#the more obscure sometimes the better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brattyspence · 10 days ago

Text

u up? | s.reid

summary: early season!spencer is reluctant to request nudes from gn!reader while hes gone on a case. warnings & key info: nudes (what an ugly word), sexual themes implied, nothing rlly explicitly stated. a very reluctant and maybe insecure spencer, a hint of teasing a/n: this is rlly just a drabble but i love the idea of early season!spencer who is kind of nervous to ask for things but also rlly down bad for reader! maybe i’ll make more with this pairing bc its so fun. word count: 1.5k my masterlist!

Spencer flopped back into the queen-sized bed with a sigh. The hotel room was small, the generic beige walls blending into the generic beige room. The only light source he had at present from was the warm, yellow light of the bedside lamp and the screen of his phone.

The team had successfully closed another case. The unsub was apprehended after a week-and-a-half long chase, but he didn’t feel any better.

The relief that followed long cases like this one was different. Of course the week had been long and tiring. He hadn’t exactly slept well between the late nights at the local precinct and the looming anxiety about finally catching the guy. When Hotch made the decision to fly out the following morning to allow the team to get some sleep, he wasn’t so thrilled.

He had returned to his hotel room, showered off the day (and it’s germs) before attempting to get into bed, but something was amiss.

Catching the unsub didn’t mean just another solved case, but it also meant coming home to you. Maybe it was selfish, sure. Still, he had looked forward to it all day, and the sudden change in plans threw him off. Here he was, on top of the scratchy maroon bedspread of the hotel, very awake and very much frustrated by the prospect of spending another night apart from you.

Sexual frustration and Spencer were two things you never would have put together. He was the most patient man in the world to you. Sometimes you still consider it his biggest flaw. When you first began dating him, it took weeks for him to work up the nerve to kiss you first. Sex was another beast. Somehow he wasn’t comfortable initiating anything for fear that he was pressuring you, and it seemed that no amount of reassurance would encourage him to make the first move.

You were half asleep in bed when you heard the buzz of a new notification. You lifted your head from its spot in the pillow, and patted your hand around to find your phone somewhere in the mess of sheets in your bed. When you found it, you squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright screen in the darkness of your room. He never liked to interrupt you when you were sleeping. It was another one of his obscure demonstrations of love. If you ever texted him past 9 PM, he would delve into a rant about how the blue light of your screen would keep you up all night, or how sleep deprivation could cause a multitude of issues, and “I just don’t want to be the reason you didn’t get a good night’s sleep.”

Patient, kind, respectful, and painfully so.

Which was why you were thoroughly confused when you received what could only be interpreted as a very Spencer Reid version of a ‘u up?’ text at 12:51 AM.

Spencer: Hi. I miss you. Are you awake?

You: i am now :) i miss you more.

Spencer struggled to find the right words to type. He always relied on you dragging it out of him. He drafted a few responses, deleting them immediately. His fingers hovered the keyboard for a moment, contemplating if he should just let it go.

You watched the ellipses come and go as he typed. It disappeared for a few seconds, and then reappeared. Eventually, you decided to call him.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft, maybe more so than usual. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was hoping to hear your voice,” you replied.

“But it’s so late. You should be sleeping, and now-”

“Spencer,” you replied, cutting him off. “I don’t care about that. You’ve never been one to message so late, so I know something must be bothering you. Talk to me.”

You heard the soft rustle of fabric against the microphone.

“I was just really looking forward to coming home tonight.”

You sighed. “I know. I was looking forward to it, too.”

“I just…” he trailed off. “I was thinking about you all day. Thinking about seeing you, thinking about… just thinking about you.”

“Hm.” You sandwiched the phone between your ear and shoulder before sitting up. The jersey sheets pooled around your waist as you leaned across your nightstand, flicking on the bedside lamp. Your room filled with the soft glow. “Thinking about me?”

“Yeah.” His voice was almost a whisper. “That’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s all, honey.”

You could visualize his reaction through the phone, the same reaction he always had when you pinned down his real intentions. He probably made an attempt to roll his eyes and brush off your comments, but he’d blush seconds later and avoid eye contact, knowing you were right.

“Why do you… say that?” Somehow his voice was even softer.

“It’s one in the morning, Spence. You never call this late,” you explain. “And you’ve been away for a whole 10 days.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed audibly.

“Yeah,” you repeat. “So you clearly want something from me.”

Silence.

“Do I need to drag it out of you?”

He huffed. “It feels really juvenile. And I just respect you so much, and I don’t want you to ever think that I’m using you for anything, or that I don’t value you-”

“Spencer. We talked about this.”

“Right.” He sighed. He held the phone to his ear with one hand, the other pressing into his eyelids as he formulated a response.

“So,” you clear your throat, and sit back into your pillows, your phone lying across your chest. “Ask me.”

“I don’t…” he exhales. He’s struggling to come to terms with the fact that you have him figured out so well. He’s quiet for a few seconds before he gives in reluctantly. “I was looking forward to seeing you tonight. Not just talking.”

“Spencer Reid,” you reply, amused. Teasing him was just too easy sometimes, especially when he was so easy to rile up, even if he knew you were just joking with him. “Are you asking me for nudes?”

“I… It just sounds so wrong. Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, come on. Just ask me.”

He groaned. “I don't want you to think that my love for you has anything to do with your body. You know that, right? Because it doesn't. Although I do love… looking at you. That sounded weird. I just mean that I don't want to put you in a position where you feel commodified based on something like your physical appearance when you have so much more to give, and it's not respectful of you. You're brilliant and kind and so, so good to me, and it’s just so vulgar, I think-”

He fell quiet as his phone buzzed in his hands. He could just see the preview of the text you had sent him. After changing the call to speakerphone, he opened it, scrolling through the carousel of photos, taking in the images.

“You think..?”

“Jesus Christ…” he breathed, opening a slideshow of photos you had taken just for him. Sent to him, for his personal use. He would have felt bad about it if he wasn’t so horribly entranced by the sight of them. Whatever was left of his rambling fizzled out.

“You're not gonna finish your sentence?” You asked.

“I…” swipe. “God, I don't remember what I was saying.”

You chuckled. “Does that fix your problem?”

He was clearly short circuiting. “Mhm. It does.”

“See what happens when you ask, Spencer?”

“I feel guilty,” he replied, his voice breathy and quiet. He was clearly having some kind of internal struggle about the ethicality of the situation. It didn’t bother him enough to look away, though.

“Why?” You ask.

“Because… these are really…” He stopped. Although you couldn’t see it, his cheeks were burning red. “Are you sure you’re okay with me having these?”

“Spencer,” you say. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve seen me naked plenty of times. I watched you fold and organize my sock drawer without my asking last week. You preheat my coffee mug for me every morning. I’m not just okay with you having these. I want you to have them.”

Oh. He swallows thickly, forcing himself to close the app and come back to his senses.

“But…” He trails off. He still sounds a little distant, pausing a bit too long between words, clearly still looking the photos over. “How did you… did you have these ready to send?”

“I did. I took them the other night. I was just waiting for you to ask.”

You wait a few seconds to see if he says something else. He doesn't. The line falls silent.

“Are you okay over there?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, exiting the app and putting his phone down on the pillow next to him. “Yeah. Sorry. I just… wow.”

You were used to his continual praise, but somehow his lack of words was the best compliment he could have offered you.

“Next time just ask, okay?”

He swallows. “Mhm. I will.”

“You should go have fun. I'm gonna go back to sleep. I'll see you soon, pretty boy.”

“Yeah… you should get some sleep. I’ll… see you tomorrow. Thank you.”

You smile to yourself. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #gn!reader #early season!spencer #my things!#criminalminds #spencerreid

1K notes · View notes

xinganhao · 24 days ago

Text

👓 svt with a 'nerd' partner.

anon → "can you do one where their partner is a big nerd?"

⌗ ┆debated for the longest time about the differences between nerd/geek/dork, so this is a bit of everything ( `ω´ )۶! (p.s.: love how the hc's turned out for this one >_<)

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: established relationship, pet names, fluff, cussing, headcanons under the cut.

