#so why would you expect different from us

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to a jealous s/o

Disclaimer: I’ve had about ten different requests regarding jealousy, and while this doesn’t cover all of them, it does address some. Disclaimer #2: It would be out of character to write that everyone handles it perfectly, so read at your own discretion. Lastly, as always, I’ve got an Arcane longfic in progress! If you’d like to read it, click HERE, and it’ll take you straight to the AO3 page.

Jayce:

You need to get a grip.

He’s an understanding person, but there’s a limit to everything. If jealousy stems from insecurity and is brought up as a calm and peaceful discussion, he’ll sit beside you to talk it out.

However, if it’s a scene, if it escalates into yelling, restrictive demands on his freedom, or absurd and over-the-top behavior, he’ll enter a period of coldness where he’ll reflect on things.

But if it happens again, don’t expect understanding.

You can’t expect to publicly humiliate someone like that, try to control them because of your own insecurities, and not face a negative reaction.

Viktor:

Raises an eyebrow, his only initial reaction.

The first thing he’ll do is laugh—whether because he finds the situation ridiculous or it’s just an instinctive response, that’s what you’ll see first.

From his perspective, he’s working like a beast of burden not just to be independent but to be a person with dignity, breaking free from the dynamic imposed by Zaun and Piltover that has shackled him like some original sin. And now, not only do you not trust him, but you’re also trying to put him back in the role of a pet that needs taming and obedience.

He knows he hasn’t done anything wrong, knows he hasn’t been giving attention to anyone else but you and his work.

That’s why jealousy only damages the relationship.

Ekko:

Perplexed.

Assuming no one would take a public scene well, in the case of a civil confrontation, he’d mostly be confused.

It makes sense, sure, given how close-knit all the Firelights are, but it never occurred to him that it might bother you.

He doesn’t even know how he should react. He’d definitely try to talk with you, figure out what exactly made you feel that way, and explain the ambiguous situation that set you off.

A scene isn’t a dealbreaker with him, but it does lead to a few days of awkwardness before a fight inevitably happens.

That doesn’t mean he lacks self-respect, though. After the umpteenth time, he’ll simply give up.

Vander:

He’s too old for this kind of nonsense, to be honest.

If you throw a scene, he’ll just ignore it. He’ll let you yell and stomp your feet until you’re out of energy, let you cool off, and then come back to have a conversation.

His response will be laced with irony, like, “Well, who wouldn’t be jealous of the most charming man in the Lanes, after all?” But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take the issue seriously—he’s just trying to lighten the mood.

He’ll ask how you think he should handle it but ultimately decides for himself whether your request is reasonable or over the top.

When you lose your cool, he’ll treat you the same way he used to handle kids throwing tantrums.

Silco:

Let’s assume no one would dare make a scene in public with Silco out of pure survival instinct. That alone would be an immediate dealbreaker, and you wouldn’t have any chance to confront, talk, or even approach his space again.

A private scene would irritate him regardless. When you’re done, his response would be, “Is that all?”

He’s a diplomatic person. The idea of yelling—or even wasting unnecessary energy on these trivial little issues when his vision is grand, almost boundless—feels almost insulting to him.

If, however, you approach it as a calm and rational discussion, while he may still feel mildly annoyed, he’ll try to reassure you and help you understand that there’s no real reason for you to feel that way.

Jinx:

A fertile ground for conflict, given her fear of abandonment, obsessiveness, and jealousy.

Reverse card: if you start a scene, there’s a high chance she’ll throw it right back at you, leading to a full-blown argument.

Her fear of losing you means that even if your request makes her furious, she’ll still do what you want.

Not the healthiest relationship you could have, but hey, who am I to judge?

She’s not one to leave arguments unresolved. After the shouting match, there have to be cuddles, even if only to prove there’s no lingering resentment between you two.

Vi:

Completely caught off guard.

Now, no one likes a scene, BUT she grew up with a sister who felt emotions way too strongly, so there’s a good chance she’ll switch into “caregiver” mode and try to calm you down immediately instead of getting mad.

She wasn’t expecting an outburst like that. She’s likely more hurt by the fact that you feel this way than anything else.

After the fight, she’ll probably ask to hold you for a bit, trying to make up for unintentionally hurting you.

She’s open to changing the things you need her to change because she values you more than other people.

Caitlyn:

Caitlyn’s problem is that she has the dignity—and let’s be honest, that’s what it is—to tell you to fuck off after a jealous scene, especially if it’s in public. But unfortunately, she pours her soul into relationships, so she’ll try to talk it out.

She’ll meet you halfway within reason. Obviously, you can’t ask her to stop going out alone with colleagues after work, but if your concerns are more reasonable, she’ll try to accommodate them.

However, that doesn’t mean she’ll be calm immediately after the scene. Quite the opposite. She’ll need the rest of the day to cool off and a night’s sleep to forget how angry she was.

If you handle things diplomatically instead of with a scene, she won’t be angry but might feel a bit sad.

Mel:

If you throw a scene, expect to be left right where you are—literally.

If you want to yell, stomp your feet, and act immature, she’ll just turn and walk away, and you’ll find out the state of your relationship when you try to return to your shared apartment and find it empty.

It’s not about pettiness; it’s about the humiliation of being publicly exposed, about dragging your private matters into the open, showing so little respect that you can’t even grant her privacy.

If it’s a discussion, prepare to bottle it up.

Everything she does is for appearances, for trust, and as a political figure, she can’t neglect something as crucial as her public image.

It’s up to you to trust her enough.

Sevika:

A public scene disgusts her and puts her in a horrible position. She’ll be mocked—Silco will hit her once and tell her that “You walk her like a dog,” and his goons won’t let her live it down either.

Depending on her mood, the timing, and countless other factors, her reaction could range from ignoring you to screaming at you in the bar to telling you to get a grip or even walking away and ending it.

It’s about respect, pride, and understanding where your limits lie—and this might be one of those moments where you’ve crossed the line.

If you talk things out calmly, don’t expect her to console you. Whether you trust her or not isn’t her problem.

She holds no grudges, but she also has no intention of babying you.

[harunayuuka2060]

WHB Not A Descendant (Cont.)

Gabriel: This is ridiculous. Funny even.

Gabriel: To think that the new devil in this wretched place has managed to eliminate some of my angels.

MC: Is that a compliment? Hmm... I don't know if I should take that well. *could clearly feel his killing intent*

MC: But you... You're different from the rest of them.

Gabriel: I have no reason to listen to a mere insect like you, but since you're going to die anyway, I'll allow you to say your final words.

MC: *sarcastically bored tone* Wow... So generous. Anyway,

MC: What kind of an ugly face is that?

Gabriel: ...

The angels behind him: ...

Gabriel: I shouldn't have let you talk.

MC: Yeah. Mistake on your part and this too.

MC: *quickly draws out their whip and strikes it across Gabriel's face*

Gabriel: !!!

MC: Ciao. *then runs to escape*

Low-ranking angels: DON'T LET THAT DEVIL GET AWAY!

Gabriel: ...

Gabriel: *starts chuckling*

Low-ranking angels: Sir Gabriel...?

Gabriel: *his face twisted in furious anger, immediately appears before MC*

Gabriel: DIE!

MC: *dodges his attacks*

Gabriel: STAY STILL, YOU FILTHY DEVIL!

MC: Nuh-uh.

Gabriel: Devils like you should die—All devils should die!

MC: That's racist.

Gabriel: AAAHHHHH!!!!

Satan, Sitri, Leraye, and Ppyong: ...

MC: He just collapsed. I don't know. *talking about Gabriel*

Satan: ...

Satan: Where are his wings?

MC: I cut them.

Leraye: Huh?

Ppyong: Y-You cut the wings of a seraph, aye?!!

Satan: ...

Satan: Is he alive?

MC: He should be.

Satan: ...

Sitri: What are we going to do about this, Your Majesty Satan?

Satan: ...

Satan: Other than cutting his wings, you didn't do anything, right?

MC: *nods (innocently?)*

Satan: ...

Asmodeus: Kekeke... As expected of my daughter's friend. *smiles proudly*

Asmodeus: Thank you for bringing a seraph here.

MC: Yeah. Can I go back to my room now? *feels incredibly drowsy*

Mammon: You must be exhausted.

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: Foras.

Foras: *appears* Yes, Your Majesty Leviathan.

Leviathan: Stay by their side.

Foras: *nods* *then faces MC*

Foras: *smiles*

MC: *their eyes already closed*

Sitri: Your Majesty Satan, I will ensure that MC gets adequate rest.

Foras: I've been ordered by His Majesty Leviathan to—

Sitri: Sir Foras, this is Gehenna. If you'll excuse us. *carefully holds MC by the arm and leads them out of the room*

Foras: *follows after him*

Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub: ...

Asmodeus: See what I told you? They're a cheater in battle.

Beelzebub: *chuckles* Was it because they used what you gave them?

Asmodeus: Indeed.

Leviathan: What was it?

Asmodeus: Are you interested? It's a type of aphrodisiac in the form of a small seed. It's potent and can easily overwhelm someone with lust.

Satan: So how did the kid use that seed?

Asmodeus: If my guess is right, they—

Leviathan: Made him ingest it.

Asmodeus: *smiles* That's right.

Satan: But how?

Mammon: Probably during their fight.

Foras: *Sitri has already left so it's just him and MC in the room*

Foras: ...

MC: *looks peaceful sleeping*

Foras: ...

Foras: *smiles*

MC: Foras, I have a question.

Foras: !!!

Foras: You're awake?

MC: Slight. Anyway, can you bring me Gabriel's wings?

Foras: Huh? Why?

MC: I think I can use them.

MC: Yeah. I'll make them my wings.

Foras: ...

Foras: I don't think that's possible.

MC: But we have wingsuits. Why would not this work?

Foras: ...

Foras: Where did you leave them?

MC: I forgot.

Foras: ...

Foras: *smiles* I'll look for them. Please wait here.

MC: Can you wash them too?

Foras: If that's what you want.

MC: Thanks, work-husband.

Foras: *chuckles*

[mindmelter]

A Body Stealer Tale: Magic Hands

People looked at me oddly, questioning why I wore black gloves at the beach. I assure you there's a good reason for it. My hands are just too powerful, they can accomplish almost anything I desire. It was a gift I was born with. Wearing gloves would block the power so I wouldn't use it by accident.

Just like now, the weather was becoming cold and the sky grey. So I took off one of my gloves, and with a simple wave of my hand, the weather became sunny and perfect for a beach day.

After a while, the beach started to get more crowded, and that was when I noticed this group of guys playing soccer on the sand. One of them caught my attention the most. He was an absolute hunk in white speedos, his muscles glistened with sweat as he showed off his soccer skills by doing kick-ups. He was exactly my type of man.

I took off my right glove and snapped my fingers, and just like that, everything and everyone around me stopped in time. The distant sounds of conversations and the sounds of waves ceased.

Everything became dead silent.

I walked towards the frozen hunk, he was about to kick the ball, and the ball was frozen mid-air. I casually pushed the ball out of the way and stood in front of him to give the hunk a closer inspection. I just had to cup a feel of that body before wearing him. So I took off my left glove, and gently caressed his muscular sweaty chest. I pinched his nipples a little and even twisted them—I knew I would feel that later.

My hand slowly moved down towards his white speedos and found its way inside. I grabbed his shaft and pulled his huge dick out. He was very well hung, 8 Inches soft I would say. I kneeled right there on the sand and started to suck him off. His cock and balls were musky, which only added to the flavor. It was hot to suck this frozen hunk right in front of his friends. He became hard inside my mouth in less than a minute.

Though he wasn't aware, his body still responded to sexual stimulation. However, he couldn't climax in this state, so his body kept accumulating sexual energy. I continued sucking and pleasuring this frozen hunk's body until I was certain he had stored a lot of sexual energy, just waiting to be released."

I stood up and walked behind him. I then concentrated and pressed the tip of my index finger on his nape, a faint glow formed at the part I was touching his nape—a clear sign my power was working. I then slowly ran my finger down his spine, until I reached his coccyx. Leaving a glowing opening right where I ran my finger.

I then started pulling open his back like a suit. Inside him, you would expect to be dark and hollow, but there was only a bright light inside of him. I pulled open his back until there was enough space for me to step inside. First, I inserted my legs inside his, then I put on his upper body, and for last, I put his face on.

As soon as his face slid into place over mine, I felt the opening on his back sealing and that's when I suddenly was hit by a strong wave of sexual pleasure—All the pleasure I gave his body while he was frozen resumed as soon as the body-stealing process finished.

I let out a deep baritone moan as my knees weakened and my new huge hard cock started spurting cum at the sand. This was my favorite trick, nothing like experiencing orgasm in a different body.

I looked down at my huge cock still pulsating and shooting its last drops of cum. At last, I pulled his white speedos back up and snapped my fingers, resuming time. The soccer ball fell to the sand and his friends looked confused at me, expecting me to kick the ball to them.

"Sorry guys, I think I'm just going to relax a little. See you guys later." I put my sunglasses on and walked to the beach chair I was lying before. As I relaxed on the chair, I allowed my new tattooed hands to explore my new muscles. My nipples were aching but that didn't stop me from playing with them. This guy had sensitive nipples, so I couldn't help but moan.

People started to give me weird looks. I guess it was weird for a man to be moaning while playing with his nipples in public. So I made a gesture with my hand, making everyone at the beach ignore me and think I wasn't doing anything wrong.

Now that I had some privacy, I began exploring my new body in earnest. I pulled off the white speedos and stroked my huge shaft, moaning like a madman while no one batted an eye.

There was nothing like a relaxing day at the beach.

[chrissssssmut]

Yours to Keep

Jang Wonyoung and Naoi Rei x Male Reader

You didn’t expect much when you transferred to GANGYU high school in Korea. All you wanted was a quiet life. To blend into the background, keep your head down, and focus on getting through the year without trouble. But from the moment you stepped into the classroom, your fate was sealed.  

Jang Wonyoung and Naoi Rei—the golden duo of the school. Everyone knew them. Everyone feared them. And for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, they had decided to make you their target.  

---

The bullying started small.  

“Oops.” Wonyoung’s syrupy voice dripped with faux innocence as she brushed past you in the hallway, knocking your books to the floor. You bent down to pick them up, and before you could even process what was happening, her foot pressed down on the corner of your notebook, holding it in place.  

“Careful,” she purred, looking down at you with those sharp, doll-like eyes. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”  

Behind her, Rei snickered. “You’re lucky Wonyoung’s even acknowledging you. Most people don’t even notice trash on the floor.”  

Your face burned as you forced yourself to remain silent. You grabbed your notebook the moment Wonyoung lifted her foot and walked away, their mocking laughter following you down the hall.  

---

It escalated quickly after that.  

During class, they’d whisper loudly about you, just loud enough for everyone to hear.  

“Did you see Y/N’s shoes today? They look like something out of the bargain bin,” Wonyoung would say, her voice filled with derision.  

Rei would lean closer to her, pretending to stifle a laugh. “I think my dog’s leash costs more than his entire outfit.”  

You wanted to defend yourself, but what could you say? They were the queens of the school. Even the teachers seemed to favor them, always turning a blind eye to their antics.  

---

The breaking point came during lunch one day.  

You sat at the farthest table in the cafeteria, hoping to avoid them. But of course, they found you.  

“Why are you sitting all the way back here?” Wonyoung asked, sliding into the seat across from you. Her long legs stretched out under the table, brushing against yours deliberately.  

“Trying to avoid us?” Rei added, sitting down beside you. You flinched as her shoulder pressed into yours, her proximity suffocating.  

“N-No, I just—” you stammered, but Wonyoung cut you off with a laugh.  

“Of course you’re not,” she said, leaning forward. Her hand reached out to grab your chin, tilting your head up so you were forced to look at her. “You’d never ignore us, would you? That would be rude.”  

Rei smirked, her hand snaking around your wrist under the table. Her grip was tighter than necessary, and you couldn’t pull away. “You’re ours, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”  

“I don’t understand why you even try to resist,” Wonyoung continued, her voice sickly sweet. “You should just accept it. You’re nothing without us. Nothing.”  

---

The days blurred together after that.  

They followed you everywhere, making it impossible to avoid them. In class, they’d throw paper at the back of your head or kick your chair just to get your attention. During breaks, they’d “accidentally” bump into you, spilling your drink or knocking your food tray to the floor.  

“Clean that up,” Wonyoung ordered one day, crossing her arms as she looked down at the mess she had caused.  

You hesitated, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Did I stutter?”  

Rei crouched beside you, her voice low and threatening. “Do you really want to make her mad? You should be grateful we’re even paying attention to you.”  

---

But then, the bullying started to feel... different.  

It wasn’t just humiliation anymore. It was control. Possession.  

They began isolating you from everyone else. Anyone who tried to befriend you was met with icy glares and whispered threats.  

One girl in your class, Minji, tried to partner with you for a project. The next day, she avoided you like the plague.  

“Minji won’t be bothering you anymore,” Rei said with a satisfied smile when you confronted her. “You don’t need anyone else, Y/N. You have us.”  

Wonyoung leaned against your desk, her hair falling over her shoulder as she stared down at you. “We’re all you need. Don’t you agree?”  

---

The nights were the worst.  

You’d find messages on your phone, even though you hadn’t given them your number.  

