#next day reblog before I FORGET and this never sees the light of day again

[hamiltonfc]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆ LET HER LISTEN; JUDE BELLINGHAM

Summary: When Jude's ex calls during sex, you urge him to answer.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, MDNI, P in V, Oral (F!Receiving)

Word Count: 1,197

A/N: Repost from my main blog @p8dris as I transfer all my fics over onto this blog. Reblogs appreciated.

"Fuck, Jude," You whimpered in his ear as he pounded into you. One of your hands is around the back of his neck, bringing his head as close to yours as possible, while your other hand is on his back, gripping on for dear life, leaving marks upon marks. "You make me feel so good."

Jude's mouth slacked open when he felt you tightening around him, your third orgasm of the night approaching. He was resting on his forearms, which were resting on either side of your head. With your faces being so close together, there would be a sloppy meeting of your lips every so often, teeth clashing as you both practically tried to devour each other. But neither of you seemed to mind, too caught up in each other to even notice half of the time.

Jude was just about to reciprocate the words you had told him, but he was stopped before he could even open his mouth by the sound of his phone ringing. He groaned, pausing briefly as he looked over at the phone resting on the nightstand. He groans again, louder this time, swiftly reaching over to decline the call before his attention returns to you. This time he's pounding into you even harder, the headboard of the bed banging against the wall after each of his thrusts.

"Who was it?" You struggled to get out due to the abundance of pleasure he was giving you, but with the amount of frustration that was coursing through his veins, you had a slight idea about who it was. "It was her, wasn't it?"

Jude rested his head against yours, only being able to nod before he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out breathy moans into your ear.

His ex had been calling him every couple of days for about a week, begging him to take her back. His response was the same every time, telling her that he would never be getting back with her, especially after their relationship was so toxic. But she struggled to get the message he was sending her. You had told him just to block her number, but he knew that she would always find a way to contact him no matter what, so he didn't see the point.

You were just about to forget about what had happened, the feeling that he was giving you clouding your mind when your body shuddered in orgasm. Your third of the night. But the shaking of your legs was quickly interrupted by the ring of Jude's phone yet again.

Your legs that were wrapped around his waist tightened and the hand you had around his neck gripped harder, your eyes darkening. You didn't know if it was because you were just denied the full experience of an orgasm, or that you were just feeling a little risky, but you whispered, "Answer it."

Jude's eyes went wide as he looked down at you, shocked that you would ever say anything like that. But you could see him process what you had just said, and he concluded that he enjoyed the idea, just as much as you were clearly about to. He reached over, this time accepting the call, placing the phone on the pillow next to your head so she would be able to hear you.

You could hear her saying "Jude" down the line, a soft giggle leaving your mouth, knowing that what she was about to hear would send her into an absolute frenzy.

"Turn around," Jude commanded, not even giving you any time to respond before he was on his knees flipping you over. He pulled your hips up towards his, leaving you to rest on your forearms on the bed in front of you.

Before entering you, he leans down pressing a feather-light kiss to each of your ass cheeks, sending goosebumps across your skin. He's leaning down even further, pressing another kiss, to your pussy this time, licking a slow strip from your clit to your entrance. He eats your pussy as if it's his last meal, immediately making your legs shake.

At first, you're biting your lip, nervous that Jude's ex could hear everything that was happening, second-guessing your decision to let her listen. But Jude realised that you were being much quieter than you usually were, as eating you out brought the most noise out of your mouth.

"Moan for me baby," his voice vibrated against your heat, making you whimper. "Good girl, let her listen to how good I make you feel."

That's all the encouragement you needed, letting out moan after moan, as his tongue stroked up and down your swollen pussy.

"Please, Jude, I need you inside me," he could tell by the sound of your voice that you were close to your fourth orgasm of the night, so he wasted no time guiding his throbbing cock into you, bottoming out before he almost fully pulls out again, just to slam into you. In creating the same rhythm he had earlier, you were struggling to hold yourself up any longer, letting your arms give out as you flopped onto the bed.

Jude gripped your ass hard, watching as his dick disappeared inside of you time after time. "That's it, Y/N. You're taking me so well, so much better than anyone else."

You couldn't help but laugh at his pettiness, knowing that the woman who was begging for him back was hearing every single thing.

"Fuck," Jude whimpered out, his thrusts becoming inconsistent. "I'm going to cum, Y/N."

"Cum inside me, Jude," your hips were thrusting back lazily to meet his, your high building up inside you. It wasn't long before you felt the familiar feeling of his cum dripping into you as your high took over your body, leaving you to collapse on the bed.

Jude gently laid himself down on top of you, sweaty skin sticking to each other's, both of your chests heaving after the tiresome events of the night.

"Looks like she hung up," Jude laughs, turning his phone off, placing it back on the nightstand, rolling off of your body to lay beside you.

You turn your body to look at him, a hand coming up to caress his cheek before you press a soft kiss onto his lips. "You made me feel so good today, baby, but I don't think I'm going to be able to walk for a while."

He smiles at you, his hooded eyes taking in each of your features, thinking that you were still the most beautiful woman in the world, even if he had just fucked you into oblivion. "You were amazing, too. as always. But you're going to have to get up, we need to clean up."

"But I don't want to, I'm too comfy," you could feel your eyes getting heavy, as you snuggled closer to Jude.

Jude peppered kisses all over your face, leaving a beaming smile on your face. "I'll run you a bath, how does that sound?"

You opened one eye, looking into his beautiful brown ones. "Will you join me?"

"Of course I will. Now let's get you cleaned up, pretty girl."

[astrophileous]

Every Single Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: When his daughter demands him to tell the story of how the two of you met, Spencer can't help but oblige.

Warning(s): dad spencer🥰, established relationship (eventually), parent-child relationships, alcohol consumption, brief interaction with a douchebag, made-up astronomy facts, made-up places, idk if there's any cursing but I'll throw it in here to be safe, implications of sex and nsfw themes (minors be advised), pregnancy, mentions of illness, mentions and/or implications of character death, topics of loss and grief, angst and fluff because I love the best of both worlds👍 (pls lmk if I missed anything)

Word Count: 7700-ish

Author's Note: hi 👋 I'm back again with another dad!spencer fic bc apparently I'm a sucker for him. I got a lil carried away with this one lol but anyways, I'm also writing this for the meet cute challenge hosted by the amazing and talented @imagining-in-the-margins so pls go head to her profile and show some love cause she's a peach ❤️ don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG

Criminal Minds Masterlist

The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Against the wind, shades of crimson and orange swayed on the trees. Fallen leaves crunched underneath his feet to the cadence of his leisured steps.

Two deep breaths, in and out. Spencer Reid greeted autumn with the deep longing of an old friend.

Next to him walked a source of light bigger than the sun, jumping and bouncing excitedly on the sidewalk. Her tiny fingers emitted warmth inside of his hand. There was a skip to her step that reminded him of the innocence he had long lost. The innocence she now possessed.

Spencer loved this little girl beyond everything he had ever known.

"Puddle, Dee."

The tiny bundle of joy jumped to escape the small pool of water, grinning up at her father, who then began ruffling her hair until she evaded his onslaught with a shriek.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"You never told me how you met Mommy."

Spencer glanced down at the 6-year-old, dressed gorgeously in her favorite floral dress, complete with a sweater that had entailed a hearty discussion about humans' perception of cold. It was only after he bribed her with the promise of a chocolate cupcake from Wakey Bakey did Spencer finally convince her to wear the woolen piece of clothing.

His daughter stared at him with a radiant smile peeking out behind a curtain of hair. A smile which Spencer always argued had belonged to you, even though the rest of Diana Aurora Reid was the splitting image of her beloved father.

"Surely I've told you before, Dee."

"Nuh-uh."

"Of course I have."

"No, Daddy. You haven't."

"Pumpkin, you know I don't forget stuff ever," Spencer said, looking at the little girl who was swaying along to the rhythm of her footsteps. "I used to tell you that story all the time. Back when you were still a baby."

Just as predicted, Diana let out a dramatic gasp as if Spencer had uttered the most offensive thing known to mankind; like claiming the earth was actually flat, for example. Spencer couldn't contain his grin upon seeing her reaction.

"But Daddy, that was so long ago!"

"Do you not remember, Dee?"

Diana shook her head.

"Fine. But Mommy must've told you the story already, right?"

"She has, but--"

"But?"

"But I wanna hear it from you."

Little Diana knew that her father could never resist her puppy dog eyes, especially garnished with that adorable pout on top. Once upon a time, you declared it sickeningly cute and annoying whenever Spencer would pull the same trick on you. When Dee started doing the same to him, you had simply laughed and kissed his cheek, letting him get a sweet taste of his own medicine.

Spencer smiled at the young girl next to him, squeezing her nose and relishing in the gleeful squeal that echoed from her chest.

"What do you wanna hear, Pumpkin?"

Diana held her chin, seemingly deep in contemplation before deciding, "Everything, Dad! I wanna hear it from the start."

"The start, huh?" Spencer hummed thoughtfully, his mind already reeling back to the first moment he ever laid eyes on you.

The story began on yet another ordinary Friday night.

Luck was on the BAU's side when the team managed to wrap the case they had been working all week just before Friday afternoon. By the time the sun was setting, their jet was already high up in the sky, en route from the state of Delaware to Quantico, Virginia. Spencer was looking forward to going home at a reasonable hour for once--maybe catching up on the four reading materials he had promptly pushed aside after his team was called to Delaware to work on the latest case--but that plan dissipated when Derek Morgan suddenly appeared by his side.

"Drinks. Tonight. Everyone's coming, and I'm not taking no for an answer," Derek said before dragging a reluctant Spencer away with him, ignoring the protests that the younger man kept grumbling under his breath all the way to the team's favorite bar.

Spencer just hadn't known it yet, but later down the road, he would spend the rest of eternity thanking Derek Morgan for dragging him along that night.

The Friday night crowd at Shaw's was borderline brutal, but fortunately for the team, a booth in the corner became vacant the moment they stepped into the threshold.

Two hours later, Spencer's fellow teammates weren't even close to calling it a night. The last chorus of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston had just finished blasting from the speakers when Derek sauntered back to the booth, twirling a flushed Penelope Garcia in front of him. Spencer slipped out of the booth to allow them in--preferring to stay on the most outer seat instead of crammed between his tipsy friends' bodies--before sitting down once more.

"Hey, Genius," Penelope called, waving her empty beer glass in front of Spencer's face. "Be a darling and get me a refill, will you?"

"Garcia--" Spencer quickly snatched the glass from her hand before she could send it smashing against someone's head, "--are you sure you want a refill?"

Penelope scrunched her nose. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I think you're plenty drunk already."

"I'm not that drunk," Penelope denied, giggling when an unexpected hiccup interrupted her slurred words. "Derek, tell the beautiful Doctor I'm not that drunk."

"She's not that drunk, Reid." Derek grinned. "While you're at it..."

Spencer could only sigh when Derek slid his own empty glass across the table.

It was past 10 o'clock at night, and the crowd of people in the establishment seemed to have doubled in the couple of hours that the team had been there. Spencer had to squeeze himself through the ocean of patrons flooding the bar, barely able to move his limbs without other people's arms or elbows bumping against his ribcage.

Spencer was waiting for the bartender to complete his order when he happened to glance towards his right, catching sight of the concealed panic that triggered every profiler bone in his body.

Any other person would have taken one look at your face and presumed that everything was alright, but Spencer knew better. He recognized the frantic movement of your eyes, the tight press of your lips, and the impatient knocking of your fingertips on the counter. He only caught the tail end of your voice before discreetly listening to what the man you were talking to had to say.

"--so, unfortunately, I can't."

"I told you, Baby. My Veyron runs at over 260 miles per hour. We can go to Red Clover Hill and get you back home safely by twelve. It's simple math," the guy slurred smugly.

"Actually, that's not true."

The drunken man turned around at Spencer's interruption.

"Excuse me?"

"The Red Clover Hill State Park is approximately 229 miles away from here. Though theoretically, you could drive your Veyron at its maximum velocity, which is around 268 miles per hour, it's very unlikely you'll be able to maintain that speed for the entirety of the ride, considering the terrain you would have to go through between here and there. The fastest you can probably get to the park is in 60 minutes, give or take, and that's being generous. You would have to drive back to D.C. as soon as you arrive at the park if you wish to be back by twelve. It's just realistically impossible."

The man in front of him couldn't be less impressed by Spencer's lengthy rant.

"And who the hell are you?" the drunken guy said, pinning Spencer with a stare that was clearly supposed to be intimidating.

Spencer didn't even flinch. "No one. Just a guy who happens to know a lot about... simple math."

Your loud cough tore Spencer's attention away from the drunk man and towards you, who looked ready to burst from the laughter you were holding underneath. Even under the terrible lighting of the bar, Spencer could still pinpoint the hint of unspoken amusement glimmering inside your eyes.

"Sorry, Bill," you said to the man. "I really do need to be back home by twelve tonight. Maybe some other time?"

Bill didn't need to be told twice. He received the message loud and clear.

Spencer watched the other man scurry away, tail between his legs, before your charming smile enraptured him once more.

"Thank you for that. I was beginning to think he might never leave."

"Happy to help." Spencer smiled thinly, scratching the back of his neck even though the spot wasn't itchy. "What did, uh, why did he want to take you to Red Clover Hill, of all places?"

"Oh. That was... partially my fault." You grinned innocently. "I didn't know he was gonna be an insufferable drunk when he came over, and I was in the middle of watching this."

You pulled out a silver tablet from your lap. Spencer took a peek at the screen, seeing what looked like a live feed of the night sky--over North Carolina, judging by the visible constellations on the vast scene--stamped with the day's date at the bottom of the footage.

"You're watching the Roux-Nell?" Spencer deduced after gathering the facts: the live feed of North Carolina sky, the mention of Red Clover Hill State Park that harbored one of the highest grounds in North Carolina, including a collection of some of the most sophisticated telescopes in the country; you must have been planning to view that night's sighting of the Roux-Nell comet, its first time since the last one in 1927, and only its third one in history.

"Yes! How did you... don't tell me. You're an avid astronomy fan, too?"

Spencer's responding smile only made you beam even brighter.

"Anyway, that guy earlier, Bill, he approached me and asked what I was watching. So, I started talking about the Roux-Nell and about how I wish I was at Red Clover Hill right now since everyone keeps saying it's one of the best spots to view tonight's sighting. I thought he was genuinely interested until he started talking about his Veyron this, his Veyron that. I didn't even realize until a whole five minutes later that he was talking about his car!"

When you finally finished explaining, your eyes locked with Spencer's hazel ones before you seemed to cower shyly.

"Sorry. I can get a little excited when I'm talking sometimes."

"No! Don't be, it was--" Spencer stopped himself before he could complete his sentence.

What was he about to say?

Insightful? Entertaining?

Endearing?

Eventually, Spencer opted to settle for something safe and simple. "I get that way too, sometimes. A lot of the times, actually. So you don't have to apologize."

The fire flickered back inside your gaze following Spencer's admission. It burned brilliantly beneath the kindness you radiated, forged by the sharp intelligence he could see shining out of your eyes.

"So--" Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to shift the conversation in order to distract his racing mind, "--why did you tell him you needed to be back home by twelve?"

"Oh, that? I told him I'm donating blood tomorrow morning, so I need to at least get seven hours of sleep for the night."

"That's a clever lie."

You tilted your head slightly at his statement. "What makes you think it's a lie?"

"Because you're here. Nobody drinks alcohol before they're supposed to donate blood."

Your eyes flashed with surprise. "Not bad, Mister. You're very perceptive."

Spencer shrugged, trying not to appear too flustered by your casual compliment. "It's what I do."

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his reply.

"I'm a profiler."

"Profiler?"

"With the FBI."

"FBI, huh?" You hummed, something akin to intrigue swirling in your eyes. "So, you study criminals? Trying to decipher their way of thinking, why they do what they do. Dissect their past history for any related trauma, maybe even pinpoint a psychological stressor that could trigger a criminal behavior, that kind of stuff?"

Upon hearing your response, it was Spencer's turn to be intrigued. "Exactly that kind of stuff. How did you...?"

Grinning sheepishly, you pulled a professional badge out of your pocket, holding it up in front of Spencer so he could see the emblem covering its surface.

"Edgewater Psychology Center," Spencer read the words aloud, understanding dawning on him as he found your eyes once more. "You're a psychologist."

"Guilty as charged."

Spencer couldn't fight off his amused smile. "That explains it, then."

"You know," you began, leaning further against the bar counter to shorten the distance between you and Spencer, "I've never met a profiler in person before. Most of my colleagues, they have consulted on a federal case at least once in the past few years, but the bureau hasn't yet contacted me so far."

"Really?" Spencer took a step forward, closing the distance by a mere inch. "Sounds like a big loss for us. We're idiots."

You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress a smile, your gaze flicking between Spencer's own lips and eyes. For the shortest of minutes, nothing else existed in Spencer's world but you; your smile, your scent, and your kind eyes. You were a magnet carved out of his wildest dreams, and Spencer, well, he might as well have been made out of the purest of irons.

But before Spencer could get lost deeper in your relentless gaze, a shout of his name slashed through the air from across the bar. Back at the booth, Derek was waving his hand frantically in the air, stopping only when Spencer signaled him to sit back down and that he was returning in a minute.

"I have to go." He smiled tentatively, apologetically.

"Oh?"

Spencer tried not to revel too much over the small dip of disappointment at the edge of your voice.

"My friends. They, uh--"

"Oh, no, it's alright. You don't have to explain," you told him gently. "See you around, Mr. Profiler. Hope you have a great night."

With that said, you went back to watching the live feed on your tablet while Spencer, begrudgingly, trudged across the room with two refilled beer glasses in his hands, back to where his friends--minus Rossi and Hotch who were conversing among themselves at one of the standing tables--were waiting.

"Finally," Derek groaned once Spencer slammed the glasses down on the table.

"Who was that?" Emily asked as he slipped into the booth.

"Huh?" Spencer followed Emily's gaze, finding you perched up at the very end of it. "No one."

"No one?" Emily's eyebrows rose. "She didn't seem like no one from where I was sitting."

Spencer took an insanely large sip of his leftover beer.

"Holy shit, you like her, " Derek muttered. "He likes her. Pretty boy's got a crush."

"No, I don't."

"Yeah? Tell that to those red cheeks of yours." JJ chuckled.

Instinctively, Spencer touched his own cheeks as if he could physically feel the change of colors on his skin.

"I'm just tipsy," he tried to reason.

A collective scoff reverberated through the entire booth.

"What's her name, Spence?" JJ asked.

When a full minute ticked by without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment from Spencer, Penelope reached out and slapped the man right across his shoulder.

"Ow!"

"You didn't ask for her name?!" Penelope exclaimed.

"It didn't come up!"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, Reid," Emily noted before sipping her margarita.

"Nope. I'm not having this. Not tonight. Look at me, Sunshine." Penelope grabbed Spencer's face in her hands, forcing him to stare directly into her glasses-rimmed eyes. "I'm not letting you spend the rest of the night like this. You will get your cute little tushy out there and talk to that girl. You will get her name and also her number, maybe even ask the nice pretty lady out while you're at it. Now, have I made myself clear?"

Spencer barely managed to swallow his nerves before he offered Penelope two tiny nods.

"Good. I don't wanna see your face back here if you're not at least pocketing her phone number. Now shoo."

Penelope sent Spencer flying across the bar with a dramatic stumble. By the time he reached your side, Spencer was nothing less than a stuttering mess and a thundering heart.

"Hi," Spencer breathed out once he found your welcoming eyes.

"Um, hi?"

"I'm Spencer."

"Okay... Spencer?"

"Reid. Spencer Reid." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, it's just... I realized while I was sitting over there--well, my friends actually made me realize--that I, uh, never got your name. Which, you know, of course I never got it because I didn't ask. So, I was coming here, wondering if maybe you'd like to give it... to me?"

You blinked once. Twice.

By the third blink, Spencer wished the earth would open up and devour him whole.

"You want my name?"

Spencer nodded.

"What are you planning to do with it?"

"Call you?" At your bemused expression, Spencer quickly elaborated, "Not call like call. I meant referring. Yep. That's it. Although, maybe if you want to, I would love to call you as well. Sometime. And perhaps, you know, ask you out... on a date?"

Spencer swallowed the lump of nervousness in his throat. In front of him, you were pretty, even with the conspicuous scrutiny in your eyes as they assessed Spencer as if he was some sort of an enigma. Embarrassment burned hotter through his veins with every second that passed by. He was merely two exhales of breath away from dashing out of the door when you finally spoke up.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Smiling, you produced an old receipt seemingly out of thin air and asked the bartender to lend you a pen, scribbling something down as soon as you had it between your fingers. When the tiny piece of paper emigrated to Spencer's hand, the Cheshire cat in him jumped out once he noticed the ten digit numbers written neatly underneath a name he could only assume as yours.

"Will that be enough, Spencer Reid?"

"For now," Spencer replied before grabbing his wallet and shoving the paper containing your name inside. "I'll call you."

"You better."

After Spencer's departure, you returned your attention back to the tablet in front of you. Barely five minutes later, though, your serene watching session was once again interrupted. Only this time, it was by the ringing of your phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Spencer."*

Surprised, you swiveled your head left and right, stopping once you spotted Spencer standing on the other side of the room. His eyes were trained towards you, and behind him, a booth of four people seemed to have directed their attention at you as well.

"Spencer?"

"I know this is very untoward," he began, "but would you like to go out with me?"

"Boy, you certainly don't waste any time at all, do you?"

"I believe it's called being efficient," he countered, making you laugh. "So, what do you say?"

"Sure," you answered, enjoying the way Spencer beam at you from across the room. "I would love to, Spencer."

A breeze blew gently against Spencer's face, caressing the tendrils of curly hair that had fallen over his forehead. Diana's little fingers started to grip his tighter as the wind strengthened.

"Did you take Mommy on that date, Daddy?"