👓 headcanons .ᐟ

you're rambling again. seungcheol watches, entranced, at the way your eyes light up as you talk about your tabletop games. the way your hands move as you explain things. when you notice him staring, you trail off. he immediately snaps out of his quiet awe to reach for your hand across the dining table. "why'd you stop?" he asks in a soft whine, jutting his lower lip out in a mock pout. "you were getting to the good part about the cleric and the rogue. don't leave me hanging, love." (or: seungcheol always pays attention.)

there's a look of mild exasperation on jeonghan's face as he watches you scroll excitedly through his latest fansign photos. you point out all the characters that are familiar to you, and you get just a little too excited when he's borderline cosplaying. he pretends to be annoyed about it, even though the truth is that he'd play dress up all day long to see you smile like this. "really," he huffs all the same, prying his phone out of your hands. "if i knew this was all it would take for you to fall in love with me…" (or: jeonghan indulges you.)

every time he travels, joshua visits a bookshop. not those chain stores, either. he goes for the obscure ones that sells secondhand, well-loved novels. the types that are a little beaten up and worn around the edges. he'll spend hours looking through the shelves for covers that he thinks are pretty, or descriptions that match the genres you always rave about. it's his little joy, to come home after all these international stops with his arms full of books. "these reminded me of you," he'll say as he holds them out to you. (or: joshua remembers you everywhere he goes.)

a bead of sweat trickles down junhui's temple as he battles with yet another stubborn screw. you've long since given up on trying to help him; he wasn't about to let you lift a finger in this endeavor. he grumbles little complaints as he assembles the overpriced IKEA shelf, but all of it is worth it when you start to stack your things on to it with that sweet smile of yours. he knows he ought to stop putting himself in to these situations. he also knows he'll assemble a hundred pieces of furniture if it meant that you could have what you want. (or: junhui enables you.)

soonyoung really couldn't give a damn about the planetarium. he'd much rather have date night at something more exciting. an amusement park. a concept restaurant. but there's just something so special about getting to walk alongside you at a leisurely pace, to have you whisper to him little fun facts about the projected stars and the styrofoam planets. he knows they're only versions of the real thing. it's just… the way you explain them make it seem like they're just right there. he knows he can't really reach for the stars, so he settles for the next best thing. he goes to hold your hand. (or: you remind soonyoung to take it easy.)

mid-game conversations with wonwoo are punctuated mostly with quick jabs, typed out in between lulls. it's a last resort type of thing. most of the time, the two of you are playing with audio. or, better yet, in the same room as each other. there's something liberating in how he doesn't have to reel anything in when it's you, because you know how these matches go. you speak his language, essentially. and whenever he says "one more game?", he knows you're already not too far behind in rejoining the lobby. (or: wonwoo lives to be your player two.)

sometimes, you're so quiet that jihoon forgets you're there. he'll only remember when he tears his gaze away from his computer screen and his eyes land on the studio couch, where you're sprawled out doing whatever your hobby of the month is. it always makes him melt a bit. the way the two of you are just content to co-exist, happy to be in each other's orbit. when he turns back to produce, he goes at it with a renewed purpose. he's got such good inspiration, after all. (or: loving you never feels like work to jihoon.)

mingyu was never the sulky type— until he met you, that is. it's a bit embarrassing, how much of a fool you have him acting like. because what do you mean kim mingyu is jealous of 2d characters? when you return after abandoning him for the latest chapter or the newest episode, he'll consistently act all off-put even though he's sooner to crack than you are. "your anime boys don't love you like i do," he insists, trying his best not to laugh at how silly he sounds to himself. "i'm the real thing, babe." (or: mingyu is a bit of a glutton for your attention.)

it's difficult to be anything but in love with seokmin, especially when he's so sincere in everything that he does. even after he accidentally knocked over the millenium falcon lego set it took you months to build, he's so endearing in his attempts to make amends. he'll spend hours poring over the instructions booklet, and he'll sort through the seven thousand pieces until his eyes are bleary. even then, he shakes his head when you say he should go to sleep. "i like spending time with you like this," he tells you, and you know he means it. (or: seokmin wants to give you the world.)

any other person might be annoyed as the hours tick by with no response. but minghao is not anything if not patient, and he's gotten quite used to losing you to the media that consumes you. if he's being honest, a part of him is probably in love with you because of that. it doesn't matter to him if you respond minutes or days late. all he cares about is that you always come back to him; that's more than enough. (or: minghao would wait lightyears for you.)

seungkwan sometimes feels like a big chunk of his early years were given up to get to where he is now, and so he didn't really have the time to like the things that other people his age normally might. when you came around with all the things that make you happy, though, he can't help but want the same thing for himself. so maybe he is a little betrayed that you watched the newest one piece episode without him, or that you beat all the gyms in pokémon scarlet & violet while he wasn't looking. can you blame him? (or: you are the youth that seungkwan missed out on.)

prior to meeting you, vernon could count on his two hands the instances wherein he's been extremely passionate about something. nowadays, he's always getting in to one petty debate or another about the best frank ocean album or the most insufferable f.r.i.e.n.d.s character. "you bring out the worst in me," he'll joke to you one evening. both of you know that it's the complete opposite. neither of you have to say it out loud, though. all you have to do is start bickering, again, about something that would have everyone else merely scratching their heads. (or: you keep vernon on his toes.)

chan isn't stupid. he's far from it, even. you're just— so smart. unbelievably so. he's not playing dumb or goading you when he's bombarding you with questions. he's genuinely astonished by the extent of your knowledge, the easiness of which you retain all these things. it's one thing to be proud of someone, and it's another to admire them. to look up to them. he feels all that for you and so much more. (or: of all the facts in the world, the one that chan is most certain about is this— he really, really does love you.)

#svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt smau #seventeen smau #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #── ᵎᵎ ✦ reqs #[ THE HEADCANONS... GUYSSSS ]#── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine

1K notes · View notes

fairyhaos · 2 months ago

Text

◈ love of my life // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: technically requested by lots of people bc everyone wants jeonghan fluff, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, crack, mutual pining, almost-confessions

warnings: light swearing

summary: in which your relationship with jeonghan isn't exactly platonic and isn't exactly romantic... but rather, it's a secret third thing.

It has to be at least two in the morning when Jeonghan's ringtone blares throughout his bedroom, and he rolls over with a groan, grappling blindly at his nightstand before finding his phone and pressing it against his cheek.

“Who is this and what do you want?”

“Jeonghan, let's go on a date.”

He recognises your voice in an instant, even in his half-asleep state, and he huffs a laugh, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing his eyes.

“Gee, at least ask me when it's not ass o'clock in the morning, won't you?”

“No, no, this only works if you get up right now,” you say. “Come on, Jeonghan, just go on a date with me. Right at this very moment.”

Jeonghan rubs his eyes, before taking his phone away from his cheek and peering at the screen so he can read the time. “See, you’re not presenting a very good argument,” he says, once he’s put the phone against his ear again. It’s almost three in the morning. What are you thinking? “I don’t wanna date you that much.”

You make a sad sound on the other end of the phone. “What will it take to get you out of the house?”

“Wire me an obscene amount of money right now and I’ll think about it.”

There’s a pause.

“No. Best I can offer is a pretty please.”

Jeonghan can’t help smiling at your dry tone, and he rubs his eyes once again with a yawn. “Fine. I guess I can’t expect anything better from you, anyway.” He can almost see you biting your lip in annoyance, wanting to quip something witty back at him but also wanting to keep quiet so he’ll actually come.

“You know me so well.”

“Yes I do,” Jeonghan teases, and groggily hauls himself out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten. Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll pick you up,” you say, suddenly sounding excited. “Just wait for me and I’ll come over to take you out.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

You laugh, bright and happy, like it’s not two in the morning and you’ve asked your best friend to go on a date with you. Jeonghan can’t help but smile again, even as he grapples blindly through his dark room to find some clothes.

“Don’t worry. It’s a promise.”

───────────── 🌘

Jeonghan is, admittedly, more than a little confused when you just take him to the nearest playground.

Sure, maybe this entire thing is weird—you calling him up during ridiculous hours of the morning to “go on a date” is definitely not something you’ve done before—but that’s just the kind of friendship he and you have.

It’s like how, last year, he spent an entire month calling you increasingly ridiculous pet names, ranging from “beloved” to “honey butter snuggles bunny bear”, and purposefully took you out to public cafes and restaurants to test them out for everyone to see and hear, preventing you from punching him as hard as he probably deserved.

So this is, like, nothing new. Just a funny and silly thing the two of you do, because you've known each other for the whole of your lives, and when it comes to the way your relationship works, the lines separating “platonic” and “romantic” have always been curiously nonexistent.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s never meant to mean anything.

But sometimes, sometimes, it feels like it should.

“I think I’m going to end up alone forever,” you say abruptly, and Jeonghan looks over at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the swings next to him, dragging yourself back and forth as you look up at the sky. There’s nothing to see up there, with the clouds obscuring any moonlight, so it's obvious that you're just looking away so he can't see your face.

It's so quiet; Jeonghan didn't realise that the world could be this quiet at 2 in the morning, and it makes your words echo extra loud into the abyss, before they're swallowed by the darkness.

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

Instantly, you're leaning over to swat him on the arm, and he laughs.

“Asshole,” you say, but there's no venom in your voice, even as you level him with a glare. “You're really no help. I'm trying to unload all my deepest fears for you, here, practically begging you to reassure me, and yet all you can do is be mean.”