“Did you eat dinner? You can’t skip meals without our permission.”  

“Don’t think we don’t know where you are.”  

“Sweet dreams, Y/N. Don’t forget you belong to us.”  

One night, you woke up to the sound of your window rattling. Your heart raced as you got up to check, only to find a note taped to the glass.  

*“You’re ours. Don’t forget it.”*  

The handwriting was unmistakable.  

---

They had you cornered, completely and utterly.  

“You don’t need freedom,” Wonyoung said one day, her voice soft but firm. She stood in front of you, her arms crossed as Rei leaned against your locker, watching you with that unnerving gaze.  

“You’re better off this way,” Rei added, her tone almost gentle. “You’re ours, Y/N. And we take care of what’s ours.”  

Your chest felt tight as you looked between them, their words sinking into your skin like poison.  

You didn’t know what scared you more—their obsession or the fact that, deep down, a part of you was starting to believe them.  

Because no matter how much you tried to resist, to escape their grasp, there was no denying the truth: Wonyoung and Rei had you exactly where they wanted you. Your life is theirs to torment. Forever.

And there was no way out.  

*End.* 

[garciasgirl]

Secret Sunshine | spencer reid x reader ｡𖦹°‧

genre: fluff!!

summary: spencer and reader were childhood best friends, until spencer had to leave. spencer left reader when he went to college and they haven’t spoken in over ten years. one might, at a some random local bar garcia dragged the BAU too, spencer finds someone he wasn’t expecting to ever see again. his sunshine.

content: sunshine!reader, use of y/n, awkward!spencer, but he starts to get more confident slowly? idk, lighthearted teasing, spencer left her, spencer and reader are childhood best friends, nervous!spencer, nervous!readet, bubbly!reader, lots of longing for each other, super fluffy and cute, spencer struggles with being affected by his job, baker!reader

notes: guys this is my first time writing like this please im so so sorry if it’s bad!! pls don’t be mean i will cry

word count: 2.8k

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

spencer didn’t often entertain the teams schemes of bringing him out to a club or bar. however, their last case in particular got to him. the details still fresh and relentless in his mind. a case involving children. cases were hard enough, but when it involved children, that came with a different feeling. A stronger one.

Spencer hated how much his job affected him. Especially when he looked at his team members, they never seemed to have any issue. Sure, the pictures could be gruesome and disturbing, which the team were affected by. But Spencer, it wasn’t just the pictures. It was guilt that came along with it. maybe the only downside to an eidetic memory. He could never take his mind off of anything. The cases, the victims, the guilt. What if he could’ve done better? What if he figured things out faster? Would he have saved those victims? Was this his fault? It was eating at him too much, maybe that’s why he agreed to garcia’s team bonding event at a local bar.

“having fun, genius?” Morgan’s familiar teasing tone suddenly appeared. no, he was not. but Penelope was right there, and he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he said anything of the sort in front of her. he settled on “sure, a blast.” spencer wasn’t usually one for sarcasm, but an occasional snippy response happened here and there. “come on, spence..loosen up!! we all are in need of a break.” jj sat down next to him, her smile was warm and her voice kind. the teams teasing was playful and light, it always was. but spencer did not need any more stress, and this environment was starting to feel a lot more overwhelming than expected. too loud, music playing and people shouting over it, too bright, light for every corner yet it was so dark. and way too many people. he just needed a break, just a couple seconds.

“im going to get a drink.” spencer muttered, standing up and making his way to the bar. “uh, just, a sprite please.” he never liked alcohol, spencer liked control. and alcohol came with uncontrollable chaos. spencer lingered at the bar for a couple minutes, at first it was a bit calming. there weren’t many people surrounding him, and the music wasn’t as loud over here. that was until a swarm of people came over to the bar, shouting and practically pushing spencer out of the way. he sighed, a bit annoyed, and grabbed his drink. he returned to the table filled with his coworkers, and sat back down. jj said something to him, he doesn’t respond. he means to, but he just can’t.. his attention was somewhere else. on someone else.

her. those brown curls that bounced with every step. the dimples, you hadn’t changed much since he last saw you. which was, the summer when you both were thirteen. your tan skin glistened under the lights, and the smile stretched onto your face was so familiar, he almost felt pulled to you. he knew he couldn’t go over to you, what if you didn’t remember? but, he could just…look, right?

“Reid? Hello…pretty boy?” Morgan snapped his fingers in Spencer’s face. Spencer shook his head slightly “huh..?” He muttered, not turning his attention away from you. he took a quick glance at morgan, his attention springing back to you almost instantly. Derek laughed at him, “welcome back man, what were you..”

he trails off, following Spencer’s eyes. a low whistle followed by some deep laughter. “well, look at that, pretty boys’s got himself a crush.” Spencer shook himself slightly and cleared his throat. Taking a sip from his drink. “Shut up morgan, I uh..” emily shook her head at him “don’t even try Reid, he is never letting this go.” She was right; but Spencer couldn’t bring himself to care much in that moment. You were in the center of his brain, and you were hard to shake.

He thought this couldn’t get any worse, any more awkward. the moment he noticed you, he felt overwhelmed with nostalgia. Even though he was scared that you would notice him, and how you would respond. he still felt a longing for you. a longing for the person he had considered his home, and the person that he was forced to leave when college came around. the shock from seeing you and the embarrassment from his team, which he knew was coming, was all to much. just enough to make his hand twitch and sweat, which in result, the drink in his hand spilled. not all the way, but just enough to cover the part of the table in front of him. as he scrambled to clean it up, his ears turning pink from his teams teasing, he heard that voice.

you weren’t even talking to him yet, you had walked in the bar with some unfamiliar faces. friends of yours, he assumed. the feelings of embarrassment and nostalgia were pushed down. and the pain of guilt flooded through his system. spencer didn’t mean to leave you. you were, well, everything to him. but college was important to him, and even more important to his mom. he couldn’t say no. losing you was heartbreaking, but you encouraging him to go, that buried him deep into the ground. you were just so kind, so caring. even though Spencer was the only person you ever truly trusted, you told him to move across the country because you wanted him to chase his dreams. he still felt guilty, he still felt like an absolute idiot. maybe it was the creepy staring from both spencer. Or maybe it was the equally creepy staring from his team. but eventually you turned around, and you had noticed him. you had seen Spencer. The man you have been dying to see again since the moment he left. you walked over to him, not meaning to leave your friends behind, but doing it anyway.

“Spencer Reid? that cannot be you!” A warm voice flooded the area Spencer and his team were currently occupying. “y/n, uh..hi..!” He mumbled awkwardly, the teams glance stuck on Spencer, except for morgan, of course. Who was busy ogling over y/n. He did that with every pretty girl, but, y/n was different. Spencer didn’t understand the feelings arising, but he knew he didn’t want morgan looking at you like that for any longer.

laughter, soft and feminine broke out. “Spence, really? We’ve known each other for what? Over ten years? Don’t be so awkward!!” y/n spoke directly towards Spencer, not even acknowledging the rest of his team yet. Morgan nudged Spencer with his shoulder. “Pretty boy, ten years!! You’ve known this gorgeous lady for over ten years and you’re acting like a high school boy?”

“Shut up- morgan! I, I just didn’t expect to see her, okay?” Spencer responded, his voice unsure, which wasn’t common. “You didn’t expect to see me? Seriously spence, am I that forgettable?” You teased lightly. Not in a mean way, but in the childish way you had done all those years ago. “Wait, years? Oh you have some explaining to do!!” Garcias chirpy voice sounded out. The rest of the team, agreeing in hums and yeahs.

“right..” he cleared his throat, again. “Guys, this is y/n, she is, was, a good friend of mine.” despite the sting from his words, y/n smiled politely at everyone, “hi, it’s so nice to meet you all!” you were ushered to sit, by penelope, and you complied, taking the seat next to Spencer. you, feeling uneasy about all of the new faces, stared down at your feet. Spencer watched you, his eyes not ever leaving you. Not even for a second. His eyes were trained on you confidently, but spencer was nervous. His face was flushed, even though it was barely noticeable under the fluorescent bar lights. The team all watched the two of you with knowing eyes, their reactions pleasant to seeing their genius yet awkward Dr. Spencer Reid having such a connection. Morgan seemed the most amused, giving Spencer a playful slap on the back “my man!!” He joked before walking off with penelope.

Spencer had laughed at Derek slightly, but stopped when his eyes finally lingered over you again. he looked at you deeply, his eyes caressing over your features, he couldn’t believed how different you looked. but in a way, you looked the exact same. your hair was just as curly, your eyes bright with that same spark you held when you were young. even though you looked a little different, you still felt the same to spencer. like warmth, like home. spencer must’ve been staring for too long because you had noticed, giving him a small smile, biting her lip hesitatingly before saying.

“hi..sorry for, intruding.” you whispered, a soft, but apologetic smile on your face. for the first time during this entire conversation, spencer smiled. This was a good sign, you believed. At first, when you had sat down, you felt the nerves rush over you. It had been a long time, and even though Spencer was the one who had left. You felt worried that maybe, he wasn’t as fond that you returned as he made it seem. You wanted him to still care about you, and you were worried that the love he had for you may have faded over the years.

“hey, don’t be sorry. im glad to see you.” you had calmed down slightly at his words, spencer wasn’t one to lie unless completely necessary. So you trusted he was being truthful with his words. Even if he wasn’t, to hear them was so enticing, you just wanted him to talk on and on. About whatever, his voice and his words were all you wanted to hear anyway.

Spencer hadn’t realized how much he missed that, the simplicity of it. When life had been so cruel, you had been his escape, a source of light in a house full of shadows. ‘Sunshine,’ he used to call you, but now it felt more like a warning. Maybe, just maybe, you were the one thing that could make him feel like himself again.

And that voice, spencer swears he could hear that voice forever and never get bored. he would dream about you, often. your appearance was vivid, but as the years passed, the familiarity of your voice started to fade. when he finally heard it again, it was like heaven. you always spoke so beautifully. it was purely angelic. everything about you was an angelic. and was spencer glad that you were finally back in front of him, and not just in his dreams.

the smile on your face turned brighter, you took a sip out of your drink. “so..it’s been a while.” You comment, not sure how to start a conversation when the two of you haven’t talk for over 10 years. “sure has, sunshine.”

sunshine. that nickname, spencer used to call you that all the time. he said you were like his own personal piece of sunshine. quite poetic for a thirteen year old boy, but then again, it was spencer. warmth flooded into your cheeks, a soft look of joy and nostalgia filling her eyes.

spencer looked different, his hair was longer, and he looked a lot more mature. even though his outward appearance had changed, spencer was still spencer, and you liked that. when the rest of the team, who had been lingering, dispersed amongst the bar, spencer calmed down.

“what are you doing here anyway, not that im not happy you’re here, but..” you laughed softly and shook your head. “I just started working a new job here, speaking of jobs, you’re finally the fbi agent you dreamed of being!!” you said accidentally, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “im proud of you, spence.” his eyes softened, his other hand placed on top of yours. he gave it a quick squeeze. “thank you, sunshine.” the quick squeeze, the comfort that came with it was almost breaktaking. you hadn’t felt the calmness that spencer’s touch brought in years. feeling it, was almost overwhelming. even though spencer was the one who had initiated the sudden touch, he still felt the warmth flood through him. your hand, even just the simplest connection had almost knocked the wind out of him.

spencer wasn’t sure why he felt so comfortable. After all, you two haven’t seen each other in years. and, as cliche as it might sound, it feels like you two never parted ways. you were always his comfort, a home, in a way. between his absent father, schizophrenic mother, and the torment he suffered in school from his peers, you were always the person he went to. you were his little piece of sunshine. and now that he’s an fbi agent dealing with his own personal demons, maybe that sunshine is just what he needs?

Spencer shakes himself from this thoughts, turning to face you more. he hasn’t take his hand off of yours, and you haven’t made any move to retract your hand. so he keeps it there, resting gently on top of yours. it’s relaxing. Spencer realizes he hasn’t said much so he makes small talk. “new job, you said? what kind of job?” he asks, looking at you. his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. you smile, brightly. a sense of pride shining through. “a bakery!! you know I used to talk about owning one all time!!” spencer does know. you were an amazing baker, and the way you gushed and smiled over your job, almost made spencer feel giddy inside. he grins, a boyish and familiar sight.

“y/n, that’s amazing!! you truly are the best baker I’ve ever known.” you laugh, giving him a serious nod. “oh you bet I am!! so, back to you. big shot fbi agent, hm?” spencer dulls just slightly. but, of course, you notice. you’re about to spill out a string of apologies for even bringing it up but Spencer stops you before you even get the words out. “don’t apologize, it’s just hard. all the..victims, and cases. I used to think I was helping people. But now, it’s almost like im just losing myself more and more.”

your eyes get sad, a sympathetic look on your face. you know Spencer hates being pitied, but you couldn’t help it. “you are helping people. you always have spencer, that’s just the kind of you person you are! but trust me, we all get overwhelmed and we all get lost in things we don’t want to. im here, yeah?” you comfort him with your words, it was always something you were perfect at. you could always solve all of his problems, even for just a moment, with your words.

spencer looks deep in your eyes, for just a moment. “you haven’t changed at all, you know that, sunshine?” he mutters, his voice deep and gravely. you shiver at his tone. you couldn’t say the same for him. “you are completely different, did you know that?” he chuckles, his loose hold on your hand becoming just a bit firmer, his thumb rubbing lazily against the back of your hand. teenage spencer was your everything, but this new, more mature side of him? oh, you could get used to it.

you stir your drink with the straw, looking at him, lingering a bit too long. he was captivating, you felt drawn in by his presence. You weren’t sure if it was the slight buzz from the alcohol, or the adrenaline from seeing him, but you could not take your eyes off of him. obviously, Spencer had noticed. he laughed, the deep noise rumbling in your ears. “Careful there, sunshine. you keep looking at me like that..I might just start thinking im interesting.”

you laugh, Spencer always made you laugh. In every situation, every scenario. “Well we can’t have you grow an ego can we?” You nudge his chest playfully with your hand. Spencer is slightly stunned by the sudden and unexpected touch, but he raises an eyebrow and gives a slow nod.

“I don’t think I can help it..” you mutter.

“Help what?” He questions, looking down at you, his voice low.

“Staring at you.” You say, playing with you drink, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips.

“Good, I didn’t want you to stop anyway.” He plays along, getting bolder as the minutes pass.

you blushed at his words, spencer used to be a shy and awkward boy, and some of that old personality had shown through tonight. but right now, when it was just you and him. spencer was confident, and it was different. a good different. it made you never want to leave him again.

but It was staring to get late, and even though you both didn’t want to. You knew that this was going to have to end soon. But Spencer was determined, he wasn’t letting you go. Not again, not ever. He wouldn’t let it happen.

As the night began to wind down, you glanced at your phone, realizing how late it had gotten. You stood, your chair scraping softly against the floor. “I should probably head out,” you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

Spencer stood with you, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. He didn’t want the night to end, not yet.

As you reached for your bag, Spencer hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his hand brushing lightly against yours. The contact made you pause, your eyes meeting his.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet but firm, his usual nervousness softened by something deeper. “I don’t want to wait another ten years to see you again.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten. You smiled, warmth flooding your features as you reached up and gently pushed a strand of his longer hair out of his face. “You won’t have to, Spence,” you said softly.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, the noise of the bar fading into the background. Spencer’s lips curled into a rare, boyish grin, the kind you hadn’t seen in years, as you slipped your hand into his.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it didn’t need to be. As the two of you walked toward the exit together, his hand still resting in yours, it felt like the first step toward something you’d both been waiting for, even if neither of you realized it until now.

And for Spencer, for the first time in years, the world felt just a little brighter.

[itsnesss]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 | rafe cameron × fem!reader

summary | you confront your former friend, rafe, at a party about his arrogant behavior and how he’s lost the person he used to be. despite his resistance, you see a hint of vulnerability, and you offer him a chance to change

warnings | strong language, emotional confrontation, themes of arrogance and vulnerability, personal growth

word count | 1.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The party is in full swing. The lights flicker above the crowd, creating an atmosphere that feels more like a spectacle than a celebration. And you, though you try to enjoy yourself, can only think of one thing: Rafe. The guy who used to be your friend, the one you shared laughs, secrets, and endless afternoons talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

But today, he's a different person. Today, he's surrounded by his entourage, with that arrogant attitude that doesn't even surprise you, but definitely annoys you. You've been warned, of course. Rafe has changed. And not in a way that you like.

You watch him from the corner of the room. He’s in his element, chatting with everyone, bragging about his conquests, his exaggerated stories. His friends worship him, follow him, laugh at his jokes. But you’re not fooled. You know that underneath all of that, there’s a guy who used to be different. The Rafe you knew was impulsive, sure, but also loyal and genuine. Now he seems to be covered by a layer of arrogance that he can’t even hide.

A moment later, your eyes meet his. The connection is brief, as it always was. But this time it’s different. There’s something in the way he looks at you, something that tells you he’s not the same guy anymore. Rafe’s look is no longer that of a friend. It’s that of a stranger.

