two—five more strokes and you enter a void filled with sparkling stars and mind-numbing pleasure.

  Spencer doesn't stop, just as you wish, through broken moans and nails digging into the thin layer of his skin. Not a single pace slower or faster. And it is fucking blissful.

  Your moans drool off your lips, clenching around his cock. He rides your high like a limited experience that he will never get to try again. Though, you're sure there’ll be more clandestine rendezvous than you both are willing to admit. You both know this isn't the last you’ll ever get a taste of him. And it is not the last time he’ll crave you like oxygen.

  A hand reaches out for his nape, carding your nails at the tangles of his hair. You begin to comb between his curly strands, massaging the scalp beneath. Spencer spits out a tasteful curse dedicated to the pleasure the sensation of your touch has given him.

  “I keep up with my pill. I’m on a good window.” You assure him, breath hitching. “Fill me up, Spence.” You implore greedily, wanting nothing but all traces of him engraved inside and outside of you.

  His mouth slacks open, burying his cock in the deepest part of you. “Fuck, you’re too good to me,” He hisses in utter bliss. Spencer jolts at the ecstasy that vibrates out of him, emptying himself through the depths of your walls.

  Spencer rests his forehead against yours, whispering praises like you suddenly became his goddess. His senses tingle. And he doesn’t want time to continue.

  Your ragged breaths sync with his and soon turn even. Years of yearning are fulfilled in one evening. The prick of his bites floods your senses. 

  “What was the question again?” You giggle out, still, a bit out of breath, breaking the silence.

  Spencer playfully rolls his eyes, zipping up the back of your dress with a kiss on your shoulder. “I basically asked, ‘What are we’ like a typical chick in a movie.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that.” Your sweet laughter follows while Spencer covers you once more with his jacket despite the clear indication of sweat glistening over your forehead that you’re not nearly as cold anymore. "That many?"

  Pride surges across his chest, beaming. "Like a canvas drenched with paint." He softly bites his lower lip, satisfied by the work he has done.

  You glance down, gasping at the sheath of love bites. "More like a slab of beaten up flesh." Your head lifts up to look at him in disbelief. Spencer painted every inch of your skin, no space left untouched. You don't even recognize your skin anymore.

  "Maybe this will help," He reaches on the back of your head, tugging on the band. Your hair drapes over your neck.

  "No, Reid. It does not help at all." Blinking, you slap his arm lightly, earning a shrug and a peck on your lips. He simply fastens the buttons of his jacket on you, covering everything the fabric can.

  He hunches down to pick up the tie you discarded on the floor. When he stands back up, he says, “We can keep this between us for now while we figure things out if you’d like. But we have to agree on one thing.” He tucks in a wild strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m yours, and you don’t have a choice. Sounds good?”

  You giddily smile, nodding as you dangle your weak legs over the table. “What about me? Can’t I be yours?” You coax, fixing his tie.

  "Do you want to be? Because I'm content with just pleasing you every chance I get. I'm not in a rush."

  "Spencer," You take his face in your hands. "Do you really want to just be friends with benefits?"

  He swipes his tongue over his lower lip. "No..." Spencer squeaks under his breath.

  You nod, humming. "Good, because I don't want you like a best friend either." You flatten the crease on his shoulders.

  "So?" Spencer chases your eyes, hoping he can read your mind.

  "So, you're mine, and I'm yours. Sounds better, don't you think?"

  "Sounds great." He simpers, helping you get back on your feet.

  The two of you come back to the others with the worst whiskey in the cellar. Your hair is neat, and your lipstick is replenished. His tie sits presentably on his chest and hides the smallest purple mark on the base of his neck. Intricate measures for intricate people.

  Derek complains. Penelope agrees. Rossi objects. Hotch sips his drink with no care. Emily laughs hysterically. JJ shrugs. 

  No one knows. Or no one cares. But the secret remain as is.

  Perks of being seen as the most platonic friends. More so than the great Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia. What they know nothing about won’t hurt them, right? And it’s not like it’ll be any worse if they did.

 Yet the absence of suspicion brews boredom and discontent. How come the others are suspicious enough, but not you and him? What's so dull in the air between you and Spencer that no one dares to wonder if romance ever crossed your minds?

  Spencer drags his fingers on your thigh under the table. And no one suspects why you never take off his jacket despite dancing the night away. 

  And as the night deepens, like any other gathering, the group disperses into different areas and smaller groups.

  “So?” JJ starts, wiggling her eyebrows. 

  “What?” You chuckle into the wine in your glass.

  JJ rolls her eyes, “Did you give the photographer your number?”

  Oh, yeah. You’d forgotten about the entire thing, glancing at the photographer who happens to have his lens on you. He smiles shyly, but you swear in your life that your shy boy is a lot more charming.

  “Because if not, I think Will’s cousin has his eye on you, too,” JJ adds with a mischievous smile. The most supportive friend you’ll have. How will she react when she finds out?

  You smile, looking far ahead at the pair of brown eyes.

  Spencer returns the smile, Hotch’s voice muffling in the background.

  “Like I said, it’s quite a little paperwork, but if you want to try things out and date, I have no problem with helping you out,” Hotch advises between sips of warm whiskey, talking about that one agent who approached Spencer at the bullpen thrice. What will he think when he finds out two of his agents are participating in fraternization?

  They have no idea. Not an inkling of doubt whatsoever.

  The naivete. It bores you and Spencer. It’s prosaic. It’s unglamorous.

  From one end to another, the same words echo.

  “I’ll have another drink.”