“You said one thing,” Jeonghan points out. “I don't think that counts as unloading all your deepest fears.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's my only deepest fear.”

“Why are you unloading your deepest fear on me?” Jeonghan asks, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We're on a date. Our first date, mind you, so this hardly seems appropriate.”

“Asshole,” you say again, but like before, the word has no bite. You glance over at him, before realising that he's looking at you, and then quickly raise your gaze to the sky. “I'm being serious about this, you know.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long moment. Watches the way the pale light from a nearby lamppost gives you an unearthly, almost otherworldly glow.

“I'm being serious too,” he decides to say, looking up at the cloudy sky with you. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff on a first date. Kinda makes it sound like you don't think things will work out between us, you know?”

You huff a confused laugh, looking over at him again. “Jeonghan, wha—?”

“And maybe you will end up alone,” he carries on, thoughtfully, as if he's talking to himself, forgetting that you're sitting there too. “But maybe you won't. I think you probably won't. And even if you do, it's fine, because I'll still be with you.”

It's a painfully vulnerable thing to say, made doubly so by the quietness of the night. Like a love confession, almost. Except it's not, because he's not in love with you.

He isn't.

“That's really sweet,” you say, almost begrudgingly, as if it pains you to admit that Jeonghan actually said something nice, and he laughs. “Though wrong. If you’re with me, then I'm not alone, am I?”

“Oh, I see. When you said alone, you meant in general. I thought you meant, like, romantically.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe I also meant overall,” you shrug. “I didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Jeonghan swallows, tilts back on the swings, head still raised to look at the sky. “I want to spend every life with you.”

You look away from the sky at his words, turning to face him in surprise. The echoes of what he’d just said were already fading away, muffled and pressed into the velvet dark of the night, but the surprisingly soft air that followed in its wake still remained.

Now, he's the one avoiding your gaze, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the shapeless, misty blur of clouds above him so he doesn’t have to look at you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you tilt your head, and smile.

“Oh, look at you, you sap,” you say, bright and teasing. “Face it, you like being with me. Oh! I bet you're in love with me, seeing as how you agreed to date me and everything! Isn't that right, Jeonghan? You love me.”

Jeonghan pulls a face, and you burst into laughter, so ridiculously loud and happy even though it's two in the morning and the whole playground is silent, the sound of your happiness ringing against the cool air of the night. He can't help but look at you then, exasperated and fond, shaking his head as you grip the swing chains and sway back and forth, still giggling to yourself.

He sniffs, feigning annoyance as he leans to the side, making a dramatic show of pulling his swing away from you.

“This isn't a real date. I could never date you.” He scrunches his face in faux disgust for good measure, and you laugh again, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And yet you still came out when I called, didn't you?” you tease, smiling widely, and Jeonghan has to admit that you're right. He's here because you asked him to be here. He’s here for you.

Hm. This was getting weirdly soul-baringly truthful for what he’d thought would be a silly little hangout in the middle of the night.

“Next time you call me at 2am, I’m blocking you forever,” he says dryly, giving you an exaggerated look of disdain just so he can revel in the laugh that it pulls out of you.

“No you won’t,” you say cheerily. “Because you looove me.”

“Um, lies.”

“No lies. You literally love me so much.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You do, you do, you do, you’re actually genuinely in love with me and there’s nothing you can do to deny it, because it’s so obvious that I’m literally the love of your l—”

Jeonghan makes a clicking sound with his tongue and leans over to shove your arm, causing you to swing to the side as you cackle with delight at his reaction. He glares at you, again, sighing with exasperation as you continue to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I love you, just as much as you love me. Now if we’re not actually doing anything of importance, then can I go home?”

“What?” you say indignantly. “Of course not! If I can’t sleep, then that means you’re not allowed to sleep either.”

“I knew it. You called me out here because you couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Duh. Now come and push my swing, will you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and stands up from his swing, groaning and holding his knees like he’s some kind of grumpy grandpa. You laugh, mocking him for his bad joints as he walks around to stand behind you, and he snarks back something ridiculously funny and rippling with light, twisting through the cool air.

And then his hand presses against the small of your back, soft and yet sure, and suddenly all you can focus on is that gentle, feathery point of contact that connects you to him.

Your laughter subsides as he begins to gently push your swing, and you move up, and down, and up, and down, the fleeting warmth of his hand an intermittent pressure against your back. He doesn’t say a word. Everything is quiet, in your head. Like his touch alone could silence any worries that still floated around in your brain.

It’s one of the things you adore most about Jeonghan. He makes you feel safe.

“For the record, by the way,” you say, voice quiet, “I really do love you.”

There’s no noise but the metallic creak of the swing, sounding weirdly small in the yawning abyss of the dark. Jeonghan’s hand is still steady as he pushes you, again and again.

“As a friend?” he asks, eventually.

You can’t see him, and maybe that’s for the best. His voice is tinged with a colour, an emotion, that you can’t quite name, warm and cool and fleeting and present all at once.

Yet more silence greets his words. You continue swinging, and he continues helping.

It’s hard to know what he means by that. As a friend, in a hopeful way? As a friend, in a meaningful way? Or as a friend, in a way that could maybe, maybe, signal that he thinks, or wishes, that you mean... something else.

More.

These things are difficult to tell, when it comes to Jeonghan. Who wears his heart on his sleeve and yet also hides it away where no one can see.

“Yeah,” you say, after it has been far too long since he’d asked, but it’s clear that you were both waiting for your answer anyway. The word leaves you as a sigh, threadbare and thin. “As a friend.”

Jeonghan huffs a soft laugh. Maybe because he believes you, or maybe because he doesn’t. You’re not too sure.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pale as moonlight. “In which case, I love you too.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

872 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 1 month ago

Text

close to you

alexia putellas x leila ouahabi x jenni hermoso x reader a third installment of the orgy fic: rush by @vixwritesagain [all chapters + all OOYG chapters linked on her masterlist] the group takes a trip to ibiza. alexia and r are too stubborn for their own goods mostly fluff, small angst, no smut in this part but still; 18+ note: there isn't much left to say about vix that i haven't already said but i love her brain and i LOVED writing this with her. different to any of the previous fics in this little universe, which was so much fun. give her all the love <3

—

You were carrying both your water bottle and Leila’s. There was nothing you could do when you felt the faintest brush of someone’s fingers on your neck, which you were sure was the intention.

“Jenni,” you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest as your bikini top fell limply down your front, now only held up by the string across your back.

The brunette laughed loudly in response, taking advantage of the fact that your hands were full and you couldn’t chase her around the pool deck like you’d done an hour ago, when she’d done the same thing. Instead you glared at her through your sunglasses, stomping over to the pair of loungers you and Leila were using. Setting the water bottles down, you quickly pulled the swimsuit back up, hands fiddling with the strings.

Behind you, Leila cleared her throat, and you turned to see her looking purposefully between you and Alexia, who was sprawled across her own chair, just a few feet away. Her eyes were obscured by her sunglasses, but you got the strange feeling that she was watching you. Knowing what Leila was getting at, you shook your head, sitting on the edge of her chair.

“Tie it for me, please?” You requested.

Always one to take your comfort seriously, Leila did as you asked, pressing a kiss to the side of your head once she was done. She lingered there for a moment, her arms wrapping around your midsection and pulling you back into her.

“You have to start somewhere, bebé.” She whispered. “Leave it off.”

You scowled feeling your face heat up. Stealing another glance over at the blonde, who was now taking a sip from her own drink, the condensation sliding off the bottom of the cup and down the tan skin of her very bare chest.

If Alexia felt your gaze on her, she didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else; it was already the 2nd day of your trip and though you were sharing a villa with Alexia, eating meals with her and swimming in the same pool, she had remained indifferent towards you. No more than polite words and greetings, just like she’d given you in the weeks since your last… thing.

Alexia could talk about football for hours at work, but the second you got involved, things quietened down. Sometimes you’d try and play around with her to tease out the softer side you’d caught glimpses off in the past. Instead of returning your playfulness, Alexia would stare until you were uncomfortable enough to walk away.

Alexia was borderline cold with you, yet she was the polar opposite with both her girlfriend, and yours.

Leila knew better than anyone that it was driving you insane.

When Leila had brought up the idea of a joint trip with the other couple, you’d jumped at the chance. There hadn’t been much time in recent weeks to get as… acquainted… with them as you’d been in the past, as you hoped to get again. Time away from work felt like the perfect place to pull her out of her shell. And though the sexual tension around the villa could have been cut with a knife, Alexia continued to treat this like some kind of professional business trip. And so you did too.

“No.” You whispered back to Leila. “Leave it alone unless you want to help me.”

Leila just sighed, pulling you back to rest against her even though it was much too hot. Her silence told you the conversation wasn’t over, but you were again distracted by the sight of Alexia getting up off her chair and walking tantalizingly slowly over to the steps of the pool.