It’s hard to let it go, but you force yourself to. You don’t want to confront him, not here, not now. However, as you make your way to the bar, he appears beside you, as if he were looking for you. He smiles, but that smile doesn't have the warmth it used to have. It’s arrogant, the same one he wears when he feels in control. And you know that what’s coming next won’t be just a simple hello.

“Hey, princess,” his voice is dripping with sarcasm. He doesn’t even bother to hide it.

You look at him, but you can’t help but feel that there’s something else in his words. Something that makes you uncomfortable. “Don’t call me that,” you respond, letting the tone of your voice be firm. “What are you looking for, Rafe? Why do you act like you're the center of the universe?”

He laughs, but it’s an empty laugh, as if he's trying to convince himself of something. “Come on, seriously? Don’t you see what’s going on here? I’m the guy everyone wants to know. You can’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying it,” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “But that doesn’t make you the king of anything. It just makes you an idiot. You’re surrounded by people who worship you, but you have no idea who you really are. You’re not the person you were a year ago.”

Rafe doesn’t seem to expect those words. He stops for a second, looking at you. But no, he’s not surprised. He’s pissed off. As always, he responds to criticism with a shield of indifference. “What do you know about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, the typical challenging look he used to give when something bothered him.

And in that moment, you remember that Rafe you knew, the one who didn’t need to show his power to be respected. The guy who used to share secrets with you, who used to listen to your stories and share his without needing to impress anyone. But that guy seems to be gone. And all that's left now is a grown-up kid with too much pride and too much fear of being vulnerable.

“I know you because I knew you,” you reply, looking him straight in the eye. “I know what you were before all this. What you were when you didn’t have to act like you were better than everyone else. Do you really think all of this makes you more interesting? More happy?”

Rafe steps toward you, and the air between you thickens instantly. The noise of the party seems to fade as you realize the words you’ve just spoken have hit a sensitive spot. For a moment, he stops being the arrogant guy. He’s just staring at you, as if he's remembering something he’s tried to bury.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he says, his tone lower, but filled with a subtle venom. “You don’t know what I’ve had to do to get here. You don’t know anything about what’s happened. So don’t start giving me lectures on who I am, understood?”

And that’s when you understand. It’s no longer just arrogance. It’s not just pride. It’s fear. The fear you have when you realize you’re no longer who you used to be, and you don’t know how to go back.

“I’m not giving you lectures, Rafe,” you say, not looking away. “I’m just telling you the truth. We don’t need you like this. We don’t need a guy who hides behind his ego, or someone who needs to be the center of everything to feel good about themselves. We need the Rafe from before. The one who was real, not the one who’s trying to be someone else.”

Rafe seems to freeze for a second, as if those words have reached him deep down. His anger in his eyes subsides, but it doesn’t go away. “I’m not that guy,” he mutters, his words a broken whisper that surprises you.

“You are, Rafe,” you reply, but your voice is softer now. “You just don’t want to admit it. You’re afraid to be him. You’re afraid no one will accept you for who you really are. But you don’t have to keep up this act. You just need to stop pretending and be yourself.”

A long silence follows. He looks at you, his eyes devoid of the rage he had shown before. You’re about to say something else, but Rafe steps back and sighs.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says, in a voice quieter and less certain than you’ve ever heard. “Maybe it’s just that... I’ve lost my way. I don’t know how to find my way back.”

At that moment, you know that, although he won’t admit it, something has changed in him. Maybe not everything, but at least a small part of his pride, that layer he used to cover himself with. And although his facade is still there, you can see a crack. The spark of the person he used to be.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you say, sincerely. “You just need to want to change. And I... I’m still here, if you need me. But I can’t stay if you keep being this version of yourself.”

Rafe doesn’t respond immediately, just staring at you, as if trying to process everything you just said. Finally, his face softens a little, though the shadow of his arrogance is still present.

“Maybe one day I’ll get it,” he murmurs, before turning to walk toward the crowd. “But today’s not that day.”

And even though you wish it were, you understand that change doesn’t happen overnight. Rafe is lost, but maybe, just maybe, this conversation was the first step to finding his way back. And for now, that’s enough.

[saturnville]

one way | kelvin harrison, jr.

part one

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc (nia) summary: nia has kelvin wrapped around his finger. so much so that when he misses her, he goes above and beyond to do something about it. warnings: none wc: 5,341 an: listen to one way by 6lack & tpain. also, I decided to make this a mini series. so, this is some time (an unspecified time) later. remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged! tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax

Work trips usually thrilled Kelvin. The allure to explore the world on his company’s dollar sparked child-like glee. First-class seats with heated eye masks and champagne, king-sized beds with duvets white as freshly fallen snow, and cuisines so rich in flavor they inspired his dinner menu for his evolving dinner menu back home.

But this work trip was different. 

The clatter of silverware in the hotel restaurant felt deafening. The nightlife of the city below grated his nerves like nails on a chalkboard, mocking him. His eyes found a couple, smiling and twirling on the sidewalk. He was green with envy as visuals of their love blinded him. Even cheesy romantic comedies on free streaming felt empty without someone to giggle over the awkward scenes. 

For the first time, Kelvin didn’t bask in the thrill of the escape from his life back home. He was drowning in the stillness of loneliness. And he hated it. 

-

Once a month, Nia took a Friday off. She dedicated it to deep cleaning her home, doing laundry that may have gotten caught in the crossfire of work and other responsibilities, self-care, and anything else that fit on the long list stamped on the front of her refrigerator. The reset day was often intense and busy. It took a toll on her body, but having everything done by early afternoon was an accomplishment—an accomplishment she celebrated with Chinese food and peach-infused wine. 

Nia sat in the corner of her L-shaped couch, laundry scattered to her left and folded piles on her right. The Lion King played softly in the background as she worked through the last of her baskets, humming along to "Be Prepared." Well, humming might be generous. Kelvin would call it her "tone-deaf symphony," but she didn’t care. 

Folding clothes was tedious—her least favorite chore. Four baskets of proof surrounded her. Her mom loved laundry, but Nia avoided it like the plague, only tackling it when she had no choice.

Mid-hum, her ringtone blared, ear-blitzing and obnoxious. 

She stretched over a pile of clothes, her eyes still glued to the screen, and patted around until her hand found her phone. She swiped and accepted the call without looking at the caller's identification. “Hello?” Her voice was soft but curious, still folding.

“What are you doing?” Kelvin. His voice was low and easy, like a Sunday morning. She shifted in her seat at the sound of his tone scratching a part of her brain she didn’t know could feel an itch. She heard the life of the city bustling in the background. She smiled softly as if he could see her. "Laundry," she replied, still focused on the task. 

“Why? She asked cautiously, wondering why a response didn’t come from him for multiple minutes.  Kelvin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she was met with the pitter-patter of his thumbs against the screen that sounded a lot like her mother’s keyboard when she angrily typed emails to her teachers for not letting her use the bathroom. 

Then, calmly as if it wouldn't change her evening: “Smooth. Pack a bag.” Kelvin had a certain way with words, she noted. Sometimes, he spoke in a way that expected a response to keep a conversation going. But an assertiveness in his voice left no room for response; it was like a four-word monologue that made her stomach clench with equal parts curiosity and the kind of flutter only Kelvin could.

In her shock, she paused. A silence so complete that it hummed through the hair. Then: “What?”

The breath he huffed out told her he didn’t like repeating himself. But, he would have to. He went from sending her cute messages with strings of emojis, declaring he missed her and couldn’t wait to see her, to firmly telling her to pack a bag.

“Pack a bag,” he repeated, his voice unwavering. Her eyebrows raised, and her head jerked back. “Your flight leaves in four hours.”

Nia startled out a laugh, the kind that started in her throat but didn’t quite reach her chest. He had to be kidding. He was quite the jokester, always finding a way to pull her leg. But this was a joke she didn’t want to partake in. “Kelvin, are you—dude, what? Are you serious?”

“I told you I don’t like to lie, Nia,” was his response. She swallowed. “I already booked the ticket. I sent it to your email.”

Silence on the other end stretched again, but he could hear her faint exhale, the sound of a laugh she fought to suppress. “You didn’t even ask me.” How did he know she didn’t have any last-minute plans? Not that she did, but the question would’ve been nice. Her eyes darted to the laundry, trying to determine how many outfits she could make if she decided to go. 

She could hear the smug smile stretching across his lips like a Cheshire cat. Wide and arrogant. “I didn’t have to. But feel free to say no. I can always get a credit. Take a solo trip to Europe, or whatever the hell y'all be doing.” Bastard. 

Nia swallowed thickly. “You’re very sure of yourself,” she managed, but her voice betrayed her without a second thought. 

Kelvin hummed like a preacher in the church.“Yeah,” he replied, the lazy confidence in his voice matched only by the image she conjured of him leaning back, probably smirking like he’d won something big. "I don’t leave room for guessing when it comes to you.” Had God answered her prayers? To have a man be serious about her to where he’d pulled out that heavy-ass credit card and made accommodations for her to be beside him for the weekend. 

Her breath caught. The kind of confidence left her toes curling and her heart sprinting like FloJo. She shifted in her seat again, the sudden heat between her thighs growing warmer by the second. She tried to find her footing and gain a sense of self-control to push back against the storm of him. Nah, he wasn't a storm. He was a hurricane--intense and uncontrollable, with the power to consume her whole. She'd let him. 

"Anyway," he sighed, a soft grunt following as his chair creaked. "The Uber will be there in an hour." 

Nia chuckled breathlessly. Her eyes fell on the half-folded shirt in her lap. He was serious. "You, Kelvin, are impossible." 

Kelvin’s laugh rang through the phone like he knew exactly how she was fighting the urge to drop everything and get to it. "You should probably get to it, Nia. Time's ticking." 

"Yeah, yeah," she said as nonchalantly as she could. She carefully slid off the couch, praying he wouldn't hear her moving at his command. "Now, get off my phone so I can finish what I was doing. Bye, Kelvin." 

"You know, I like how you say my name." Her gasp pulled a chuckle from him. Before he could reply, she pulled her phone away from her ear and pressed the end, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. He played too damn much. 

She dropped her phone on the couch, ignoring its soft click when it collided with the remote, and paced in the living room. Glancing at the clock, she saw forty-five minutes. She could do this. She wasn't a last-minute packer, but Kelvin's urgency made her second-guess every outfit she pulled from her closet. 

"Pack for a weekend getaway," she muttered, grabbing a handful of clothes from the pile. "It's not that hard." Panties, bra, satin pajamas. Would a dress be needed? Of course; what if they went to dinner? Short, long, slit, or no slit? 

Nia dropped her phone, pacing in the living room, pretending this wasn’t the most nerve-wracking thing she’d done all week.

She tossed another shirt onto the bed and squinted at it. Was this cute enough? She didn’t even know what they’d be doing—he could’ve been sending her to the middle of nowhere for all she knew. Still, she folded it carefully, like she wasn’t imagining how his arms would feel around her when she landed.

Don’t think about him. Don’t think about how much you want to be with him already.

With one last glance at the time, she grabbed her bag, mentally telling herself that she could pull this off. She didn’t need to panic. But as the seconds ticked away, she realized one thing was for sure—she wasn’t packing fast enough.

-

Kelvin leaned against the sleek, black SUV, arms crossed and a smile tugging on his lips as he waited. He couldn't remember the last time he was this eager to pick someone up--probably never if he was being honest with himself. 

It wasn't just that she was flying in to see him, though that part made his heart leap. It was the fact that she'd be his in a way she had never been before. No distractions, no hiccups, nothing pulling them away from one another. The thought had been driving him mad since he booked her flight. He imagined every detail his brain could come up with--hearing her call his name from the bathroom as she got ready, watching her nose scrunch as she giggled at awkward scenes in corny romantic comedies, feeling her body against his as she slept, tasting the mint on her lips as his tongue caressed hers. He closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't lose his composure in public, but he was teetering on the edge. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of these thoughts. He grabbed it, a text from her awaiting his attention.

  Almost there. Don't make me wait.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. Nia wouldn't let him get away with anything, mainly not a tease. But he had no plan to keep her waiting. No, there was no time to waste. It wasn't a casual meetup between two old flings because he couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to wait to get home. This was the physical manifestation of his heart's desire coming to fruition. 

It was the culmination of restless nights replaying her laugh in his head, wondering if she fell asleep thinking about him, too. It resulted from careful, meticulous planning, cautious restraint, and self-control that worked together to write a story unfolding better than he could have imagined. 

He typed a quick reply. 

Never. I'll be waiting. 

Everything seemed to slow down when he saw her stepping out through the terminal doors. All he saw was her. She in all her angelic glory. The sun shone brightly, and her nose crinkled as she squinted. Her hair, let loose to do its thing, blew across her face. He could hear her giggle as she swiped the unruly strands from her face. Her eyes darted left and right, looking for him in the sea of bodies. But when her eyes met him, the slight smile on her face grew so big that he could hardly see her eyes. 

"Hey, pretty girl," the words slipped out before he could stop them. His voice was lower than usual, a little raspier, the affection undeniable. 

Nia took a final step toward him, almost chest-to-chest with the man who'd turned her life upside down. She visibly softened beneath his gaze, like an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her shoulders rounded, her complete lips parted, and her eyelashes brushed against the high points of her cheek with every blink she made. God, she was so damn pretty.

"How was the flight?" Kelvin’s words came muffled as he grabbed her carry-on and put it in the backseat, the body of the large truck decreasing the volume of his words. He moved to open the passenger door, which brought 24 white roses, and her favorite candy stopped her in her tracks. Her bottom lip poked out in a slight pout, and she looked at him with gleaming eyes that sparkled like stars.

“Kelvin…” Her voice broke slightly, soft and full of something that tightened his chest. E

“I figured you’d need a proper welcome,” he replied, feigning nonchalance, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him. Her reaction was priceless. If only he could’ve snapped a photo to have it with him forever. “Come on, get in.” Kelvin moved the flowers from her seat, waited for her to adjust, and placed them in her lap. Nia tried to say something, but the words didn’t come. She laughed softly and looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. Her fingers caressed the delicate petals in awe. 

Kelvin closed the door behind her and slid into the driver’s seat, quickly drifting out of the airport parking lot. A comfortable silence settled between them, wrapped around them like a hug. Nia unwrapped the gummy nag, popping one into her mouth. He glanced at her, the dim streetlights playing across her features like a spotlight. She was a one-woman show, and he, her audience, was captured and enticed by everything she did. 

Her soft voice broke through the silence. “Can I hold your hand?” He saw her looking at him through his peripheral vision. She was curious to hear his response but already knew the answer.

Kelvin blinked one, two, three times. His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “Huh?”

She turned her head toward him, her expression steady but expectant. “Your hand. Can I hold it?”

His breath hitched like he’d been snatched back, and he fought the smirk tugging at his lips. He reached across the center console without a word, letting his hand fall into hers. Her fingers laced with his, petite and warm. It was simple, but how she looked at their joined hands had him swallowing hard. What could be going on in that pretty little head of hers? His thumb brushed her knuckles, a small act that felt wildly intimate. 

“You’re dangerous, girl,” he murmured, his voice low enough to blend with the hum of the car. Nia tilted her head, brows lifted. “Me? Dangerous?”

He momentarily tore his eyes from the road to look into her eyes as his lips brushed against her knuckles. “Yeah. Got me acting all kinds of soft.” 

It was Nia’s turn to smirk. She hummed, off-key, might he add, and said, “Good. You should be.” 

-

“Not bad,” Nia teased as she circled the hotel room, tossing a small smile over her shoulder. She’d been in her fair share of hotels, but this one took the cake. “It’s beautiful.” Her boots kissed the carpet, which looked new, as none of the fibers were out of place and smelled fresh like daisies. Her purse slid off her shoulder with a thump as she let it fall against the couch. Her fingers ran across the top of the pillows, her nails catching slightly in their loose threads. 

Kelvin leaned against the doorframe, his eyes following her every move. He couldn’t help but feel like the smile she tossed over her shoulder was meant for him, and he couldn’t help but smile back, even if she weren’t looking.

Nia turned left and took two steps, her stride slow and deliberate as she approached the window. Her eyes widened like she’d seen Christmas lights for the first time as she drank in the wonder of New York City. With her forehead pressed against the cool glass, she craned her neck back and forth to embrace the beauty of the fast-paced life. The muffled sound of car engines and honking horns hummed harmoniously, with the air conditioning system blending into the background. She was in awe of New York. He was in awe of her.

“This is my first time in New York,” Nia said once she sensed his presence behind her. She sighed softly, her breath creating a small circle of fog on the glass. She drew a smiley face in its wake, then wrapped her arms around herself, massaging her elbows in a twisting motion as if she needed comfort. “I dreamt about it, but it always seemed out of reach.” Kelvin acknowledged her with a nod that she couldn’t see. She felt the warmth radiating from his body and leaned back to experience just a spark of the flame. His chin on her shoulder made her knees buckle, to which she leaned back, letting his firm body carry her weight. 

He knew she’d never been. Though he selfishly wanted to see her, he knew she’d never been to New York. In his mind, killing two birds with one stone seemed feasible. It made sense. He got what he wanted, and she got to experience an environment that seemed a universe away. But she didn’t need to know all of that. So instead, he let his hand trail down her arm and settle hand as he whispered against the shell of her ear, “I know.”