  The two of you stand from each end, meeting over the table with vast choices of alcohol. You pick up a glass as Spencer stands next to you.

  “Take it off?”

  “Take it off.”

  And you went separate ways.

  JJ’s eyes widen at the small hint of marks on your chest, jacket slightly drooping over your shoulder.

  Hotch doesn’t say a word when he notices the hickey on Spencer’s neck when the younger agent loosens his tie and undoes one button—and Hotch quotes—because of the heat. His peripheral catches JJ, Emily, and Penelope hovering around you like a group of crows scavenging for some sort of fleshy information he thinks he knows what’s about.

  “A simple no would’ve suffice,” Hotch says evenly. “But you’re still filling out paperwork. Am I clear?”

  Spencer stifles a smug smirk, looking down on his drink. “Clear.”

reid masterlist | masterlist

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[witchesverse]

my happiness is all of your misery

pairing: dark!agathario x fem!reader

summary: you hadn't seen your kidnappers in centuries, but of course, you just had to be summoned right to them.

content: noncon, mentions of physical/mental/sexual abuse, mentions of suicide, manipulation, mentions of death, pain (slapping), spitting, praise, HEAVY TOPICS, crying, fingering (r receiving), blood licking, kidnapping, orgasm control/ruining, cum eating.

a/n: just pretend the others don't exist on the witches road pls. only agatha and rio here.

masterlist

"Oh, I mean. No complaints from me."

Your skin crawled at the sound of a voice you hadn't heard in centuries. Agatha Harkness.

You felt like you would be sick at the sound of the second voice.

"Interesting."

Rio Vidal.

Without a second thought, you were on your feet and sprinting away from them. You dodged through trees and bushes, cursing when you heard footsteps following.

It had been centuries since you last saw the pair, and you wanted to get far away from them.

When you first met them, you were dead. Death had come to reap your soul but she didn't. She resurrected you and kept you as her pet. You met Agatha a few weeks after that.

They were awful and cruel owners. Your body never healed, even after you escaped. You hated thinking about what they did to you. But you hated even more that you loved them for it.

Rio slammed into you and sent you flying to the ground. She buried her hand in your hair and sat on your stomach, pinning your arms down with her legs.

"You can't run from us, idiot." She laughed her wicked laugh. "We're on the Witches' Road."

Agatha appeared by her side.

"Let me die, please." You begged.

"I'd never let you die," Rio whispered.

You sniffled. She had never let you die. Multiple times you had killed yourself to end their torture but she brought you back each time. Your death doesn't exist when Death does.

Her lips connected with yours and you hated how perfectly they morphed together. Her hand drifted down to your pants and you made a noise of discomfort.

She hushed you and tugged your pants down enough to reveal your panties to her. She ignored cries as she pushed them to the side and collected your slick on two fingers.

"All we've done is kiss and you're already wet. Looks like someone missed me." Rio grinned.

"I hate you."

Rio and Agatha rolled their eyes in sync. Their synchronisation was something you always loved about them.

Agatha crouched next to you. She lovingly caressed your cheek with a small smile. Then the smile was replaced by an angered frown and she slapped you.

"We gave you everything and you left us for two centuries. You're such an ungrateful little bitch." She snarled.

You flinched. The pain from her slap was somewhat comforting.

"I hate you. I hate you both." You fought against Rio's hold. "I wish you both would die. You don't deserve to live."

"That's ironic telling Death that you wish she was dead," Rio said.

Agatha grabbed your jaw and squeezed until it dropped open. You cringed as her spit hit your tongue, but held it obediently until she told you to swallow.

"Good girl. It looks like you haven't forgotten your training after all this time."

You wanted to roll your eyes and snap back the question about how you could forget their training. It was still so drilled into your mind that you caught yourself still acting how they trained you to act even when they weren't there.

Tears prickled in your eyes as Rio pushed a single finger inside of you and pumped a slow, steady pace. You kept eye contact with Agatha, afraid she would get angry if you looked away.

"You should know that crying doesn't get you anywhere," Agatha said, wiping your tears away with her thumb.

"I can't control it," You meekly replied.

They laughed.

Rio added two more fingers, stretching you out perfectly. Your walls clenched around her fingers and you whimpered from the pain. Her thumb pressed against your clit and you squirmed in her hold.

Agatha pulled Rio into a heated kiss. There was a small fight for dominance that Agatha won. When they pulled apart, you saw that Rio's lip was bleeding. Agatha cupped her jaw and licked the blood away.

Your whimper pulled their attention to you.

"Feeling left out, huh?" Rio asked.

Her thumb rubbed circles on your clit and she pumped her fingers faster. She curled her fingers upwards and pressed against your g-spot.

The familiar feeling started to build in your stomach.

You bit your tongue. You weren't going to beg, not this time.

"Don't get fucking bratty." Rio snapped. "Beg for it."

You ignored Rio.

"Come on, sweetheart." Agatha cooed.

You ignored Agatha, too.

Rio ripped her fingers from you and slapped your cunt, making you cry out. She stood and licked her fingers clean, disappointment painted on her face.

Your ruined orgasm made you want to cry.

"Get up." She said in a monotone voice. "We have a road to walk."

You pulled your pants up and cringed at the uncomfortable wet feeling as you scrambled to your feet.

"And don't you dare think you're going to escape." Agatha shoved you towards Rio, who was walking ahead. Agatha walked behind you, keeping you caged between them.

You stifled a sob.

You would never be free from them. They owned you and you couldn't do anything about it.

All you can do is accept it.