If you weren’t going to be having sex with her on this trip, why couldn’t you have gone somewhere cold, where she would have been bundled up. That way, the miles of tan skin and legs and muscles would have stayed safely under wraps, and you wouldn’t feel like tearing your hair out in a horny nervous breakdown every time you walked out onto the pool deck.

—

It wasn’t until later that Alexia breached the subject of you with Jenni. She was tired of waiting, annoyed that everyone seemed to be waiting on her to make the first move; so much so she wasn’t sure anyone else actually wanted it.

“I want them.” Alexia hummed before taking another bite of her toast.

“Again?” Jenni replied as she closed the fridge. “Hung up on them, aren’t you?”

The captain twisted around, eyeing her girlfriend with suspicion. “You don’t want..?”

“Of course I want to. More than once this time.” Jenni shifted closer, reaching out to push herself up against Alexia’s back. Hooking her chin over her shoulder, she took a moment to appreciate the scantily clad couple in the distance.

Alexia carefully watched the approaching figures, too wrapped up in one another to really notice. “She doesn’t. She won’t even look at me.”

“You won’t look at her. Especially not when she’s paying attention.”

“She doesn’t want me to.”

Jenni chuckled softly, turning to press her lips against Alexia’s neck. “That’s not true. Maybe if you replied with more than one word answers, you’d see how much she wants you.”

Alexia huffed dramatically, taking another chomp of her snack instead of humoring her girlfriend with a reply.

Well used to Alexia’s unspoken insecurities, Jenni kissed her once more before unwrapping herself to fix her own lunch.

–

Maybe it was because she hadn’t touched you yet, or seemed even mildly interested in doing so, that you were so desperate for her. Leila, and Jenni to an extent, were obtainable. A few words, a few kisses, you knew they’d be on board. Alexia, however, remained like a statue. She’d barely spoken to you in the 48 hours you’d been on holiday, and it was as confusing as it was annoying.

Weren’t you both passed this, by now? Apparently not. You had brushed behind her in the kitchen earlier in the day, and she’d frozen completely, before bolting out of the room and back outside, her snack forgotten on the counter.

“Does she not want me anymore?” You mused, laying with your back pressed to Leila’s bare chest. It was late, dark in the room except for the glow of the moon bouncing off the nearby water and through the window. Though you couldn’t see your girlfriend’s face, you had the distinct feeling that she was rolling her eyes at you, but with nothing to back it up, you let it go.

“Bebé, just ask her.” Leila told you, arms tightening where they were looped around your abdomen.

“Ask her.” You scoffed. “She won’t look me in the eye, she’s barely said two words to me since we’ve gotten here. I can’t just ask if she wants to have sex.”

“It wouldn’t be completely out of nowhere, you’ve slept with her twice.” The brunette reminded you, her eyes flicking over to her phone, where the screen lit up just barely with a text.

Jenni: This is getting ridiculous. I think we should lock them in the bathroom together or something.

Holding back a snort, Leila refocused back on you, rambling away about how annoying Alexia was when she was being so standoffish. Leila knew you meant hot, but were too proud to say so. She hummed along, reaching for her phone once she was sure you were suitably distracted.

Leila: With a vibrator or something. And no clothes. And me!

Jenni rolled her eyes, casually pushing her phone back under her pillow with one hand, her other continuing its motion through Alexia’s hair.

“I had her screaming and begging for me and now she’s pretending like it never happened.” Alexia ranted, sighing loudly when she got no response from her girlfriend. Tilting her head up, she frowned when she was met with a small grin on Jenni’s face. “What? What are you smiling about?”

Jenni just shook her head. “You know what I’m going to tell you, Ale.”

“I don’t want to ask her, Jennifer. I want her to want me.” The midfielder grumbled.

“Well, maybe she wants you to go to her.”

“I don’t beg.” Alexia sighed, her face heating up when her girlfriend fixed her with a knowing look. “Okay, I don’t beg for her, she begs for me. And she will. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Jenni let her eyes trail down to where the t-shirt Alexia had definitely stolen from her suitcase had ridden up, tan skin covering thick muscle. “But it could be so much faster if you just started it.”

“No. If she wants it, she’ll come.”

Jenni tried to ignore the hint of insecurity in Alexia’s voice, opting instead to stroke back her baby hairs. “She already comes, thinking about you, remember?”

Reveling in the tiniest upturn of her girlfriend’s mouth, Jenni bent down for a kiss. “And if you ask me, she’s crazy for not jumping on you today. I’ll be dreaming of that little bikini tonight.” “I can put it back on for you?” Alexia offered, sitting up a little to stay close. She giggled at Jenni’s theatrical groan.

“But then you’d have to take off my clothes.”

“Sí. Or you could do it for me?” The way Alexia boldly grabbed Jenni’s hand, dragging it lower and lower on her body until the striker’s long fingers could toy with the waistband of her shorts, made up her mind. If Alexia wouldn’t take the first step, and you wouldn’t either, then there was nothing left to do but meddle.

With a quick series of kisses, Jenni grabbed her phone and slipped away to the bathroom, promising to finish what Alexia had started when she came back. Once the door was securely shut behind her, she replied to the defender.

Jenni: This is going nowhere. Plan B tomorrow.

Leila’s reply came through quickly.

Leila: Can we get more of that chocolate ice cream while we’re out?

Jenni sighed, for what felt like the 5th time that evening. No wonder her plan had been failing so miserably, what with her accomplice being so easily distracted. Leila could have all the ice cream in the world if that’s what it took for her to remain subtle and let the two of you start yourselves.

—

“Amor! Jenni and I are going to the store!” Leila shouted, just barely poking her head out the door. You looked up from your book, eyes wide. Your girlfriend was dressed, not in the swim suit she’d had on earlier.

“You and Jenni and… Alexia?” You asked, sitting up fully and attempting to fix Leila with your most threatening stare.

Leila bit at her lip, something she only did when she was trying to hide her smirk. “No, just me and Jenni. Bye, I love you!” She shut the door behind her before you could say anything back. You had the very distinct feeling that you were in the middle of some kind of plot, one that had Jenni written all over it.

As Leila disappeared into the house, you made out the outline of Alexia, just barely visible through the glare of the sun off the glass. Even the mere sight of her silhouette was erasing every thought from your head, and you cursed the woman for looking so good all the time. It would have been easier, honestly, if you knew for sure that you couldn’t have her. This awkward, stunted dynamic between the two of you was driving you insane, and now you were going to be all alone with her.

Inside the house, Jenni was wishing she’d followed Leila’s lead and told her girlfriend she was leaving from a safe distance away. Instead, Alexia stood right in front of her, jaw dropped in horror.

“What do you mean you’re going to the store with Leila?” Alexia frowned.

Jenni snorted, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek even as she began to tease. “Well, Leila and I are going to get in the car, and then drive to this place that sells food. And then-”

“Jenni, take me.” Alexia interrupted, an unusual amount of panic in her voice. “She’s in a bikini. I’m going with you.”

The striker chuckled, detaching her girlfriend’s hands from where they were clutching onto her shirt. “No, you need rest after last night. You should go out by the pool, take a nap. Or tire yourself out more.”

Alexia glared back at her girlfriend, fighting to keep her focus on the brunette and not let it drift over to where you were spread out on a lounge chair. Just over Jenni’s shoulder, you were staring at the door, skin glistening with sweat, long legs extended in front of you…

Alexia shook her head but Jenni was already moving towards the front door. “Jennifer Hermoso, do not leave me here.” The midfielder hissed, fighting the urge to jump onto her girlfriend’s back and tackle her to the floor.

“But you won’t be alone, amor!” Jenni grinned, turning around to face her girlfriend, yet continuing to back towards the front door. “And put that red bikini on. It’ll drive her crazy.”

“I am going to kill you.” Alexia vowed through gritted teeth.

“Maybe she can put you in a good mood first. Ciao!” Jenni sang, slipping out the front door and shutting it behind her.

For a while, the villa was far quieter than you were used to. As hot as it was outside, you were set on remaining right there, baking in the sun rather than facing whatever frosty reception was indoors. After a while, the choice was made for you.

The sliding doors opened, and as much as you were trying not to look, it was impossible to ignore firetruck red.

Alexia closed the door silently, shuffling her way into the sun before pulling her sunglasses down and stretching out face down over the lounger. Not once did she glance in your direction.

There was silence while you took in the perfect curve of her ass, hardly covered.

“I like your swimsuit.” You called gently.

Alexia shifted a little before grumbling. With her face away from you, it was a struggle to understand. “Gracias. Jenni likes it.”

Of course. Jenni, her girlfriend. The person she actually wants to talk to.

Silence fell once more.