"Of course," Spencer replied, reminiscing the exact day when he had picked you up in your apartment, sweat glistening on his palm as he clutched the bouquet of flowers in his right hand. "We went to see a Mark Rothko exhibition at the National Gallery of Art, and before I took her home, we stopped by Wakey Bakey to buy some lemon tarts."

Diana gasped. "Wakey Bakey?!"

The little girl's reaction compelled a chuckle from Spencer's chest. "Yes, Pumpkin. Wakey Bakey."

"What happened after that, Daddy?"

"What do you think happened after that, Dee?"

"Um--" Diana pursed her lips, deeply lost in thought, "--did you become girlfriend and boyfriend?"

"Yes, we did."

"And you got married?!"

Spencer laughed at Diana's apparent excitement over the prospect of her parents getting married. "We did, yeah, eventually. After I proposed to her."

"Oh! Oh! The proposal!" Diana exclaimed, jumping up and down in the middle of the sidewalk without a care in the world. Spencer had to tug her back towards him before she could harm herself or the other pedestrians. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me about the proposal, Daddy!"

"You wanna hear the story about how I proposed to your mother?"

"Yes, please!"

Chuckling to himself, Spencer mumbled a quick fine before his gears had started turning towards a specific memory in his mind. Spencer was sure, even without his eidetic ability, there was no way he could have ever forgotten about the day in question.

The day you agreed to have him as your forever.

Spencer had fallen in love with you during the first date, right around the time of yet another one of his animated ramblings, where instead of shaming him to shut the hell up, you had simply stared at him in awe and said, "You're pretty when you talk."

The young agent was sure he couldn't get rid of the blush adorning his cheeks for at least an entire week.

By the time the fifth date rolled around, Spencer was absolutely certain that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It wasn't a surprise, then, that a few weeks before your first anniversary came up, Spencer had pocketed a diamond ring with a promise of forever on the tip of his tongue.

Combing the courage to take this historical leap was easy. Difficult was trying to conjure up the perfect proposal plan that he would deem worthy enough for someone like you. There were no rooms for mistakes. Spencer wanted everything to be perfect because he believed you deserved nothing less.

Which was why, in moments of desperation, Spencer ended up turning to his fellow teammates in the FBI for help.

"I don't know if I'm the right person to ask about this, Spence. Will only ever proposed to me after finding out about Henry, and we only got married after I thought he was gonna die on the field," JJ explained. "It was never the most ideal of situations, but I would never change a thing even if I could."

Unsatisfied with JJ's answer, Spencer proceeded to find the BAU's tech genius in her bat cave.

"Go big or go home, my friend," Penelope said following a 10-minute hysteria she erupted into upon learning about Spencer's intent to propose. "Splash out on the bottle. Don't hold back on the grandeur. Spend all of your savings if you have to."

"Garcia--"

"Fine, maybe not all of your savings. You should leave some for the wedding."

Spencer spent weeks mulling over Penelope's advice.

Working as an FBI agent didn't pay as well as most people thought it would, and Spencer's tendency to collect first edition books wasn't exactly an affordable hobby. It meant that as much as Spencer wanted a proposal filled with the greatest grandeur--just as Penelope had suggested--he didn't have a fat enough balance in his bank account to make his ideal proposal concept a reality.

And Spencer probably would have spent the limited fund in his savings down to its very last cent, had it not been for Derek catching him browsing through the internet for the cost of a hot air balloon ride.

"I just want to give her the perfect proposal," Spencer admitted after he finished revealing everything.

"Kid, it doesn't matter," Derek said. "Don't you see? She doesn't care about hot air balloons or any kind of grandeur. She only cares about you. There's no such thing as a perfect proposal. You're just using it as an excuse to put off asking her 'cause you're scared of what she's gonna say. But you don't need to. You two are so devastatingly in love, it's disgusting."

In the end, grandeur wasn't even present in the room when Spencer decided to pop the question.

On that particular night, Spencer arrived in his apartment just a few minutes before midnight. His aching muscles were calling for sleep as he toed his shoes off, but his footsteps soon ceased when he caught sight of his dimly lit living room.

You were fast asleep on the couch, face illuminated by the television light. Spencer's movements were careful as he knelt in front of you, studying the soft and hard edges of your features like historians would an ancient scripture. He couldn't help it when his fingers reached out on their own accord, brushing the softest of touches against the high point of your cheekbone. Inside its cage, Spencer's heart started to stir.

You were so beautiful.

Even after one year of being together, Spencer was often still taken back by how lovely you were. He adored every detail of your being, most fervently the scars that littered your skin in a constellation of stars. All of the places in your body where your scrutiny had wandered in a fleet of insecurity were the same places that Spencer wanted to worship for the rest of his life. In his eyes, you were eternally magnificent, and this thought clouded Spencer's mind as he went to shake your shoulder gently.

"Spencer?" Your groggy voice sounded meek in the comfort of Spencer's apartment, the same one he had been sharing with you since you moved in three months prior. Your lips tilted with the tiniest hint of a smile at the sight of him, and Spencer thought he would melt when your fingers instinctively reached for his face. "You're back."

"I'm back," he confirmed, leaving a trail of kisses on your palm. "Why aren't you in bed, my love?"

"I was waiting for you," you admitted. "I have something to say."

"Really? Me too."

"Hm?" Curiosity flared in the center of your eyes. "You first."

Smiling, Spencer leaned down to steal a quick kiss before saying, "Marry me."

Your breath hitched.

After a few seconds of silence, your nervous laughter filled his ears. "Right. That's a nice one, Spencer. Very funny."

"I'm not joking, sweetheart."

Spencer reached into the inside pocket of his satchel, pulling out the velvet box that had weighed down his bag by several grams for the past few weeks. Any remnant of sleep you still had in your eyes was instantly washed away the moment he opened the box to reveal a pretty ring sitting inside.

"I've had this for a while now," Spencer admitted. "I kept putting off asking you because I believed I wanted everything to be perfect, until Derek knocked some sense into my head and made me realize that I was just afraid of taking the leap. He's right, as always, but don't tell him I said that."

Spencer paused at your teary laugh, relishing in the melodic sound that made his heart nearly burst in two. "My love, I don't need the perfect proposal when you're the promise of a perfect life. Any life with you is the one I want to live for the rest of my time, and I want to start living that life from this point onward. What do you say, sweetheart? Will you marry me?"

Spencer never thought the word yes could sound so incredibly spectacular.

The celebration had started right away, commemorated by the shedding of clothes from each other's bodies, finalized by panting breaths and entangled limbs beneath rumpled sheets. You lay on the bed with your palm on Spencer's chest, his own hand tracing invisible patterns on the vast canvass of your skin.

Spencer watched as you stared at the ring circling your finger. "Do you like it? We can exchange it for a new one if--"

"Spencer Reid, don't you dare."

"Apologies, ma'am." He grinned, continuing the random patterns he was drawing on your skin before he spoke again, "By the way, you said you also have something to tell me."

You looked up at him with a blinding smile before scooting out of Spencer's arm and reaching for the nightstand. When Spencer saw what you had rummaged out of the bedside drawer, Spencer thought his heart had forgotten how to beat.

"Is that--"

"Surprise," you murmured giddily, handing over the object in your hand into Spencer's awaiting palm. "I found out yesterday, but I wanted to tell you in person."

Spencer sat up on the bed, staring with disbelief at the small item in his hand. He only realized he had started to cry when a drop of tears fell down, blurring the two tiny pink lines in his vision.

"This is... you're..."

"I'm pregnant, Spencer," you professed.

Just an hour earlier, Spencer thought the word yes was the best thing he could ever hear falling from your mouth. But as he held you in his arms, his lips catching yours once more in a heated kiss, Spencer realized that you had many more surprising admissions waiting to be said out loud.

And Spencer couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life listening to every single one of them.

"Daddy, are you saying I was already in Mommy's belly when you proposed to her?"

"Yes, you were, Pumpkin," Spencer said, smiling at the blatant curiosity in Little Dee's eyes. "You were a surprise we didn't see coming."

Diana's responding smile was a picture of satisfaction. The father-daughter pair continued to walk down the street until Dee's voice tore through the silence once again, "Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"I thought you said a man and a woman can only make babies after they're married."

Spencer's footsteps halted on the pavement.

The silence must have stretched for only a partial of a minute, but the expectant stare Dee was nailing against his face, along with the internal panic that had short-circuited Spencer's brain made it seem as if the world had skidded into a standstill. Frantic eyes darted everywhere for a chance at rectification, and Spencer couldn't stop the words from tumbling off his lips when he saw the worn-down sign of a florist up ahead.

"Dee, would you like to buy some flowers for Mommy?"

The little girl squealed an excited yes before skipping the few steps left towards the flower shop. Spencer let out a relieved breath at having narrowly escaped such a harrowing crisis.

Once Spencer stepped into the shop, a multitude of fragrances immediately enveloped his surroundings. Diana was lingering back and forth around the vibrant displays when Spencer approached, her tiny eyebrows frowning in the most adorable way as she assessed the rows of flowers in front of her.

"Have you decided yet, Pumpkin?"

"Can we get some of Mommy's favorites, Dad?" Diana requested, pointing her tiny finger at the display of flowers she knew to be your favorites. "And then we can add some of these daisies, too!"

Spencer couldn't fight the smile blossoming on his face as he asked the florist to assemble a bouquet made out of daisies--Dee's favorite type of flowers, the same one printed all over the dress she was wearing--along with your favorite flowers in the center. Diana stared in awe at the deft work administered by the florist, her mouth forming an "O" once the bouquet was wrapped and ready to go.

"Do you think Mommy will like them, Daddy?"

"I know she will, Pumpkin," Spencer answered earnestly, his memory replaying that first time he had come home bringing the same arrangement of flowers in his hand.

Spencer came home to the apartment in utter disarray, and yet, it still was the best view that he had ever witnessed in his entire life.

Ever since his office was transformed into a nursery, the books he previously kept in there had to be relocated to the living area. Most of them had gone by now--some donated, and some others sold at second-hand bookstores--but piles of them still littered in various corners of the room.

Apart from his mountainous collection of books, small trinkets also covered every available surface of the place. From the empty nursing bottles in the kitchen sink to the breast pump on the counter, and the tiny socks on the coffee table to the pacifier jammed between the sofa cushions; every single one of them contributed to the mess that his apartment had become. Yet as he paused to inspect every inch of the place, Spencer couldn't find any other emotion besides warmth flooding his chest.

Muffled footsteps padded towards the living room before you appeared from the hallway with a freshly bathed Diana in your arms. As soon as your eyes locked with his, the crease between your eyebrows automatically vanished.

"You're home."

"I'm home." Spencer grinned before welcoming you into his embrace.

He stole a quick kiss from your lips before bending down to smother a 7-month-old Diana who yelped in glee when Spencer began attacking her with kisses all over her face.

"She's been fussy since yesterday," you told him. "I think she missed you."

"Did you, baby? Did you miss Daddy?" Spencer cooed. "I can take her for a few while you rest. You look tired. Are you feeling okay?"

"Gee, Spence. What a way to a girl's heart."

"You know what I meant, sweetheart."

"It's fine, Spencer. I just got a headache, but it's all better now that you're here."

Spencer smiled as he kissed your free knuckles. "If it's any consolation, you're still the most heavenly creature that I've ever laid eyes upon."

A sneaky laughter rumbled past your chest. "Fine. I'll let you go just this once," you said before letting Spencer take a yawning Diana into his arms.

As Spencer carried Dee towards the couch, you noticed a bouquet of flowers lying next to the kitchen sink in the corner of your eye. You glanced at the young genius with a discreet smile before aptly transferring the flowers into a vase.

"These are pretty," you commented, joining your family in the living room. You put the vase in the middle of the coffee table amidst the books and various baby clutters before dropping yourself against Spencer's side.

"They're your favorites."

"I know. As usual." You smiled affectionately. "And daisies. You've never bought me daisies before."

Spencer's eyes gleamed. "I bought the daisies for Dee."

"Oh?"

"I think daisies are gonna be her favorite."

"You do, huh?"

"One hundred percent."

Spencer's eyes looked up from Diana to you then, whose own gaze had been kept intently on your husband and daughter. Darkness embellished the area underneath your eyes, and Spencer couldn't help but count the lines of fatigue that seemed to have multiplied on the contours of your face. Even then, Spencer thought you had never looked more stunning than you did at that moment; as his wife, the mother of his child, and the woman who owned the sole reign of his heart.

Confusion wandered into your eyes when you noticed Spencer's stubborn stare. A surprised squawk escaped your lips as Spencer unexpectedly captured them in a rather long kiss. When he pulled back, Spencer looked the very image of a man who was drunk on love.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Spencer confessed as he squeezed your hand twice in his palm.

"Spencer, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I just--" he paused for a chuckle, seemingly trying to find the right words to say before he could continue, "--I owe my life to you, sweetheart. For all of the times you have pulled me out of the darkness, to the light you've brought into my life. You and Dee are the reason I keep on breathing. Without the two of you, I'm nothing."

"Spencer," you breathed out. "Where did all of this come from?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I just wanted you to know how grateful I am to have you in my life and that you've brought Dee into ours. Everything worth fighting for about me is because of you."

The telltale signs of tears began to cast a shadow over your eyes. You pressed your hand to Spencer's cheek, feeling the rugged sensation of his newly shaved stubble stroking your skin. Spencer melted into the warmth of your touch.

"You're giving me far too much credit here, Spencer," you whispered. "Everything you are has always been your own doing rather than mine. All I ever did was cheer you on from the sideline. You would still have become the person that you are today even if I weren't in your life."

Spencer physically shuddered at your last statement. "Don't say that. I can't even begin to imagine a life without you in it."

"Well, even if such day does come, when I won't be a part of your life anymore, I know you're gonna be just fine. Because you'll have Dee with you--" you stroked Diana's head lovingly, "--and I know that the two of you will give each other enough love and strength that you won't even notice I'm not around anymore."

The frown on Spencer's face deepened.

"You're not allowed to leave me. Ever," Spencer decided childishly.

"Fine. I won't. But you have to remember--" you brought your palm towards Spencer's chest, feeling each rhythmic thrum of his heart which seemed to flutter ever so slightly underneath your fingers, "--I'll be right here if you need me. Always."

Spencer's own hand landed on top of your hand, entwining your fingers together without ever tearing his fierce gaze away from yours.

"Always."

The sun was shining down in flimsy rays when Spencer and Dee finally walked past the familiar gate. Glimmers of gold sneaked past the reddish leaves on branches before falling upon the ground.

Next to him, Diana was humming a melody that Spencer recognized from one of your specially curated playlists. Her little hands struggled to carry the gigantic bouquet that she couldn't wait to present to you. It didn't matter that the bouquet itself was nearly as tall as she was, Diana still refused to let Spencer assist her.

"I wanna give Mommy the flowers myself," she had told Spencer in a manner that reminded him too much of your own stubbornness.

After a couple more minutes of walking, Spencer's reverie was soon broken by the excited squeal coming from the little girl beside him.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

Diana dashed into a sprint before words of warning could fall from Spencer's lips. He watched intensely as Diana's little feet moved upon the ocean of fallen leaves on the ground. Her tight grip around the bouquet never wavered even when she ran up the grassed hill, all the way towards the destination in her mind.

All the way towards the headstone with your name written on it.

When Spencer finally got there, Diana was kneeling next to your grave with panting breaths, but the smile stretched on her lips was the biggest one that Spencer had ever seen.

"Hi, Mommy. I'm back with Daddy," Diana announced. "Daddy, go say hi to Mommy."

"Hello, my love." Spencer smiled before taking a seat next to his daughter.

"We brought flowers, Mommy! They're your favorites. I added daisies to make them prettier." Diana beamed before putting the bouquet against your headstone. "You're not gonna believe what happened in class yesterday!"

As Diana animatedly began to recount the funny incident in her classroom--somehow involving a boy named Patrick and a cup of slushie--Spencer watched over her with a permanent smile on his lips. The little girl loved to talk--a trait she obviously acquired from both of her parents--and Spencer knew just how much you used to adore listening to Dee's rambling at any time of day.

It must have been at least ten minutes later when Diana's story eventually whirled to an end. Her attention instantly shifted to the family who was paying their own respect just two headstones over, a small squeak of puppy tumbled from Dee's lips before she dashed towards the boy with a golden retriever pup beside his legs.

Spencer shook his head affectionately at his daughter's antics.

"I know we were just here a couple of weeks ago, but Dee wanted to tell you about the slushie incident herself," he said. "And, well, I can never deny the chance to visit you, love."

A loud laughter boomed a few feet away. Spencer watched as Diana ran around jubilantly with the little boy and his dog. The boy's father waved at Spencer from the distance, which he replied with an acknowledging nod.

"She's getting so big, sweetheart. Sometimes, I just wanna stop time and keep her as my little girl forever. I wish you were around to see how much she's grown." Spencer smiled ruefully. "I can't believe that it's been more than a year since you were gone."

Spencer thought back to the last few moments you spent on this earth. How just a few months prior, the doctor had advised you to stop the treatment and take a rest at home instead.

The chemo isn't working, was what the doctor was really saying. You should be spending as much time as you can with your family.

So, that was exactly what you ended up doing.

Spencer had quit his job at the FBI shortly after you were diagnosed, opting to take a full-time job of teaching where the hours were more humane and reasonable. The day you were discharged from the hospital, Spencer made a vow to himself to make every day as memorable as he could, and he was keeping true to it. Those last few months were filled with countless road trips, an unforgettable weekend at Disneyland, and visits to various museums across the states. Spencer made sure that each day was charged with love and laughter, a perfect day culminated by an equally perfect night, with you falling asleep in the safety of his arms.

Until one morning, when Spencer woke up to your cold and lifeless body lying by his side.

"Do you remember what you told me once? About how Dee and I would never notice you were gone because we would have each other?" Spencer recalled. "You were wrong about that, sweetheart. Your absence is the first thing I notice every time I start my day. The moment I open my eyes, I notice that you aren't lying next to me on the bed like you're supposed to be. I notice the cold imprints on the sheets where your warmth used to linger. I notice you in every corner of our home, but most importantly, I notice you in Dee."

Spencer glanced at his little girl, playing and running around a pile of fallen leaves with her newfound friend and his pet dog. His heart floundered at the scene.

"Everyone keeps saying that she's an exact copy of me, but I see glimpses of you in her more and more every single day," Spencer admitted. "She's the only anchor I have left now, my love. Without her, I'm lost. I try constantly, with whatever strength still resides in me, to give her everything she would ever need. Shower her with every ounce of love I have left in my heart."

A lone tear cascaded down Spencer's cheek. He quickly erased it away with a wry chuckle.

"What I would do to have a minute with you again, my love. I hope you know I'd give my heart and soul to have those extra sixty seconds just to stare at your beautiful face. To hold you in my arms one last time. I try my best to fill the void that you left for Dee's sake. Some days are difficult, and I keep thinking about how much better it would be--how much better off she would be--if it were you here with her instead of me. I'd trade places with you if I could. I fear that all of me would never be enough for her, because she needs you. We both do."

Spencer inhaled a breath, forcing the imminent wave of tears from breaking the dam he had masterfully crafted since the moment you were gone. He promised a long time ago never to allow the grief to consume him.

He still had his daughter to think about.

"I'm beginning to think people are wrong when they say time makes everything better. The pain never lessens. It just becomes bearable with time. Dee makes it bearable," Spencer confessed. "I can only hope I'm doing the same for her."

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Spencer hurriedly wiped away any sign of tears from his face before he caught Diana in his arms. Her innocent laughter was a balm to the gaping wound in his chest, and Spencer allowed himself to bask in the bliss that his little girl brought to his life.

"What is it, Pumpkin?"

"Look what Brian's mom gave me!"

Spencer looked at her tiny hand to see a plastic daisy ring gracing one of her fingers. He looked up towards the family in the distance, mouthing a thank you to the mother who waved him off with a smile.

"It's very pretty, Dee."

"Like me?"

The young dad chuckled. "Yes, very much like you."

"Like Mommy, too?"

Spencer's smile softened. "Very much like Mommy, too. Yes."

The exhilarated smile Diana rewarded him could probably light up the entire state of Virginia at night.

Five minutes later, Spencer found himself bidding you a goodbye, with Diana promising to visit again very soon to give you an update over the slushie incident that supposedly got Patrick in a lot of trouble at school. The air was getting even chillier as the two walked the path they had taken after arriving at the cemetery. Spencer tugged Diana closer to his side once he saw the familiar gate lurking a few feet ahead, keeping her safe while simultaneously seeking her warmth.

"Daddy?" Dee's voice arose shyly once the pair had reached the main street.

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"I miss Mommy," she admitted quietly.

Spencer's fingers instinctively tightened for a split second around his daughter's hand. "I know you do, Pumpkin. You just need to remember, even if she's not physically with us anymore, that she's always watching over you and keeping you safe."

Diana nodded her head understandingly. "Do you miss her, too, Daddy?"

"Every day, Dee." Spencer smiled, glancing back towards the gate of the cemetery behind him. "Every single day."

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Welcome Home, Kento!

♡ featuring: nanami kento x reader

♡ synopsis: nanami can't wait to return home to his wife and kids. little does he know, there's a lot of love waiting for him behind the door.

♡ wc: 2.4k+

♡ tags: nobara and yuji are your children, fanon, domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, salaryman AU

notes: took a break on the capitano fanfic im working on cause domestic kento got me acting unwell i miss him and need him so bad. canon break but idc nobara and yuji are his kids and no one can tell me otherwise. art by getoad on ig! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Nanami Kento’s work seemingly never ended.  

Caught between meetings and printer jams, the small talk he endured with simple one-word answers, and the folders piling on his cold metal desk in a cramped cubicle, he was exhausted. Air conditioners blew frigid in the office, making small accidents unbearable. 

The only warmth he experienced throughout his shifts was the art exhibit on the back wall and a wooden frame, sitting not too far from his grasp. Next to the bulky outdated computer was a picture frame of you, sweating radiance despite the fluorescent wall lights, hair disheveled with tired eyes in your hospital gown. You’re holding a newborn Yuji, chubby with a soft hint of pink fuzz on his head. A one-year-old Nobara chose to nestle next to you through the blood and amniotic fluid sticking to your hands. Somehow smiling—blearily, but still smiling so hard your eyes practically close. 