-

The sound of the water shutting off echoed through the hotel suite, and Kevin was there, adjusting his suit jacket in the mirror. Nimble fingers stumbled over each button, trying to force it between each loop. He didn’t hear her step out, but he knew the moment she did—there was no mistaking it. The soft rustle of the towel and the scent of vanilla and cedarwood filled the room like a gentle caress. His pulse quickened. 

Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of her reflection. She stepped out of the bathroom, her towel barely hanging, just low enough to tease. His eyes traced the curve of her silhouette, the way her skin glowed, damp and soft as she had just walked out of his dreams. There was something about the way she didn’t rush to cover herself. She moved confidently as she knew exactly what effect she had on him—and she wasn’t shy about it.

He couldn’t help but watch as she glanced at him through the mirror, her brown eyes locking with his. Her lips twitched into that playful smile he adored, and for a split second, he wondered if she could see how badly he wanted her. He cleared his throat, running a hand over his jacket again, though the tension in the room wasn’t about fabric anymore. It was about the two of them, the space between them shrinking by the second.

She shifted, pulling her towel just a little tighter, though she didn’t seem to be in a rush to move away from him. She knew exactly what she was doing. "You're still here?" she asked, her voice teasing but soft like she was giving him the green light to stay. The soft pitter-patter of her feet against the tile floor made his eyes drop. Her nails were painted red, a rich shade that complimented her skin beautifully. His eyes fluttered closed briefly as he inhaled deeply.

“Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes, his voice low, full of intention. “I’m admiring the view.”

Her gaze flickered over him, and for the first time, he saw her let her guard slip. She didn’t avert her eyes or try to hide how she was taking him in. No, she leaned into it—allowing him to see the hunger in her gaze, the way her lips parted slightly. Any other day, if he caught her gaze lingering longer than usual, she’d stall like a deer in headlights, like a criminal caught for petty theft. She was letting him watch her.

A beat passed, and she caught his eye again in the mirror without warning. And just like that, something shifted. The way Nia held his gaze told him she was just as comfortable with him in the room. The quiet, simmering tension between them cracked, and she said it—soft and unexpectedly as if it had slipped out without thinking. “Help me with my zipper?” 

Kelvin didn’t have the chance to answer. The casual nature of her movements let him know it wasn’t a question but an expectation to be fulfilled. And yet, even with her confidence boiling over like a kettle too whole, he had not expected her to release her towel like she was the only one in the room. Kelvin’s lips parted to release a shuddered breath he prayed only he could hear. 

She was brilliant; she’d already shimmied her way into her panties, presumably in the shower, but everything else was exposed, well, almost. He’d seen more skin than he’d ever had throughout their relationship, which was deliciously overwhelming. Her hips bit the waistband of the thin panties and hardly held everything she had.

Nia held the towel over her breasts and looked around for her moisturizer. She mumbled incoherent words to herself, lost in her world as though the man she shared a space with wasn’t losing his inhibitions with every passing second. “Kel.” He was pulled out of Lalaland. “My dress is on top of my suitcase. Can you grab it for me?” 

Gladly. He needed a moment to collect himself before he went ballistic. Turning on the balls of his feet, Kelvin did as she instructed. The dress was nothing he’d ever expect her to wear, but he was more than ready to see how the sleek, green dress would accentuate her curves and glisten against her skin. 

“This is nice,” he mumbled, carrying it back into the bathroom. Nia turned over her shoulder and smiled. That Colgate-white smile. His right released the hanger from the confines of the dress, tugging softly at the zipper. She took it from his grasp gently, whispering her gratitude, and shimmied into it. Dear God. 

“I think you have a staring problem,” Nia teased, locking eyes with him in the mirror as she adjusted the dress to cover her breasts. Kelvin’s head tilted to the side and his tongue ran over his top row of teeth. He shook his head. “Like I said, admiring the view.” 

“Zip me, please?” She asked to his reflection in the mirror, shamelessly dragging her eyes down his frame. How much tighter could his clothes get in one night? Kelvin’s steps were slow and calculated as he inched closer to her. As the distance between them closed, the tension amplified further than it had thus far. 

Nia shuddered in anticipation as she felt his warm hands against the small of her back. His hands were large, palms covering a quarter of her lower back. His thumb caressed the skin there, pausing over the faded tattoo. “Cute,” he murmured. Lover, written in a cursive script. His left hand found her waist, holding and cupping in an almost possessive manner, while his right slowly, almost agonizingly slow, pulled her zipper up. His fingertips lingered at the back of her neck, enjoying how the skin raised and how her pulse quickened beneath them. 

His lips parted, but the words were lost. Here she was, back pressed against him, chest heaving, eyes fluttering as she anticipated what would happen next. Hell, he didn’t know either, but what he was sure of was the way she tasted had to be glorious. “You look beautiful.” His sentiment came out in a hushed whisper against the shell of her ear, to which she whimpered. “So beautiful.” 

Kelvin’s lips hovered over her neck, just hardly grazing her hot skin. Once by her side, her hands gripped the countertop to steady her weak knees. Kelvin saw them in the mirror, and a devil-may-care smile threatened to curl on his lips. He could take her right here. Take off her dress—better yet, have it bunched around her hips as he took her from behind, forcing her to watch how pretty she looked when she was begging for more. But it was too early for that. He’d turn her every way but loose, but the time wasn’t right, no matter how badly he wanted to yank the clock off the wall and force its hands forward. 

“I thought you had manners, Nia, what happened?” He teased, nibbling on the shell of her ear. His hand slithered around her back and toward her stomach until it settled at her pubic bone, dangerously close to where the slit of her dress was. One deliberate move, and she’d be his for the taking. “I said, you look beautiful. So pretty.” 

Nia inhaled deeply, and her voice broke slightly. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and her tongue darted out to dampen her dry lips. “Thank you, baby.” Baby? That was new.  He smirked against her skin. He had her where he wanted her, yearning for him, but not to where a line would be crossed. A happy (temporary) medium. Before he got too deep and said screw the reservation, Kelvin announced: “Reservation’s in 30. I’ll let you finish.” With one last peck on her neck, he peeled his body away from hers and walked out of the bathroom, but not before digesting the low moan she released once she thought he was far enough. Ravishing. 

She determined Kelvin would be the death of her. He was too much for her to handle, too hot for her to handle. She’d done well thus far, but as the night progressed and the fiery tension between them loomed like precipitous clouds, ready to rain down upon them, she didn’t know how long she could hold out. 

She had a rule, and he knew it. But goodness gracious, she was ready to renege on everything she said when she stepped out of the bathroom and saw him posted against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, neck dropped, to better access what was on his phone. 

Blue was his color. And it happened to be her favorite. Part of her assumed his sneaky ass wore the rich shade of blue to get her bent out of shape…or bent over. But this was Kelvin—cool, calm, and way too aware of the effect he had on her. The tailored suit he wore accentuated broad shoulders and a trim waist. 

Her throat went dry as she traced his slim form. The low light from the chandelier shone on him like a spotlight, his waves catching the rays. He had an alluring presence that she was desperate to be wrapped in. 

Kelvin glanced up, sensing her presence before she could speak. He smiled small, acknowledging her presence. His eyes swept over her frame, nodding in appreciation of the art before him. Somehow, she managed to look even more stunning than she did before. Her dress pooled at her ankles, but the slit on her left thigh allowed the gold accents on her shoes to shine. Her curly hair was in a slick bun, showing her neck and gorgeous collarbones. “You good?”

Good? Was she good? Hell no, she wasn’t good. Her body was buzzing like an electric wire. She was losing self-control and hardly wanted to go to dinner. She’d much instead release everything she’d been attempting to suppress. But he’d already seen her crumble. She couldn’t fully unravel yet. His head was already big; Lord forbid she gas it further. 

“I’m good,” Nia lied, tucking her clutch under her arm. “You clean up nice. I like the blue.” Kelvin’s head dropped to examine his suit. It was as if he had dressed in the dark and hoped all the pieces matched. “This old thing? Thank you. But you, Niani…look like trouble.”

Her eyes closed briefly. No one said her full name. She didn’t like how anyone else said it—too much emphasis on the second A or insufficient focus on the first I. She liked how Kelvin said it, like a subtle praise she desired to hear on repeat. 

Kelvin tilted his head, pushing off the wall to invade her space. She opened her eyes when his cologne wafted her nose. He noticed it. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, and her chest rose slightly higher on her next breath. One by one, the walls began to fall. Her reaction wasn’t lost on him. The first time she admitted Nia wasn’t her first name but rather a nickname derived from Niani, he tested it like an unusual food, rolling it around, tasting it until he felt right. He remembered how her pupils dilated, and her eyes darkened when it rolled off his lips. 

She liked it when he said her name. And only he could say her name. 

His hand grazed hers, intertwining their fingers. She flinched. He smiled knowingly, but her request took him aback: “Say it again.” Her breath was caught in her throat, and her voice trembled. 

Kelvin leaned in just a little, his breath warm against her ear. The way he said it, low and possessive, made her shiver. Nia swallowed. Her knees were weak, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand there, teetering on the edge, waiting for the right time to fall into him entirely. 

He smiled again, pulling back just enough to give her a glimpse of what was coming. "Dinner’s wait—“

“—take me to bed.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a request. It was a demand as if she knew exactly what would happen next, and yet... part of her still wanted to hold on just a little longer.

Her words were not hesitant, but he could hear how her voice trembled. She’d permitted him to take things further. He wouldn’t go too far but far enough to leave her satisfied. 

-

Nia hummed lowly as her heavy eyelids opened and closed slowly, and she struggled to regain her vision. The chandelier grew tired, leaving the room dimly lit with the city lights. The low buzz of the air conditioning system regulated her overwhelmed body. 

She sat up with a soft grunt, bracing her body with one arm while her other kept the angelic white duvet over her bare chest. Her head craned to the right, seeing the bed bare, and frowned. Her eyes followed their clothes trail, leading to him standing in the corner of the room, back to her, and the hotel phone up to his ear. Like her, his evening attire was long gone, and sweatpants became his uniform. Nia bit her lip as she watched his back flex with each subtle movement. 

She swung her legs over the bed, bending down to fish for an article of clothing to put on. He may have had a show, but with the windows wide open, the last thing she needed was her bare body on display for everyone to see. What she had was for his eyes only. 

Nimble fingers curled around his white dress shirt, sliding it over her long arms. She buttoned it enough to keep her chest covered, then tip-toed to where he stood, eager to feel him against her again. 

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his bare waist, taking note of how he shuddered when the tips of her nails glided across his abdomen. Nia’s lips brushed against his shoulder, and then she pressed her cheek against his back, appreciating how the low rumble of his voice lulled her back to sleep. “That’s fine. Appreciate it, thank you.” 

Kelvin dropped the phone back on the receiver and peered over his shoulder. “Hello to you, too.” Kelvin turned one foot over the other in her arms, taking in how relaxed she looked. Her makeup was smudged, and her lipstick stained the pillow, leaving her lips bare and waiting to be kissed. “Food’s on its way up.” 

Nia nodded and made a noise, something between a content sigh and a low moan. He couldn’t decipher, but she sounded pleased, and that’s what mattered. “Come back to bed in the meantime?” She looked at him with those pretty brown eyes that had gotten him into trouble lately. 

Kelvin nodded, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “Lead the way.”

-

kelvharrjr, nikkidawn, angierose, and 319 others liked this post

nianijanice wine, broadway, and tailored suits. nyc, I love you

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angierose girl who tf is that man?

- nianijanice my secret admirer

kelvharrjr nyc looks good on you, shawty

- nianijanice thank you, handsome

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nikkidawn girl…is it who I think it is?

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[bookshelf-dust]

relief

evan buckley x fem!reader

gif by @suledins

PSA IF YOU’RE A MINOR: GET THE FUCK OFF MY PORCH BEFORE I WHOOP YOUR ASS. THIS FIC IS STRICTLY 18+. I RESPECT YOUR BOUNDARIES, YOU RESPECT MINE.

word count: 6,568

warnings: nsfw 18+ only; swearing, inexperienced!reader, mentions of therapy/insecurities regarding inexperience, conversations about sex, heavy petting, fingering

synopsis: buck is a walking golden retriever. when he asks you out for the first time and begins to learn more about his arson-investigating coworker, it’s easy to say he puts that eagerness to use.

a/n: this is the very first smut fic i have EVER written (aside from some old old dirty nsfw headcanons). that being said, please bear with me, because this stuff is hard!! shoutout to all the wonderful writers who do this all the time because phew! 🤧 i am pretty happy with how this turned out, and i’m proud of myself for writing for a new character and trying something totally different from my norm! i had no plan of direction for this fic when i started it, but i hope the end result will resonate with some of you, and if it doesn’t, i still hope it gives you some good feelings and a little escape from this fuck ass world <33

————

Evan Buckley is a hellishly gorgeous man. Oftentimes, you have to remind yourself that he’s real—that he’s not some sort of mirage, a result of your constant sleep deprived state. He’s the kind of breathtaking that you find to be unfair.

You started working for the 118 as their house arson investigator three months ago. Captain Nash soothed every nerve you had going in, showing you to your quaint little office, introducing you to everyone else in the house. You’d definitely needed the comfort of that transition, but hadn’t expected your colleagues to be so welcoming. 

You were transferred as part of a greater Los Angeles initiative to create stronger communication and collaboration between the first responders and specialized investigators, as so much of their jobs go hand-in-hand. Although you’re pretty sure it’s only because the department heads get sick of answering follow-up questions about causes of fires—if people had insurance, if it was an accident or an attack, etc. 

So they split up you and the rest of your original team into varying firehouses so that there would always be an arson investigator on hand. And if there’s any foul play, then the police can be contacted quicker, as the investigator becomes a direct source to target those issues. You’d complain about all these silly loopholes if it weren’t for the fact that you’d gotten a pretty raise for your trouble. 

In truth, working with the 118 is the most useful you’ve felt in a long time. You know you’re good at your job, and you’d tell anyone who asked that you’ve done the work and you know that to be true. This opportunity has allowed you so much more field work than you could’ve imagined, which excites you. And there is the benefit of the eye-candy your coworker provides. 

Which is why, each time Buck approaches you, you have to blink a few times, press your nails into your palm, do something to ground yourself so that you might be able to carry on a conversation with him. Tonight though, he’s managed to sneak up on you, giving you no time to seem more like a sociable human being. 

“Hey, uh, you ever figure out the cause of that house fire from the other night?”

Buck is propped up against the door to your office, the air immediately responding to his presence, making everything feel lighter. 

You look up from your desk, huff out a breath to try and blow the hair away from your eyes. 

“Oh, hey, Buck. The house that the newlywed couple had just bought?”

Knowing him is enough to tell you that this particular fire would be the one to stick in his memory come week's end, the others being much too mundane for conversation.

Buck nods, a mischievous smirk appearing on his face. 

“Yeah, actually,” you say, encouraged to continue. “Turns out the couple started it without even realizing. They didn’t remember everything at first, but after going over there and questioning them some more, they finally pieced it together.”

Buck steps a little further into your office. You watch as he bends at the waist, hands coming to rest on one of the squishy chairs across from you. 

“How do you start a fire in your own house, and not notice?” he asks, that playful lilt to his voice reaching your ears. 

Your cheeks burn, a flush running through your body and turning you hot, head to toe. You tap your pen against your wrist. This isn’t usually the kind of information you’re excited to share with your coworkers—not that they wouldn’t be entertained by it. It’s that they’ll all be too entertained by it. 

“Well,” you cough, “turns out they were having a rather aggressive intimate moment and one thing led to another…” You trail off, hoping you won’t have to say it out loud. It was bad enough being in the room when they described their evening in detail, talking directly to one another like you really weren’t there.

Buck cocks his head at you, like a cat that’s just spotted a bug. “I don’t follow,” he says. His mouth quirks up the slightest bit at the corners. 

You inhale, mustering up enough courage to blurt it out before this becomes any more awkward than it has to be. 

“They were having sex in the kitchen and her ass bumped up against the stove top, turning on the burner. She’d grabbed onto a dish towel, for support or whatever, and when they moved it upstairs, she tossed the towel behind her and…”

“Neither of them noticed the fire because they were too caught up in the heat of the moment,” Buck finishes for you. 

You nod, sucking your teeth just slightly. “Yep. What’s worse is after spending an hour digging around and talking to them, the wife went ‘You know, now that you say all this, I do remember my bum feeling hotter than usual before we made it to the bed.’” You roll your eyes.

Buck drags his hands down his cheeks, straightening. There’s a smile on his face when he says, “Well, I guess they say love makes you do crazy things.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” you say, laughing a little tensely. You chance a bit of eye contact with him, realizing he’d already been staring at you for who knows how long. “Was there anything else you needed? Or just curious about the local arsonists?”

Buck chuckles, turning his face away from you momentarily. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to go out for drinks tonight.” 

You glance at the clock on the upper right hand corner of your computer monitor. It reads 5:43. “Is it a special occasion or something? I feel like no one’s really done that since Chimney had a kid.”

Buck says your name. A knot forms in your throat. “I didn’t mean with everybody. I meant just the two of us.”

You blink. “Why?” You blurt out, the one syllable making you stutter.

His brows knit together. “Uh, so we can get to know each other better? I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious that I like you.”