“She has good taste.” You hummed, sitting up quickly to gather your things. It was too hot, your water bottle was empty, you needed to freshen up before Leila got home. Whatever rationalization you thought through, none felt completely true.

You were both quiet as you retreated back through the doors, into the safety of the kitchen.

For a while, you sat at the island, sipping cool water and trying to think of anything beyond Alexia. No matter which path you took, from Leila to work, family to future plans, somehow your brian would always find its way back to her.

You flinched when the sliding door opened, then came the soft pads of her footsteps until swaths of tanned skin stepped into your eye line.

“You can..?” Alexia trailed off, holding up a bottle of sunscreen.

Finally you looked at her, schooling yourself to ignore the way the peak of her nipples could be seen through the thinly stretched triangles of her top. It took the raise of her eyebrows for your brain to catch up. “Me? I can. Yeah, of course.”

In a few short days, you’d seen Jenni take full advantage of Alexia’s love of sun safety. You’d tried not to stare at the striker’s wet hands dragging over every inch of her girlfriend’s body, kneading tight muscles until Alexia would moan and melt into her.

Slowly, you slid off the chair and closer to her. Slipping the bottle to your hand, Alexia turned and pulled her ponytail out of the way.

It wasn’t often you got to freely admire your Captain’s back. Bare skin dotted with tattoos and tiny freckles all the way down to where her bikini (hardly) covered her ass. After squirting a little too much sunscreen onto your hands, you pressed them against her. Her skin was already hot.

You could feel the thick muscle of her back under your fingertips as you committed to the task, meticulously ensuring that every centimeter was coated well. The top half was straightforward, bar having to dodge the ties of her top. As you moved downwards, your brain started to go into overdrive. The tiniest sigh from her as your thumbs stroked over her lower back made you shiver.

Lower still, until one hand had to curve around her hip to steady her when you dipped your fingers just underneath where her bikini covered.

Alexia was still and silent.

Perhaps it was selfish how you lingered, stroking over and over in the hopes that maybe something would make her crack. The tiniest sign that she wanted more was all you needed, but even as your hands stroked back to safer spots, nothing.

“Was there anywhere else?” You murmured.

“No!” Alexia said immediately, twisting to pick up the sunscreen bottle and step away. “Gracias.”

“Anytime.” You replied, but she was already taking fast steps towards the door.

Jenni and Leila reentered the house, both frowning at the quiet they found. Jenni was disappointed at the thought that no progress had been made. Leila was less discouraged.

“Maybe they are outside!” She said hopefully, depositing the several bags of groceries she was carrying on the counter, before spotting Alexia, alone, out on the pool deck.

“Your girlfriend is stubborn.” Jenni sighed, opening the freezer to unload the three entire pints of chocolate ice cream she’d been conned into buying. Her girlfriend looked tense, even as she lounged on a chair.

Leila turned from where she was headed to search for you, looking affronted, but before she could say a word in response, the bedroom door creaked open and you darted out, grabbing onto Leila’s wrist and yanking her back into the room with you.

“Bebé! There you are!” Leila began, flashing you with a sunny smile and attempting to lean in to kiss your cheek. She paused, though, finding your cheeks flushed red, a sheen of sweat visible on your forehead. “Have you had too much sun?”

Even your girlfriend’s sweet concern couldn’t distract you from the problem at hand. “No! I have had too much Alexia. She’s wearing this bikini - and the sunscreen on her back, and her skin is so warm, and-”

“You and Alexia?” Leila asked excitedly, dragging you over to the bed. She caught the way the sheets were slightly crumpled, and how you were wearing a different pair of swimsuit bottoms than before, taking it all to mean something that it absolutely didn’t. “Tell me about it!”

“She asked me to put sunscreen on her back.”

Leila blinked, wondering if that was some kind of English euphemism she’d never learned.

“Sunscreen on her back… like the… you… what kind of sex is that?” She asked, an adorably confused look adorning her features.

You glared at your girlfriend, ripping your hand away from hers and beginning to pace around the room. “That is no kind of sex Leila! I complimented her bikini, and she barely replied, so I went inside and she followed me, just to ask me put sunscreen on her back!”

“Did you?”

“Oh yes. I put sunscreen all over her back. Everywhere. I lingered and I touched her and nothing!”

“Nothing?”

“No. And now I’m all…” you trailed off, waving your hands around in the air wildly. “And it’s all your fault for leaving me here with her.” At this, Leila had the decency to look mildly guilty, reaching out her hand to lace her fingers with yours. She drew you in, closer and closer, until she could wrap her arms around your midsection, and pull you into her lap.

“I would have enjoyed you putting lotion on my back. It would have been very hot, bebé. Irresistible.” Leila’s words were soft, but held an undertone that had the feelings you’d been trying to shove aside flooding back into you.

You shifted so you could look at her face. “Yeah?”

“Sí.” Leila nodded earnestly, leaning up to gently peck your cheek. She had barely pulled away before you were moving around to straddle her lap, pressing your lips urgently to your girlfriend’s. If Leila was surprised at the turn of events, she didn’t show it, her hands settling on your hips as she allowed you to press her back down onto the mattress.

The act of dominance wasn’t unusual for you to put on at the beginning, and Leila knew very well that it would only be a few minutes before all you wanted was to be underneath her. Still, she laced her fingers through your hair, giving a soft tug. The low whine you let out gave her an idea.

Technically, it had been Jenni’s Plan C, but Leila decided to take initiative.

---

the first part of... five? 17k words and counting 😅

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x jenni hermoso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #leila ouahabi x jenni hermoso x alexia putellas x reader #leila ouahabi x reader #jenni hermoso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics

678 notes · View notes

hvlcy0n · 3 months ago

Text

SAY IT (PT. 1) . . . hayato suo x fem!reader

+ you’ve never reciprocated any of suo’s confessions of love, but a chance to eavesdrop on a conversation among you and your friends grants him all the insight he needs.

+ 4.2k words

+ NSFW (MINORS DNI) // UNEDITED // brief mentions of sex // mentions of edging at the end // brief mentions of overstimulation // mentions of past heartbreak/insecurities // established relationship // manipulation // i got all the big stuff but i’m definitely forgetting some minor stuff i’m just tired of looking at this

+ this is my first time writing suo so plEASE cut me some slack, i got tired of seeing it every time i opened google docs. i left any descriptions/names of your friends extremely vague on purpose so you can fill in whoever. the NEXT part of this will be centered around smut, but this one was more just kinda the build-up to his decision to push you out of your comfort zone.

suo has always been able to see right through you.

granted, that was his area of expertise—the ability to pierce through people’s defenses as if they were nothing more than a gossamer film and unearth whatever information he resolved to discover. he was regarded as dangerous by both allies and enemies, capable of sinking his fingertips into peoples�� psyches and peeling back the layers until their self–control began to fracture and ruby welled beneath his touch and trickled down to obscure his opponents’ vision in an all–consuming bloodlust that left them vulnerable and uncoordinated.

he had a critical eye and a terrifying intuition; and while his friends wouldn’t trade him for the world, they were also aware of the uncharted territory of suo’s complex character—not to mention the existence of a small distance between them that had been discreetly established by suo himself. while he genuinely enjoyed the presence of his friends, he valued his privacy and space, and he often kept information about him restricted. he was more enigmatic than anything else.

so, when suo offhandedly mentioned having a girlfriend, they were shocked. although emotionally intelligent, none of his friends pegged him as a romantic, his secrecy and manipulative tactics seemingly too insurmountable an obstacle in a relationship. generally, he was kind and respectful, but his demeanor could flip on a dime in the face of discourteous behavior. he could be mean—unfair. it wasn’t uncommon for him to mask his slick tongue and cruelty behind refined language and his gentlemanly composure as he subjected his targets to public humiliation. sometimes, his emotions could get the better of him, and he could be frightening when they do. a gentleman? maybe. but there’s more nuance to him than that.

unbeknownst to them, suo was remarkably softer with you. warmth and genuine kindness emanated from every content smile and careful dance of his hands over your skin, calloused fingertips bearing an ardent reverence that would cause even aphrodite to flush. the sharp edge to his tongue smoothed, his teasing light-hearted and devoid of the faint, underlying drip of venom that could sometimes be heard punctuating his words if someone listened closely enough. when he observed you, his eyes glowed with innocuous curiosity and rather than distant analysis.

the more time he spent with you, the more he could read you like an open book, deft fingertips tracing over even your most tattered, weathered pages and the most smudged ink to wholly bare the contents of your soul to him. he sought to know you in your entirety—your likes and dislikes, how you like to be touched, how you react to certain things. after all, the more he knows about you, the better he can protect you.

the better he can love you.

love.

that’s a tricky subject for you to navigate, he’s learned.