The scene was not pretty; it burned into his memory, committing to the wrinkles in his brain so that he’d never forget your screams and undying strength. Even the grip on his hand, imprinting the wedding band into his skin when you forced a final push. He never averted his gaze, stroking your wet hair and kissing your throbbing temple; if he could alleviate some of your struggle for a moment, share in your pain for a second, he’d do it ten times over. You’re the mother of his children, after all, his wife and soulmate. 

He met you at a small bakery on the corner of a forgotten street after a double shift. Back turning in knots, cranky as ever with permanently furrowed brows. And when he’d order his favorite pastry—a chocolate eclair—only for it to disappear in the hands of another customer, he was downright irritated. Turning to the offender, the kinks in his muscles suddenly melted at the sight of your apologetic smile. Your apology dissipated in his ears, not managing to reach his cognition as he studied your stunning glow in the dim yellow lighting of that cafe.  

Before you could finish your offer to buy him double, his mouth moved ahead of his mind; “Would you like to sit together?” 

That was forever ago, though. Prior to him falling in love, to your laugh breathing life and color into him once again. To you becoming the soul reason he clocked in every day at a dead-end job he settled for. He was putty in the palm of your hand, but could you blame him? You were his salvation from the bitter, grey world he walked alone for years, and now even the sun felt warmer with you around. 

So, when days become thoroughly tedious such as this one, his eyes tend to wander. Once, twice to his watch, then to the countless drawings from Yuji and Nobara stuck to the cubicle. Yuji and Nobara were two sides of the same coin, regardless of the weekly sibling rivalry where he had to stop them from tearing each other’s hair out. Nanami wasn’t a man who chose sides which usually resulted in him taking both drawings from their art competitions, to the dismay of the sore winners. 

The old Nanami Kento would’ve hunched over the desk, mindlessly typing away past his shift ending, until his buzzing lamp was the sole light left in the office. Currently, he was dying to go home, nearly dreaming of seeing your faces, your “welcome home” as he opened the door. His printed tie is lax around his neck, shirt unbuttoned a little too low with an ankle crossed over the other knee, like nothing matters besides holding you at the end of the day. The digital clock rings, breaking him out of a trance and knocking the pen he’d been fumbling with out of his hands. 

Immediately he starts shoving papers in his briefcase, some crumpling and folding at the edges. He throws his suit jacket on, clocks out with the same vigor and heads for the door. 

“Nanami, wait a second!” his boss hollers from his office. He steps out, and Nanami barely spares him a glance.  

“We’re short-staffed right now, I’ll need you to stay behind-” 

“No.” 

His boss stands dumbfounded, and it takes a few business days for him to register that his demand was denied. He brushes his balding combover and clears his throat, “Excuse me?”   

“I’m going home to my wife.” 

“This isn’t up for discussion-” Suddenly, Nanami shoots a glare that stops him dead in his tracks. His legs are glued to the floor, like the senses of prey in proximity to a vulture. He appears to be his standard nonchalance, but with the way his jaw clenched, and his eyes bore through him, perhaps retracting his words was the best decision for his safety. 

“U-understood. Have a good weekend.” 

The city streets are serene following sundown, a calm breeze picking up rustling leaves that began to fall. He checks his watch again; just in time for dinner. He hurries up the townhouse steps of the brick building and clicks his key into the mahogany door. 

“Ahhh!” 

“Yuji, come here!” 

“Wahhh, black flash!” 

All the lights in the living room and kitchen are on, and blankets are thrown haphazardly around the floor. The television plays an obnoxiously loud cartoon, but it’s evident none of them are watching it based on the army of colorful toys piled on the couch, and a suspicious stuffed wolf plush sitting on the stairs with its head lopsided. An odd lone cookie lays half-eaten on the floor, and the kitchen counters are strewn with crumby flour and sticky batter. The faint aroma of something sweet lingers in the entryway. 

The best part is you, his wife, chasing after Yuji and Nobara in his dirty button up teal shirt with the sleeves rolled up. You’re all dripping in water, trailing sodden footprints around the house. Nobara comes around the kitchen island in a bath robe and towel headband, bunny ears bobbing as she drags a leash toy behind her popping plastic balls of rainbow pigments.  

Yuji, on the other hand, is completely naked minus a comical formation of bubbles around his lower half. He’s chasing her with a toy car foaming with soap and it soars in the air as he laughs and chants sound effects, “bam, black flash!”, pretending to launch it at her. The lot of you are circling the kitchen island, chaotic laughing and shrieking as Nobara’s toy bangs into the stools and cabinets. Just then, a wind-up robot taps Nanami’s foot and falls over. 

“Yuji stop chasing her!”  

“Ahhh!” 

“RAHH!” 

He’s never felt more at home in his life. 

He drops his briefcase, shrugs off his jacket and shoes and joins in. Yuji may be able to evade your grasp, but Nanami was an entirely different beast. You finally manage to intercept Nobara and scoop her in your arms, shaggy robe eclipsing her small cherubic pout. Nanami rushes around the corner and snatches Yuji upside-down, tiny damp feet pressed at his chin with his arms dangling in the air. Amid the chaos you hadn't noticed him, but when your kind eyes meet, a bright smile warms his cheeks, like the first time you met—he's smitten all over again.  

“Daddy!” Nobara screams. 

Yuji squeals and struggles wildly in Nanami’s hold. “I win” he declares. 

“Noo you don’t, not fair!” He tries to escape but Nanami has an iron grip, and you place Nobara on the counter while you get Yuji. He passes him off to you, “Sorry, you’re covered in water now.” He tilts your chin and plants a chaste kiss, skimmed traces of yearning. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been missing you all day.” 

“Really?” He hates when you ask that, because truthfully, he misses you incessantly. It borders on obsession. The second you leave his sight, he’s wondering when you’ll return, if he could go with you, should it be a family outing, should he follow you? He’ll stir in the thoughts that totally encompass you; you, you, you, until you come back to him. 

“Of course, my love.” Yuji grumbles an annoyed noise and tucks his head in your neck. “Trouble in paradise?” he adds, a tinge of sarcasm. You giggle, brushing the drenched strand of hair from your face, “Yuji really fought the bath today.” 

“Black flash!” he yells, firing his baby fist in the air. Nanami makes a feigned noise of pain to throw his head back and clutch his heart. “C’mon now, let’s finish up” you tell him. As you’re dragging him down the hallway to the bathroom, his defiant wails fade to silence. 

Nanami cleans up the disarray with Nobara’s help. She throws the toys in the toybox, a proud look on her face while Nanami stacks the blankets in a lump on the couch and sweeps the crumbs from the floor. He felt a bit guilty putting a damper on the fun, but winding down the kids for bedtime was most important, and Nobara would gladly change into her dinosaur pajamas if that meant she could spend some time with dad.  

Yuji arrives as a tired, messy-haired but less stinky version of himself, wearing an alien onesie. You’d clearly won the great bath war. 

But a growing scent floods the kitchen, mild smoke emitting from the stove skillet. 

The skillet? 

Shit. 

“Ohh, no no no”, you run to grab a spatula and remove the skillet from the burner. The pancake facing you seems unharmed, perfect even with a nice fluffy texture. You fan the smoke away with a kitchen towel and Nanami approaches you. He looms over the pan, “Pancakes?” 

“Yeah, Yuji wanted pancakes and Nobara wanted chicken nuggets. So, we did both” you say, scraping the underside of it. The crackling of something crispy doesn’t do much to ease your doubts. “Looks good to me-” 

You flip the pancake, and it’s fully burnt.  

Solid black with a thin trail of smoke billowing. You both stare at it in silence. Then you look at each other, and Nanami bursts out laughing. Tears collect at his eyes, and he’s doubled over with his head on your shoulder, a hand around your waist. You sigh in defeat, “Does it still look good to you?” 

“I’ll eat it if it makes you happy.” 

“I’m not trying to kill my husband.” He hums and kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry, I tried to have dinner ready for when you got home. Lost track of time.” 

The last thing he’d want is for you to feel bad about such trivial matters. He hugs you from behind, whispering in your ear, “Don’t worry, it’s enough. Everything you do is enough.” Yuji abruptly hits his leg, and he peers down. “I wanna hug mommy too!” 

“Get in line. She’s my mommy right now” he teases. You giggle when Yuji tries to wedge between your bodies, and Nanami holds his head back like a bull charging at a fence. 

When they’re done eating their chicken nuggets, and he convinces Yuji that celery tastes better than pancakes, you snuggle up for the night. Weekends lasted later into the night, but regardless they had to stay on schedule. It was his favorite part of the week, where you dimmed the lights, he lit the fireplace and crowded on the floor of a striped blanket fort in the middle of the living room. Yuji rested his head on a pillow with his favorite wolf plush while Nobara laid on your stomach. 

“In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf” you start, holding the book with one hand. Nanami always opts to sit outside of the fort. One, because he’s too tall for it. And two, he likes to see your face reading peacefully in the rare tranquility of a hissing fireplace. You were so gentle and nurturing that at times he found it hard to pull himself away from your face, sinking in pure adoration. 

“One Sunday morning the warm sun came up and”, you wind up your hand and tickle Nobara. “Pop! —out of the egg came a tiny and very. Hungry. Caterpillar.” You tap her nose in line with the words.  

Nanami understood why the kids enjoyed your story time over his monotone one. He couldn’t get past the first page before Yuji started to complain and Nobara began to space out. “He started to look for some food” you dance your fingers down her spine like a caterpillar would, and she faintly smiles. 

Yuji normally falls asleep first, snoring like a grown man as he drools into the pillow. Then Nobara will drift quietly, to the point where you barely realize she’s dreaming. Then you, fighting sleep as you gaze up at Nanami, forcing yourself to make conversation in a half-groggy state. Your hair is jumbled and the shirt you stole from the hamper bunches at your waist. Here, he feels fulfilled. Irrevocably whole. 

“How was your day, sweetheart?” you drawl. His heart flutters at the pet name, caressing your face with his thumb. “The usual” he replies, just as soft and tender, “it felt longer today.” 

“Mm? Why?” He picks up on a croak in your voice, a sign you’ll be sleeping soon. “I couldn’t wait to come home.” 

A pleased noise rumbles at the back of your throat. “Let’s go to the beach. It’ll get too cold soon.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Mhm”, you run your hand over his, leaning into his touch, “maybe we could invite Gojo and his kids.” 

“Hell no, that guy’s a nutcase.” You laugh, hushed and weak. He kisses your forehead. “Goodnight, my love.”  

“No, I’m not sleeping yet” you groan in spite of closing your eyes. “Then what are you doing, right now?” 

“Mm. Just resting them.”  

He smirks, aware of what happens right after that. He kisses your nose, then your velvety lips. He can’t shake the fact that he’d found someone like you, someone who’d love him unconditionally, accept his flaws and dry humor and stand by his side under any circumstances. It almost felt undeserved, like that bakery incident should’ve earned him a slap to the face instead of your sweet nature, swelling his heart and pulling him deeper. His only treasures, laid in front of him in a cozy cuddle pile.  

Before he could get up to turn the lights off, a soothing utterance of your voice, words he’d been waiting for since he opened the door. 

“Welcome home, Kento.” 

© mooishbeam - please don't steal, copy, or post my work to other platforms :)

[rainychaoloveshack]

May I request Shadow or mobian!reader in a time loop. One of them is stuck, the other is blissfully unaware and won’t remember every time it’s reset. You can pick who is stuck! They are Asking for help and then the other giving a sudden smooch? Maybe more… than a smooch? Little heated if you so desire. They’re not yet together, or aware of the other persons feelings until that little kiss. After the loop is fixed, it’s awkward cause the one that was stuck in the loop knows. Like what’s the aftermath shsosnszk

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

you’ll love shadow even after every reset possible. no matter what.

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, angst to light fluff, friends to lovers, slight suggestive material warning. light mention of not eating/drinking for days, implied depression.

☂︎ wc. 1.6k ☂︎ a/n. i loved this request sm. like this one just spoke to my angsty soul. might be the longest thing here yet; sorry its too long ^^’ srry this took a while! i was flip flopping on who i wanted to be stuck ^^’

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

Two hundred and thirty-six days. That's how many times you’ve watched the clock strike twelve exactly on Saturday, signaling to you the day had started over again. Never to watch the next day pass. Forced to live everyday like its a new one, yet still subject to HIS charming nature, even if he’s so stubborn in the way he shows his affection towards you.

You try your best to switch up the routines as you go nowadays, trying to excite your life, yet nothing ever works. The clock strikes twelve as it always does. At this point, it’s become numb; infuriatingly so. Some days you’ll gain that motivation back to try something different, whether it be surrounding yourself with new people to serve as a distraction, or trying to dig deeper into the cause of your time loop, to no avail. And other days you rot inside your room, staring at the clock on the wall, watching it tick. And tick. And tick, until it hits twelve again.

Some days you’ll forget to eat and drink, sometimes on purpose, first finding comfort in that pitting feeling in your stomach, finally feeling something after so long, but soon falling numb to that feeling too.

The only reason you have the strength to keep going is the belief that you’ll see your friends again. No matter what. In your timeline, without any interference.

Nothing changed today. Another day wasted, yet someone raps on your door sharply, forcing you to open your eyes gently and utter a small ‘okay’ to let them in.

… This hasn’t happened before. Why is he here?

“You’ve been stuck in here all day.” Shadow grumbles as he pushes your door open, the door squeaking on its hinges, with the moonlight already shining through your blowing curtains. “Have you even gotten out of bed today?” He says sternly, walking over to your bedside and nudging you, causing you to stir out of your resting state. You had already given up for today, so the plan was to just fall asleep until tomorrow.

‘Tomorrow’... What a dream tomorrow is to you.

Turning over, you meet his crimson eyes with a dull sigh leaving your lips, briefly glancing over to the clock set on the wall.

10:35 PM. It’s almost twelve. One more hour. One and a half.

He shifts his weight to one of his feet, setting a hand on his hip as he growls down at you. “No one saw you today, so Sonic told me to go and check on you. Especially since it’s this late and you’ve been missing for all of today.” He scoffs, clearly aggravated at your lack of energy or action. “You couldn’t at least tell one person that you 're going to stay inside all day?” Your blankets drop down to your lap as you sit up slowly, peering up at him through the blurry haze of your mind.

“At least I know you’re alive.” He says, walking over to your covered window to peel the curtains back, letting the moonlight illuminate your room with a soft, white glow. “Come on.” Shadow sits across from you on the bed, tugging the blankets away from you to encourage you to get up.

Why is he so persistent? Why can’t he just leave you alone? But even then, he’s still so…

Lovely.

Suddenly, tears prick and poke at the back of your eyes, welling up to the corners as they threaten to spill out and drip down your cheeks. Shadow stares at you as you hang your head low, refusing to meet his gaze as you try to shove that feeling away, despising that feeling of your throat tightening, even if you’ve begged to feel something other than despair for the longest time.

Of course. He doesn’t know what to do, but he’s still so charming…

“[Name]?” His hand presses against your calf under the blanket, slightly leaning forward to see the tears fall on your face, your shoulders trembling. “Wh-What’s wrong? Is it me?” A tremble flows through his hand; barely noticeable to someone who wouldn’t be paying attention to such a small detail. “[Name], tell me what’s wrong. Why’re you crying so suddenly?” Shadow murmurs, grabbing you by your shoulders to try to ease your worries.

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him you’ve been living every day hoping it’s the last one. Praying to be ripped from this curse. Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him

“What?” Shadow’s ear flicks in an odd manner, clearly confused at your sudden declaration. “I’m sorry? … Time-looping?”

And so you shatter. Break in front of his eyes; incessant ramblings about you feel like you’re going insane, yet the only thing to bring you back down to earth is getting to see him everyday on this agonizing, pitiful day. 

Something in his heart really does want to believe in you, truly. Although disbelief stands present in his head, he’ll reach out to you anyway. No matter what.

“[Name].” he utters your name, his gloved hand grazing your cheek to wipe a stray tear away. “I…” Shadow stares into your eyes, trying to fight back the shock from showing on his face. His hands twitch as he reaches out for yours, grazing the back of your palm. “If you really think that you’re… Looping; then I believe you. I promise.”

What?

This is different. New. Two hundred and thirty-six times. Never had something like this happened before. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six days. Five thousand six hundred and sixty-four hours. 

It feels like your head is going to split into two, pulled and ripped apart by the hour and minute hand. It’s agonizing. But it’s something.

“[Name].” Shadow tilts your head up from your chin to face him. “I…” It looks like he’s at a loss for words, not that you blame him. 

“Come here.” He says softly, beckoning you closer to him with two fingers. What in the world does he want? Even though you ask multiple questions in your head, you lean in closer anyway to-

Huh?

His lips brush against yours, and it’s slow but sweet; still hesitant before he presses them further onto you, nipping at your bottom lip, almost desperate for something more. Deeper. Deeper. Even more so.

“[Name],” he growls in between pants, his voice trembling at the end of your name. “[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]...” Shadow keeps on saying in between your kisses and breaths for air, almost like a record constantly on repeat. His palms press into your shoulders, pinning you down on the bed, as he leans over your trembling form. His eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall, before looking back at you, cupping one of your cheeks.

He really feels the same way about you? He does? Your head subconsciously leans into his touch, pressing your face against his hand, desperately wanting- No. You have to feel the warmth coming from him.

“I’ll use whatever time I have left to spend it here with you. Even once it hits twelve; you have my word.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss you again…

Your head's pounding, the blankets laying heavy on your body this morning. Strangely heavy. Ugh. The mental toll of last night might be hitting you already, even if it’s another reset.

Wait, no, it’s not the blanket. If it’s not the blanket, it’s…

“How’re you feeling?” Shadow murmurs, raising his head off your chest to look at you directly. It’s really nerve-racking… But not in a bad way, somehow. “Are you sore anywhere?”

His question makes you cock your head to the side in confusion. Sore? Why would you be-

No. More importantly, what in the world is he doing in your bed? The day starts with your alarm ringing, but it hasn’t done so at all. In fact, it’s later than you would usually wake up; the clock’s hands say so.

Wait. So it’s really Sunday? Is it?!

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Shadow chuckles softly at your bewildered face, opening his mouth again to respond, but your arms toss around him, bear-hugging his body tight against yours.

“Ah, okay, okay, you’re happy; I get it…” Shadow grumbles, starting to pull away from you, but the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes makes him stop his protesting movements immediately, reaching up to wipe them away. “Oh come on, don’t start crying again.”

… Again? 

Your happy sobs are cut short by your own shock; this morning is getting both happier and weirder by the second. Again? So that means he knows it all? Everything?

A rare smile spreads across his muzzle, his eyes staring thoughtfully into yours. “Two hundred and thirty-six times…” Shadow starts, brushing his hand across your shoulder, and your face heats up gradually at the mention of the number coming from him. “So you really were telling the truth.”

You never told him that number. No way. Shouldn’t it just be like another reset?! Did he really remember your breakdown? No way, no way…

“When you mentioned the loop, something was telling me you were right, even if it sounded absurd.” He says, pausing his thoughts to think a bit harder about the situation. During this, he lifts himself off your body to sit at the edge of your bed, stretching his arms out in front of him. “I just…” He mumbles, his voice softening with his own strange embarrassment. “If it was really a time loop like you said, I wanted to try something I knew I wouldn’t regret.”

All time stuff aside, something else is nagging at your mind…

Did you two really do all that stuff last night?

Shadow peers over at you, before turning his head away; surely holding back some laughter by the way his shoulders shake, cupping his hand over his mouth.

“It’s nothing; don’t worry about it, then.”

(the set-up took longer than i thought it would, sorry for the yapping…)

[juyeonszn]

I WANNA TIE THE KNOT

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.70k

GENRES fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, established relationship, it escalates pretty fast ngl, fingering but there’s honestly no real foreplay, u tie hyunjae up with ribbon, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap besties), cowgirl position, marking lowkey, scratching, hyunjae is a master at pillowtalk, creampie :P

SUMMARY that coquette bow trend on the internet really isn’t for the faint of heart. at least, that’s what you think when you decide to do it with hyunjae.

MORE 😂😂😂🔫 anyway. i actually wrote this in one sitting. in one night. bc i was insatiable for the coquette trend after a Very Passionate discussion with @kimsohn and @zzoguri <3 delusional sapphics 1, 2, and 3 back at it AGAIN! if u noticed, all 3 of us wrote something involving these godforsaken bows. this fic was a long time coming seeing as i wrote it a month ago but i remembered it was valentine’s day so,,,, here u go! pls dont forget to reblog if u enjoyed <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

“Can we try this?”

Hyunjae raises an eyebrow at you when you shove your phone in his face, scooting up higher from where you were laying on his lap. He watches the video with mild amusement. 

“You want to tie a bow around my bicep?” He asks you, as if your request was so far-fetched and out of the ordinary. He had nice arms, he’d look cute with a ribbon wrapped around it. The whole coquette vibe matched well with his pretty face. 

“Yeah, why not? It’s a cute trend. And at least I’m not suggesting the one where I tie your mouth shut,” you rest your cheek on his chest, blinking up at him with hopeful eyes. “Please, Jae? For me?”

It’s a little comical when you physically see the war waging in his head. He wants to decline, thinks the idea of you putting one of your ribbons around his fucking bicep is kind of stupid, but he could never say no to those eyes. Lee Hyunjae was a weak, weak man. 

So he agrees. 

Next thing he knows, you’re filming him flexing with the cute little bow on his arm to post on your social media. He should feel silly, standing still so you can record the perfect shot, but he doesn’t. You look so cute with your tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth, he feels his mind straying from the original plan. 

He wraps his arms around your waist when you go to edit the video, preparing to post it publicly. You squirm as his lips make contact with the sensitive spot below your ear, kissing tenderly and sweetly. “Jaehyun….”