You’re pretty sure steam might be coming out of your ears. “Um, well, I don’t like to assume. I mean, you’re a pretty flirty guy, you know?”

He says your name again as he plants his hands on your desk. Your pen falls out of your grasp. You’re mesmerized as you watch him pick it up and place it in the cup over to your left.

“This is Buck 3.0, remember? I don’t just flirt with anyone. Besides, flirting usually comes to me, what with being a sight for sore eyes and whatnot.”

You snort: this cute little laugh that comes straight from the back of your throat that Buck has grown to love. 

Buck decides not to rile you up anymore. “So, drinks or no? I definitely won’t cry myself to sleep tonight if you say no.”

You facepalm. “Yeah, alright. Filling my bloodstream with alcohol might be exactly what I need right now.”

————

Two cosmos in, and you’re feeling a lot better. You’re grateful for having kept a pair of jeans and a relatively-okay-for-going-out top in your locker, allowing you to look somewhat presentable enough to be so near Buck for an entire evening.

So far it’s been pleasant, the both of you making small talk, you showing him pictures of your cat and him listening intently to all the antics said cat gets up to during the night. 

You’re chewing on a bacon covered cheese fry when Buck speaks. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you didn’t like to assume? Like, not assuming a guy would be into you?”

You nod, pausing with your hand in front of your mouth while you swallow. “That’s exactly what I meant. This isn’t something that happens often.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” Buck says, taking another swig from his beer. If he’s not careful, he’s going to spill it down his shirtfront. 

Your chest thumps with self-deprecation, the voices from the sides of your head—the ones that create that pressure behind your eyes—telling you this might be a great moment to talk shit about yourself. To air out all your faults to this man you probably don’t even deserve to be sitting across from. God knows he won’t be interested when he really gets to know you. 

You inhale.

You’ve been in therapy long enough to know the power of positive thinking. You know that everyone is on a different, unique timeline—that things happen for everyone at different points in their lives. 

But being inexperienced in all aspects of the romantic world is something you’ve carried shame for practically your entire adult life. Only you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let it consume you anymore. It’s your life, and you have the ability to change the way you think. That doesn’t mean your body doesn’t still react, though, doesn’t still flush with anger at how your life has gone thus far, like your veins don’t thrum as you think of all the vile comments you could say about yourself, the ways you could punish yourself for being the odd one out. 

That’s why being approached by Buck in such a blunt, upfront way was such a shock to your system. That just doesn’t, or rather, it hasn’t ever happened to you. 

And with Buck being who he is, it felt like even more of a fever dream. You almost wanted to spin around and tell them to cut the cameras, the lenses zooming in on your face—mockumentary style. 

“I’m not though,” you say. “Guys don’t usually come up to me and ask me out on a date, or ask me anything really.”

Buck is staring at you intently, and you almost wonder if you went too far by calling this a date. 

“Are you for real?”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t say it like that, but yeah. I guess there’s just something about me that’s not super alluring to most men? That’s why I was so surprised by you.”

He waves his hands around gently. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around that.”

You eat a few more cheese fries. “Why?”

He stutters for a few moments. “Because you’re just so…so perfect?” You snort, an air of sarcasm to it.  “Like, for one, you’re super hot. You’ve got this whole shy but totally badass vibe about you, and you’re passionate and great at what you do. I guess I just can’t fathom there not being a line of guys wanting to jump your bones if you’ll let them.”

You laugh. It makes Buck smile. 

“I appreciate that you think those things about me. For a long time, I thought that was pretty impossible. Guess when you go twenty four years without anyone actively pursuing you, you start to wonder.”

The table falls silent, and you finish your drink, thanking the waiter when he takes your empty glass, returning with a full cup of water for you.

“So, let me get this clear,” Buck says. Normally those words would freak you the fuck out, but you’re feeling a lot less tense now, less scared of talking about your situation. It’s not what you want, but it’s how it is. “No guy has ever asked you out. So you’ve never had a boyfriend? Never had a first kiss? Never had…sex? Or anything adjacent to it?”

“That’s right,” you say. “And the orgasms I’ve given myself don’t count towards the adjacent. So yeah, you’re right. It’s embarrassing, trust me, I know.”

Buck is still reeling from you saying the word orgasm out loud to him right now, not to mention the images flashing through his mind because of it. He pulls himself together. 

“It’s not embarrassing. Are you embarrassed by it?”

You clear your throat. “I’m certainly not happy about it. Honestly, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what it is that I’m missing that makes me so behind everyone else. And I’ve spent a lot of time being angry at myself. But it’s not like I can force those things to happen for me, you know?”

Buck gives you this look, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. A small grin makes an appearance on your face. 

“Well, I mean, you could,” Buck says. “But I can see why you haven’t. In my experience, just hooking up with someone to get off, or just say you’ve done something, kinda makes you feel like shit.”

You wrap your hands around your cool glass, running your fingers up and down through the condensation. 

“Unfortunately, I’m also a hopeless romantic. So I’ve thought about just hooking up with someone so that I’m not a virgin anymore, but that’s not what I want. I want a proper relationship and someone that cares about me and wants to be with me. Seems that’s a lot to ask for though.”

Buck reaches across the table and sets his hand on your wrist. “Hey, no, it’s not a lot to ask for. And it’s not bad to be a hopeless romantic! Honestly, I think there are more people like that than we know, but they do whatever to fit in. I am sorry that you’ve felt like this is something to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine how that feels. But I also think it means any relationship you’d have would be more successful because you’ve got your shit together already.”

That makes you laugh, just a little, and Buck is immediately thrilled, fully taking your hand in his. You don’t even have it in you to argue with him. For once, you just listen and try to see yourself through his eyes. 

“Well, I do appreciate you saying all of that, Buck. It’s only that I’ve been patient for so long, and I’m starting to think being wanted isn’t in the cards for me.”

Your gaze has dropped to the glossy table in front of you. You can see the reflections from the overhead televisions, from other patrons walking by, waiters carrying trays of drinks. Buck squeezes your hand in a way that makes you lock eyes with him. 

“So…what is it you think this is then?”

You blink. You have absolutely no response in your brain that would be the appropriate answer for this question.

“You asked me out for drinks.”

His grip on your hand moves up to your wrist, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his thumb press into your pulse. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with a man. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of his skin on yours, the feeling of his calloused palms, shockingly cool and free of sweat, much to the contrary of your own. Your heart begins to race when it finally catches up. Maybe it’s better that this is coming on so unexpectedly.

“And…” Buck says. 

You cough even though absolutely nothing is tickling your throat. “You said you wanted to get to know me better.”

If it’s possible, Buck’s smile gets bigger. “Because?”

“You said you liked me?”

“Atta girl!” He teases. A shock of heat shoots straight from your throat down to your low belly. You pray he can’t see it on your face. Luckily, he continues talking. “So, now that we’re clear on me having a thing for you, what would you like to do with that information?”

You take a quick sip of water, mouth suddenly dry. “Well, my immediate thought is that I should run away and hide because in my head, a potential relationship, or whatever, sounds great but right now? Right here with you touching my hand and looking at me? It sounds kind of terrifying.”

Buck starts with the reading again, sliding his thumb further up until it’s nestled in the center of your forearm. It makes you shiver and his eyes flash. 

“Sounds like we’ve gotta get you out of that head of yours and into the present.”

————

With therapy, you’ve gotten exponentially better at learning how to breathe, how to focus on what’s happening right now, so that you don’t spiral out of control just thinking about what might be happening in a few hours, days, weeks. Being more present is something you’ve learned. That is, in your daily life. But when you’re not used to interacting with men, these feelings are so strange, uncomfortable and scary. 

Your imagination can only take you so far, and you’re accustomed to those limitations. Not knowing what a kiss feels like, not knowing the feeling of anyone else’s touch but your own, not being able to properly picture what might happen to your mind and body when in physical contact with someone you want.

It’s both exciting—sitting here, in Buck’s Jeep, as he drives you home, imagining that those feelings might finally be attainable—and nerve wracking, because how does any of this really work?

Reading about relationships, hearing about your best friend’s escapades, watching a love scene on tv—it’s all different than really experiencing it. Truthfully, it feels like there’s a part of your brain focused on dissociating so that your heart doesn’t fall out of your ass or so that you don’t go into hiding before anything can happen.

By the time Buck pulls into your driveway, you’re feeling like hiding might be your safest bet.

He stops the car, turns off the engine. “Let me walk you to your door?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt with shaky hands. 

Buck follows you up the short sidewalk and up to your little front porch. You both pause under your outside lights, listening to the sound of crickets screeching from the shrubs. He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“So, uh, you were kinda quiet on the way here…did I freak you out earlier? Because if I didn’t, I didn’t mean—”

“No!” you blurt. “You didn’t freak me out, you made me hopeful, actually, I think I’m just afraid of all that romantic stuff because I’ve never done it before…”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, of course it’s a little nerve wracking, but wouldn’t it make you happy to experience those things? Like say, a hug, for starters?”

“Are you trying to hug me right now?” You deadpan, though excitement is thrumming through your veins, blocking out any hesitance. 

“Well, actually, I was hoping to kiss you, but warm up to it first, you know?” Buck says, a teasing lilt to his voice, a naughty smirk playing on his lips. You wish there was another word for it, but there’s not. 

You freeze. Your face has got to be on fire. You bring your hands to your cheeks, covering yourself from his view. 

Buck chuckles. Loosely, he circles your wrists. “Hey, don’t hide. What’s wrong?”

You’ve glued your hands to your face. “You’re making me sweat, Buckley.”

If at all possible, this makes him smile bigger, laugh harder, insanely pleased with himself. You hear the rustling of his coat as he leans down, leveling his lips with the shell of your ear. “Is that such a bad thing?” he whispers. 

You pull away quickly, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Not fair!” you joke. “But, I would like a hug…”

At your consent, he’s on you immediately. If you thought he was big just looking at him, having his body pressed to yours, in the most beautiful bear hug embrace you’ve ever experienced, he seems impossibly huge. It makes it feel like you’re the only person in the world. He’s so warm, so solid. His arms are around your back. He’d helped guide yours around his neck, but you’re so dazed that you hadn’t noticed. 

God, he’s so tall. You can feel the soft of his tummy, and you’re afraid that if you stay like this for too long you won’t ever be able to get through another day without craving the contact. His hair is surprisingly smooth where you feel it against your cheek. His form practically swallows you whole. Not to mention how nice he smells. You’ve never been able to understand those lines in your romance novels, talking about spice and man and ginger whatever. But now you do. He smells like vanilla shampoo and woody body wash. 

“This is so nice,” you mumble into the side of his neck, way before you can talk yourself out of it. You can feel Buck’s laugh against your chest. It feels amazing. It’s like an out of body experience. 

He pulls back just enough so that he can look at you, but he doesn’t remove his arms, only shifts so that his hands are gently grasping your waist. You’ve never felt this way before—like all your nerves are being sent into overdrive. You’re alive with the smallest of touches. 

“I genuinely can’t fathom how any man has ever looked at you and not wanted to make you theirs on the spot. I could scoop you up and keep you all to myself right now.”

This time you manage to maintain eye contact with him. You grin, biting the inside of your lip. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m feeling really brave right now so if you were serious about that kissing stuff, this might be the time to act.”

Buck tosses his head back, gleeful laughter filling the small space of your front porch. Even so, his hands move up to the sides of your neck, fingers warm against your skin. “You’re sure?” he asks, his thumb caressing your pulse. He feels a kick of cockiness knowing he’s done that to you. 

“I’m sure,” you say. Nod your head one firm time.

“Maybe your cheek first? As a warm up?”

You nod again. You’ve officially steeled yourself. Buck bends to meet you, tilting your head back just slightly so that he can reach you from a better angle. His hand cups the back of your neck as he presses his lips to your cheek. He’s so sure of himself, so passionate about this small thing, that it feels sensual. It puts you in a trance. His lips remain on your cheek for just a minute, the beginnings of stubble scratching at your skin. You have the urge to giggle like a frenzied teen.

“How was that?”

You bite your lip, hating the way you’re buzzing with adrenaline, filling with excitement at all these new sensations. But more so, you feel so special. So seen. You feel fuller than you ever have before at being treated so gently, being cherished and looked at like you’re this precious being. “I really, really liked it,” you tell him.

“Well, I’m glad.” He winks. “I did too.” He relishes in your little giggle. “How about a real one before we call it a night?”

You’re nodding again. “Yes. I would like that very much. I just want you to know that I might be really bad at it and I’m probably gonna embarrass myself and it’s probably going to be the worst, most awful kiss you’ve ever had and—”

Buck’s lips are on yours, successfully shutting you up. You squeak. 

In truth, it does feel pretty awkward for the first few seconds, buck Buck takes it in stride. Doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just takes what you’re giving him and guides you in a better direction. He tips your head back again, slotting his lips over yours and pressing himself to you. Your brain goes completely quiet. You can’t think or feel anything that isn’t Buck. This feeling spreads throughout your body, easing the ache in your chest, making you feel light on your toes.

Relief.

You admittedly have no idea what you’re doing but try your best to follow his lead, trying to kiss him back with as much passion as you’re feeling inside, tentatively threading your fingers through his hair, setting a hand on his chest. At one point, his tongue runs over your bottom lip and you shiver. Buck’s hand flies to the small of your back, keeping you grounded. You let it happen, curious as to how it might feel. You don’t have words. He licks into your mouth, and you giggle. It makes him smile and he separates from you long enough to enquire what’s got you laughing. 

“I just realized what people mean when a couple looks like they’re eating each other's faces. It’s really nice, actually. Not as gross as people make it out to be.”

Buck snorts. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, already scrambling to get his mouth back on yours. He doesn’t feel like teasing, letting you pull him down, letting you try and lead this one. You’re so gentle—trying to figure out the right way, the way that works for the both of you, to kiss him. He likes that you treat him so carefully.

When you finally end the kiss, you break the silence created by an intense few minutes of eye contact. “Was I bad? You can tell me, I know I was a little clumsy at the least.”

“Nah, not bad,” Buck says. “You’re a quick learner. I enjoyed it. Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

“Me too. Practice makes perfect, right?”

————

For the past few weeks, things with Buck have been going well. Since that first night out, he’s prioritized getting to know you better, spending time with you that doesn’t revolve around a nasty fire and the plethora of causes it may or may not have had. Time that doesn’t allow for any of your coworkers to pick and tease. 

Buck is starting to feel like one of your best friends. That was cemented the night he watched you play Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, enraptured by how quickly you were solving the puzzles and taking down those grimy basement monsters that, frankly, scared the shit out of him. You only told him that you’d played at least four times at the end of the evening. But hey, all your romance novels have told you that the best relationships are based on solid friendships. 

You’ve had the opportunity to kiss him more, some of it sweet and exploratory, you being courageous enough to ask Buck how he likes to be kissed, if he likes it when you tug his hair, if there’s anything you can change or do differently. He’ll only answer those questions if you do first, telling him what’s working and what you want more of. As useful as all of this communication is, it was tremendously embarrassing to share your intimate thoughts with him at first. 

Some of the kissing has gotten a bit heavier. The first time you sat in his lap ran through your mind constantly for days after, appearing in your dreams, day and night. You couldn’t get over the way he felt beneath you—solid, warm, so real. How he sounded when he kissed you, how his hands felt on your hips and the curve of your ass. How it had felt when he’d encouraged you to grind against him for the first time. You hadn’t meant to moan, but it was like relief had shot through you. Like your imagination was finally getting to take a break because now you were actually doing the things you imagined. You felt so alive, so powerful, feeling him get hard between your legs, hearing the strain in his voice as he encouraged you to keep moving until you finished. 

Tonight is the first night of your long weekend. Neither of you have shifts for the next few days, and you took it upon yourself to ask if he’d like to stay over, maybe get takeout and watch a movie or something. It hadn’t been meant as a request with the hope that it would turn into something more. Frankly, you’ve been feeling more shy since that moment you shared a few weeks ago. 

You hadn’t expected to watch a movie in your bed instead of on the couch, hadn’t expected to pause it halfway through because Buck’s stare was practically burning a hole through the side of your head and you had to figure out what was up. 

“You’re staring, Buck. Is something wrong?”

He’d laughed. It was unlike a laugh you’d heard from him before. It felt sensual. It felt laced with want. 

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

Your eyebrows had bunched together. “But…I’m right here. Shouldn’t that help?” That laugh again. 

“That’s not what I mean, sweetheart. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about fucking you with my fingers.”

And that’s how you’d ended up on your back, head pressed to your pillows, with Buck hovering over you. He’s kissing you, dragging his tongue over the sides of your neck and kissing a trail back right back up. His hand is resting on your collarbone, fingers tilting you up to him.

“How’s this feel?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“G-good,” you manage. “Really good.”

He pulls back, sitting back on his knees and setting his hands on your thighs. “Yeah? You’ve been squirming an awful lot.”

The heat radiating off of you, the way you cover your mouth with the back of your hand is enough of a response. Buck doesn’t say anything more, the both of you sitting in silence for a few minutes. He knows you want to say something. But he won’t force it out of you. He’ll wait until you use your words. 

“Buck?” Your voice is a whisper. He hums. You clear your throat, and he bites his lip to hide the pride racing through him at knowing he’s got you all flustered. “What you said before, about touching me? I want you to do it.”