you were never one to shy away from his affection. in fact, you clearly delighted in the attention he lavished you with. there was never a question as to whether you would hurry to lace your fingers with his if he reached out to you, if you would lean into his caresses, or if you would let him pepper kisses across your cheeks. you were so receptive to his ministrations, so much so that it was almost natural for your body to drift toward his in search of some sort of closeness. whatever he doled out, you returned, and that included the light banter and flirtatious remarks you two often exchanged. you fascinated him, kept him on his toes.

the only area of your relationship that you fell short in was verbal confessions of love. suo knew that you were fiercely protective of your heart, already having subjected it to enough bruises and scrapes throughout your life to make you want to guard it to the best of your abilities. he was fortunate as it was that you had trusted him enough to relinquish it to him.

he knew that you were still learning to navigate the choppy waters of vulnerability—true vulnerability. it was easy enough to bask in suo’s attention and rely on his ability to comprehend the unspoken, but to say the words aloud would be to speak it into being, to charge the universe with the magnetic force that will bind your fate to his, to make it real. you never said anything that you didn’t mean, and suo understood that after all your hard work fortifying your emotions, to openly admit it would require you to let down your guard entirely and let him in.

there’s no doubt in his mind that you love him. he can feel it in the way you pour every ounce of heartfelt emotion into the kisses you press to his lips, your dedication toward memorizing and analyzing all of his microexpressions so that you can understand him on a deeper level, and the adoration that pools in your eyes like molten honey as you observe him when you think he isn’t paying attention. only a fool would mistake the depth of your feelings.

he can read you like a book, that much is true, but it’s much more enjoyable to have it read to him line–by–line than to flip through the pages on his own.

it’s quite endearing, actually, the way your skin would warm and your brain would stall whenever his lips would brush a saccharine “i love you” over the shell of your ear, or the way goosebumps would scatter across your skin and you would clench around him whenever he’d pair the words with a well–timed thrust inside you. he thrives off flustering you and witnessing your demeanor crumble into a delightful shyness that never fails to cause a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips.

even so, he sometimes finds himself yearning for that reassurance that you’re as irrevocably enamored with him as he is with you—that you crave him the way he craves you. he understands that it’s greedy of him and that he should tamp down such self–centered emotions. he knows what your feelings toward him are; it would be inconsiderate of him to pry you out of your shell until you’re ready in order to satisfy his own desires. the concept of love operates differently for different people, and he can accept that.

it always slips his mind how swiftly things can change.

it was a complete coincidence when he’d stumbled upon you in the outdoor seating area of a restaurant, accompanied by a few friends of yours. he recalled you telling him that you were going out for lunch with them, but he had no idea that his outing in search of a new pair of shoes to replace his worn ones would cause your paths to cross. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on your conversation, only to simply greet you and then continue about his business, but he paused when he heard his name leave one of your friends’ lips.

“so, are you and suo still together?”

oh? before he can even acknowledge the gravity of contravening your privacy, his body is sparked into motion all on its own. he’s quick to retreat, melting into the slanted shadow proffered by the slim alleyway he had been poised to exit, just beyond the scope of your view.

he’s well aware that this is an infraction of the trust you extended to him, but he forces himself to disregard the prick of guilt aside in favor of potentially learning valuable information about the inner workings of your brain. it may not be ideal, but it’s for the best, he reasons. what if you reveal to your friends ways that he could better serve as your boyfriend? what if you feel more comfortable explaining to your friends your reservations about returning his heartfelt confessions? besides, the conversation is technically also centered around him, so surely it would be rude to bar him from listening in.

“of course,” the thought of you denying your relationship was never a concern for suo. you both trust each other implicitly, but to hear you stake such an immediate, explicit claim over him rouses a ticklish spark of delight in his stomach all the same. you scoff, as if the idea was so improbable it was ridiculous. “i’ll tie that man up in my basement before i let him just leave.” suo chuckles gently to himself. perhaps you truly are as invested as he is, after all.

“the dick must be fucking life–altering, if that’s the case.” she laughs. “come on, tell us. is it?”

“wh—” suo’s lips settle into a small, amused smile as he watches you flounder under her questioning, eyes feverishly flitting to your other friends for help, only for each one of them to leave you to drown with their own wide–eyed, inquisitive stares. “oh, my god, i’m not telling you that!” nervous laughter wracks your chest. suo’s shrewd gaze can practically perceive the memories flickering through your brain as you try to maintain your composure, each one spliced together in a salacious collage that has blood thrumming beneath your skin. suo has always been one to fine–tune his craft, and his perfectionism extended to the bedroom as he used his meticulous attention to detail and acute awareness of your reactions to guide you to your peak over . . . and over . . . and over again until he was satisfied.

and of course, you knew that.

“but seriously,” another girl props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm, observing you closely. “i’ve never seen you like this before. before him, you were all ‘ew, gross, men’—not to say that isn’t still valid, but y’know. maybe suo really is a good match for you.”

“do you love him?” the first girl pipes up ecstatically.

now we’re getting somewhere.

it requires significant concentration for suo not to laugh outright when a jolt of surprise grips your body, your muscles visibly tensing and eyes rounding. your lips part to speak, but the words remain wedged in your throat. “i—uh . . .”

“wait, for real?” the third girl, who had remained quiet this entire time, finally speaks up. “do you not actually love him?”

this time, when you don’t at least make an effort to deny their claims, suo’s smile begins to wilt. from suo’s angle, your expression is sapped of the typical bashfulness he had been anticipating. rather, your features are murky with conflict, brows furrowed pensively and fingertips drumming against the chilled glass of the untouched beverage sitting between your palms. for the first time in a while, he can’t read you, and while he’s always enjoyed a bit of reticence and mystery, he doesn’t want it like this—not when such uncertainty is founded on the future of his relationship. did he misunderstand you somehow? was he wrong? no, there’s no way that you’d have done everything you did if you didn’t harbor some type of love for him. it’s simply not plausible. right?

the silence is unnerving, causing a chasm of apprehension to split his stomach and swallow up the candlelit flicker of warmth that once resided in his chest. he’s never been an anxious individual, typically collected and level–headed under pressure. in fact, he’s always prided himself on his ability to remain composed; but now, as he stands here, body stiff and heart thumping as he waits for you to continue, he figures that love really is one hell of a drug. only the wideness of his eyes betrays his usual poise, but even that would be enough for any of his friends to notice that something is amiss. well, mature as he may be and as far above the fragility of human nature that others believe he is, he’s still only human. and it’s times like this that remind him that he’s still weak.

god, how far has he fallen? how much power did he give you?

“all this time, i thought you guys were in love.” the second girl gasps, hand flitting up to cover her mouth. “so, what’s going on? what’s wrong with him?”

“nothing!” you’re quick to find your voice to defend him, but for some reason, it doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest or the worried spin of his mind. “he’s wonderful, it’s just—”

“is he mean to you?” the second girl presses. “because if he is, i can—”

“he’s obviously not mean to her if she’s still with him.” the first girl retorts, silencing her with a dismissive wave of her hand. before the second girl can argue, she continues. “it could just be that it’s too early for her to know if she does.”

“it’s been months.” the third girl points out. “something has to be up if she doesn’t love him—”

“i do!”

suo’s fingers twitch.

your friends fall silent as the words burst from your chest, unwavering and aflame with conviction. your voice quiets as you fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, eyes still fixated on the cup in front of you. “i do love him, it’s just . . . i’ve never felt like this for anyone, and i don’t know what to do. it feels so real and intense, and it’s scary.”

your words reverberate through suo’s mind as he expels a breath he didn’t notice was wedged in his chest. “i do love him.” his entire body seems to decompress, the tension in his muscles alleviating. “i’ve never felt like this for anyone.” suddenly, your hesitance makes sense. not only were you protective of your heart to begin with, but the magnitude of the importance of this was much larger and therefore more frightening than he realized. suo’s heart swells in his chest at your confession, pride licking up his sternum to grace the apples of his cheeks with a feather–light kiss of ruby. he’s honored to be the first person you’re entrusting with such a privilege—well, even if he’s not supposed to know about it yet.

“what do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” the first girl stares at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. she flips her hands over with her palms facing toward the sky. “tell him?”

“i can’t just do that!” this time, it’s your turn to look at her like she just told you she ran over a family of five with her chevy tahoe, and suo chuckles.

“and why not?” she flops back in her seat incredulously.

“i just told you, it’s scary!” you insist matter–of–factly. “you remember the last guy i was with? it lasted one month, and in that amount of time, i aged thirty years and had stress levels that would’ve gotten me sent to the emergency room.”

suo hums softly in surprise. you didn’t tell him about that. of course, he had suspected that someone had dragged you through the trenches prior to accepting him as your boyfriend, but he felt as though that was a topic that would be better left to your discretion. you would tell him if you wanted him to know, so he never questioned you.