Your warning tone does not dispel his efforts to distract you, the tips of his fingers dipping below the waistband of your sleep shorts. The pads drag along your hip bones while his mouth travels lower on your neck, nipping at the soft skin visible beneath your top. “Yes, my love?”

“Don’t fucking ‘my love’ me right now,” you whine, craning your neck to the side to give him more access to the surface. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Is it working?” Hyunjae teases, thumb applying the slightest amount of pressure on your clothed clit. “Are you gonna let me fuck you with these pretty bows on?”

The groan you release is guttural, because god your boyfriend knew how to turn you on like a damn light switch. Your eyelids flutter shut and your head falls back on his shoulder, phone slipping out of your grasp and onto the floor. His finger moves in tight circles on the bundle of nerves, cupping the rest between the apex of your thighs. Fuck, he was starting to get the better of you. 

“Y-Yes, but on— mmm— on one condition,” you force yourself to stay steeled, keeping your voice as stable as possible. 

“And what is that?” Hyunjae nibbles your earlobe, teeth grazing the shell and sending goosebumps all over the expanse of your skin. His ring finger presses up on your entrance over your dampened underwear, making you clench around nothing. 

Oh he was a dead man. You were going to make him pay. 

“You w-wear the ribbons,” your breathing hitches. “Let me— let me tie you up. I’ll make it worth your while, Jae. P-Promise…”

He halts his motions, like he’s contemplating your words carefully. It’s not like much would change, to be honest. Hyunjae would still be the one in control after a certain point. You just wanted the excuse to bind the smug motherfucker for once. And to keep the bows on him, but around his wrists this time. 

Hyunjae retracts his hands from your shorts to remove his shirt, the heat radiating against your back from his bare torso. Your chest heaves up and down as you watch him climb back to the head of the bed, sweatpants low on his hips. It takes a whole fucking lot of self restraint not to jump his bones then and there, but you manage, straddling his waist so you can tie his wrists to the bed posts with your pink satin ribbon. Your hands are shaky, like your breathing, but he doesn’t point it out, letting you have your fun. 

A low grunt escapes his lips when you pull on the fabric, ensuring it’s tight enough to hold him still but loose enough not to leave a mark. It doesn’t help that he can feel you pulsating through your sleep shorts onto his abdomen, his muscles contracting underneath you. 

You aren’t really sure if you can even keep up your own act, grinding down on his lap like a bitch in heat. It’s embarrassing how easy it is for him to work you up without so much as touching you. You knew if you didn’t stop now, you’d dry hump him until you were a quivering mess, fully clothed and all. Hyunjae knows you’re needy, too, the corner of his lips quirking up. 

“Can we— god— can we just s-skip the foreplay?” You whine into the crook of his neck, hooking your fingers into his sweatpants. “Want you inside me already…”

“Of course, baby, you know I’ll never say no to you,” he coos, mouth finding yours to kiss you slowly, gently, passionately. 

You push his pants and underwear down in one go, using your feet to kick them away so you can undress yourself as fast as possible. Your desperation is too strong to pretend it’s not there, so you give into your own carnal desires. Hyunjae hisses when your cunt hovers over his cock, so slick that it doesn’t take long for him to slip inside completely. 

Every time you have sex with him, you feel so full, the weight of his cock so deep in you that you see stars well before he’s even moved. You support yourself with a hand on each of his shoulders, lips still molded with his as you begin to bounce meticulously. Your moans are muffled with his kiss, practically impaling yourself on his dick. 

Your hips roll experimentally, throwing your head back with a drawn out moan and your nails clawing down his chest when he hits that particular spot inside your pussy. Hyunjae lets out a sound akin to a strangled moan, wanting nothing more than to get his hands all over your body so he can fuck you six ways to Sunday. 

He bends his knees to make it a bit smoother for you, relishing in the way you’re losing yourself to your pleasure without him having to do a single thing. You’re just rutting against him at this point, legs beginning to give out this early. 

“Don’t— mmm— Hyunjae, I can’t— ‘s too much,” your speech is already slurred, words blurring together and making hardly any sense. 

“Let me get out of these, baby,” he tugs at the ribbons. “I’ll fuck you so good, my love. I’ll give you— fuck— what you want.”

You nod frantically, not trusting your voice to say anything remotely coherent. Thankfully, Hyunjae takes note of the lack of strength you currently have, not expecting you to untie the knots on his wrists without struggle. You watch with heavy lids and he pulls harshly, tearing the satin binding him to the bed frame. So much for them being secure…

Your top half collapses into his chest and he grasps at your waist roughly, having half the mind to flip you over and pin you to the mattress. Instead, he presses up into you, slow at first so he can regain his bearings after being tied up, and then he’s bucking up into your pussy like a jackrabbit. 

“Thought you could take me—“ he cuts himself off with a groan. “Thought you could take me all by yourself like a big girl, huh?” 

Whining in response is all you can do, almost on the verge of tears. The sounds of your cunt sucking him in, squelching echoing around the bedroom, are nearly enough to knock you over the edge. The coil in the pit of your stomach stretches more and more, teeth sinking into his collarbone and marking up his supple, sweaty skin like it was your day job. His blunt nails dig into the fat of your hips as a means of grounding himself, holding back from finishing before you because you were his top priority. 

Your nimble fingers sneak between your bodies to massage your oh-so-sensitive clit, ring and middle digits working at double their usual speed. Hyunjae stares at you with hearts in his eyes as you try desperately to get yourself off. He thinks you’re gorgeous every second of every day, but for some reason, you look fucking breathtaking right now. 

“My pretty girl, taking it like a champ,” he grits his teeth. “You love when I fuck you like a pornstar, don’t you?” 

It’s when he connects your lips in a kiss so sweet it puts all the others to shame and so polar-opposite to the filth the two of you were committing, that you cum without warning, velvety walls constricting around his cock. Your head is empty and your vision goes white for a moment, static ringing in your ears. He follows immediately after, moaning into your mouth as he does so. You swallow the noises while your breathing stutters, the sensation of him filling you up with all he can give blindsiding your senses. 

You stay sandwiched together as you both calm down, tired and achy from such strenuous activity. When you stop to think about the cause of these events, you snort until it morphs into an uncontrollable laughter. (Then you wince because Hyunjae’s dick was still inside of you.)

“What’s so funny?” He furrows his eyebrows, making no effort to move. 

“That fucking bow trend led to one of the best orgasms of my life,” you’re still laughing, chin on your hands, which are folded over his chest. “It’s so stupid.”

“The bows are cute. Maybe you should let me try tying you up with them next time.” Hyunjae pecks your forehead, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Trust me,” you giggle, a yawn threatening to push past your lips. “There will definitely be a next time.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[booliuu]

∘₊꒰ Eyeless Jack Headcanons!! ꒱∘₊

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : i’m back!! writers block has been really bad lately and work has been keeping me busy🤕🤕. im sorry about not posting for a while but i’m here to post again!! :DD enjoy my ramblings of one of my favorite crp’s!✨😌 heavily inspired by a bunch of films i was watching last weekend and while watching them , it made me think of jack lol. by the end of the films, i had A LOT of headcanons already written in my notes app lmaoo .

✰ - next creep’s i’m going to write about is either bloody painter , homicidal liu, possibly x-virus!! so keep a look out :3<.

warnings: talks of cults , a bit of bl*od. lmk if i’m missing anything ^^.

my inbox is open for asks!! if you like my content don’t forget to like , comment , & reblog❤️. enjoy reading!

* pictures: from pinterest🩵 (i don’t know the artist for this gorgeous ej fanart but if you do know pls comment!! thx <3. )

💉. . . Full name : Jack Nyras.

💉. . . doesn’t like the name or being called eyeless jack generally speaking because he doesn’t like thinking about his past..

💉. . .so he goes either by jack or ej!! :DD

💉. . . age: mid 20’s (24-26).

💉. . . bisexual!!

💉. . . nocturnal!! he’s not.. (more like never) out during the day because his poor eye sight make him very sensitive to light . buuut..!! most definitely catch him walking late at night around the mansion or the woods.

💉. . . his normal get up is a baggy black hoodie ( bro it’s looks comfy as hell i’m jealous..!!) , underneath the hoodie is a turtleneck , wears black baggy jeans, his mask , and combat boots. ( also carries his signature weapon which is a scalpel ^^ .)

💉. . . i headcanon him that he can somewhat see. lemme elaborate on that rq.

➯ don’t get me wrong it’s not clear at all, sees very little of his environment. it’s very..i mean very burry so he heavily relies on his other senses such mainly his ears , his hands , & echolocation!!

💉. . . gets really bothered by the black goop that comes out of his eyes lol. it pisses him off so bad liiike when he’s working on someone’s wounds… oooh boy..

💉. . . especially when it gets in his medical equipment, the bandages that he uses for the creeps … ect ect..

💉. . . has reallyyy sensitive ears!!.. which means he can hear pretty dang good. like it’s really impressive^^ i’m talking if your one of his victims…. your screwed bro idk what to tell you. your days are numbered by a couple of seconds 😔 until he catches up to you lol.

💉. . . has sharp nails it’s close to claws ngl, that can pretty much tear up anything up easily. such as human flesh…

💉. . . before he come a demon, he was studying in the medical field and trying to get a degree..!! (⌒▽⌒)♡

💉. . . not really knowing what major or department specifically what he should put his time and effort on.

💉. . . so he kept joining and dropping different classes and courses bc he can’t make up his mind .. all he knew is that he wanted to help people and make the world a better place.

➯ however it mostly stems from his parents specifically his mom that had really big academic expectations for him at a young age . growing up he’s very quiet and kept to himself . literally perfect grades and at least knows an instrument that his mom made him learn.

➯ when he got older, his mom pushed him so much to join the medical field ( bc she couldn’t due to her pregnancy ) and if he mention any other classes it’s immediately denied.

➯ his parents didn’t have the best education growing up so when they have there son, it’s kinda thing where they pushed him to make up what they didn’t have.

💉. . . his thoughts mainly consist of if he should become a nurse , doctor, an assistant, or even if this is the right path he should be taking ect.. ect.. he wanted to join other classes & majors but his parents ( who were paying for his school) pushed him to stay in the medical field so he really didn’t have a choice..

💉. . . he didn’t really have much friends nor (except a little friend group he doesn’t see often but once in a blue moon yk?) even interested in dating bc he was really occupied with his own studies to even care about what’s outside of that if that makes sense.

💉. . . ok lemme TAAAALK.. liiike 👉👈 heeear me out yall

💉. . . he was most likely those guys that MANYYY PPL in his college had crushes on😭😭. because he’s cute and mysterious no lie …. manyof them admired him for his knowledge and passion for his projects , his papers , ect…

💉. . . a honest definition would be hot nerd. doesn’t really talk to anyone but only if the professor calls him though , gets work done, doesn’t care too about his looks but ppl think he’s cute but when the professor calls on him.. he can TAAALK FOR HOURS ON GHE TOPIC LIIIKEEE ..

💉. . . FINE SHYYYYTT😮‍💨😮‍💨 he still is lol .. OKOKOK anyways…

💉. . . let’s just saaaay … he had A LOT of secret admires he doesn’t even know about let’s be for reeeeal.. 💔💔

💉. . . anyways back in the topic in hand, he has major trust issuesss.. to the max. for real.

💉. . . like i’m talking it’s going to be a WHOLE while for him even consider yourself as a friend. has a lot of metal packaging. so be ready for that.

💉. . . but once you become his friend or even loverrr, he is very sweet and chill. a bit awkward too lol. will teach you medical advice, care , or random medical stuff that he just learned from somewhere or back when he was in college .

💉. . . he’s giving black cat energy, but in actuality he’s pretty nice once you get to know him. granted he does have a cold and sadstic side to him that he saves for creeps he doesnt like. *cough* JEFF , the rake* cough

ok some angst… we’re going to talk his past.

- ‼️i just want to say i couldn’t find eyeless jack’s original lore post so im sorry if this is not accurate >< !! im wring this based on memory !

💉. . . he become the way he is because his “friend” told him one night while hanging out in his dorm to join him to this festival that’s far away from the town that the college is. heavily suggested ( boarder line forced him-) for him to come visit there “family”.

💉. . . little does jack know it’s a cult… his friend trick him to go because his friend thought he would be a prefect candidate for there ritual …

💉. . . while there, jack didn’t know it was a cult but just thought it was just a family festival that’s comes every so often.. that has very weird gatherings and events happening but he didn’t think much of it… until it was too late.

💉. . . until that night that turn him into what he is right now. all he could remember is everyone is in robes covering there faces and surrounding him in a circle, him tied tightly on a chair and in front of him is a man that has a scooper and bowl.. for his eyes..

💉. . . after his transformation, his friend didn’t believe what he saw and basically ran away. for jack.. he didn’t let that slide. little does his friend know jacks hearing & smell has greatly changed so long story short it didn’t take long to find him .

💉. . . after finding him he k*lled the rest of the cult and join slender shortly afterwards …

end of angst 𓂅₊ ⊹𓄹 . . .

💉. . . now that he’s a demon, his physique has changed from when he was human.

💉. . . for starters , he’s much more taller. he used to be 5’10 or somewhere around that. now he’s standing 6’5 or even taller. oh lord . he even can tower most creeps in the mansion . but he’s not close even slender or LJ’s height.

💉. . . his skin much more darker and grayer, nails are longer and sharper, his teeth.. PH MH GOD it’s much more keen. capable of biting through anything. i dare say it’s much more like fangs. ears that can practically hear your own heart beat /or foot’s steps even though your far away from his reach. basically everything of his anatomy has changed.

💉. . . he knows his hearing and sight has changed for the better (../or worse honestly ), his goal is to not make it his weakness. he knows to many creeps that will take advantage of this.

💉. . . his medical room. don’t get me started. you think it’s messy, smells bad , blah blah blah…. everything is disorganized and cluttered.

💉. . . listen. he didn’t take and paid those medical classes he took in college to come to waste.

💉. . . it’s literally the equivalent of medical rooms that you see in hospitals or clinics in normal day society.

💉. . . liiike every medical supply neatly organized in there own bins tucked away in shelves, emergency kit, it even smells/looks like how an examination rooms that you go for check ups. sterile and a mixture of different kinds of cleaner products he “collected more like stole” bc he can’t stand a mess. ☺️

💉. . . i feel like his hands are really steady. granted his nails are pretty long but that doesn’t stop him from taking his time to make a good stitch.

💉. . . his handwringing depends on the situation. like if he’s in a rush he’ll write like how doctors write medication or proscriptions. ( like it’s very unreadable and scribble looking. .) very messy cursive lol. but if he’s taking his time then it’s really neat and writes as if he’s writing another paper for college even though.. he’s not in school… and uses words that not many creeps know lmfaooo.

💉. . . did i mention he really toned. probably not but now where in the topic let’s talk about it. :D .

💉. . . dudes is so jacked. not gym bro jacked though ew . after the years of hunting victims down and gets the food he needs to survive. missions . all that chasing and running. yeah . basically tone af. can run for lonnnggg while. especially when he’s hungry.

💉. . . cat person. highkey i standby that he pets every single cat he see chillin around the forest.

💉. . . he’s friends with the quiet creeps. such as bloody painter (helen) , liu , hoody (if he passes by the mansion), jane , clockwork , nurse ann and slender. i say slender bc he gifted him seedeater and luvs him so much.

💉. . . doesn’t wears his mask all the time. before though, he doesn’t show it but he’s really insecure about the black goop that leaks out of his eyes.

💉. . . it took him a couple of months or longer for him to register in his mind that he’s demon now. no turning back. AVOIDED mirrors like the plague for a while because he can’t stand that’s him now. :,(

💉. . . in his bedroom he keeps medical books about endless topics in shelves ( in alphabetical order mind you) that takes up some a lot of his space . reads them whenever there’s nothing to do or he’s bored ( which is rare ngl because there’s ALWAYS someone that need medical attention asap or commotion going on in the mansion. )

➯ his room i would say he has two LARGE book cases filled with medical textbooks . a single window that always keeps close and owns black out curtains ( he’s eye sight is a bit sensitive to light.. ) and yk the usual bed , lamp, and corner bathroom where one of his mini fridges is located in a hidden cabinet.

💉. . . his favorite color is deep blue and red. :]

💉. . . he always has stuck ups of kidneys in jars kept in a mini fridge tucked away in his bedroom or his medical room.

💉. . . but in the rare occasions he’s running low on food. he always carries a small scalpel and equipment for stitches with him whenever he’s out looking for ppl to stalk.

💉. . . i don’t think he’s kills them though useless slender tells him too. since he has the medical knowledge how to operate on a human. he only needs a kidney. at least one.

💉. . . once he locked in with a victim. he’ll wait until they fall deeeeep asleep. . and will make his way in by break in a window or door quietly.

💉. . . when he’s near your bed, he’ll flip carefully and cautiously move you to your side. i say carefully bc he doesn’t want you to wake up..! but if you did he’ll knock you right out. it’s quite simple.

💉. . . puts his gloves on and gets his scalp to make an incision on your lower back. once’s he gets there i mean it’s his now kidney, he quickly make a secure stitch that won’t open up.

💉. . . you’ll wake up to the feeling of stitches on your back and lower back pains. then questioned why your window is open until your eyes landed on a bloody sticky note.

💉. . . - it’s written, “thanks for the snack.” . ( hey least he’s nice about it ..!!)

💉. . . but if it’s slender that sends him away on missions, he carries a combat knife. and gets the job done. quick & easy . but if your asking me i think his nails and teeth is all he needs. his grip is s t r o n g. teeth ready to bite on flesh. like you can’t get away from him once he has you pinned down bro.

💉. . . he uses his medical knowledge for the better and sometimes worse i dare say. since he can’t go to college anymore , his education stopped and couldn’t get his degree. so he stocks up on any medical books he can gets his hands on. like i said before he’s very passionate! his knowledge won’t stop from there but will continue to grow as time goes on.

💉. . . puts effort on whatever wounds the creeps have. whenever they come back complaining how in pain there in or there coming to him again. he puts whatever item he has in hand. shakes his head and signs. very quietly. acts he annoyed but he’s not ><.

💉. . . working on there wounds , he mumbles he’ll never treat them again… but that’s a lie. :) he always willing to help them with their wounds. just too stubborn to admit it lol.

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚜: @/zerowhy & @/aquazero.

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : i hope you guys like these headcanons!! as much as i do <33. like i said b4 im working on a bunch of other crp’s headcanons ( this maaay.. become a series who knows lol🧐🧐.) anywaysss liu out!

if you like my content please don’t forget to like , reblog , and comment ^^.

liuuboo2025 ♡ﾟ

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

who's that girl?

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you neighbour is too helpful, and too nosy, for your liking, but he's not your only problem.

Characters: Tommy Miller, Joel Miller

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“You fixed it,” you say bluntly as you approach the fence. 

Tommy looks up from his knees, yanking out the deep roots of a weeds as his hair falls forward over his shining forehead. He quorks his head and narrows his eyes with a grin. He does that a lot. Smile. Especially when there’s no reason for it. 

“Fixed what? The hole in your life?” He winks. 

You don’t know what that means. You frown. 

“The birdhouse. My birdhouse,” you say. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Saw that squirrel messing around the other day,” he shrugs and tosses the weed into the open compost bag. “What’s a nail or two and some paint?” 

“How much?” You ask. 

“What?” Now he looks confused. 

“For the work. Twenty? Fifty?” You offer. 

“Nothing. I’m being neighbourly,” he insists. 

You stare at him. Neighbourly. That’s what he calls all the unnecessary things he does. Like when he mows your lawn before you can or greased the rust hinge on your gate. Can’t he ask like a normal person? 

“I didn’t ask for it.” 

“I know,” he blows out between his lips, “it’s just a nice thing to do.” 

“But why?” You press. 

“Because I’m nice? I don’t know,” he’s further perplexed as he swoops back his hair. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“Thanks,” you take the prompt, “but I still never asked you to do that.” 

“Uh huh,” he nods as he raises one brow. “Well, if it’s better, I can go back and break it again.” 

You consider the offer, “no, that’s fine. The birds need to eat.” 

“Right,” his eyes search you and he smiles again. “Next time I promise, I’ll be sure to ask.” 

You back away and go back to your porch. You don’t get him. The worst thing about having your own place is the people. Why do they have to be so concerned with you? Why can’t they just let you be? Is the fence not a good enough signal? 

You go back through the house and onto the back deck. You sit on the top step to watch the red and grey cardinal couple peck at the suet and seed. That’s your favourite thing to do. You find the feathers pretty and their songs soothing. Birds are much better than people. 

As the evening wiles away, growing cooler and softer, and you mourn the waning time. Back to work tomorrow. Not that it’s very far. Just in your home office. Still, you’ll be pent up inside in front of a screen. It’s hardly stimulating. 

You yawn and make yourself get up. You’ll barbeque the chicken skewers and some veggies. You go inside to get all the fixings you need. You come out and light the grill, breathing in the pollen and hint of moisture in the air. 

You hear voices as the barbeque heats up. You lay the skewers and roasting pan on the grill and close the lid. The smell is comforting to you. It reminds you of your late father. 

“Huh, Tommy, see you’re still crashing into things,” a gristly voice comes from the other side of the fence as the loose slat is wiggled. You grimace. Looks like your neighbour has company. “Couldn’t put a nail gun to this thing?” 

“Oh yeah, the nail gun I lent to you,” Tommy chirps back. “Joel, leave it alone.” 

You wiggle the long tongues in your grip. You always thought of fixing it yourself but always forget. You’re surprised your handy neighbour hasn’t already, considering he could come right through and touch your birdhouse. Now you think of it, how did he even get to it? 

You glare at the loose slat. Ah. That could be the possible reason for his procrastination. The slat moves and a face appears in the space as it’s twisted on the loose nails. A man you vaguely recognises peers through. He comes to Tommy’s often. 

“Smells good over there,” he comments as he peers into your lawn. 

You don’t say anything. Why is he doing that? You should tell him to mind his business but that isn’t polite. Even if your father would have laughed. 