“Yeah?” His smile is so gorgeous, so cocky, and if you weren’t so dazed with lust you might reach out and smack him. 

“Yeah,” you say. You give him your best, pleading eyes. That’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him that way, and Buck knows that he’s gonna give in any time you do from here on out. He leans back down, kissing you again. You take one of his hands and bring it between your legs, encouraging him to cup you. “You’ve been kissin’ me like that for so long…already feel pretty wound up.”

He nudges your nose with his, a smirk playing on his lips. He sets his palm down against you, over your shorts. The heel digs into your clit and he starts rubbing you, slow, but firm enough that you gasp. Your hips buck.

“Honestly,” he says, “I’d thought about teasing you, but I feel like you deserve this, after all that patient waiting you’ve done. Is that what you want?”

His middle finger presses over your hole. You’re so warm. He can feel how damp you’ve gotten, that you’ve started to soak through your panties. 

“Please,” you breathe. “Want you to touch me, so bad, Buck.” You brace your hands on his shoulders, feeling like all this pent up sexual energy is just begging to come out. You feel feral. 

“Okay, baby, okay. Let me get your shorts off, alright?” He taps your hip and you lift up, letting him slide them down your legs.

“Oh, um,” he pauses, a concerned look on his face. “I just wanted to tell you, I-I haven’t shaved or anything. I mean, I trimmed like a week ago, but, if that bothers you, I-” 

“Hey, no big deal,” Buck says. “Doesn’t matter to me. Not ever gonna stop me from making my girl feel good.”

My girl. 

That alone felt like an orgasm.

He pulls your panties down, and you feel heat rising to your face when he marvels at how they stick to you. But the second Buck lays eyes on your perfect little pussy, he’s the one feeling dazed. 

“How no one has ever touched you like this…” He licks a stripe up your inner thigh. “How no one has ever told you how much they fucking want you, never fallen on their knees for you…” He spreads your legs farther, shamelessly trying to memorize every detail of you. “Is beyond me.” 

Buck sets his middle and ring finger on the hood of your clit, starting to rub you in slow, agonizing circles. 

“Because I feel like I could devour you right now.” 

Your feet slide up the bedsheets, legs bending at the knee and allowing Buck to get more comfortable as he settles between them. Buck sets his chin on top of your knee. He’s watching his own hand and how it moves over you. His left hand is pushing up your t-shirt just a little so that he’s massaging the fat of your hip. For a moment he pictures holding onto said hips while he fucks you for the first time, imagines what sounds you might make, and he has to keep himself from letting out a moan.

Buck slides his fingers down to circle your hole, reveling in how soft your skin is, how warm and messy and perfect. He gathers some of your arousal on the tips of his fingers, dragging it up through your lips and over your clit. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow hard, looking up at him. “Feels good. When you do t-that—jesus—the up and down? It’s so nice, but the circles, that’s what will get me to—” 

“That’s what’ll get you to come all over my fingers?” 

You moan. It’s high pitched and whiny, a sound you didn’t know you could make. You force the words out of your throat. “Yes.”

“You wanna take a finger now?” Buck kisses your knee. You’re pretty sure he’s sucked a hickey into the skin above it while you’ve been otherwise distracted. 

“Please, please, Buck, I need to know how it feels—fuck!”

Buck’s fingers are bigger than yours. Much bigger. The sight of him hovering above you, his eyes almost black, burning with desire for you, really does you in. He starts slow: a few soft thrusts of his finger rubbing your walls, exploring the inside of you. 

Then he curls his finger upwards. Your eyes roll back in your head and at the same time your body gives away how fucking turned on you are, how desperate you are for him—and it’s loud. 

You’re so wet that your pussy squelches. Something about that sound flips a switch in Buck, and you’re crying out as he adds a second finger, curling them both, clearly enjoying the filthy sounds you’re making. 

Buck pushes your knee down and away, settling completely beside you, propped up so he can see your face properly while he’s fingering you within an inch of your life. The way he’s looking at you tells you that he’s going to make you come soon. He’s making it a mission. He wants your orgasm as much as you do. He needs it.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. ‘M so glad you let me help out this time. I bet you’ve spent so many nights spread out on this bed, fucking yourself, doing all the work alone.”

Buck’s fingers are making you brainless. You feel blissful, so serene, so calm, so fucking good. He keeps curling his fingers, scissoring them every once in a while. You want to tell him that you can’t usually come just from this, that you need external stimulation. You grab onto his bicep. 

“Yeah, yeah, Buck—I have. You’re takin’ such good care of me.” He slows down his ministrations, letting you take a breather. Letting you gather your thoughts before he pushes you over the edge. You cup his cheek, pull him down for a kiss. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes. 

“Need you to play with my clit, B-Buckley. W-won’t come without it. I wanna come.”

You look down, suddenly entranced by the way Buck’s fingers are moving inside you. He follows your gaze, chuckling to himself. “You like to watch, pretty girl? Guess next time I’ll have to get you a mirror.”

Buck pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you whine. You shiver. You feel so empty. But all is forgotten when he puts the very same fingers that were just inside of you into his mouth. He maintains eye contact with you while he sucks them clean. You moan, despite the fact that he’s not touching you. It’s just so fucking sexy.

His hand returns to your drenched skin, fingers pressing firmly against your clit. 

“Where’s that spot, huh?” he asks. “Show me where it feels the best.” You guide him, a little to your left, that spot on the hood of your clit, not directly on it where the stimulation will be too much, but the spot that has you arching your back, quite possibly more revved up than you ever have been before. 

Buck is quick to begin soothing those precise little circles again, a look of determination on his face. For a moment, neither of you say anything. There’s only the sound of your breathing, the wet, filthy sound of him rubbing at your clit.

That telltale heat spreads its way through your low belly, through the tops of your thighs, through your pelvis, up your spine. It’s right there, you think. 

“Fuck, I’m—” The words are barely out of your mouth by the time your orgasm washes over you, making the room go fuzzy, shrouding you in pure, thoughtless bliss. He fucks you through it, rubbing you until you’re twitching, successfully overstimulated. 

You lay there, covered in a sheen of sweat, attempting to restore your breathing to a normal rhythm when he comes back with a damp cloth. You’d been able to tell him where they were, tell him you could clean yourself up, but he insisted. He wipes you off, gets you clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in your surroundings, taking in your own feelings about what you’ve just done. You feel so nice. So special. Confident in yourself and your body. 

You feel happy. Having this little piece of you cared for so well doesn’t make you whole. You didn’t need the experience to feel complete, or like it made you normal. But you do feel powerful. This was just the icing on top of the cake. Something of a treat. You wish you could think of another way to put it, but you feel like a badass woman. 

Buck’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He bumps your shoulder. 

“I was gonna ask if you enjoyed yourself, but…I mean, I did kind of see that you did.”

You laugh, taking his hand in both of yours. “I did, Buck. I’m glad I got to do that with you. It was perfect for me.”

He shoots you a wink. “Good. And I did wanna preface that I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to do all the other stuff.” He watches the way your eyes crinkle up as you smile. 

“I look forward to doing all that other stuff with you. But for now…wanna have a sleepover?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[imreidswifey]

“𝐄𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨”𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -𝐒.𝐫-

Bad pun but I thought it was cute

Summary: Barista reader develops a crush on regular customer Dr. Spencer Reid, leaving cheesy pick-up lines on his coffee cup each day to make him smile.

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Ship: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

———————————————————————————-

It was the highlight of your mornings: the familiar sound of the bell above the café door, signaling the arrival of your favorite customer. Dr. Spencer Reid.

He was unlike anyone you’d ever met—or served coffee to. Tall, with a lanky build and hair that always seemed on the verge of rebellion, Spencer exuded a quiet confidence wrapped in endearing awkwardness. His mismatched socks and habit of nervously fiddling with his messenger bag strap as he waited for his coffee added to the charm.

You’d been working at Bean There, Brewed That for six months now, and Spencer had been a regular since day one. The man was a creature of habit. He always ordered the same thing: a large Americano with two sugars, and he always brought a book to read while he sipped his drink.

But it wasn’t his order that captivated you. It was his quiet “thank you,” the shy smile that accompanied it, and the way his eyes lit up when he read something particularly interesting in his book.

Which was why, about a month ago, you decided to get brave. It started small—a smiley face on his cup. Then a quote from a book you thought he might like. Then, one morning, you decided to do something completely out of character for yourself: you wrote a bad pick-up line on his cup.

“Are you a magician? Because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears.”

You had fully expected him to throw the cup away without a second glance. But instead, he’d chuckled—a low, soft sound—and looked up at you with wide, hazel eyes. “Did you… come up with this?” he asked, tilting his head in genuine curiosity.

“Uh, no,” you admitted, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I found it online.”

And just like that, a new ritual began. Every day, you’d write a cheesy pick-up line on Spencer’s cup. And every day, he’d read it, smile, and sometimes even laugh.

Today was no different. You stood behind the counter, feeling a little nervous as you scrawled today’s line onto his cup. When Spencer entered, looking as disheveled and adorable as ever, you felt your stomach flip.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid,” you said, handing him his Americano.

“Good morning,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you a second longer than usual.

He took the cup, his long fingers brushing yours briefly, and read the line aloud: “Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, but what you didn’t expect was for Spencer to blush. His cheeks turned pink, and he looked up at you through his lashes, his lips twitching into an uncharacteristically shy smile.

“That’s… clever,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah, well, I figured you deserved a good laugh,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Spencer lingered for a moment, his fingers tapping anxiously against the cup. Finally, he cleared his throat. “You know, statistically speaking, people who share bad pick-up lines with someone are often more interested in… getting to know them better.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was this Spencer Reid’s way of flirting?

“Are you saying you’re onto me, Dr. Reid?” you teased, your voice light but your heart pounding.

Spencer tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “I think I’ve been onto you for a while now,” he admitted, his blush deepening.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he took a deep breath and set his coffee cup down on the counter.

“Would you… like to get coffee sometime? Outside of this place, I mean. Not that I don’t like this place—I do, obviously—but maybe we could… you know, talk more? Without the counter between us?”

It was the most endearing, rambling attempt at asking someone out you’d ever heard.

“I’d like that,” you said, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

Spencer let out a breath of relief, picking up his cup again. “Great. I’ll… uh, see you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed, watching as he walked away, his step just a little lighter than usual.

And on the counter where his cup had been, you noticed something written in his small, neat handwriting:

“Are you a barista? Because you’ve bean on my mind all day.”

Two days later, you found yourself sitting at a cozy little coffee shop across town. Spencer had suggested it, claiming it had “statistically superior coffee” compared to most places.

He arrived precisely on time, wearing a patterned button-down shirt, a sweater vest, and a slightly crooked tie. His hair looked a little more tamed than usual, but there was still a wild curl that defied gravity. He carried a book under his arm—a habit, you guessed, he’d never break.

“Hi,” he said, shifting nervously as he stood by the table.

“Hi,” you replied, smiling up at him. “You’re right on time.”

“Punctuality is… important,” he said, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual. He cleared his throat and sat across from you, placing the book on the table. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I did some research. I mean, not on you specifically—just in general about first dates. Statistically, coffee dates are considered a low-pressure option.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound easing some of his tension. “You did research for this date?”

His blush deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not exactly… well-versed in this kind of thing. I wanted to make sure I didn’t mess it up.”

“You’re doing great so far,” you said, and you meant it.

The barista arrived to take your orders, and Spencer surprised you by remembering exactly how you liked your coffee. He must’ve noticed your expression, because he offered a sheepish smile. “I pay attention,” he said simply.

The conversation that followed was effortless. Spencer was awkward at first, fumbling with his words and occasionally losing his train of thought, but once he found his rhythm, he was captivating. He told you about his work—though he kept the more gruesome details to a minimum—and you listened, fascinated, as he explained behavioral patterns and statistical anomalies.

“You’re really passionate about what you do,” you said, leaning forward.

“I guess I am,” he admitted, his voice soft. “It’s not an easy job, but… helping people? It’s worth it.”

“And who helps you?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My team,” he said after a moment. “They’re like family to me. But… I guess I don’t always make time for myself.”

“Well,” you said, offering a smile, “maybe we can work on that.”

He looked at you then, his gaze so intense it made your breath hitch. “I’d like that,” he said quietly.

As the date went on, you discovered more about him: his love for science fiction, his fascination with obscure facts, and his absolute hatred of cilantro. In turn, you shared pieces of yourself, and he listened with an attentiveness that made you feel seen in a way you never had before.

When the coffee cups were empty and the conversation had slowed, neither of you made a move to leave. Spencer finally broke the silence, his fingers nervously tracing patterns on the table.

“I, um, I had a really nice time,” he said.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice warm.

“I’d like to do this again,” he added, his words rushed, as if he was afraid he’d lose his nerve.

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing his. “I’d like that too.”

For the first time, Spencer smiled—not his usual shy, fleeting smile, but something brighter, more confident. It was a smile that made you realize you’d been right about him all along.

Dr. Spencer Reid might be awkward, brilliant, and a little socially inept, but he was also kind, thoughtful, and deeply, unapologetically himself

And as he walked you home that evening, his hand brushing against yours, you knew one thing for certain: you’d write a thousand bad pick-up lines if it meant seeing him smile like that again.

[porcalinecunt]

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐒 ♡

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 reiner has a strange obsession with your panties, so why not allow him to unleash some of his degeneracy with you?

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ REINER BRAUN X MALE!READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader , pussyjobs , panty fucking , pervy reiner , pussy drunk reiner , mentioned scent kink , whimpering , some dirty talk , implied size difference , pet names (reini, baby, babe) , reiner is the biggest cutie :<

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ ] this was inspired by a vid i saw on twt and i immediately thought of reiner <3 might be my last one for a bit since im heading to japan this weekend. stayed tuned and enjoy!

you never quite got it, this strange yet adorable fixation your boyfriend has. 

reiner, as big and burly as he is, grows weak at the sight of your pretty little panties. whether he accidentally took one out of the dryer or sees you in them while walking obliviously around the house, it strikes a sensitive nerve that has him rushing to your shared bedroom to stroke his boner away. 

he never speaks about it, as he’s too embarrassed to admit that he’s basically turned on at the mere thought of your panties. but can you blame him? with the pairs you wore, he almost asked you to consider modelings for undergarment lines. 

some pairs were simple whites with a different colored bow sitting neatly in the middle, some were in different colors and patterns. his personal favorites being the lacey ones, the pairs that barely covered your skin, the intricate designs keeps his eyes glued onto you while his dick grows an inch in his pants. 

when you’re not around is reiner at his very worst, the moment you’re out of sight is when he indulges in his degeneracy. stealing pairs, used or not, just to inhale whatever sweet scent you left behind as he jerks himself off. his mind would fill itself with whatever fantasy he could conjure up on the spot, eating your sopping cunt or tearing a pair off with his own teeth. you expect nothing once you come back home, ready to slip on another comfy pair to walk around in. 

unfortunately, reiner has a breaking point. walking out of a hot shower with nothing but a towel hanging off his hips into the shared bedroom, catching you scrolling away on your phone in nothing but his oversized beater and a fresh pair of striped panties. one that happens to be his favorite. 

“hm? oh hey there reini~ ♡” you greeted him in a sing-song voice. 

reiner could barely reply, staring at the way your thighs rubbed against one another. it didn’t take long for you to notice of course, reiner has a face anyone can read from afar. “reiner..?” you asked. “something you wanna tell me?” 

boy, did he tell you alright. immediately dropping the towel and climbing onto your startled self, taken aback by how hard he was. you were used to his spontaneous libedo, nothing a quickie can fix. only this time, it’s more then a quick fuck n’ dump. 

“you’re panties babe..” he mumbled, barely telligible until you watched him press his leaking tip against your clothed pussy. oh . . . 

“wanna fuck em’ reini? talk to me sweetie. ♡” you giggled, sneaking your hand down to drag your fingers against his wet shaft. he let out a shaky moan, rubbing his dick against the soaked fabric until it slipped in. the base of his cock trapped between the flesh of your cunt and the pink n’ white stripes of your panties. 

“oh shit—” reiner’s fingers dug into the sheets beside your head until his knuckles turned white. he wasted no time fucking himself against your underwear, the harsh rubbing of the material along with the feeling of your cunt against his girth drove him mad. 

“you l-love this, don’t ya?” you sighed, staring down at the view in awe. you didn’t know what was better, his hardening cock fucking against you or his face twisted in pure pleasure. blonde brows slightly arched with his eyes almost screwed shut, his mouth slightly open with whimpers spilling through, all with his face dusted in a shade of red. 

you were already close by the sight alone, hips now bucking against his. “ah..reini, tell me—“ 

“i love it baby—“ he chokes out. “i fuckin’ love it, shit, i love you..” 

you couldn’t help it, pushing yourself upwards via your palms just to press a soft kiss on his lips. reiner, being the weak one as usual, instantly melts into the kiss until he practically caves onto your body. you took initiative, locking your legs around his waist as you grinded against his crotch while pressing sloppy kisses wherever you could plant your lips on. 

“baby..i’m close..” he muttered in your ear. you already sensed his orgasm from how much he was twitching and spilling pre-cum all over you. 

“oh fuck..!” reiner full on whined, embarrassed at how furiously needy he was from all this. you on the other end, couldn’t have been more aroused by how cute your boyfriend was by a simple pair of panties. 