“yeah, but suo is way better than him.” the third girl reminds you. “at least, i think so. i only met the guy like twice.”

“helpful.” the second girl remarks dryly.

“no, he seriously is so much better.” you insist. “he’s everything i could’ve asked for, but it’s just . . . exposing myself like that would mean he has everything he needs to hurt me, and if i end up flat on my ass again, i don’t know what i’m gonna do. and i know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but . . . ugh, this is impossible.” you let your head loll back.

there’s a brief stretch of silence before the second girl speaks up again, and this time, her voice has flattened into a deadpan. “girl.” she blinks at you. “that’s the issue?”

clearly not anticipating that reaction, you stare blankly at her for a moment, searching for the right words. “i—what?” you bristle defensively. “what’s that supposed to mean? is that suddenly not a good reason to bare my heart and soul to this man?”

“no, it’s actually really not.” the third girl joins the second’s campaign. she scoots forward in her seat and folds her hands delicately on the table. “let’s reflect. this is suo we’re talking about. this is the same man who stayed the night and took care of you religiously when you were sick with food poisoning from your first date, the same man who gave you earrings similar to his for your birthday, and the same man who showed up at your house in the pouring rain with nothing but the clothes on his back to accompany you when that storm knocked your power out—as a ‘friend.’”

“why did you use air quotes around the word ‘friend?’” the first girl narrows her eyes at the third.

“because he was playing the long game, okay? he was plotting. stay with me now.” she answers quickly, placing her hand on the first girl’s knee.

suo chuckles, raising his brows. he has to admit, your friends are impressive.

“so,” the third girl continues. “those are just a couple examples, but it’s crystal clear that suo is devoted. like he’s in this to stay.”

“or he’s some sort of supervillain.” the second girl interjects.

“don’t say that!” the third girl snaps, aghast. “no, yeah, you’re right. the ‘untouchable’ furin graduate who took a bat to the ribs just to keep her safe is definitely here to create lifelong trauma for her. anyway, as i was saying,” she turns back to you, “if that’s not enough, think about it this way. suo is really private, right?”

“right.” you nod.

“well, he was probably in a similar boat as you, then. i mean, you said that you were worried that you’d be giving him what he needs to hurt you, but the inverse is also true, and he already told you he loves you. he trusted you not to hurt him with that information, so you should be able to trust him not to do that to you, either.”

“that’s . . . wait,” the wheels rotate in your brain as you mull over her advice, and your hand drifts up to conceal your mouth in a moment of clarity. “oh, shit. no, wait, yeah, you may have a point. i didn’t think about it like that.”

“that’s what you have us for.” the third girl grins.

“so, does that mean you’re gonna tell him?” the second girl quirks a brow at you. “maybe? probably? hopefully?”

“uh . . . probably not . . .” you wince, only to jump when you’re promptly subjected to an onslaught of groans and complaints from your friends.

“dude, what the fuck?”

“i know, i’m sorry!” you yelp.

“did you get nothing out of the conversation?”

“no, i did, i swear!” your desperate attempts to defend yourself against your friends are fractured by bouts of laughter. “trust me, i did.”

“so, what’s the problem now?” the second girl drags her palm exhaustedly down her cheek.

“the issue is that it’s still embarrassing!” you whine. “you literally said it yourself earlier. i’ve never been like this—ever! just thinking about saying it makes me wanna crawl in a hole. it makes me feel, like, exposed or some shit, i don’t know—quit looking at me like that! i don’t know how else to explain it!”

“don’t piss me off.”

“what?” your lips pop open in indignation. “but—”

suo’s slender fingers settle delicately over his lips as he chuckles to himself and steps completely behind the alley corner. his eyelids flutter low, gaze soft with contentment, as he listens to you scramble to defend yourself against your frustrated friends. it’s alright, they’ve done plenty. he can take it from here.

the conversation bounced around between the four of you has certainly altered the circumstances, providing you with the clarity needed to shed your reservations about setting yourself up for a potential heartbreak and unfurling the remaining layers of your defense to reveal the lingering issue still barring you from being honest about your feelings. at this point, it seems to no longer be about you being ill–equipped and underprepared to handle such a divulgence, which he could certainly accept. now, it appears to be about disentangling yourself from the binds of shame and embarrassment. about you requiring a little push in the right direction—well, less of a small nudge and more of a guiding hand that you would trust to unravel you down to the strings of your heart.

fortunately for you, there is no one more aware of what loose threads of yours to tug on in order to achieve his goal than suo himself.

maybe it’s unfair of him to change his mind and concoct an excuse to denounce the leniency and understanding that had been fueling his patience thus far. maybe it’s unfair of him to take the initiative to strip you of the protective cocoon he had previously been more than prepared to allow you to reside in. maybe it’s unfair of him to press you, to utilize his silver tongue and honeyed words to draw out your rawest and most vulnerable state.

but when the opportunity has practically tripped and fallen into his lap, how could he not? it isn’t as if it would be a detriment to you. he has never led you astray, and he certainly isn’t going to start now.

a venereal plan is already brewing in the back of his mind as he mulls over how to best extract such a confession from you. no matter what type of attitude you may acquire or how sturdy you believe your resistance to be, pleasure has never failed to whittle and melt you down into a pliant puddle that’s all soft edges and hazy, trusting eyes. an even trade—a release only he can provide for the secret you’re trying so hard to keep from him? this evening, perhaps, if he plays his cards right. you don’t have plans tomorrow, which means you certainly can’t be too angry if he keeps you awake into the darkest hours of the night.

he can practically feel the ghost of the warmth of your skin under his fingertips as he keeps you pinned so that you can’t escape his ministrations, taste the salt brimming in your tears of frustration as you war between your pride and surrendering to the pleasure he plans to dangle in front of you, and hear your whines and moans as he keeps you just barely balanced on the precipice of release. he can already predict how you’ll label him as mean—manipulative, even. and maybe he is.

he’s only human, after all.

and what would humans be if not flawed? if not a bit cruel? if not a bit . . . selfish?

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker x you #suo smut #suo x reader #suo hayato #windbreaker smut #suo hayato x reader #suo hayato smut #suo hayato x you

506 notes · View notes

reidmarieprentiss · 2 months ago

Text

Better Late Than Never

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends, but then you get put into witness protection. Will your friendship (and love) survive the years apart?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Warnings/Includes: hackers, insecurity, being in witness protection

Word count: 3.2k

a/n: if he doesn't wait for you like this then he isn't worth it tbhhhhh (i can't talk i make horrible dating choices)

main masterlist

Spencer Reid's first few days at the BAU were overwhelming, to say the least. He had already endured the skepticism of his new colleagues, felt the weight of the cases on his young shoulders, and faced the quiet stares that seemed to ask how someone so young could be trusted with something so important. It was in the midst of this uncertainty that he found a lifeline in you, someone who not only treated him as an equal but made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

You had been with the BAU long enough to know how intimidating it could be to start fresh. Spencer’s brilliance was evident from the start, but so was his anxiety. His nervous, rapid-fire explanations of cases, his reluctance to make eye contact, and the way his hands would tremble slightly when he first met Hotch and Gideon. It didn’t take long for you to notice how uncomfortable he was.

On the third day, when he had already poured over files for hours and the rest of the team had gone for lunch, you saw him sitting at his desk, too focused—or too nervous—to step away. You didn’t ask him to join you for lunch. You just brought a sandwich and sat down across from him, setting it on his desk without a word.

Spencer looked up, startled, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I—uh—I didn’t ask for—”

“I know,” you cut him off gently, smiling. “But I figured you might need it anyway.”

He blinked a few times, taken aback, and then nodded, his gratitude hidden behind his usual quiet demeanor. “Thanks,” he mumbled, already returning to the files in front of him.

From that moment on, you became the one constant in his chaotic world. The two of you worked on cases together, shared late-night dinners after grueling fieldwork, and sometimes just sat in comfortable silence when Spencer was overwhelmed and needed a break. You never pushed him to open up, knowing that he would come to you when he was ready.

It wasn’t long before he started relying on you for everything. Whether it was asking for help with an obscure task he had trouble with in the middle of a case or just quietly sitting next to you when the weight of the job felt too heavy. You were his anchor in the storm, someone who made the BAU feel less intimidating, less isolating.

One night, after a particularly tough case, Spencer leaned on your desk, his expression tired and pensive. You gestured for him to talk without a word, pushing aside the report you were working on. He didn’t speak right away, just sat down like he had so many times before.

“I feel like I don’t belong here sometimes,” he finally admitted, his voice low. He ran a hand through his hair, staring down at his lap. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep up with everyone else.”

You leaned forward, catching his gaze. “You’re already keeping up, Spencer. You’re more than capable. You’re brilliant.”