He hesitates before he drops the slat straight and retreats into his brother’s yard. You hear a whistle and low grumble. You can’t make out his words. 

“She don’t want you peepin’ on her,” Tommy chortles, “what? My steak isn’t good enough for ya?” 

“You overcook it. No one wants your grey slabs,” the other man, Joel, rebuffs. 

“Oh, is that why you drink all my beer?” 

“Gotta moisten it up.” 

“Whatever,” Tommy mutters. 

You hear his footsteps as he climbs his deck steps. That’s another problem. After last year’s cacophonous renovation, his deck is high enough that he can see you over the top of the fence. A privacy fence! 

“Hello, neighbour,” he calls over the sound of his barbecue lighting, “what’s for dinner tonight?” 

You glance over at him and back to the grill. You lift the lid and turn the skewers, stirring around the veggies on the pan. You close it and hang the tongues as you look out at the bird feeder. They’ve scared them all away. 

“Ha, looks like I’m not the only one she wants nothing to do with,” Joel remarks as the tab of a can cracks, “you ever get anything good? These craft beers taste like scum.” 

“You didn’t complain last week,” Tommy grumbles and shakes his head, approaching the rail of his deck, “smells like chicken.” 

You roll your eyes. You really don’t want to be rude. You just want to enjoy your time alone. 

“Yep, chicken,” you confirm as you sit on the chair against the house siding and put your sunglasses on. You can feel him watching you. 

“Delicious, you know, I make this Mexican chicken--” 

“Ah, Tommy, lay it on thicker,” Joel snorts, “look at her. She’s tryna block you out. The sun’s gone.” 

Is it that obvious? You turn your face away, embarrassed. Tommy sniffs and clacks his own pair of tongues, “uh, anyway, have a good night, neighbour.” 

“We’ll try to keep it down,” Joel adds dryly as he pulls Tommy back by his arm. 

You chew your lip and stare through the dark lenses. You wonder if you could get a bigger awning to block him out or something. You’ve dealt with mice and ants and wasps, but you still can’t get rid of that one pest. Just like the others, he only seems to multiply. 

[flowermiist]

A warm heart - II

Click here to check out past chapters if you haven’t ♡

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Some time ago, you started a cooking channel on YouTube as a way to relax, have a proper hobby and teach others your favorite recipes as you improved your own culinary skills too. Fame wasn't something you wanted, you were more than happy with your 50k subscribers... Yet you never thought you'd stumble upon one of them.

Word count: 3k

A/N: Hii!! I’m really excited for this chapter (as with every other) I’d like to apologize if this took me more time than I intended, work has been quite heavy lately but all the kind comments make me smile soo much. Enjoy!! And please don’t forget to like, reblog and let me know your thoughts about this chapter if you’d like!

After leaving your car at Harrison’s garage, you take an uber home. The mechanic told you it would take about three days to properly fix what was wrong with the engine, you didn’t give it much thought.

You sit in the back seat of the Uber and place your grocery bags on your lap, you sigh and open your purse, seeing the small note with John’s number – It was written on an old receipt the man managed to find in one of the pockets of his jeans, using a black pen you always keep in the glove compartment of your car.

You sink back into your thoughts while looking out the window. You don’t know whether to call his number or not, you sigh and keep thinking, as intense as it might sound, you know that if you call his number and he doesn’t pick up, you’ll be too embarrassed to ever attempt to call him again – You promise yourself that if he doesn’t pick up, you won’t call again.

It wasn’t like you wanted anything other than to thank him again properly for helping you back there. John was nice, yes, but he was still a stranger and you didn’t really know much about him.

You turn your head to the other window and realize you’ve reached your destiny, you pay the grumpy driver and make your way into place.

The charms hanging from the keychain jingle as you open the front door. You sigh and close the door behind you, locking it before you start walking towards the kitchen with the grocery bags in hand as well as your personal bag that has the receipt with the phone number of certain man – you make sure to place the groceries where they belong and you kneel down to the drawers of the counter where you store the bags you used, might come handy anytime.

The tripod is still on the counter where you left it. You check the battery of your camera before grabbing the ingredients for the homemade sourdough bread you’ve been preparing for your next video.

So after washing and drying your hands, you re-adjust the camera to the tripod and begin recording the process, making sure the lightning looks good enough.

When you try to start the small oven to preheat it and have it ready for the bread, it does not respond which makes you confused since last time you used it, which was over a week ago, it had been working – not anymore, apparently.

What is going on? Why is everything you own acting up? First the car now the fucking oven, great.

Not wanting to get pissed any further, you choose to use the oven of your stove which of course, was bigger and would take more time to heat up.

This was going to be a long night for sure.

John finishes putting the clean dishes away, the TV in the background with some History Channel show he was not paying attention to, but it was just the background noise he wanted.

Not particularly interested in what the telly had to offer anymore, he turns it off and does the same with the lights of the living room as well.

John Price has always had a pretty strict rule for himself and for his house, to turn off every light he wasn’t using – except for the old lamp he had in his living room next to the couch but besides from that one lamp, every other room that was not being used did not need any artificial lighting.

As he’s about to walk towards the stairs, the man remembers the laundry he had put in the dryer earlier, he had completely forgotten about it – “Fucking ’ell…” the words escape his lips as he clicks his tongue in annoyance and moves towards the uility room of his house, where the clothes should be.

After opening the small lid of the dryer, John places the clean clothes in the basket, grabs the old iron and the ironing board. He has never liked to leave things to the last minute, never liked to do things in a hurry and do them badly. John knows it’s better to iron the clean clothes now rather than leave them all wrinkly and forgotten.

Placing the ironing board in the living room, he folds out the winkly t-shirt and connects the iron, waiting for it to start producing enough heat and get this shit over with as soon as possible.

Some steam appears and he grabs the handle, making smooth movements with the iron, moving it from from the neck to the short sleeve of the green cotton t-shirt.

Looking back at it, the material is still the same, wrinkly and with obvious creases. John gathers his patience and moves the iron again, using a rough hand to stretch the fabric more and trying to press one of the buttons to make more heat yet nothing happens.

His mind drifts towards today’s events as all he can hear is the sound of the iron against the clothes – Your smile was still in the back of his mind and the thought of the big possibility of you not calling his number crosses his mind. Was he too forward? Would you call?

Without noticing, he moves the iron over his thumb and part of the back of his hand, groaning out in pain loudly as the sharp pain immediately hits him. John quickly grabs his left wrist. “God fuckin’ damnit, old fucking thing!” – Endless insults rumble through his chest, escaping through gritted teeth as the man is scrunching up his face with discomfort looking at the back of his hand where the bright red mark on his thumb throbs.

The smell of burning fabric and steam catches his attention again, looking down at the iron burning his shirt he quickly grabs it and places it vertically, taking a moment to manage the anger rising inside him, his face almost red.

John lifts up the green t-shirt, his gaze darkens as he sees the dark hole over the sleeve of the fabric. “Awesome.” He states with anger and sarcasm as he throws the t-shirt on the floor and unplugs the iron, contemplating smashing it against the wall for a single second but knowing it won’t solve anything.

Breathing through his nose while calming down, he walks to the kitchen sink, gritting his teeth in discomfort as he washes the burning part of his left hand – A first degree burn, nothing he can’t handle.

The basket with clothes ready to be ironed remains forgotten as John grabs one of the aid kits he keeps inside one of his kitchen counters. The man clearly has experience with dealing with these superficial wounds as he loosely wraps some of the bandage around it, covering the red area.

“What a muppet.” He grits through his teeth, directed to nobody but himself.

When you finally finish the video, you look at the clock, it is around 21:30 and you are tired, however; you aren’t too tired to go to bed just yet – and besides that, there’s still something you want to do before going to bed or rather someone you want to talk to.

The bread has such a good smell, freshly baked as you cut a big piece and put some cheese, tomato slices and arugula over it before biting and almost melting at the delicious flavor filling your palate.

You walk towards your bedroom and open the drawer of the nightstand right next to your bed to grab the pack of cigarettes on the second drawer. You were never a smoker but you liked the taste of nicotine on your mouth from time to time, especially after such a long day like this one.

You open all the windows to make sure the smell does not stay inside the apartment, you may like the taste and how the nicotine relaxes your mind but you still find the smell of it sticking to your clothes absolutely annoying.

Walking back to the living room, you grab our purse as the cigarette remains between your lips, the string of smoke and the smell over you now, your eyes open more when you look at the old receipt with the man’s number and smile, grabbing the cigarette from your lips and exhaling the smoke out of you.

At this point, all you are wearing is a pair of gray lacy underwear and a white tank top.

You look at the wrinkled paper and gather some courage before you dial the number and press on the green phone icon to call.

John sits on his back porch, a cigar between his index and middle finger.

His attention is immediately caught when he hears the ringing sound of his phone back in the living room, where he left it before moving to wash the dishes. Who would be calling him at this time of the night if it was not work related?

He grunts as his knees crack when he stands up and walks back inside, seeing the “unknown” contact and quietly staring at the number. Could it be?... No, he does not want to get his hopes up.

“Hello?” A hoarse, masculine voice speaks through the line with a tone full of curiosity and some clear seriousness, you immediately smile, holding the cigarette as sink down on the swing chair of your balcony.

“Hope it isn’t too late.” You say, bringing your hand closer to your mouth and position and the nail of your right thumb between your teeth when you hear a low chuckle. He recognized your voice, of course he would.

“How are you?” The man immediately asks after you stop talking – If you were able to see him, you’d see the way he scratches the beard on his cheek and goes back to his porch, a small smile between his thin lips.

“I’m good…” There’s a small silence before you speak again, keeping the phone close to your ear with your left hand. “Wanted to thank you again for everything, you know…”

John hums in acknowledgement – “No need to thank me, it was quite an honor for me to help my cooking teacher…” Is he flirting? No, that has to be a trick your mind wants to play with you for fun.

“How’s the car, eh? Hope it didn’t stop in the middle of the road.” He slightly tilts his head to the side while speaking, changing the topic rather fast.

“Well… I left it with the mechanic, won’t have it for a few days – took an uber home.”

You could have asked me to drive you home – He wants to say as he takes a puff of the thick cigar between his fingers. Of course, he would not rush into anything. He was still a stranger to you after all and the thought of possibly sounding creepy cringes him.

“Sounds like you had quite the battle then, with all those grocery bags?” His tone makes you chuckle and that gives him some relief yet he doesn’t want to think much of this call for now.

“I did, actually. Came home and filmed my next video.” You say, forgetting about the cigarette between your fingers and you move your hand away from your face.

“Mhm… Next recipe then?”

“Yes.”

“May I know ’bout it?”

“Nope.”

John chuckles quietly and it makes you smile.

“It’s a surprise...” The calmness of your voice is clear and it resonates in his ears.

“I don’t mind waiting then.” His voice is just as calm as yours.

There’s a comfortable silence through the line when the question pops out and you decide to ask it, to learn more about him.

“You said you had experience with changing tires.”

“Indeed.” John responds, giving you silence of his own for you to speak.

“Well, you got me wondering if you were actually my mechanic in disguise.” It lights up the mood a little bit when you hear a breathy smile. John grins before replying.

“I could be, you never know…”

“Where did you get the experience?”

He thinks of his answer...

“Different places ’round the world.” It’s vague and definitely not enough for you to figure him out completely and you are eager to do so.

A hum sounds through your throat, you take a drag of your cigarette and exhale. Not keeping the smoke inside for too long.

“You travel a lot?”

“Quite a lot, yes.” His voice is still calm. John is pondering whether he should say more or leave it at that, he is not the most open man when it comes to his line of work.

“Business men travel a lot.” The suggestion arises in the air when your words are spoken.

“They do, don’t they?” The sarcasm he uses answers absolutely nothing, he’s messing with you and you can clearly tell he finds it funny.

“Maybe you’re a famous lawyer traveling from one boring conference to another…” Another one of your suggestions.

John can’t help but grin a little at your response – “No, nothing like that.”

“Doctor?”

“No, not that either.”

You sigh, you won’t deny this is entertaining but you were getting nowhere so you give it one final try – “Well... They say military men travel a lot... Are you one of them?”

“Correct.” A calm voice replies and you try not to cheer loudly at finally guessing a part of this man’s life.

“So you’re in the military?” You want to make sure you’re right, even if he was clear and brief.

“I am.”

The line goes quiet before you break the silence.

“Explains a lot then.” You try to sound unimpressed as you shrug and it does get to him because now he’s curious.

“Does it?” He moves the cigar to his lips again, taking a puff and looking up at the dark sky.

The phone call hides the teasing smile painted over your lips. “Yeah, you look it.”

Before John can question your words any further, you change the topic.

“I’m pretty sure there are evil gnomes messing with my stuff.”

Your words don’t fail to impress him as he exhales smoke through his nostrils.

“You believe in that stuff?” The thick british accent and his raspy masculine voice could not be more noticeable as he tries not to sound rude while making fun of your possible beliefs.

A chuckle escapes your lips and you pretend to act offended by his selection of words “And what if I do?” A brief pause – “First my car then my oven…”

It catches his attention, John tilts his head like some curious dog and keeps the phone pressed against his ear.

“Did the secret recipe go wrong?”

“Well, almost.” You sigh and elaborate. “So I got this… smaller oven, easier to use compared to the bigger one that comes with the stove but as I tried to preheat it, it stopped responding.” “I’ll have to get a new one tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you get up from the swing and get closer to have a view of the street under your building, you take another drag of your cigarette as you place your elbows on the frame of the balcony, feeling the cold breeze embrace your exposed thighs and caress your almost naked arms, moving your hair with it.

“Could help you look for a new one.” The same husky voice sounds through the speaker of your phone. John’s eyes dart around his back yard, a man like him is never fully off guard. No matter where.

“You’ve already helped me enough… I- don’t really want to bother you.” There’s some embarrassment in the tone you use, looking up at the dark night sky while exhaling a slow – thin string of smoke out of your lips.

The man gazes at his bandaged thumb then at his fingers holding the cigar.

“Wouldn’t mind a shopping expedition, could use one m’self.”

This catches your attention, curiosity enters your mind. “Yeah?”

John won’t admit the fact that he burnt his hand with the old iron because he was distracted, he would rather lie that sound like a fool.

“Got this old iron at home, burnt my bloody hand while trying to use it, burnt my goddamn t-shirt too.” Some embarrassment makes the british man scrunch up his face, he doesn’t want to sound like a potty mouth.

He clears his throat before continuing – “Would be good to kill two birds in a stone, ya get your oven and I get my iron… Some advice could be useful too – ’bout the iron, ’course...”

A small smile escapes your lips as you reply to the man on the line - “Sounds like a good plan then...”

“Sounds like it.”

“Could drive you to the store with me if that’s alright.”

Right, you haven’t thought about how you’d get there.

“Will need one.” Of course you will, dummy, You don’t have your car with you – Says that little voice within your head, the one that tries to prevent you from saying too much.

His deep voice is heard again through the speaker of your phone. “Right, no problem.”

John replies, his tone monotone and casual about it which you’re thankful for.

“What time can I pick you up at? Got all day.”

“I get out of work at five, a friend will drop me off at home… Is six too late for you?”

“Don’t worry ’bout it, six ’s fine.” John says calmly and you smile.

“I’ll text you the address then.” You sit back on the hanging chair as the wind moves your hair and you squish the head of the cigarette against the ashtray placed on the small glass table of your balcony.

“Six it is then.” That voice rumbles through his chest and without even knowing you just put your cigarette away, he sticks the head of the cigar against the wood of his porch, leaving a small mark, putting his own cigar away almost at the same time as you.

“Good night, John.”

“Sleep tight, Y/N.”

Taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @thesevi0lentdelights @zekes-beard @blckbrrybasket @shuttlelauncher81 @thychuvaluswife @airzonaaa @mamanmae @cadotoast @ateliefloresdaprimavera @heyitsmarimari @markitvz @live-love-be-unique @syoddeye @hyriefortuno (Let me know im the comments if you’d like to be added! Dm me for removals! ♡)

[wanda-widow]

Plum Croissants With a Side of Sunshine

Private Chef!f!Reader x Avenger!Bucky

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Bucky isn't used to people caring for him, much less being persistent with it because they think he deserves it. It all comes to a halt when Tony decided to hire a private chef who also has everyone's best interest in mind.

Warnings: slight angst, Bucky's kind of an asshole, fluff

18+ MDNI

Don't forget to like and reblog 🩷

Bucky's usual afternoon routine was work out, go for a run, and then go to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers as dinner. Simple, easy, and he was left alone. He liked the familiar routine, the limited interaction. And he was perfectly fine with it staying that way.

What he wasn't perfectly fine with was walking into the kitchen one afternoon to find it packed with agents and his fellow team members, the vast dining table filled with fresh food. He took one look and turned the other way, deciding to eat later when Steve saw him.

"Hey Buck, you gotta try some of these dishes, they're almost heavenly" Steve yelled over thx chatter, waving him over as Bucky sighed wearily, turning around to almost smack into you.

"Ah, sorry" you said sheepishly, the platter of food wobbling in your hand slightly before you steadied it. Setting it on the counter, you turned back to Bucky to take in his full appearance. Shorter hair, piercing blue eyes, light stubble around his jaw. Tall. You offered a small smile up at him.

"I'm Y/N, Tony hired me a couple days ago but I haven't seen you around. You must be Bucky, right?" you said, excited to finally meet the super soldier that the team had been telling you about.

"Yeah, it's Bucky" he responded flatly before walking to the table to get some food, cutting off any further conversation.

You frowned to yourself but decided to not take it personally. Natasha had told you he was closed off especially after the whole deal with the Accords. Not that you could blame him, he had been through enough in one lifetime. You went to go wash the dishes, wondering how you could get the surly soldier to open up to you.

A few days passed with no sight of Bucky but you weren't surprised. It was late one evening when on a whim, you decided to bake. Taking out the ingredients you needed, you hummed some song that was playing on the radio earlier, feeling yourself slip into your comfort zone again.

Bucky was up, as he always was during these late nights. Sleep seemed impossible at times, flashes of blood and chaos invading his mind every time he closed his eyes. Scrubbing a weary hand down his face, he got up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants to get some water.

As he padded to the kitchen, he paused at the sight of you dancing to your own tune in the kitchen, cleaning a couple dishes. The faint scent of a pastry layered with something sweeter enticed him but he shook himself out of the trace.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, voice rough with disuse as he slipped past you to get a glass.

"Oh! Bucky, hi. Uh, something like that. Just had the urge to make something and since I am getting paid to cook, might as well make the most of it" you said softly, stretching as you made your way to the oven.

His eyes followed your movements as you pulled out a steaming rack of croissants, the flaky pasty littered with strays of purple streaks.

"Plum croissants" you explained after seeing his furrowed brow. "Wanna try one? Steve told me you liked plums"

"No" he said flatly but his eyes kept straying back to the dessert. Frustrated, he left the kitchen with his glass of water, leaving you wondering if you had messed up.

However, in the next 2 days, the croissants were gone. Of course, the team could've eaten them but whenever you asked around, they said that they never knew they existed.

You were finishing up the last of the dinner dishes when you heard quiet footsteps behind you, freezing when you turned around.

Raising an eyebrow, you fought back a smile at the sight of Bucky holding the croissant jar against his chest, the container clearly empty.

"You liked my croissants" you stated as he scowled, putting the jar on the counter.

"They were okay" he muttered, glancing away as you held back a giggle, taking the jar to wash it.

"You uh... you like baking?" he asked awkwardly, grabbing a napkin to clean the grooves in his metal arm.

"Yeah... I think it's a little more calming than cooking" you replied after a moment, turning back around to lean against the counter, watching him.

"What." he snapped slightly, avoiding eye contact like a guilty child.

"I can't believe you actually liked the plum croissants" you laughed softly, a bright smile blooming across your face. Bucky didn't trust himself to look at you, at the sunshine you radiated.

Coming around the counter, you slid onto the stool next to him, observing his expression for a moment. Troubled.

"You don't like it when people take care of you?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Stop prying" he frowned, glancing quickly at you before meticulously focusing on one area of his arm.

"I'll take that as a yes" you hummed, yawning and stretching your arms above your head. "You know it's not a bad thing, people are just looking out for you"

He stayed silent, staring at his arm.

"Bucky?"

"I don't need your pity"

There was a strain in his voice, barely, but it was there.

"Bucky-"

"You're just a fucking chef, what would you know" came his biting reply.

"O-oh. Sorry, I didn't... um, it's late so I'm gonna go to bed" you whispered, the words cutting deeper than you'd like to admit. Sure, you were a chef but you also knew people. Knew how to connect with them.

Bucky watched as you hurried off, wondering why his words felt so wrong after he said it. He could almost feel the dimness of your light, like he sucked it out of you.

It was easy to say he hated himself for it.

It was a week later when you found a brown paper bag placed outside your door. You were oblivious to the pair of eyes watching you, wanting you to open it.

You reached out to get it, a familiar faint sweet smell reaching your nose. Opening it, you saw a somewhat attempted plum croissant and bit the inside of your cheek to stop a laugh.

You glanced around the hall before you spotted him lingering in a corner, watching your reaction. You stood there quietly, waiting for him to say something.

"I'm.... sorry... for lashing out" he finally said, shoulders slumping in defeat as he walked over to where you stood. "I'm not used to people being so insistent on caring about me or going out of their way to make... croissants"

"Thank you for the apology. And the croissant" you said, looking back down at the sad croissant before putting the bag down and wrapping your arms around him.

He paused for a moment, not used to the physical affection before wrapping his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. After a moment, he tilted his head down so that he could nuzzle his nose in your hair.

"Can you make some more croissants though?" came his muffled voice.

"Bucky!" you laughed, slapping his shoulder as he continued hugging you while walking you backwards to the kitchen.

[halsteadlover]

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Paired: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your baby boy takes his first steps leaving Spencer a mumbling mess.

• Warnings: none, just fluff.

• Word count: 1591.