“ah, i love you too reini..” you moaned out, pressing one last smooch against his jaw. “cum all over me baby, please..♡” 

reiner’s thrusts grew sloppier until his mind blanked out, a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over him, distracting him of the mess he was making on you. blobs of thick cum seep through the fabric, spilling onto your stomach and ruining the pair, surely leaving stains afterwards. reiner watched in both disbelief and adoration of what his perversion led him to, almost missing when you shoved your soiled panties compleatly off and guiding the head of his cock against your soaked cunt. 

“don’t forget me reini!~” you giggled, watching his eyes go wide as he became flustered after almost straight up neglecting you. “shit, ‘m sorry sweets..” he apologized under his breath. he was criminally adorable, you thought to yourself as you cupped his face and gave him a long peck on the lips. “love you! ♡” 

“love you too baby..” 

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[killa-cookie]

idea here so uhm you know since we still have our soul jam we're with gingerbrave gang the entire time and we met different people yeah like just imagine that but meeting mystic flour burning spice first and of course us we need to hide ourselves or fight em off for mystic flour we managed to get away by concealing ourselves and by burning spice we tried helping golden cheese like all the years that we disappeared we gotten more stronger and we managed to fight em off temporarily and to shadow milk is just us having a right out trauma because of him probably on what he did to the readers people or the fact that he mentally tortured us like just give us trauma and instead of pure vanilla becoming truthless Recluse it's us who got corrupted instead because we can't handle it anymore the taunting the voices the overwhelming help us you need to help us from everyone it just took much to handle anymore

I... Didn't expect you to actually give me ideas.

Sorry, I won't make this into the main storyline... But an au. GLUTTONY AU

Not sure if you wanted a fic or HEADCANONS, but I'll make HEADCANONS first. You can ask again if u want fic

MYSTIC FLOUR

Gosh why did this have to happen, you wanted to fight mystic flour the least. She was always so pure, and now she's all about apathy.

Upon reuniting with her she didn't suspect (much) of you, but she did see temperance in you (mystic flour it might seem crazy what I'm boutta say)

You got away with your years of hiding away from society experience and concealed your identity as much as possible. If she did find out it was you, she was sure to keep you to herself and make you succumb to apathy.

BURNING SPICE

You had been helping golden cheese ever since she stepped in burning spice's domain. You had been wanting to help all the ancients in fighting off all the beasts

During the fight he suspected... Nothing. Ever since he became burning spice he was ruthless, actions before words, and didn't give a care to anything else.

You did manage to fight back ever since your last battle with him, his axe was deadly. But you found ways to counter it. He always would strike down if he had enough bloodlust, which is all the time.

SHADOW MILK

Ever since you entered the spire of deceit with the gingerbrave gang, you always felt off. He targeted you the most, because he always knew you were temperance.

He would manipulate you into thinking thou failed all of earthbread, making cookies get killed in the process, he brainwashed you into thinking you were the villain... And it worked.

He mentally tortured you, and he loved it. He was aiming more at you than pure vanilla, he wanted you think turn into sin so bad... What would you be?

Slowly, corruption took over... You were failing your duties, that was true, you left the nation, that was true.... You were the sinner, you were the beast. And it guilted you.

From temperance, the self controlled disciplined virtue. To GLUTTONY, overconsumption of everything. You used to take what you only need, not you only have the feeling to take as much as you want.

How will the gingerbrave gang fight off Gluttony, and Deceit..

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Mahito x Disabled!Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1172

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Confinement, Ableism (what else do we expect from him), Invasion of personal space, Stockholm Syndrome (if you squint), Reader uses a cane to walk, Reader suffers from chronic pain.

Additional Notes: Mahito has feelings he doesn't understand.

“Why are you broken?”

The sentence wasn’t an unfamiliar one. In fact, it was one you’d grown quite accustomed to over the years, in all manner of phrasings, but the sting of it never lessened.

‘I’m not’ is what you wanted to say - to insist that nothing was wrong with you, but such a bald-faced lie would do nothing for you.

“I just am.” You replied, not looking up from the thread you were pulling at in your nest - piles of discarded clothing and fabrics Mahito had no use for. It was makeshift bedding that did little to aid the pain you experienced on a daily basis.

Mahito’s whine caused you to look up in time to see him roll his eyes at your answer, his unsatisfied huff blowing a few strands of his bangs out of his face.

“Yes, I know that.” He bent at the waist, arms extended out, and propped up on the handle of your cane as he rested his weight on it in front of you. For a moment you were reminded of a noir film star in the silent picture era. ”I’m asking why.”

A frown pulled at your lips while a grin stretched across his.

“I’ve already told you.”

“You told me nothing that made any sense, I want details.”

“And what about what I want?” The words were impulsive - gone before you could register how bad of an idea they were.

Luckily, although sometimes you supposed ‘unluckily’, Mahito’s interest in how you spoke to him far outweighed any potential consequence they’d have. It was different, he’d once told you. Brave, yet stupid - like how a small dog would try to fight something much bigger than itself.

A squeak sounded around the cold concrete of the sewer as Mahito squeezed the foam covering of your cane’s handle, and it was hard. Hard not to let anger simmer in your soul at the nonverbal taunt, because that’s what he wanted. A reaction.

Your reaction.

“Why are you broken?” Mahito repeated, his tone and inflection the same as before while he cocked his head.

Again, it was hard not to react.

“I have… problems. In my spine.”

‘Problems’ felt like the best term to use here. With him. Though even still, the word choice caused his expression to practically twist with glee.

“Problems?” He repeated, so much condescension dripping from a single word that it made your stomach churn. “Want me to solve them for you?”

Fear and disgust swam in your heart as much as they did in your gut, and you knew he knew. You knew he could sense it because of the way he looked at you. Hungry for anything you’d give him, both on your own volition and against it.

It was another thing you had grown used to, yet had to swallow down along with the bile that threatened to rise.

“...Not particularly.”

“Why?” This time his tone was petulant as the excitement on his face gave way to disappointed irritation. “It wouldn’t hurt much.”

“Because you don’t even know what it is you would be fixing.”

Mahito drummed his fingers along the cane’s handle. “And whose fault would that be? Don’t you want to get better?” He finished with a coo so mocking your lip twitched - the first of many cracks.

He smiled.

“Of course I do.” Your fingers bunched in the fabric settled in your lap as you practically hissed the words. “But I can’t.”

Mahito hummed and twirled the cane in his hand. “I just offered to.”

You sucked on your teeth. “How generous.” 

“Have I not been with you?.” Laughter mixed with every one of Mahito’s words as he dropped the cane and crouched down in front of you. The nail of his index finger dug into the flesh of your cheek as he poked it, uncaring of the scrape it left behind as he dragged it down your face. “I have yet to hear a single ‘thank you’ for anything, actually, it’s quite rude.”

This time it was your eye that twitched and you had to look away from him.

What was there to be thankful for? Sparing you, maybe, though arguably that was worse than being immediately killed. Learning what he was, what he could do. Ignorance was bliss, and it was difficult to stay that way when the screams of his experiments could go on for hours at a time. 

The food he gave you was another possibility, but even that was laughable. They were scraps at best, and not even given on a regular basis. A large part of you was convinced the half empty bags of chips he'd toss to you was only done so the noise your stomach made would stop interrupting whatever he was reading.

Not that you'd ever tell him such things. You knew it could be worse. Much, much worse.

“Thank you.”

“See? That wasn't so hard!” Mahito patted your cheek twice, making you grimace. “But what are you thanking me for?”

You inhaled deeply. “Everything.”

Mahito’s sharp bark of laughter echoed along the walls, and his fingers grasped your jaw to turn your face back to his.

“‘Everything’?” He cooed, mimicking the pitch and tone of your voice. “I don't think you mean that.”

That was a trap. You knew it was because, once more, he looked at you with that awful hunger in his eyes.

“I do.”

Mahito tutted, “I don't think you do.” His voice almost a sing-song as his nails dug into the skin where your jaw connected to your face. “If you did, you'd let me fix you~.”

“It's not about that.”

“Then what is?” Mahito leaned closer, to the point his nose nearly brushed against yours. It felt like he was trying to look directly into your soul with how intently his eyes bore into yours, and maybe he was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done such a thing.

Each second that ticked by felt heavier than the last. It made you realize just how dry your throat had been this whole time, and you attempted to wet your lips before speaking again.

“...If you fixed me, you'd get bored.”

Mahito merely continued to stare at you after that. With how close he was, it was easy to watch his expression shifting in real time with his thoughts - a detail that was simultaneously intriguing and frightening.

Eventually he sighed, like an owner disappointed with their pet.

“Bored, huh? That's what you're worried about?” The hand holding your face squeezed your cheeks hard enough to force your lips into a pout. “One little flaw changed and that would be that?”

He didn't wait for you to answer, even if you could. 

“If you think I'd ever get bored of you…” He trailed off, nothing too unusual when he was deep in thought, but it was the way he did it that made you want to wish you'd never said anything in the first place.

“Well. You don’t need to worry about that.”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2025. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[gorgeys]

uptown girl ★ jackie taylor x 90sbaddie!fem!reader

the uptown girl has her eye on you, the backstreet boy girl

word count: 3200 warnings: smoking, jackie and reader being cute asf a/n: here's the shitty mood board i made for the 90sbaddie!fem!reader to give you an idea of what i was picturing. i love this pairing sm so expect more blurbs/fics! also lmk if you have any thoughts about them bc i'm foaming at the mouth (to the anon that sent one in my inbox: i love you sm i'm gonna write a lil blurb abt that soon!)

jackie taylor, jeff sadecki, and their cult of friends were characters stolen from a cheesy high school movie.  the clean cut jocks gelled their hair back and drove shiny red cars, while the girls dawned designer outfits and flashed million dollar smiles.  as the children of wiskayok's elite, the luxuries of life were handed to them on a silver platter.  one of those luxuries was the pre-signed checks they used to buy all the liquor and beer kegs imaginable for a bonfire party like this one.

while they gathered on one side of the wooded space, their rich laughter rising in the warm air, their antithesis huddled together on the other side.

that was you and your friends of course.  sitting on the hood of your friend's ford mustang—the car he said he found and totally didn't hotwire—anyone could see why.  with beat-up leather jackets instead of lettermans and breath that constantly smelled of smoke, you and your friends were the furthest from wiskayok's polished royalty.

your group's reputation for ditching school and stealing from liquor stores made you the "wrong crowd" that parents warned their children about.  some even went as far to call you guys a "gang," but that was mostly the classism talking.

it was obvious that none of you were drowning in the same cash that the taylors and sadeckis of the world were.  in fact, those families would have preferred it if you and your friends didn't live in such close proximity to them and their perfect children.

not that any of it mattered to you.  you only lived for a good time.

you sat beside two of your girl friends on the trunk of the car, legs dangling as you passed a cigarette between the three of you.  more of your friends stood around, sipping on beers and telling loud jokes while ignoring the sideways glances and upturned faces of those around you.

your best friend nudges your shoulder and brings the cigarette between her fingers to your lips.

"don't look now, but jackie taylor keeps looking over here," she says eyes flitting behind your head to where you had spotted jackie earlier, tangled in jeff's arms.  "what did you do this time?"

you never would have mingled with jackie taylor if it wasn't for soccer.  the two of you had been on the team since you were freshmen, and you'd somewhat become friends despite your differences as jackie taylor was never one to care for stereotypes. though, as the team captain, she wasn't afraid of getting on your case when you showed up to practice with cigarette between your teeth or when she heard of your latest adventures through the grapevine.

"y/n, you have to stay focused on nationals," she'd scold you in the locker room, only evoking an eye roll out of you.  it was hard to take that stern look on her face seriously when it was so darn cute.

"yeah, yeah, whatever," you'd say, her eyes lingering on you as you brushed past her and walked away.

you shared those stories with your friends, so your best friend could only assume you'd done something new to upset her.  what you hadn't told them was that you and jackie had started spending time together outside of soccer.

it was unusual when she approached you after practice, asking if you wanted to see a new movie with her, since your friendship had been strictly limited to soccer and school.  but you had already been looking forward to seeing that movie, why not with jackie?

it turned out that you enjoyed hanging out with jackie more than you thought you would.  her light was infectious and your cheeks hurt from smiling by the end of the night.  you were surprisingly glad that you had blown off your friends for her.

since then, you'd hung out with her once at her house and another time at the retro diner you frequented.  you guys weren't best friends by any means, but you slowly found yourself growing more comfortable around jackie.

"i didn't do anything this time," you say, pulling the cigarette from your lips.  almost everyone gives you a suspicious look.  "i swear, guys!"

"then what's her deal?  she's been looking over at you all night," your friend says, stealing the cigarette back.

"for real?" you ask. you're aware of everyone's eyes on you, wondering what the hell jackie taylor wants with you.

your friend nods her head, cueing you to finally look over your left shoulder toward jackie.  you find her already looking back at you from a distance.

she's leaning against jeff's car, facing you with her arms crossed over her chest and a cup of something in her hand.  jeff and her other friends are in the middle of a conversation, but she seems removed from it.

when she catches your gaze, she picks her hand up and gives you a wave.  her effortless smile reaches her eyes, and you almost can't believe how happy she looks to see you.

you raise your hand in a casual wave and a weak smile, ignoring the strange feeling in your chest.  you quickly turn back toward your friends.

you're not sure if it's jackie's disarming smile or knowing she's been staring at you that makes your chest tighten.  or if it's the feeling of your friends' eyes watching you share a moment with her, little miss perfect, that makes you uncomfortable.

either way, it's something you don't want to think about.  it's not like you and jackie would ever be more than what you were right now.  you tried not to worry yourself with what could be, rather you chose to focus on what was.

but the looks your friends throw your way are hard to ignore.  one of the guys breaks the silence with a cat call whistle.

"so, jackie taylor, huh?" he asks, an irritating smirk tugging at his lips.  you look back at him with a deadpan expression.

"what about her?"

he just looks at you for a moment, wondering if you're being serious or not, before he decides that you are.

"are you kidding?  did you see her?" he asks, stunned by your blindness.

"what?" you ask with furrowed brows, still not catching on.

he doesn't answer, but shows you instead.  he puts on a stupid, exaggerated smile and waves enthusiastically in an overdramatic impersonation of jackie.  the excitement in his eyes mimics jackie's, and laughter echoes around you.

"come on, she did not look like that," you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"oh yes she did," he says before taking a puff of his cigarette.  "she practically had heart eyes when you looked at her."

"no, jackie's just like that with everyone," you insist, though you're not sure how much you believe your own words.  you can't help but second-guess yourself: was she really that happy to see you?

"no, she is definitely not," one of the other guys says.

"see, i told you!

"yeah, girls only look at you like that when they want to hit."

you smack your friend's shoulder and shoot him a look, though he's more amused than hurt.  you're not too surprised by his instigating.

"honestly, i second that," your best friend says from beside you.  you nearly get whiplash from how fast you turn towards her, in disbelief that she would join in on this stupid joke.  "what?  she was kinda giving you a look."

"what look?" you ask too eagerly.

"like...the look," she says, a smile forming after she notices the awe on your face.  "what?  is it that crazy?"

"there's no way," you say, shaking your head.  you look around and suddenly realize the only person you can convince is yourself.  "oh my god, is everyone seeing this?"

the chorus of nods and agreement hits you like a ton of bricks.

"jesus," you say, running a hand through your hair.  "is that why she wanted to hang out?" you mumble, more so to yourself.

"hang out?" one of the girls suddenly exclaims, outraged by this revelation.  "you didn't tell us you guys were hanging out!"

"yeah, cause it wasn't that-"

"well, it's confirmed then," one of the guys says.  "jackie taylor wants you," he says in a teasing, sing-songy voice.

in a matter of seconds, it seems that everyone joins in to tease you into oblivion.

"don't know why she'd go for a backstreet fucker like you, though," your best friend says with a laugh, smacking the back of your head.

you try to laugh along, but you're still not convinced that jackie taylor wants you.  you're trying to put the pieces together in your head, but they're not fitting.

"yeah, she's your uptown girl!" one of the louder guys shouts.

not even a second later he's jumping to the middle of the group and breaking out into song.

"uptown girl!  she's been livin' in her uptown world!" he sings horribly.  he pulls up the collar of his leather jacket while dancing flamboyantly.  without missing a beat, another guy joins in, matching his energy.  "i bet she's never had a backstreet guy!  i bet her momma never told her why!"

you and your friends are left in stitches watching the scene.  you clutch your stomach in a belly laugh as nearly all of the group joins in singing, not caring if anyone else notices.