• A/N: just a quick Spencer fic since I realized I’m only writing for Jay once again (what can I say he’ll always be my first love). I hope you’ll like it, y’all know I’m a sucker for dad’s fics 😭. Please comment, reblog and like if you want. Thank you so much for all your support I love you all so much, my inbox and dms are always open if you want to talk ❤️

“Spencer! Baby! Oh my God come here now!“.

Your voice made Spencer jump on his chair. He was writing a work report he didn’t manage to finish that day and for which Hotch would’ve his head if he didn’t turn it back by the next day.

Spencer's heart lost a beat and fear swept over him as his mind began to project every worst-case scenario possible.

He got up from his study desk, dropping his pen carelessly to the floor, and literally ran to the living room where he knew you and your baby were.

“Baby! What happened?! Are you all right? Is Noah okay?” He asked with concern and you instantly felt guilty for worrying him like that.

You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed while Noah was standing next to you and you were holding him by his little hands. He was babbling something nonsensical and began to fidget when he turned and saw his father, a huge smile on his face.

“Sorry love, everything’s okay. I didn't mean to scare you,” you giggled as you saw Spencer visibly relax and heave a sigh of relief.

“You gave me a fucking heart attack I thought something had happened,” he breathed out with a hand on his chest as he could feel his heart still pounding.

How long had he become so jumpy? He didn't know, he just knew that since he had become a father every little change and every little thing made him jump on the spot, making him tremendously worried about his child. God, that little being was making him lose years of life with each passing day.

“Don't ever do that again please,” Spencer admonished you as he approached you sternly but his expression immediately softened as his eyes rested on Noah who kept fidgeting wanting nothing more than to go to his father. “What have you been up to little one? You like to scare your dada huh? You are so lucky you and your mom are adorable, I hope both of you know that”.

You let go of his little hands but still being close to him as you proudly watched Noah hold himself up. His little legs trembled slightly as he continued to babble something.

“Oh god...” Spencer murmured almost imperceptibly in shock. Was it really going to happen? In that instant he realized why you had called him and he almost had a heart attack again.

“Yes baby! Come to dada, come here, I know you can do it,” he continued to encourage him, approaching him and kneeling down so he could immediately catch him if he fell. He stretched his arms toward his baby, a huge smile on his lips as he invited Noah to take his first steps.

You went to get your phone at the speed of light, wanting to capture that precious moment in a video so you could keep it with you forever.

Noah brought one leg forward and the other with instability, taking his first step and making his parents jump for joy.

The living room filled with the sounds of little squeals of excitement and clapping hands as you both continued to encourage your son to continue taking baby steps.

Spencer never felt such joy before, maybe he had a similar feeling the day he married you but seeing his baby walk, taking his first steps towards him, damn it, that feeling was something indescribable, something he’d never forget.

“Yeah buddy! You're so good, you're doing great my love. Come to your dada! I’m right here… “ Spencer continued to say while taking small steps backwards while Noah instead took the same number towards him.

His eyes didn't leave his child even for a second, almost forgetting you were there next to them while filming the whole scene with your cell phone. He analyzed every movement that little ray of sunshine was making, the way he was so focused, the way his walk was unsteady and rickety, the way he looked at him with a smile on his little face as he let slip some little frustrated screams when he never seemed to be able to reach his father. He wanted to imprint all these little details in his memory and never before did he thank whoever was up there for his eidetic memory.

Noah eventually stopped in his tracks and Spencer caught him before he even hit the floor, standing up and holding him close.

“Yes! You did it buddy!” Spencer exclaimed in joy as he lifted little Noah into the air who continued to giggle and drool while he waved his little arms. He showered kisses on his plump little cheeks, not being able to contain his joy. “I'm so proud of you little one, I love you so much.”

You were a complete mess as you looked at Spencer and the way he held his baby with so much love and pride, you could see it in his face, the way he looked at him. That man loved his son more than any other person in the world and then more than ever you couldn't help but think you couldn't have chosen a better father for your child.

Spencer gently caressed Noah's head, cradling him in his arms as his emotions overwhelmed him.

He had never been good at controlling them and keeping them at bay was harder than ever. He couldn't believe how quickly time was passing, how was it possible his son was already walking?

It seemed like yesterday that he held him as soon as he was born.

“Spence…” you called him when you saw the way Spencer had sheltered his face on Noah's small shoulders, as if to hide himself. You placed a hand on your husband's shoulder, immediately noticing he was crying.

“Take him,” he whispered and you picked Noah up as Spencer went to sit on the couch, hands on his face and elbows resting on his knees as he sobbed uncontrollably.

“Oh baby you'll make me cry too.”

As if you weren’t already a fountain of tears.

You hugged your baby too, crying with joy all the tears you had in your body while he unaware played with your hair.

“I love you so much my little angel,” you whispered, giving him a kiss on the cheek, thanking God for giving you such a beautiful gift.

You turned your head towards Spencer, noticing how he was sobbing and when he raised his head and you looked at each other, you both burst into a loud laughter, aware of how disastrous each other looked.

You sat next to him and he wasted no time in wrapping a hug around your shoulders. He pulled you towards him and left a kiss on your head, while tears continued to run down his cheeks, his eyes on Noah who just didn't seem to stay still.

“I… Damn… I can’t do this…” he cried, bringing his hands to his face after leaning against the back of the sofa and drying his tears.

How could anyone be so fucking happy?

He had never felt anything like this, he didn't know how to react and he hated not knowing how he felt.

He was afraid. Afraid it’d be too good to be true.

What had he done to deserve all this? What had he done to have the family he had always dreamed of?

Images and memories kept playing in his mind. From the moment you told him you were pregnant, from the joy and fear of having to be a father, from when you found out you were expecting a boy to the moment he felt him kicking for the first time in your womb. He remembered watching your belly grow for nine months until he finally held his son in his arms for the first time and now seeing him take his first steps.

He felt so incredibly grateful, so damn lucky.

You caressed his arm, trying to comfort him even though you were crying even more than him.

He tried to compose himself but all he had to do was pick up his baby again to let down more tears of joy, meanwhile laughing with you. It was so surreal.

He wrapped his other arm around your shoulders and pulled you back to him, letting you rest your head on his chest as you looked at Noah standing on his father's thighs.

“I love you so much baby, thank you for giving me the best gift I could ever ask for,” he whispered after leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead making your heart do a somersault in your chest. Even though years had passed, you never got tired of hearing him say it.

You lifted your head and pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss as butterflies roamed freely across your stomach. “I love you so much Spence.”

You burst out laughing when Noah grabbed a lock of Spencer's hair and started pulling it, making the grown man let out a whine.

“Jesus christ how can they be so small but so strong?” Spencer complained as he tried to loosen his baby’s grip on his hair. The scene was comical, you didn't know if the way Noah pulled Spencer’s hair made you laugh more or your husband's face still streaked with tears and his eyes still red.

But he didn't care, even though Noah was hurting him quite a bit, he couldn't stop smiling, thinking he wouldn't change this for anything else in the world.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes

Spencer Reid tag list: @blorp-bee, @s1lverhand, @novabckly

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Side blog -> @halsteadloverslibrary

[lelengerine]

hi can i be apart of the youth lovesome event? may i request johnny and call me- wayv

🫧

͙͘͡★ bubbling messages

song prompt. “we’re in the same class, and i’ve only ever known you as the person who never speaks—until i missed a lecture and asked for your notes, and for some reason, i can’t stop texting you about the weirdest things. turns out i was just looking for excuses to talk to you more”

pairing. classmate!johnny x academic weapon!reader

tags. strangers (classmates) to crushes au, lots of fluff and a bunch of teasing bc... c'mon its johnny, no specific prns used, not fully proofread, i can't tell if i missed out on anything...

wc. 1.3k words

notes. super sorry this came out late op 😞😞 honestly you can think of this like an alternative universe to the other johnny drabble i made for this event 😭 though i like how both have parallels in a sense hehe !! lmk ur thoughts on this onee ;0; likes, reblogs, and feedback are very much welcome <3

꒰ m.list | event m.list ꒱

you know johnny suh by name, by reputation, by the way his laughter carries across the lecture hall, reaching even the farthest corners where the shadows settle between rows of indifferent students. his voice has a way of peeling away the stillness, scattering it like leaves before a sudden gust of wind.

he’s the kind of person who doesn't merely exist in a room—he claims it, not through force, but through the gravity of his presence. leaned back in his chair with an effortless sprawl, long legs outstretched as if daring the world to ask him to move, he speaks with an easy boldness, a glint of mischief ever present in the curve of his mouth.

you are the opposite.

your place is in the quiet: the corner seat near the window where light pools and dust dances lazily in the air. you take your notes with almost sacred precision, pages filled with neat, unbroken lines that feel like a small kind of rebellion against the chaos of everything else and slip out before anyone has a chance to remember you were even there. 

you are, by all means, forgettable and you have built your life carefully as such, like stacking stones on a riverbed with each piece meticulously placed. each day being unremarkably the same. it wasn’t like you minded. the silence was a sanctuary for someone like yourself, a fortress made of soft, uninterrupted minutes. 

it is safe.

it is enough.

it has to be.

at least, it was—until johnny misses a lecture, and for the first time, he sees you.

the first message arrives on a random thursday evening, when the world outside your window was blurred by rain and the air hummed with the distant growl of thunder.

hey, do you take good notes?

you stare at your screen, fingers pausing midair, stunned not by the fact that johnny suh is texting you—even though that alone was unexpected—but because the answer to his question was so obviously yes that you wonder if he’s ever even looked in your direction. 

your fingers hover over the keyboard. it would be easy to leave him on read and to figure out his own sufferings, but something tugs at you—a quiet curiosity, a whisper of possibility that eventually causes you to act before thinking.

yeah. sending them now.

you watch the file upload, the small spinning icon hypnotic in its slowness, and you tell yourself that’s the end of it. a transaction, nothing more.

you expect silence in return. you expect him to forget you again, as he always had before, but the next day, your phone buzzes during breakfast.

thanks again! you saved me big time.

and then another, hours later.

also, your handwriting is scary neat. are you really human? you almost laugh—almost—and realize, with a strange flutter of realization, that he is still talking to you.

at first, it stays tethered to class. questions about assignments. clarifications about lectures. easy, straightforward exchanges that you could pretend meant nothing, but soon, the messages begin to slip loose from their academic moorings.

if we replaced all the blood in our bodies with capri sun, would we survive?

you frown at your screen, forehead vaguely creasing at the absurd thought because no. that’s not how blood works.

right, but imagine if it did. hypothetically.

you snort after realizing he never needed a proper answer. he just wanted to talk, and strangely, you didn’t mind indulging his antics.

everything else happens gradually after those exchanges. his texts weave themselves into your days, filling the small spaces between routines, like vines curling into cracks in an old wall. a random observation here, an outlandish question there. sometimes, he doesn’t even wait for a response before sending another thought into the void of your inbox.

have you ever looked at a word for too long and it stops making sense? because “giraffe” is really throwing me off right now. 

hey. what’s your stance on people who bite into string cheese instead of peeling it?

you pretend to be exasperated each time a notification pops out with him as the sender, a long sigh escaping your chest, but your fingers type responses faster than you’d like to admit. each reply carries a little more of your personality, a little more openness, and you begin to wonder whether this was all just an excuse to get you to open up to him.

the thought makes your stomach flip, and you tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. that you’re overthinking. that you’re imagining things. but when your phone buzzes, and your heart leaps before your brain can reason with it, you realize you’re lying to yourself.

you like this.

you like talking to him.

and maybe it’s because of that fragile, forming truth that you start to notice him more—not just through your phone, but through the living, breathing spaces between you.

the way he leans back in his chair, fingers drumming against the desk when he’s lost in thought. the way his laughter catches you off guard, warm and unrestrained, a sound that makes the room feel smaller—like a shared secret. the way his gaze lingers now, like he’s studying you, like he’s seeing you in a way no one else ever has.

and the worst part?

you look back.

sometimes, across the lecture hall, you catch him watching you. and sometimes, just sometimes, you let him.

your phone buzzes one evening while you’re curled up in bed, and you already know who it is.

be honest. you’re kinda enjoying this, aren’t you?

the words hang in the air, heavy and deliberate, brushing against something inside you that's too tender to name. you hesitate, heart stumbling over itself. something about the message feels different. more intentional. and you know this isn't related to another silly joke of his. 

your fingers hesitate over the keyboard, the action of sending a reply feeling foreign now that your brain is wracking itself in search of a response. you could downplay it, deflect, pretend you don’t care as much as you do.

but instead, you type a vague maybe.

you expect him to tease you, to turn it into something playful, but his next text is surprisingly soft.

good.

two letters, one syllable—and yet it feels heavier than anything he’s ever said before. you stare at the word until your vision blurs, heart thrumming a shaky rhythm against your ribs while you remain unable to respond.

guess i needed an excuse.

you wonder what he means. an excuse—to talk to you? an excuse to see you? an excuse to notice someone he was never supposed to notice?

you swallow. there’s a feeling blooming in your chest, slow and hesitant but undeniably there. something about him unsettles you—not in a bad way, but in a way that makes you feel seen, as if he’s reaching into the quiet parts of you and bringing them to light.

the next morning, the campus is washed in the soft gold of early sunlight, the world still carrying the hush of a day not yet fully awakened.

you enter the lecture hall, expecting the same routine, the same comfortable invisibility.

and yet this time, he’s there.

johnny, standing by your usual seat, hands tucked into his pockets, looking so casual it feels deliberate. "hey," he greets, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to be here, waiting for you.

you only blink, unsure if you’re still caught in the haze of sleep. 

his grin widens, eyes twinkling with something unreadable but unmistakably warm. "thought i’d sit next to the person i’ve been texting so frequently today. you cool with that?"

your pulse flutters. you try to scoff, to act unaffected, but the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible. somehow, you find yourself nodding, lips curving into something small but genuine.

johnny falls into step beside you, close enough that your shoulders nearly brush. and when he sits next to you, tilting his phone so you can see his next absurd text in real time—

you realize you don’t mind this at all.

actually, you think you might want more of it as long as it's him.

[lainiespicewrites]

Electric Summer

I decided to start something new! I know I said I was going to try to finish Coach Sy first but I just don't have ideas for it. And this would not leave me alone.

Summary: OFC is a camp counselor. She and Sy used to be childhood besties and used to have a summer fling. But when they get older and school ends. She thinks she'll never see him again.

Warnings: none

Let me know what you think. Comments and Reblogs are always welcome

This work is totally my own and I own all my mistakes. Obviously, I don't own Sy.. man I wish

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

This was easily my favorite time of the year. I love the fall and the smell of the leaves and cozy blankets and warm drinks. It was a beautiful time of year. Fall was my favorite season. But this was not that. This was magic. Summer’s always were. Even when the sun went down at 9pm and the sky faded to black there was still an electric energy that burned in the air. The nights weren’t over just because the sun had fallen. In fact that was the time when the best memories were made. Especially here. It’s so cliche, but to me this is the happiest place on earth. Forget Disney world. No, the best times were had slipping away from mom and dad and spending the summer with friends you hadn’t seen all year, jumping in the lake, tipping a canoe, hiking through the woods at night, sneaking off to steal a kiss with your crush behind the cabin, and warming up around the campfire at night. 

This camp built me. It holds my dearest memories from my childhood and adolescents. When they messaged me and asked about coming back as a counselor it was an easy answer. 

I looked over at my best friend pouting on my bed while I packed my suitcase. 

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be gone all summer!” she grumbled. I laughed, shaking my head at her. 

“I told you, you could come too! They need more counselors.” I stated, matter of fact. She scrunched up her nose  and raised an eyebrow. 

“I love kids but I’m not very outdoorsy, no way I’d last all summer! I’m too pale to be in the sun that long.” she retorted

“Fair, we’ve been swimming once this year and you’re already burnt.” I chuckled. I put another towel in my bag and she took it out and threw it on the bed. I sighed.

“It’s not forever V, you can literally come visit me.” I said “I won’t be on my  phone much at all  but I can give you nightly updates before lights out!” I promised.

“Fine,” she conceded, repacking the towel for me. “But if you meet somebody and start some whirlwind summer love you better tell me immediately! I want all the details! We haven't spent this long apart literally since we became friends!” I laughed 

“I doubt it, but if the perfect man somehow manages to show up to sweep me off my feet at summer camp I’ll let you know!” I told her. 

“It could happen! Didn’t you have a lil summer boyfriend when you were younger?” She asked. I thought back to my days as a camper. All the friends I’d made, the silly little camp crushes. Then there was him. For 3 straight summers there was him. I tried to resist it at first. He was incredibly charming. A lot of the girls had a crush on him. He was energetic and funny and he had this big smile. That first summer we became fast friends. I tried to ignore him but he wouldn’t leave me alone. If I got up to leave the group he’d get up and ask where I was going. When we had to use the buddy system for a game or a hike. He would claim me before one of my girls could. His friends would get mad at him for it. I never understood it. But camp was only 2 weeks long. I didn’t have enough time to dwell on it. 

The next summer. He grew. He had to be at least a foot taller. His hair had grown out into these beautiful wild curls. I think maybe he’d started working out. He mentioned he was playing football in school. So maybe that was why he seemed more toned. He still had that big sweet smile. He’d grown into a gentle giant. It must’ve been fate that once again our cabins were paired together as a group. And because we’d become such good friends he sought me out immediately. Pulling me into a big hug. 

“Hey girl!” He beamed, squeezing me tight. “Glad we’re here together again, how have you been?” He asked enthusiastically. I chuckled, my arms still wrapped around his middle as I found my footing again. He’d practically lifted me off the ground. 

“It’s good to see you too, Logan.” I smiled. Despite how hard I tried, That summer, I could not deny that I had developed feelings for him. I was too shy to tell him. And I loved being friends with him. I didn’t want to lose that. However even though Logan didn’t seem to notice it was painfully obvious to one of my bunkmates. 

“You should tell him you like him!” Tasha said, sneaking up behind me. This particular day the girls in our cabin decided to ditch the boys, who were off  playing ultimate frisbee or something, and go on a hike. 

“What?” I said quickly. She shook her head. 

“Girl, you obviously have the biggest crush on Sy, you should tell him.” she repeated herself. I started to chew on my lip nervously. 

“Logan? I… tosh… he’s my best friend. Aside from you of course,” I assured her, “I can’t tell him.” I said. She sighed dramatically. 

“Why not? He’s literally so nice, the worst that would happen is he’d say he wants to stay friends.Plus I really think he likes you too!” she said hopefully. 

“You can’t know that.” I retorted. She shook her head at me again. 

“I’ve heard people talk about it. I was in the bathroom last night and I overheard these girls from cabin F talking, one of the girls said she’s really jealous of you because of the way Logan clings to you,” she argued. 

“He does not cling to me,” I said. 

“We had to tell him our hike was no boys allowed because he was gonna ditch the boys to come with us!” she cried. 

“Maybe he wanted to hike?” I argued. Tasha gave up and just laughed. 

“Girl you’re hopeless.” she said, as we continued to walk. 

A few days later the boys and girls cabin went on a night hike together. It was a tradition. Something we did every year. We walked through the woods when it got dark and played games as a group. I hated it. It freaked me out. I was not a horror movie fan and this was like an invitation for a demon to jump out and attack you. Needless to say I was scared the whole time. Sy picked up on it immediately. Sticking with me the whole time. Distracting me and making me laugh. And when I got really tense on the walk back he grabbed my hand. When we were back in the clearing by the cabins Tasha looked back at us and noticed our hands smiling to herself. She stopped walking until she was next to me on the other side and whispered in my ear. 

“Girl if you don’t tell him I will.” I pouted and gave her a look and she just laughed skipping ahead again to hold the hand of this year's camp boyfriend. Needless to say I still didn’t tell him. I spent the next week and a half doing everything I could to avoid it. 

On the last day of camp a few of us were sitting in the grass in the sun soaking up the last few hours together before our parents arrived and we had to say goodbye. We were talking about our favorite things we’d done this summer. What we were gonna miss. Promising to keep in touch. 

“Hey Logan, you know you only live like an hour from Lainie?” Tasha said all of a sudden. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, looking over at me with a big smile on his face. 

“Mhmm.” she continued, "You guys could totally hang out sometime!” she exclaimed. 

“How did you know that?” I asked her suddenly.

“I looked it up,” she shrugged. I rolled my eyes but then looked over at Sy, his long legs stretched out in front of him on the grass, leaning back on his elbows, the sun shining down perfectly warming his face. He looked beautiful. He had a sparkle in his eye when I met his gaze. 

“What, you don’t wanna see me?” He pouted. “I think it’d be fun! You get your license in a couple weeks right?” He raised his brows eyes hopeful. I was surprised he remembered. We talked about it at campfire a couple nights ago. He told me he was saving up for his own car so he didn’t have to drive his brothers hand me down anymore. And I said I just couldn’t wait to be able to drive without my mom in the car. 

“Yeah,” I said, “I do, and of course I wanna see you Logan,” I blushed. 

“That’s perfect,” Tasha spoke again. “You guys could go on a date or something!” she winked. 

“Huh?” I choked. Glaring at her. Logan didn’t say anything. Or if he did I was too shocked to hear what he said. 

“Girl, don't act like you don’t have the biggest crush on him. We all know it.” I could feel everyone's eyes on me now and my cheeks were burning. 

“Is that true?” Logan asked softly. I couldn’t look at him. I chewed at my lip trying to come up with anything to make this go away but I couldn’t . 

“I-I …my parents are gonna be here soon! I need to finish packing!” I said and stood up quickly running toward the cabin. That wasn’t true. I packed everything this morning. I was bragging about it to him saying I had the whole rest of the day to enjoy what we had left of camp. He knew I was lying. I heard him call after me but I didn’t stop. Not until I got back to our cabin. The boys weren’t allowed there. I could stay there and hide until It was time to go. And that’s what I did. An hour later our counselor came to find me telling me my parents had arrived to take me home. I didn’t see Logan when I was leaving. I didn’t look for him. I was too embarrassed to find him to say goodbye. So I didn’t. I left without a word. And I felt horrible about it. 

Another year came and went. Logan and I never met up after summer. I didn’t text him. I was too afraid. And I’d never given him my number.  I was beside myself with nerves about returning to camp that next summer. It was my favorite place on earth. And my worst nightmare all wrapped into one. After the way I’d left things with him last year I was afraid to see him. I thought that maybe I’d get lucky and he wouldn’t be there the same week I was. Or we wouldn’t be in the same group. So at least I could avoid him. Even if it was gonna hurt. 

Of course that’s not what happened. Again our cabins were in a group. The first day I avoided making eye contact with him. And I always stuck with the girls. I didn’t want a chance for us to be alone together. Conveniently Tasha couldn’t make it to camp this year. So I was stuck in the mess she’d made without her help.  He and I were together for group activities but I didn’t talk much. I kept to myself. That worked for the first day. But it didn’t last long. During the afternoon at camp we didn’t have a lot of scheduled activities. So we could pretty much run around and do whatever we wanted. And since we were the late highschool aged group. We didn’t have to follow the “buddy system,”  They encouraged it but I guess if we went missing that was on us. It was just after lunch. Maybe 2pm. There was this little circle of bench swings in the park. It was a great place to gather as a group. A lot of times we would sit and reflect on the day there before the campfire at night. But right now no one was there. I liked to keep a journal while I was at camp. To keep all of the memories. So I sat on one of the swings with one leg folded under me and the other dangling off to push myself on the swing. I didn’t see him coming. I was too busy scribbling down all of  my thoughts. I didn’t notice anyone was there until I heard the creak of the chains from the swing directly across from mine. I looked up. Logan was sitting on the swing, his arms stretched over the back of it and rocking back and forth on his heel pushing the swing. I set my pen in my journal, closing it slowly, before I could speak, he said. 

“Please don’t run,” His voice sounded deeper somehow even though he spoke softly. I knew he was from the south. He always had a bit of a twang but I’d never noticed that drawl like I did now. When he was pleading with me. I swallowed hard and nodded. “I don’t like this,” He spoke again when I remained silent. “I hate that you’re ignoring me.” 

“I’m not…” I started

“You are,” He interrupted, letting out a deep sigh. “Lainie,” he said, my childhood nickname. The one he’d started to call me after we all shared fun facts about ourselves. It was the name all of my mothers family had called me since I was a baby. He’d never actually addressed me by my name from that point on. It was always a joke between us. A little sentiment that he claimed as his. It sounded sad now. As he pulled his eyes from the mulch on the ground to meet my gaze. “You are my best friend. You can talk to me. About anything. Hell, I’m closer with you than I am with any of my friends back home.” He said. “I know that things were kinda awkward when we left last summer but you didn’t even say goodbye.” He paused. I bit my lip, starting to feel emotional.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I was so embarrassed.” I finally admitted to him. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. But everyone was looking at me. And I was scared and I was afraid I was gonna lose you as a friend. But I guess I did that all on my own.” I sighed. 

Sy stood up and crossed the space from his swing to mine. He paused waiting to see if I’d make room for him. Naturally I did. He sat next to me. Stretching his arm out behind me on the back of the swing. 

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried darlin,”  A soft smile formed on his lips.  If I didn’t know any better, it almost looked sad.  I could tell that he was having an inner battle in himself.  “Why were you scared?”  He finally asked.  I swallowed a lump that was forming in my throat.  There was no point in avoiding it now.  He had to know that I’ve had a crush on him.  Even I know that he isn’t too oblivious to realize that much.  I felt my breath hitch when I felt his hand cover my shoulder.  A gentle squeeze and a soft storking of his thumb brought my eyes to his.

“Because I didn’t want anything to change, what we’ve got going is good,” I spoke barely above a whisper. 

“Why would…” He started. But I cut him off before I lost my nerve. 

“Because Tasha was right. I did..do have a big crush on you. But it’s silly, and you’re such a great friend to me Logan, I didn’t want to lose that because of how I was feeling.” I rambled. 

“Huh,” He breathed. “You have a crush on me? I never would of guessed.” He smirked. I pouted and smacked his shoulder. 

“Sy, I’m serious!” I ran my hand through my hair and turned away from him to nervous to hold eye contact. I heard him chuckle softly before I felt his fingertips gently brush across my jaw turning me back to face him. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he paused regaining his composure. “You really think I didn’t notice?” He raised both brows and had a gentle smile on his lips. 

“You knew?” I muttered softly still so embarrassed about the whole situation. 

“It’s kinda what I what I was hoping for, I’ve only been flirtin’ with ya for two summers now,” He laughed. It was my turn to be confused. I raised an eyebrow. This only caused him to laugh more. 

“You?” I paused trying to wrap my head around what I was trying to say. “Wait so?” 

“I’d have loved to have taken you out, If you’d have given me the chance.” He explained. I hung my head resting it my hands and groaned. 

“I’m an idiot.” I sighed. 

“No,” Sy said, “I should have said something sooner, and Tosh shouldn’t have called you out like that. I’d known for a while but, I really liked the way things were between us. I didn’t see a reason for us to push anything.” He said slowly pulling my hand away from my face and lacing his fingers with mine. 

“You really liked me this whole time.” I said finally looking up at him, relaxing a bit when he smiled. 

“Since the day I met you.” He admitted. I smiled. And squeezed his hand I sat up moving to sit closer to him. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could one of the counselors was interrupting us.

“Hey guys you know the rules. No purpling, No PDA,” They warned us and stood there until Sy let go of my hand.  They nodded at us before walking off to montier the rest of the play ground. Some of the younger age groups were playing in the park. ‘No purpling’ such a stupid metaphor. Girls are red boys are blue if red and blue touch it makes purple. It was so annoying. 

“I hate that damn rule.” He grumbled. I giggled softly. 

“Yeah, me too.” we both just looked at each other and smiled. 

After that moment we spent the rest of that summer by each others side. Camp always seemed like such a short time and this time it seemed like it was slipping away even faster. We never made anything official but we did hold hands when no one was looking and occasionally we would sneak off from the group to have time alone. 

One evening after dinner a few of us decided we wanted to take out some canoes on the lake. Of course the two of us took one out on our own. For some reason that night Sy  was quiet. He had been a lot of the day. I finally decided to ask him about it. “Are you okay?” I asked after a few minutes of silence had passed while we floated in the middle of the lake. 

“Yeah,” He answered quickly “Why?” He wouldn’t meet my eye. 

“You’ve just been quiet, is something bothering you? You can talk to me.” I assured him. He sat there for a few seconds without saying anything before letting out a deep breath. 

“This is gonna be my last summer at camp.” He said softly. My heart sank. I knew he was about a year older than me. And we could only come back as campers through the year after we graduated high school. But he was about to start his Senior year. He still had one more summer. 

“But you haven’t graduated yet. You can still come back next year!” I said hopefully. 

“It’s not that,” He bit his lip looking out at the water still refusing to look at me. “I signed up for the military. I’m gonna be in the army. I start basic right after I graduate. And then they’ll send me wherever they need me.” He said finally meeting my eyes. 

“Oh,” I nodded. “So, after this summer, we won’t ever see each other again.” I said sadly. 

“Hey, no,” he said, grabbing my hand, “We still got a whole year. I could come see you or you could drive to me and we… we could make this…” He trailed off. 

“Logan,” my voice cracked as I started to speak. “You and I both know it’s not going to work. You’re going to be so busy with football and your friends and your family. And I will be too.” I felt him squeeze my hand and he nodded, a sad look in his eyes. 

“I know, but I just got you, I don’t wanna let go yet.” He said. I felt a tear fall and I wiped it away quickly, not wanting to make him feel any worse. 

“Maybe, we were only ever meant to have summer.” I said. 

“Yeah,” He whispered. “Guess we better make the most of it.” 

We spent every second we could together the rest of camp. Hell he even walked me to the bathroom. It killed me to know this was all we were ever going to be. I’d never met anyone like Logan before. I hated to say that I was in love with him. I mean I was only 16 but. It sure felt like it. We did every activity together, sat together at dinner. And he’d put his arm around me at campfire when the adults weren’t looking. The night before camp was over was the annual night hike. He knew how much I hated it. So while the rest of the group headed off into the woods he grabbed my hand and led us to another trail that led to an open grassy field. The boys usually played frisbee or softball out here. 

“Logan,” I whispered. “We’re gonna get in trouble.” I said. 

“They’ll never notice we’re gone.” He said. Pulling me into his chest and hugging me tight holding me for a moment. “I just wanna be alone with you.” he mumbled into my hair. He walked us out to the middle of the field and sat down pulling me down with him. “Come here.” He said laying back on the grass and pulling me into his side. I snuggled up to him laying my head on his chest. We laid like that for a while just silent. Looking at the stars above us. 

“I don’t wanna leave tomorrow. I don’t want to have to say goodbye.” He said. I felt myself start to tear up but I forced them down. 

“Are you scared?” I asked. 

“No,” He admitted shaking his head. “My dad was in the service and my grandpa, my older brother. It’s just what we do.” He said. 

“I hate this.” I sighed. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore or him. 

“Me too darlin.” he said. We laid there in silence again. Until he spoke. “Would it… would it be too selfish to ask you to wait for me?” He asked. I felt tense. I sat up laying my hand on his chest and turned to look at him. 

“Logan, you don’t need me to wait for you, you’ll meet some pretty girl in your home town. Some girl you can come back home too when it’s all over. You’ll have long forgotten about me when you come home.”

“I could never forget you Lainie,” He said softly. My breath hitched. His eyes bore deeply into mine. Even with nothing but the moon light and the stars lighting his face I could see he meant it. 

“Sy,” I whispered. He caressed my cheek sitting up to close the distance between us. This would be the first time we’d ever kissed. Maybe the last. I could feel his breath against my lips as my eyes fluttered shut. 

“There you two are!” The boys councelor called from across the clearing. “What were you thinking you had us all worried!” We’d been caught. 

We didn’t kiss that night. We never did. The next day when my parents came to get me. He stood there outside of our cabin holding me tight. Neither of us wanted to let go. But he didn’t kiss me goodbye. We couldn’t do it. I guess it was better not to know what we were missing. 

“I’m never gonna stop thinking about ya,” He said. As we finally pulled away. 

“Neither will I.” I said 

That was 7 years ago. We didn’t see each other after that. I cried and sulked the rest of that summer. 

I shook my head bringing me back to the present. My best friend still sitting on my bed looking at me expectantly. 

“Hello, Lainie,” she snapped her fingers. 

“What? Uh yeah, I guess I did have a summer fling. I mean, we were never official, never kissed or anything. But that was years ago. Who know’s where he is now.” I said. 

“Who knows. Fate has this way of bringing people together.” She said. I shook my head. 

“You’re such a hopeless romantic.” I laughed.

“And you’re hopeless, would it kill you to belive in fairtales. Or romance.”  she argued. I just laughed. 

“You know what you’re right. You never know what will happen this summer, camp always has been a magical place.” I said. 

A few hours later I was finally on the road. I felt the excitement rise up inside me as I passed the familiar rode signs. I was almost there. I thought my heart was gonna burst when I pulled into the long drive under the main archway. After parking my car I walked up to the main building to meet with the camp director. 

“Lainie!” She smiled greeting me with a hug. “I’m so happy you were able to join the team this year!” She beamed. 

“I jumped at the opportunity Becca, I wouldn’t miss it!” I said. 

“We’re glad to have you, I’ll get you checked in so you can get settled and get your cabin set up and meet your co-coucelor. You’re with one of the boys cabins. You’ll be in cabin E and He and his boys are in A.” She smiled. 

“Okay sounds great!” I was buzzing with excitement. 

“I’ll let you get to it,” she said “I’m sure you remember where everything is!” 

I unpacked my car and carried my bag and suitcase to my cabin. It felt so good to be back. I started to unpack and make up my bunk when I heard a knock on the screen door. I figued it must’ve been my co-concelor coming to meet me. I walked to the door stepping out on to the porch of the Cabin, seeing a man standing there. He was maybe 6,1 his hair was buzzed short. And he had a full beard. He had broad shoulders and a warm smile. His eyes went wide when they landed on me. And the moment I met the I knew why. “Lainie?” He asked. Still with that deep southern drawl. 

“Logan?”

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

Tagging my usual suspects, but let me know if you'd like to be added!

This is not the end of this story at all! There is much more to come here I can't wait to get started!!

Link for pt 2

@enchantedbytomandhenry @summersong69 @carrie80reads @identity2212 @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood @gummydummy19 @deandoesthingstome @shellyshellshell @mary-ann84 @starfirewildheart @foxyjwls007

[kaleldobrev]

Shiny New Toy (5) - Finale

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: After everything that happened, how will your relationship change with Dean? Will it be for better or for worse?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Age Gap (a “warning” that I kept forgetting to put on these fics but have been updated now), Cursing (9x), Mentions of kinks (pain, degradation & praise), Sad Dean, Self-Blaming Behavior, Smut (P in V - unprotected)

Authors Note: Okay gang! Here is the 5th and final part of my Demon!Dean mini-series! I just want to thank everyone who has read, commented & shared this. Originally when I posted part one, I wasn’t sure how well this was going to be received, but it was received incredibly well and I’m honestly in awe. Thank you for coming on this little journey with me. This may be the end of “Shiny New Toy” but this won’t be the end of Demon!Dean content from me (I love the man too damn much) | 18+ Only Please | MDNI | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Shiny New Toy Masterlist

You were lying in bed completely under the sheets as if in a cave. All the lights were off, and the door was closed. Despite the hallway light always being on, Sam had turned it off for you so it could be completely dark — and for that you were grateful. Complete and utter silence filled the room, and it amazed you how quiet the Bunker truly was despite what was happening down the hall from you. Sam was in the dungeon with Dean finally curing him. It took Sam two weeks to find you and Dean, and during those two weeks it was day after day of Dean using you as if you were this shiny new toy. After the first day you expected the novelty of you being a virgin to wear off, but it didn’t. You remembered something that he said to you during one of those long days (you honestly lost track after day three or four). “You’re mine, no one else’s,” he whispered aggressively in your ear as he came deep inside of you.

There was a part of you that strangely enjoyed the sex that Dean and you had. It was the kind of sex you never expected you’d ever have (let alone with Dean). It was rough, needy, almost animalistic in nature. There was a certain type of pleasure that you seemed to have when slight pain or degradation was involved — something you never found yourself ever gravitating towards previously.

When Sam had finally found the two of you it must of been an absolute sight for him to see. His older brother balls deep inside their best friend, someone Sam considered a sister. You remembered the evil type of laugh that exited Dean, how amused he was when Sam walked in. "Want to try her out? She's a good fuck, loves it real rough too," Dean had said. The worst part of it? You remember clenching around him and almost came at his words, which only caused his smirk to grow wider.

You didn't know what you were going to say when you ultimately faced Dean again. What even was there to say? Would he remember doing any of those things to you or would he go about his business like nothing ever happened? To be honest, you weren't sure what you had wanted more: for him to remember or to forget.

Dean found himself in his room again after months of being away and it was in the exact same condition as when he had left it, besides the note he had left for you and Sam. Turning on the light he stared at the empty bed before him and there were two thoughts in his mind. The first was how much he just wanted to lay down and fall asleep for the next couple of months (the tiredness was now starting to hit him); the second was to just find you and apologize. Well, more like beg for your forgiveness.

He remembered everything, everything that he did to you over the course of the two weeks that he had you down in Hell. He remembered all of the degrading things he said to you, called you. He remembered all of the things he made you do, did to you. Despite everything that happened between the two of you during those two long weeks there was something that he was having trouble with: the way you reacted to his touch and how it changed over the course of the two weeks. On the first day he had you, the way you acted wasn't unreasonable, you were afraid and you had every right to be — there was no telling what he would do to you. But throughout the first day, he started to notice small changes in your behavior, in your reactions when he touched you; but he wasn't entirely sure if he was just misremembering or not (a lot happened in those two weeks). But, he could have sworn that you were actually enjoying it, enjoying the way he was speaking to you, essentially using you for his own pleasure. "It's not about you," he told you — and it wasn't. That's what he was struggling with, he was unsure if you were actually enjoying it or just pretending: he could see cases for both.

Dean walked over to his closet and pushed some clothes aside, his whiskey stash was still intact. Picking up the still full bottle, he held it in his hands and contemplated if he was even going to bother to get a glass or not. "Fuck it," he said, unscrewing the cap and taking a giant swig from the bottle. He stood there for a moment in front of the closet taking a few sips before settling down on his bed, the bottle practically glued to his hand.

As he attempted to relax, he reached for the remote but before he could there was a subtle knock at the door. "What?" He said, far too aggressively.

"Sorry I'll...I'll come back later," it was you and you sounded disappointed, sad. Within seconds he heard you walking away down the hallway, and he was mentally kicking himself to responding the way he did. As soon as he heard your door close he placed the bottle of whiskey on his bedside table and got up from his bed.

Once closing your door you sat down in front of it hugging your knees close to your chest. You heard footsteps outside your door and a soft sigh before someone knocked — it was probably Dean. "Hey, it's...it's me," he said, his voice sounding relatively more calm than it did not even two minutes ago.

"What?" You responded back, your voice matching what his sounded like previously.

"I deserve that," he mumbled, "and a lot worse..." he trailed off. "I uh, did you want to talk or...I didn't mean to snap like that, I thought you were Sam."

"Even if it was Sam you shouldn't have snapped like that," you said, Dean couldn't help but agree. "But I'll let it slide given the situation." From the way your voice sounded, it was like you were the one apologizing — something that you shouldn't be doing.

"Can I come in? Or did you want to talk through the door?" He asked, his tone was serious. "I'm fine with either I just...whatever you're comfortable with Sweetheart." The way he said Sweetheart had almost sounded as if he was actually struggling to say the nickname, like he felt bad saying it.

"Yeah you can...you can come in," you said, your voice low as you started to get up from in front of the door. As you opened the door you heard Dean step back a few feet in order to give you space. Upon opening it he was leaning back against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Hey," you slightly mumbled.

"Hey," he replied back. You stood off to the side and looked at him, gesturing him to come inside your bedroom. At first the look on his face was hesitant, unsure if he had actually wanted to come in even though that's all he had wanted to do. After a moment of exchanging looks and a reassuring smile from you, he slowly made his way past you into your room, making sure he didn't touch you.

"You can sit down on my bed if you want to," you stated as you started to close the door behind you.

"Are you sure?" His tone hesitant.

"Of course," you reassured him.

"Okay," he nodded and sat down on the edge of your bed. Despite how comfortable your bed was, Dean somehow looked extremely uncomfortable sitting there. "If you want to keep the door open you can."

"Why would I want to keep the door open? Closing the door is more private," his comment confused you slightly.

"I just want you to feel safe," his voice low.

"I always feel safe with you," your voice matching his, but yours sounded more confident. He scoffed at your comment, "What?"

"After everything I did, I should be the last person you should feel safe around," the usual warmness he had in his voice wasn’t there, his voice sounded hard, cold, with slight amusement. Like he sounded genuinely surprised that you stated you still felt safe around him.

"You're not a demon anymore Dean, so there's really no reason for me not to feel unsafe. I mean, you're not planning on...hurting me right?" You hated asking that, but you had to prove a point to him.

He scoffed again. "Of course not. I would ne—" he didn't bother to finish his sentence, he just looked down at the ground no longer making eye contact with you. "Hurting you is the last thing I'd want to do," he sighed, mumbling his words. "And look how that turned out."

"It wasn't entirely your fault Dean. You weren't completely yourself," you said. "You were a demon, and you became one against your will, it was something that was out of your control."

"Don't try and justify the way I treated you Y/N," he sounded so hurt, and you felt your heart breaking again. "What I did to you was beyond fucked."

"Then I guess I'm the fucked up one because I enjoyed 95% of it," your eyes grew wide, you didn't mean for those words to come out but they did. You felt your heart starting to sink now, and you felt your cheeks start to get hot — they were probably bright pink with embarrassment.

Dean looked at you, trying to process the sentence that you just said. Your statement had confirmed his suspicions, well, more like confirmed what he was trying to remember. "You weren't faking it?" He asked, trying to make sure he understood.

"No," you let out a deep breath. "At first I didn't enjoy it but after a while I don't know I just..." you felt slightly embarrassed saying it, but it was the truth, you knew how fucked up it sounded. "The only thing I pretended was you not being a demon during it."

"Sweetheart, I don't mean to make light of the situation but I do have a slight question," he said.

"What's your question?" You asked.

"Do you have a, again, I'm not trying to make light of the situation but, I just need to clarify to make sure I'm understanding what you're telling me." He got up from the bed and started making his way toward you, your back was still leaning up against the door. "Do you have a pain and degradation kink?"

"It sounds so simple when you put it that way," you stated. "But uh...I guess I do."

"Huh," was all he said. "Don't take this the wrong way but, I never pegged you as someone into that kind of thing," his voice sounding slightly amused.

"I'm just as surprised as you are," you let out a breathy type of laugh, almost embarrassed. "But um...I do want to experience normal sex."

Dean's lips turned into a grin. His once sad self-blaming face turning into the complete opposite now; it now radiated a certain smugness or amusement. "Normal sex uh?"

Six Months Later...

You were lying on your back underneath Dean, one of your legs over his shoulder as he slowly moved in and out of you, hitting the exact right spot each and every time. Letting out a tiny moan you shut your eyes, and you moved your hands so they were now gripping the headboard behind you. "So fucking beautiful," Dean slightly whispered kissing your inner thigh; his slight scruff feeling nice against your skin. He felt you starting to clench around him, and the smirk that he had on his face had started to grow. "So good for me," he praised, slightly whispering again.

"Dean..." you moaned softly, almost a whimper.

"Yeah Sweetheart?" He asked, kissing your inner thigh again.

"Can I..." you started to say, but your thoughts got quickly interrupted when Dean completely pulled himself out of you before practically slamming himself back inside of you, "Fuck," you said a bit louder than you were expecting.

"Sweetheart I am in the middle of fucking you," you could hear the smirk on his lips.