"i'm gonna try for an uptown girl!"

everyone in a fifty foot radius catches sight of your friends causing an unnecessary scene, most of them scoffing and shaking their heads at you.  but not jackie taylor, who finds you keeled over in laughter and smiles in her starry-eyed way.

you're so free, she thinks.  so happy and lively and unapologetic.  you're so you.  and you're so unbothered by others' opinions and detached from their expectations, a breath of fresh air from the world she lives in.  it's what drew her to you in the first place and what pushed her to this new level of adoration.

she wants what you have.  she wants you.

watching you laugh and joke so unashamedly with your friends, she imagines herself beside you.  she imagines being tucked into your side and leaning her head on your shoulder.  she imagines hearing your infectious laughter right in her ear.

instead she's stuck listening to jeff and his friends talk about the game for the tenth fucking time.  she forces a smile every once in a while, but you're consuming her thoughts.  especially when you look so damn good from across the bonfire.  she couldn't stop staring if she tried.

it gets to the point where she can't settle for watching anymore.  she feels too far away from you.  she needs you up close.  she needs to feel your eyes on her.  she needs to see that smile reserved only for her.

after your laughter has died down, jackie catches your eyes straying back over to her, and she strikes.

you notice her mouth something from across the bonfire.  you think you know what she's saying, but you need confirmation.

'what?' you mouth back, eyebrows knitting together.

jackie pushes herself off of jeff's car and takes a few confident steps toward you.

'come here,' she mouths again.  this time her two fingers making a clear come hither motion.

without another thought, you slide off the trunk of the car.  you don't even care what she wants from you; if she's telling you to come over there, you're going over there, no questions asked.  you snatch the cigarette from your friend's hand before you leave.

"hey!  i was-"  her eyes follow yours.  "oh."

everyone catches on and suddenly you're hearing cat calls and "oohs" from every direction. 

"go get 'em, tiger!" your best friend says, punctuating her words with a smack on your ass.

you bite your lip to hide your smile as you walk away from your obnoxious friends and towards jackie.

she fluffs up her bouncy curls with her hand as she walks toward you, a confident, vibrant smile fixed on her lips.  you think she looks the closest to perfect a human being could achieve, especially in that black dress with the pink floral print.  you remember seeing it in her closet when you were at her house last week.

"that dress is goregous, jackie.  you'd look so good in it," you said, leaning back on your elbows on her bed.  she turned away from you so you wouldn't see the blood rushing to her cheeks.

it seems like she took your words to heart.

"hey," she says when she meets you halfway, her smile growing impossibly larger.  it's contagious.

"hey," you say, leaning back and placing your free hand in your back pocket.  as you do, the hem of your skin-tight crop top rises.  jackie's eyes are instinctively attracted the growing sliver of skin between your top and the low waistband of your baggy jeans.

she swallows before her eyes rise back to your face.

"you look really pretty," she says.  "you always do."

"stop it, jackie," you say, trying to hide your growing smile by bringing the cigarette to your lips.  she doesn't miss it.

"stop what?" she asks, grinning and leaning closer to you.  there's nothing she loves more than playfighting with you.

"flattering me," you say, following her lead and stepping closer.  you take a drag of the cigarette then turn your head to exhale the smoke.  jackie's eyes are trained on your lips as they from a perfect 'o'.

"i'm not," she says, fingers catching on the chain of one of the necklaces layered over your chest.  "because i mean it."

she sounds so genuine that your heart aches beneath her fingers.  she tugs on the pendant of one of your necklaces, bringing you even closer.

"well, that means something coming from you.  you look perfect, as usual" you say.

she can't hide her reddening cheeks this time, nor her stupid smile.  she hums sweetly.

"good answer," she says, sharing a chuckle with you.  "can i get a drag?" she asks, nodding toward your hand.

you wordlessly lift the cigarette up, offering it to her.  instead of taking it from your ring-clad hand, she grabs your wrist.  with your hand still holding the cigarette, she pushes it between her lips and inhales, keeping her eyes locked on yours the entire time.

you've known jackie taylor to be touchy and warm with all of her friends, but this felt different.  maybe it was your friends getting in your head, but whatever jackie was doing felt reserved only for you.  as much as you wanted to deny it, you liked it that way.

"wow, jackie taylor smokes?" you tease before she drops your hand.  "don't you know it's bad for you, your highness?"

she intentionally blows the smoke in your face, causing you to wince and frantically wave it away with your free hand.

"oops, didn't see you there," she says with a self-satisfied grin.

"hmm, right."

with smoke still clouding your vision, jackie takes the opportunity to glance back down at the bare skin of your stomach.  she feels the urge to hook her fingers in the loops of your belt and pull you impossibly closer.  she holds back for now.

"so what were you and your friends singing about?"

"oh, um..."

we were singing about you jackie!

"just, y'know, being stupid as usual," you shrug.  you couldn't scare her with the truth.

"well, it looked like fun," she says, almost longingly.

you were aware of how jackie resented her own friends sometimes and you truly felt for her.  you remember her twirling her straw around in her milkshake while she confessed that everything felt so fake and forced with them, and especially jeff.

that's why she was so attracted to the raw, unfiltered essence of you and your group.  maybe it was just her privileged curiosity talking, but you could tell she was fascinated with how different your life was from hers.

"y'know, you could...hang with us sometime?  i mean, i could introduce you to everyone, if you want," you say casually.

"really?" she asks, eyes instantly lighting up. 

she wants to be immersed in your world.  she wants to be immersed in you. 

"i mean, it wouldn't be weird?"

"no, everyone's pretty cool.  it doesn't have to be a big deal or anything...or we could just hang out if you'd like that," you say, trying to play it cool but feeling unusually excited.

"yeah," she says, grinning beautifully.  "we should totally hang out first.  like, whenever you're free, you should come over." 

she pauses for a second, biting her lip.  her eyes scan your face for a sign of disinterest, but she can't find any.  so, she steps closer to you, her fingers creeping toward your belt.

"or, if you wanna go right n-"

the sound of screaming scares both of you and jackie jumps back, her hand nervously falling to her thigh.  you look over jackie's shoulder and she turns, only to find your teammates all shouting over each other while trying to separate shauna and taissa.  it seems they've attracted everyone's attention as randy only adds to the chaos by shouting "cat fight."

jackie audibly groans, partly because she hates to see her team fighting, but mostly because they've infringed on her time with you.  she stomps toward them and, though you don't want to get involved in whatever is going on, you feel the need to follow her.

"enough!" she yells in her captain voice, so different from the way she had been speaking to you.  she immediately silences everyone.

she sighs and looks back at you for a second, almost as an apology for their behavior and how they've derailed your night.

"yellowjackets, with me, now!" she shouts, stomping away from the bonfire and toward the darker part of the woods.

while the others follow her reluctantly, you don't move, hoping you might be able to sneak away from this trainwreck while you still can.  but, as if she could feel the absence of your presence, jackie turns and finds you standing too far away from her.

she walks back over to you and grabs the same wrist she had held just moments ago.

"sorry," she murmurs, eyes softening for you.  "but you too," she says, before dragging you along with her as if she had separation anxiety.

you look over your shoulder back at your friends, who are all too amused by you and jackie.  most of them are making lewd gestures like scissoring their fingers together or thrusting their hips just to tease the two of you.  you can only send them a strong middle finger before jackie whisks you away entirely, though you can hear the remnants of their obnoxious laughter.

you look down at your wrist and the tight grip jackie has on it.  she doesn't need to be guiding you like this anymore, but you don't mind.  if you're being honest, you like it.

you slide your wrist out of her grip for only a second before you place your hand fully in hers.  she looks back at you, anger dissipating from her face, and you give her hand a gentle squeeze.  a smile creeps onto her lips, and she momentarily forgets the situation at hand.

if anyone was proof that opposites attract, it was definitely you two.

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina! I don’t remember if I’ve already written to you about this or if it was somewhere else, but still. Regarding the “1D at the Brits” rumour - I’m about 95% confident that no such thing will happen and, moreover, that it could be a rumour leaked by the award show itself.

First of all, the timing. It appeared just after the tickets went on sale, but before the final nominations announcement. Within 24 hours it was a complete sold out - I know because I monitored them closely lol. The Brits do usually sell out, but definitely not as fast, not even (from what I could gather) in 2023 when Harry was expected to be nominated.

Second, the nature. The initial rumour was very firm that it would be a musical performance by 1D, but later repeats state that it’s still in the works, and more likely a video, and not even certainly featuring the boys. Alrighty.

Third, the motivation. Brits have had a steadily declining viewership for a good decade, with a notable peak in 2023 (I wonder why 👀). The nominations this year are not so banging, there is much overlap with last year, but after rumours like these about either a reunion or Harry’s comeback, the viewership may climb a good bit. Any speculation works, and if it’s not Taylor Swift attending (which is a point of discussion before any major award show lol, regardless of her nomination status or relevance to it), then it’s a 1D reunion.

Fourth, the patterns. Blame my steel trap brain that fights against low attention spans, but how different is it from Harry at Fire Aid? Or Harry at Glasto, or Harry literally anywhere, or the reunion rumours that appeared after Liam’s passing? Especially the last ones: first they also had people say (even on your blog!) that “everything was ready and about to be announced” (an over-emotional acquaintance of mine was even saying that “someone told her that someone found the rent contracts with Wembley and the marketing plans”, yeah sure). And then it was “oh they’re thinking about something now”. And then it was nothing. So rumours come and go, and if they don’t come true, they’re instantly forgotten. But I remember, and by now I really don’t believe anything.

Finally, the boys. From what we’ve seen of them over the past months, and especially from how Liam’s funeral was organised with an explicit intention to prevent a picture of the four of them with a “reunion” headline, I think they’re nowhere near being ready to withstand that, definitely not on an actual stage. And if any of my suspicions are true, it’s honestly abhorrent to think that their grief (and also in part ours, as a fandom) is being used as a marketing instrument, and that an act of mourning and remembrance for a lost brother can be labelled as a reunion.

And honestly, many rumours (not only these about 1D at the Brits, but also about Harry and occasionally about others artists as well) feel like they aim to build up the speculation in the media and in the public sphere and to force the artist’s hand through it. A self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. But that’s probably a discussion for another time.

I could kiss you. You have summed up very eloquently what’s been running around in my brain about this, too. And @apparentlybychance was literally saying the same thing about tickets sales this morning.

I’m super skeptical anything will happen. I’m super skeptical of my supposed insider anon (who, if you’re real and you actually want us to know something, come off anon and give me something to believe).

If anything, maybe they individually taped something if there’s some sort of video tribute. Because honestly, if they show up, it’s going to take the focus off of Liam. We could be wrong, but I’m not expecting them to be there.

[yanderes-galore]

hear me out, Arthur with darling who's a bounty? Like one of the posters you can get in the various sheriff's offices

Oh! I like this idea since it's a bit hypocritical of him.

Yandere! Arthur Morgan with Bounty! Darling

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Threats, Overprotective behavior, Murder, Paranoia, Coercion, Dubious companionship/relationship.

It's ironic that Arthur, an outlaw, hunts down bounties.

Truthfully he's just doing it for the money.

It's not like he's a Pinkerton or anything.

The sheriff hires him as a gun to take down other outlaws tormenting folk.

Doesn't matter what they did, as long as Arthur takes care of them then he'll get his money.

Normally this job doesn't affect him.

He's used to shooting or lassoing folk.

Usually it gets him a nice sum of money to present Dutch.

Although... What if Arthur couldn't do one bounty.

Usually with bounty hunting, the only appeal to him is the money.

What if he finds something much better than... money?

I imagine Arthur would have to find some sort of... reason between to spare you.

Like maybe you aren't even that high value a target.

Or maybe you did what you did because you had no other choice...

If you want a more platonic view, maybe you're too young for him to want to shoot or give to the sheriff.

If you want a more romantic view, you manage to swoon him enough to get away.

Either way, if Arthur is somehow intrigued by you, it doesn't take much to make him rethink taking the job.

He himself is wanted dead or alive... So he understands the struggle.

Maybe after Arthur decides against it he can't get you out of his head?

He sees your wanted posters everywhere and a small part of him is almost... concerned.

After all, if he doesn't do something... Someone else will.

Arthur's first few encounters with you are often hostile or begrudgingly neutral.

You may have even paid him off a few times from your robberies just to keep your freedom.

Eventually Arthur uses these times as alternative ways to get money.

You keep your freedom, he gets paid, he even looks forward to you two meetings.

Yet there's a nagging fear in him.

You could still get hurt due to other bounty hunters.

Just because he hasn't harmed you... They still could.

This anxious thought might be what makes him obsessive.

He's concerned about you.

You're out there all alone and you can't bribe everyone.

Arthur wasn't expecting to get so worked up about some other petty criminal.

Yet here he is, staying up in camp with a million different thoughts running through his head.

It would not surprise me if Arthur continued to track you like he did when you were a target of his.

He follows you from a distance on his horse, watching you make camp quietly.

He isn't sure how he wants to approach you and tell you he's friendly.

Will you actually trust him or still try to bribe him?

While he typically watches you from a distance, he sometimes even sits at your camp to chat.

He wants you to trust him, he isn't after your bounty anymore.

Think of him as an ally... a friend.

Sometimes Arthur even finds a few bounty hunters after you.

He ends up taking care of them before they get to you... two well placed shots in the head usually takes them out.

Is it wrong of him to do this? It doesn't matter to him.

He can't get you out of his head... He doesn't want anything wrong to happen.

You can bet that eventually Arthur will try to invite you to Dutch's gang.

He knows you'll be well taken care of there.

You'll always be under his watch, at least.

You reject Arthur a few times, but the man is quite persistent.

He may be nice now... but what if he isn't?

What if Arthur was very adamant you joined.

It starts as a suggestion.

Wouldn't it be safer to travel in a group?

Then it becomes more of a subtle threat...

Y'know... Your bounty is pretty high now....

You won't be able to pay Arthur off forever, right?

So... why don't you come with him?

He can take care of you, you'll have company and food... and somewhere to go.

Bounty hunters are too much of a danger when you're alone.

If you don't come with him, well...

He'll stop accepting your money.

Then there's nothing stopping him from turning you in, right?

It's simple, isn't it?

You either come with him to join the gang...

Or he turns you in to the sheriff.

Is that a threat? Perhaps...

But you'll thank him later.

Arthur insists he's doing this because he cares.

Like he wasn't hunting you down months ago.

He'd drag his obsession to the gang if he has to.

You don't have much of a say in the matter once Arthur starts his threats.

It seems like you join him or you die... and you happen to like what little freedom you have.

So Arthur succeeds in dragging you to Dutch, saying you can be a good help to the group.

He takes care of you like he says.

It's... actually a bit strange for you.

This is the very same man who hunted you down for money...

Now he's treating you like you're part of some kind of family?

You struggle to get used to the new life you were forced into...

You don't entirely hate it, but you are a bit intimidated by Arthur.

After all, now you have to be part of the gang.

At least this puts Arthur at ease, right?

Now he doesn't have to worry about you being killed as long as he keeps you in camp.

Sure, you may hate him now, but this is a good deal, right?

Arthur knows you'll come to enjoy the gang's company at some point...

You already enjoy his company too...

Isn't this better than the noose?

[jinxedshapeshifter]

Randomly had a Thought earlier. Klavier's default response to Kristoph seems to be the fawn response. This isn't even subtext. Apollo and Trucy both point out that Klavier's acting different and specifically attribute it to Kristoph being on the witness stand, and their dialogue implies he's experiencing a fawn response. Here's some specific bits of dialogue.

After pressing the "I have been in solitary confinement for half a year. How could I poison her?" part of Kristoph's testimony:

Trucy: ...Prosecutor Gavin's on the warpath, isn't he? Apollo: Yeah... You think so too, Trucy? Trucy: I bet I know why. He must be nervous with big brother watching!

After pressing the "The prosecution's case holds. She poisoned her father, then attempted to poison herself." part of Kristoph's testimony:

Trucy: Wow, the two brothers together is like a two-man wrecking team! Apollo: They could use a little more teamwork, though.

*Also notable here is that after pressing this specific part of Kristoph's testimony, Klavier starts to answer Apollo's question on why Vera would commit suicide, let alone by doing her nails, and Kristoph answers for him and Klavier just lets him. If that doesn't qualify as a fawn response, I don't know what does, because that's the ONLY time Klavier lets a witness talk over him. Also, Apollo's dialogue here specifically is what made me say Trucy and Apollo's dialogue implies Klavier's experiencing a fawn response.

After pressing the "Surely, you aren't going to suggest I was responsible for poisoning her father, too?" part of Kristoph's testimony:

Trucy: Does Prosecutor Gavin seem strange to you, too? It's like he's all grown-up… Apollo: I think that's how prosecutors are supposed to be, actually. (Though he is acting different than usual... ...I'll bet it has a lot to do with his brother Kristoph being in the room...)

And then Klavier goes completely silent until Apollo brings up the fact that the stamp from the Mishams' studio was found in Kristoph's cell, and he simply says "What...?!" in response to Apollo reiterating that Kristoph killed Drew). And then he goes silent again until Kristoph accuses Apollo of bluffing a second time.

This leads into my second Thought on Klavier's behavior in this entire scene. I might just be projecting but I think Klavier might've been dissociating here too. In fact I'd be surprised if he's not. I personally have OSDD, which causes me to experience dissociative trances and depersonalization. If I was in Klavier's position, it would've at the very least made my depersonalization symptoms worse (which says a lot because I'm already in a near constant state of depersonalization). I'm not really sure what to add here but basically, I think there's a pretty high chance that Klavier was experiencing dissociation during Kristoph's testimony. Fawn responses are commonly traumagenic, and so is dissociation.

Anyway I didn't go into this expecting to admit I'm projecting my OSDD onto Klavier but I'm definitely leaving this admitting I'm probably projecting my OSDD onto Klavier lol