"Sm-smartass," your voice coming out as a slight moan. "Can I...can I please cum?"

"Well since you asked so nicely..." his voice trailed off, his movements picking up their pace. Based on the speed and the way his hips were moving, you could tell that he was starting to get close too. He took your other leg and draped it over his other shoulder, which caused him to feel even deeper than he had been before. "You may."

With a few more thrusts and praises from him, you felt yourself starting to let go, coming around his cock, your orgasm hitting you harder than you had expected it to. "Fuckk," you threw your head back, shutting your eyes.

"That's it Sweetheart," he praised again. You couldn't help but curse again, a long string of profanities leaving your mouth. They almost didn't even sound like curses; more like whimpers and moans mixed with words that didn't even sound like anything. Dean was close behind you, the sounds that had escaped you had gotten him to a point where he was moments away from coming. He heard you say his name, and upon hearing you moan it he started to cum deep inside of you, his own orgasm hitting harder than he had thought, similar to how yours was.

Once both of you had come down from your highs, Dean laid down next to you on his side propping himself up with his elbow as he looked at you, breathing slightly heavy next to him still on your back. Your legs and arms were completely flat, almost as if you were afraid to move. "You okay Sweetheart?" He asked, giving your bare shoulder a kiss.

You turned to him, giving him a soft smile, "More than okay," you replied. "Round three in ten?"

He chuckled at your question. "How about thirty?" He asked, and your face dropped. "We need to refuel baby," he explained, his hand patting your thigh.

"Fine," you said, your voice slightly stubborn.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @fullbelieverheart @little-x-wolf @angiebangiee @spnfamily-j2 @freewastelandstrawberry @mira-dystopiancore @kalliwinchester @violettavirus @jo7465 @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @ilikw If you want to be added to a tag list let me know!

[shogunish]

𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿.

pairing. student! gojo satoru x reader

genre. fluff, slice of life, idiots in love

warnings. tooth-rotting fluff

summary. and when you laugh at his stupid comment, leaves of all colors and sizes in your hair, cheeks red from the low temperatures, he finally knows why you love autumn so much.

words. 901

note. don't imagine falling in love with toru in autumn, sharing hot chocolate, cozy movie dates and him giving you his sweater bc yours don't keep you warm enough

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

satoru doesn't know why you love autumn so much when it's not only the busiest time for sorcerers, but also annoyingly windy with sudden downpours out of nowhere. days are cut short since the sun would set earlier than usual and dark skies would envelop tokyo at five pm instead of at nine in the late evening. autumn is the season in which everything starts dying or hiding away; may it be trees drying out and shedding their once lush leaves or that small hedgehog across the street searching for a cozy, safe place to hibernate.

a scowl rested on satoru's handsome face. the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks are bitten red by the chilly temperatures lingering in the streets. snot runs from his nostril and he sniffles. even the coat paired with the scarf wrapped around his neck can't stop his runny nose. satoru isn't sick, oh no. if anything, he's sick of the weather.

chilly temperatures always equal a runny nose for satoru.

he sighs, cerulean eyes rolling behind pitch black shades. "next time, you go on that walk by yourself. my doctor will hear about you if i get sick."

a light bounce is in your step. turning to face satoru, you smile at him. "stop exaggerating. i just wanted to see you and spend some time with you." satoru is right next to you, eyeing you from his peripheral. "you've been away so much ever since autumn came."

he just scoffs. luckily, satoru's cheeks are already red or else you would've called him out on the blush blooming across his cheeks. he likes to pretend to be tough and immune to your words when in reality, each of your honeyed words cut through his defenses like butter.

"must miss me real bad, huh? how cute." satoru puffs his chest out, proud of the comment he's just come up with.

a little pout rests upon your lips and all of a sudden, you feel a little shy, because yes, you do miss satoru real bad and feel almost..lonely without him. but with an ego as massive as satoru is tall, you can't give him that sort of satisfaction. so all you do is huff in response. "all i heard is that i'm cute."

selective hearing, hm?

despite the several layers of clothes hiding your skin and keeping you toasty warm, satoru knows how to worm his way through every single layer until he is underneath your skin, flustering you and making you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

popping into your personal bubble, he wears a smug smirk on his chapsticked lips. "ohhh, you do miss me!" satoru chirps, tosses his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

occasionally, satoru forgets how strong he is compared to you and is a bit rougher with you than he should be. the pull is sudden, makes you squeak as you slip on a damp leaf and lose your balance. instead of finding yourself in satoru's arm, your butt lands in a pile of dried leaves.

dumbfounded you stare at satoru, owlishly blinking at him while a few leaves get stuck on the top of your head. he thinks he fucked up, will get a real good scolding from you, telling him to be more careful, but your nagging never comes.

instead, you laugh heartily with round cheeks and your teeth showing off. a melodious sound that fills the park and drips right into the cracks of satoru's heart, turning the snow into sweet, saccharine honey.

his heart does this funny thing again. the thing where it skips a beat and pumps just a tad bit harder, making him feel warm from the core up.

before satoru can even think about teasing you, a handful of leaves is flung right at his face and he finds himself laughing along with you. "what was that for?"

"for letting me fall and getting my ass wet!" you're still laughing, then your face scrunches up as satoru flings his own fistful of leaves at your face.

you begin chasing him with two fistfuls of leaves. suddenly, red, yellow and orange is stuck in his hair and you realize..it makes his eyes look even more mesmerizing than they already are. how unfair.

"not my fault you're getting your ass wet over me!"

oh, he's having the time of his life chasing you around the park, flinging dried leaves at each other and laughing so carelessly without a worry in the world. your laughter mixes with his, creating a symphony that only something akin to love could compose.

"oh, shut up, will you?!" playfully, you shove satoru into a pile of leaves, but if he's going down, he's taking you with him.

grabbing you by the collar, satoru falls into the pile of leaves with you and laughs alongside you. a tangled mess of limbs and puffs of white smoke fill the space around you. your head rests somewhere on satoru's chest while his arms and legs are sprawled out like a starfish.

"i'll only shut up if you make me, darling." satoru wiggles his eyebrows at you, all in good fun.

and when you laugh at his stupid comment, leaves of all colors and sizes in your hair, cheeks red from the low temperatures, he finally knows why you love autumn so much.

taglist; @torusmochi

[bloodymiso]

★ library gossip! anthony lockwood x gn!reader

in which you discuss the latest magazine gossip with the world’s best drama queen—apples at hand.

notes: idk how the farts i whipped this up faster than my haikyuu hcs but whatever🔥🔥. | warnings: granny apple haters dni/j

imagine discussing the latest gossip with LOCKWOOD. his eyes were glued to his newly arrived gossip magazine as he took a bite of an apple, which he often forgets on the chair—something you noticed after sitting on a 2 day old rotten apple a few days ago.

you popped into the library, a book in hand. as you walked, you hit the shelf, too focused on your book to care. lockwood’s ears perked up and he tilted his head up to face you.

“woah, you okay there?” he chuckled. “anyhoo, did you know gina—yes, gina, got a divorce with her husband. crazy, right?” he said almost immediately after his last sentence, completely brushing off the past “topic” that he brought up. you listened in, closing your book, making sure you had the bookmark in the right place.

you couldnt help but be pretty well informed with whatever cock and bull lockwood read in his magazines, he talked about it all day, everyday. even on missions. ah, the mission on king’s road, you remembered it very clearly.

the type 2 visitor approached your figures, lockwood with his rapier up, doing his fancy wancy twirly wirly shit. it attacked and as it did so, you could see it’s features, rather clearly at that. his face was structured, his jawline rather clear, and his hair was pulled back neatly, like your average london rich kid—just ugly with half the flesh on his body burned off. both of you jumped out the way and as lockwood landed on the floor, you could practically see the lightbulb beside his head.

“merlin’s beard that guy is exactly how my magazine described the man martha had an affair with!”

“bloody hell lockwood, shut up!”

remembering that past mission, you chuckled, resting your arms on lockwood’s armchair(haha armchair for arms) , leaning on it. “why is everything about relationships and marriage in that magazine?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. “your hair is so thin.” “come on lad don’t change the subject.” he rolled his eyes and continued.

“apparently, jeffrey—gina’s husband was having an affair with gerlie, the girl next door.”

“why is everyone having affairs?”

“dunno, adults are weird. anyway—oh do you want an apple?” he asked, grabbing a light green granny apple from his little basket. you nodded, relieving it from his hands, taking a bite.

your conversation lasted over an hour, and lockwood had devoured over 3 apples in that time period. if you were standing outside the door in that said hour like a weirdo(*cough* george*cough*) you would have heard laughter almost every 5 seconds.

his smile was so contagious, even a simple sneer caused your own lips to curve up in response. you loved moments like this, laughing your asses off over stupid stuff. you loved all the shits and giggles you and lockwood had.

you giggled as you looked through the pages, stopping at a picture of a couple—the man on the left weirdly resembling lockwood. you looked at him, and he looked at you. a cheeky smile rose to his face as you playfully slapped his cheek.

“are you thinking what im thinking?” he smirked, before he could continue the thought, you slapped him again.

“this is abuse! that could be us if you werent such a meanie.” he rolled his eyes like the drama queen he is, closing the magazine and crossing his arms. you chuckled, he was pouting.

“hey im not a meanie.” you pouted back, ruffling his hair. the smirk on lockwood’s lips never fading.

“guess thats us then.” he said, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his legs.

“i—nevermind, im a meanie.”

(><) wanna support? reblog with tags pookie!! (ps. check out my may 2024 event:3 )

[94perreaults]

VARIABLES & CONSTANTS l GP94

CHAPTER THREE OF THE PERREAULT PARADOX

SUMMARY: Sophia didn't expected to run into Gabe again. But here he is, crashing into her perfectly planned world once more.

a/n: This should have been out many many days ago, I'm sorry for the delay, I wasn't planning on not posting for three weeks but soon enough I'll be able to be more consistent. I'll try to make up with some Gabe + Sophia imagines or blurbs, and some more stuff that's coming out soon for other players. Still, thank you so much for reading this! I hope you enjoy it! Likes, reblogs and asks are always welcomed!

Variables can change, while constants remain the same — key components in mathematical expressions.

Sophia had a lot of constants. Her Moleskine planner, the exact walk to Sever Hall— six minutes and twenty-three seconds, if everything went according to plan—, and the overpriced icelandic coffee she ordered online because she liked the branding and the caffeine-to-anxiety ratio. Her schedule is color-coded and terrifying, a perfect organized mess on Notion she probably worked on longer than she should’ve. She was a system.. Polished, predictable and efficient.

A variable was not part of the plan. Especially not a variable in the shape of a 5’11 hockey guy with a backwards hat and too many smiles, who had been living rent-free in her head for three days even though he’d technically only been in her life for a few hours. And she felt absolutely ridiculous; she had a never ending list of things to do— from client pitch meetings for the consulting club to late-night study marathons where she lived off espresso and spite. Sophia didn’t have time to think about a boy all day long. And yet — there he was.

Not physically, obviously. But in her head? Fully moved in, redecorated the place, probably rearranged the furniture. She kept thinking of him, and his stupid smile, even when she shouldn’t: in the pause before her next slide deck, when her brain wandered for exactly two seconds too long; in the way her pen hovered during office hours, mid-equation, because she remembered how he looked at her when she laughed.

It was irrational and illogical. And that’s not like Sophia. She kept telling herself it was just her brain being weird, and eventually she’d file him away and forget him soon enough. At least, that was what she hoped for.

Until she saw him again. Not at a bar or in a movie-level romantic setting, ready to profess his love in shakespearean rhymes. Just standing outside Tatte on the Harvard Square, holding a cinnamon bun the size of his face and looking around. For a second, he just stood there, squinting at the chaos of Cambridge on a weekday.

And then he looked up, right at her. And she froze, like a total idiot, because of course he would appear now. He couldn’t have been in Cambridge when she was presentable, calm, or at least looked like she had slept over 3 hours; no, he had to show up when her hair was frizzy from the humidity and she had a stressful amount of unread emails that she couldn’t answer without a cappuccino and a slice of the cinnamon and walnut coffee cake she swore she couldn’t live without. 

Then he smiled; easy and familiar. Like it hadn’t been days since the bar. Like seeing her here wasn’t even a surprise. And then he started walking toward her.

Not in that slow, cinematic way — the kind you watch in movies, where everything moves in soft focus and perfect lighting. Nope. Just casually and confidently. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like walking up to her was easy.

And Sophia couldn’t move. She couldn’t even pretend to dig into her bag or check her phone or pretend she was getting an urgent call. She just stood there watching him walk to her. Once again, just like in the bar that night, just like an idiot— which she liked to think she wasn’t, but right now she was seriously questioning it. 

Her heart did something wildly inconvenient, because Gabe Perreault was walking straight toward her, smiling like he’d been waiting for this exact moment and she had absolutely no idea what to do about it. She felt her heart doing acrobatics inside her chest.

“Hey, Sophia,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for her all week. Like this was all part of some long game he was effortlessly winning, and she’d just walked right into it.

She blinked. Her brain, already short-circuiting from caffeine withdrawal and mild existential dread, completely stalled.

 “Gabe.” 

“Wow. Didn’t even get a ‘hey’ back. Brutal.” He feigned offense, hand to chest like he’d been wounded.

She bit back a smile. “Hey.” 

“See? That wasn’t so hard, Harvard.” His smile widened, annoyingly pleased.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, because it was the least embarrassing sentence her brain could come up with.

“Maybe this is fate”, Gabe just shrugged.

“I don’t believe in fate.” She huffed out a laugh, sharp and automatic.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, as if it delighted him. “You probably believe in very complicated math and being exactly three minutes early to everything.”

“I believe in being on time, and that’s at least 5 minutes early” she corrected, because she couldn’t not. 

He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. “That’s the most terrifying sentence I’ve ever heard. And I once heard one of my teammates say pineapple belongs on steak.”

It earned a tiny, unwilling laugh out of her — which only seemed to encourage him.

“Are you always like this?” she asked, exasperated.

“Like what?” He tilted his head, all mock innocence. 

He had a teasing smile on his lips, aimed at her— the kind that made it way too easy to forget how to stay annoyed and made her smile back. And she hated it. He looked at her like he belonged in her space, like this version of her — the one that smiled too much and forgot to be on guard — was someone he’d known all along.

Sophia cleared her throat, stepped back half a pace. “So, what, you just roam the streets of Cambridge hoping to bump into unsuspecting women and call it destiny?”

“I prefer the term strategic wandering.” He shrugged like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, “I just figured if I wandered long enough, I might find you again. Worked, didn’t it?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Nothing came out. What was she supposed to do with that? With him just saying things like that? This was supposed to be her regular morning. Not him. Not this. Not her heart doing that inconvenient little flutter thing again while his green eyes scanned her face as if he was reading her, finding out every secret she ever kept.

She should walk away. She knew she should walk away. But instead, she stood there, feet glued to the brick sidewalk, heart doing something absolutely unsanctioned in her chest. And he was still looking at her. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like maybe this wasn’t random at all. Still looking at her like she was the one thing he’d actually meant to find.

“You’re not seriously telling me this was on purpose.” She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. 

“I mean, define seriously.” Gabe tilted his head, like he was pretending to consider.

She gave him a look — the one that usually made first-years shrink and group project members remember they had deadlines. But Gabe just smiled.

“Okay, fine,” he said, holding up one hand in mock surrender. “Maybe I didn’t put an airtag in your pocket that night, but I did kind of hope I’d see you again.”

Sophia blinked. The air shifted again, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her tote bag.

“Why?” she asked, confused. “Why would you want that?”

“Because you were the best part of that night. And I’ve been wondering what the hell to do about that ever since I let you leave without giving me your number.”

She should’ve said something but her brain short-circuited at “best part of that night.” That felt like a trap. Or worse: the truth. So of course, he filled the silence, like he’d done every time they’d talked so far.

“I figured I could at least ask for your number this time,” he said, casual but not flippant. “Worst-case scenario, you ignore me forever and I cry into my cinnamon bun.”

Sophia looked down, because looking at him was starting to feel like too much. Then back up — because not looking felt worse.

“Do people usually fall for that line?”

“Only the most terrifyingly punctual ones.”

She snorted. “Fine. Give me your phone.”

He blinked. “Wait… seriously?”

“No, Gabe. I’m gonna throw it into the street instead. Maybe some car will run it over, maybe not, who knows? Makes the rejection feel a little more cinematic, you know?”

Gabe barked out a laugh — quick, surprised, delighted. Like she hadn’t yet heard him laugh, yet it felt like something she could grow used to. He handed it over before she could change her mind, and she typed it in — fast, clean, no emoji. Just her name, number, and a period. Professional. Controlled. Like everything else in her life. Except for this. Except for him.

He glanced down at the screen, then back at her like she’d handed him something breakable.

“Thanks,” he said, softer this time.

“Don’t make me regret it.” Sophia shrugged, pretending her heart wasn’t doing something absolutely ridiculous behind her ribs. 

And Gabe smiled at her like he knew it.

…

The drive back from Harvard to her apartment was a blur of noise and motion. She had her phone on speaker, one sibling after another chiming in, but Sophia didn’t mind it a bit; talking to the twins was the fun part of her day. She helped Austin prepare for his debate club while Chloé told her about the article she was writing for the next issue of The Trinity Times, while Taylor Swift played in the background. 

By the time the blonde finally got to her apartment, she swore she could just lay down on the ground and sleep right there. But there was a to-do list waiting — too long to ignore and too loud to forget.

Sophia was exhausted, but it was just another day she had to get through. She kept telling herself in just a few more hours she could crawl into her king-sized bed, sink into her Egyptian cotton sheets, and maybe breathe again. She repeated it like a mantra. Like she had to convince herself to keep going.

She dumped her tote on the floor by the door with a graceless thud, shrugged off her coat, and padded toward the kitchen on muscle memory alone. The only thing she could think of was getting her Icelandic coffee brewing in the pretentious Scandinavian coffee machine she absolutely did not need but had justified to herself with words like precision and efficiency. What it really gave her was ritual. The hiss of steam. The rich, warm scent filling up her otherwise quiet apartment.

The dining table, which hadn’t actually hosted a proper meal in weeks, was a disaster: notes, printouts, case briefs, a color-coded planner open to a week that hadn’t even started yet— already full. She sat with her coffee, picked up a pen, put it back down. Stared at the screen like she was waiting for something— and she was.

Her phone buzzed and her head snapped toward it, too fast, too hopeful. Not him. Of course it wasn’t him. It hadn’t been him all day. Still, every time her phone lit up with a notification, she looked.

She tried not to but failed every time. It was never him, so she gave up and told herself it was nothing. Convinced herself that he wasn’t going to text her and it had just been one of those fleeting, cinematic little moments — sparkling and bright, but ultimately meaningless.

She buried herself in readings, answered two emails, and ignored others. Tried to focus on the words on her screen and forget about the way he’d looked at her like she was something he’d meant to find. She got halfway through reading a 17-page PDF titled “Optimising collective accuracy among rational individuals in sequential decision-making with competition.”and told herself again that it meant nothing. Just some dumb, flirty interaction she didn’t need to overthink.

Even if a tiny part of her kinda hoped he’d show up again. Same reckless grin, same stupid one-liner, same way of looking at her like she was the only thing he’d actually come there to find.

But he didn’t, so she worked.The hours bled together after that — emails, color-coded chaos, one call after another. Her eyes flicked to her phone too often. She hated that. Hated herself a little for it. But the part of her that had stood frozen on the sidewalk like a romance novel heroine hadn’t caught up to the rest of her yet. Until, hours later, her phone buzzed again and she didn’t even look up at first. But when she did and it was him.

GABE: Hey, Harvard. It’s Gabe. You free Friday? I know a nice café on Tremont St we could meet. Thought you might like it ;)

She froze, her thumb hovering over the screen. The room didn’t get quieter, but it felt like it had. The blonde felt like the moment had pressed pause on everything else. Her heart did that stupid little thing again — a skip, a stutter, like it hadn’t been trained for this kind of message. Like it didn’t know what to do with the way she felt just thinking about him. Like the butterflies in her stomach had flown into her veins, rushed up her bloodstream, and were now all squished together inside her heart.

He wanted to see her. Her. On purpose. Outside of the sticky bar they met or the random encounter mid-Cambridge. It shouldn’t have meant that much. It shouldn’t have felt like a decision that could reroute her entire life. And yet it did. 

She stared at the text for way too long, just to be sure it was real and she hadn’t hallucinated it into existence out of pure delusion and wishful thinking. But there it was, undeniably real and impossible to ignore. Gabe had actually texted, with a real plan and real intentions to take her out. But it meant more than that. It wasn’t about taking her out, it was about her letting him. And suddenly, she didn’t know if she was ready for that.

She had her entire life already mapped out —  That wasn’t the plan. She had plans. Plans that didn’t involve a starry-eyed hockey player. She had goals and timelines and five-year visions and post-graduate consulting internships. She didn’t have time to be smiling at her phone like she was sixteen. She didn’t just move things around. She stuck to the plan. It kept her safe. Balanced. In control. She did not, under any circumstances, get distracted. Or improvise. Or fall for boys she met at loud bars and looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

And Gabe was impulsive and magnetic and dangerously good at making her laugh when she was supposed to be indifferent and he made her want to mess up her entire schedule to go out with him. Part of her, who had laughed at his stupid attempts at comedy and looked up every single time her phone buzzed, kind of wanted to say yes. This illogical side of her brain wanted to see him again, even if it meant losing her balance. Even if it meant letting him shake up everything she’d carefully arranged to stay steady.

She liked constants. Constants were safe. Predictable. You could build entire systems around them. But even she knew that without variables, the equation never moved forward. Without variables, there’d be no discoveries, no growth. No falling apples. No gravity. No moon landing. Maybe this was her variable. And, in that moment, the part of her brain yearning for her— for once in her life— just do something without a pros and cons list took over.

Her fingers hovered, then typed — SOPHIA: I’d love to.And send.

Just like that, her carefully balanced world shifted for good.