He smiled faintly but didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“And for what it’s worth,” you continued, “you belong here just as much as anyone else. You’re a part of this team now, and we’ve all got your back. I’ve got your back.”

That seemed to resonate with him. Spencer exhaled slowly, nodding as if trying to let your words sink in. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

The depth of his gratitude hung in the air between you, and though neither of you said it outright, there was an understanding that you had become more than just colleagues. Spencer had found a sense of home in you, a place where he didn’t have to explain himself, didn’t have to prove his worth. He could just be.

From that night on, your bond only grew stronger. You became the person he turned to when he needed to vent about cases, share his excitement over obscure facts, or simply take a break from the pressure of the job. And in return, you found comfort in knowing that you were the one person Spencer trusted completely.

Late-night phone calls became a regular occurrence—sometimes it was work-related, other times it was just Spencer calling to talk about something random, like the history of chess or the nuances of a particular poem he’d been reading. He’d share these little pieces of himself with you, and you’d listen with unwavering patience, no matter the hour.

One evening, after another case closed, you found yourself sitting on the floor of the bullpen, legs tucked under you as Spencer sat next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He was uncharacteristically quiet, though the comfortable silence wasn’t new between you.

“Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you didn’t join the BAU?” Spencer asked suddenly, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the question. “Sometimes,” you admitted softly. “But honestly, I can’t imagine it any other way now. And I’m glad it turned out like this.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Me too,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as… at home as I do with you.”

—

The day everything changed began like any other—ordinary, filled with the hum of work, the shuffle of case files, and the comforting presence of your team. But it didn’t take long for that sense of normalcy to shatter.

You had been in danger before. In the BAU, it came with the territory, and you'd faced it head-on more times than you cared to count. But this was different. It was personal. A hacker, targeting you specifically, breached the walls of your life, exposing every facet of who you were to the world—your address, your personal emails, your medical history, even your family. Every private detail had been thrust into the public eye. Spencer had been the first to see the news reports, his heart dropping into his stomach as the headlines flashed across every screen in the bullpen.

"BAU Agent’s Life Leaked to the World," the words blared out. It wasn’t just your job at the FBI that was exposed—it was everything. Things no one but you knew. The fallout was immediate. Your life was suddenly on display for anyone with a computer screen, and that meant you were no longer safe. Witness protection was the only option.

The team scrambled to help, and Spencer, in particular, was beside himself with worry. He was the one who tried to reassure you as the reality set in, even as his own fear crept up on him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you. The idea of you disappearing, of your presence vanishing from his life, was unimaginable.

"Spencer, I have to go," you had whispered, your voice shaking as you stood in the bureau, knowing it was only a matter of minutes before you were escorted away.

He was pacing, his hand tugging at his hair in frustration. “This isn’t fair,” he said, his voice tight. “This isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to leave because of this.”

You watched him, heart breaking at the sight of his anguish, knowing there was nothing you could do. “I don’t have a choice.”

His steps faltered, and he turned to face you, his eyes filled with desperation. “But what if I never see you again? What if… what if something happens and I can’t find you?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you. “You won’t,” you said quietly, your throat tightening with emotion. “I can’t contact anyone. It’s safer that way.”

Spencer stared at you as though trying to memorize every detail of your face. “I could go with you,” he whispered. “We could go away together right? They might—”

You didn’t let him finish. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a fierce embrace, burying your face in his chest. He held onto you like you were his lifeline, his arms trembling as they circled around you. The two of you stood there for a long time, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your breathing and the distant noise of the bustling bullpen.

“I’m going to miss you,” you finally said, your voice barely audible against his shirt.

Spencer pressed his cheek against the top of your head, his breath uneven. “I’ll miss you too. More than you know.”

But even those words felt inadequate. What could he say? How could he capture the magnitude of what you meant to him in that moment? There was nothing. So he just held you tighter, his fingers curling into the fabric of your jacket, refusing to let go until the last possible second.

When you were finally pulled away, Spencer watched as you were taken out of the BAU for the last time. He stood there, helpless, unable to do anything but watch you leave, knowing that your absence would echo in every corner of his life from that day forward.

—

The next years crawled by in slow, painful increments. At first, Spencer clung to the hope that he might somehow find a way to track you down, but witness protection was thorough. You had vanished without a trace, and the team was under strict orders not to make any attempts to contact you. Any breach could put your safety at risk, and Spencer couldn’t do that to you, no matter how much he missed you.

He threw himself into his work, burying the ache of your absence beneath the mountains of cases that piled up. He kept a photo of the two of you in his desk drawer, a quiet reminder of the life you once shared, the bond that had defined his early years at the BAU. He would pull it out on the hardest days, staring at it as if willing you to walk through the door.

He missed everything about you—your laugh, your calming presence, the way you always seemed to know exactly what he needed without him having to ask. You had been his best friend, his person, and without you, everything felt just a little colder, a little emptier.

The team noticed, of course. They saw the way Spencer had changed after you left, the way he became more withdrawn, more guarded. But none of them could bring you back, and so they let him grieve in his own way, respecting the silence that surrounded your name.

And of course, it wasn't until you were no longer around that Spencer realized his love for you ran deeper than platonic. It hit him in the quiet moments—the ones where he’d instinctively reach for his phone to text you, only to remember you were gone, or when he’d hear a joke that would’ve made you laugh, and his heart would ache with the weight of your absence.

He struggled with this realization, the gnawing knowledge that he had lost something precious before he ever fully understood what it meant to him. There was nothing he could do now. You were gone, out of his reach in a way that felt so final. He couldn’t tell you, couldn’t whisper the words he had only just found within himself, couldn’t hold you close and say what he should have said long ago.

All he could do was hold onto the memories, the moments when you were his constant, and wonder what might have been if he had realized sooner.

—

It was a Wednesday, just like any other. The BAU was humming with the usual buzz of casework, papers rustling, phones ringing, and agents talking quietly amongst themselves. Spencer sat at his desk, flipping through files, his mind half-occupied with the details of an ongoing case, when the door to the bullpen creaked open.

He didn’t look up at first, too immersed in his thoughts. But then, a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime, cut through the air. He froze. His heart stopped. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the papers in his hands and looked toward the entrance.

It was you.

There you stood, looking just as you had all those years ago, but somehow different. The years had changed you in subtle ways, but your presence, the way you carried yourself—it was unmistakable. Spencer felt like his entire world had been thrown off its axis, spinning in a way that left him breathless.

For a moment, he didn’t know if he was dreaming. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms dampening as his mind raced to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. After years of silence, of wondering where you were, how you were—if you were safe—you were suddenly there, standing in the middle of the BAU like no time had passed at all.

You smiled, a tentative, cautious smile as you stepped further into the room. “Hey,” you said softly, almost as if testing the waters. “I’m back.”

Spencer stood abruptly, the file slipping from his hands and scattering papers across the floor. He didn’t care. All he could see was you. His voice failed him for a moment, his body torn between rushing to you and staying rooted in disbelief.

“You’re… back,” he finally stammered, blinking as if you might disappear if he looked away for too long.

You nodded, stepping closer. “I want to get back into my normal life, or whatever that is now. I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore.”

Normal. The word didn’t seem to apply to the way Spencer was feeling. There was nothing normal about this moment. After years of grieving your absence, of thinking he’d never see you again, of realizing too late how deeply he loved you—here you were. And he didn’t want to waste another second.

In a sudden, impulsive rush, Spencer crossed the room toward you, his heart hammering against his ribs. Without thinking, without any semblance of a plan, the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Marry me.”

You blinked, your smile faltering for a moment as your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Marry me,” Spencer repeated, his voice stronger this time, filled with a hint of desperation and determination. “I should have told you years ago. I should have done something, said something—anything—before you had to leave. I was in love with you back then, and seeing you now? I still am.”

Your lips parted in surprise, a laugh escaping you, not out of malice, but sheer disbelief. “Spencer… are you serious?” You chuckled nervously, shaking your head as if to clear the fog of confusion. “You can’t—this has to be a joke.”

But Spencer wasn’t laughing. His eyes were wide, earnest, his heart laid bare in front of you. “I’m not joking,” he said softly, stepping even closer until he was standing just inches from you. “I’ve spent years regretting not telling you how I felt. I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, but it felt surreal. A million emotions swirled in your chest, and you let out another shaky laugh, trying to find your footing in the whirlwind of his sudden proposal. “Spencer, I—I just got back. I’m still figuring out how to… exist in my own life again.”

“I know,” he said, his voice gentle but unwavering. “And I don’t want to rush you. I just… I had to say it. I had to let you know. I don’t want to miss out on what we could have. I love you.”

Your laughter faded as you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and it struck you that he really was serious. You didn’t know what to say. All those years apart, all the changes in your life, and now Spencer was standing in front of you, asking you to marry him as if no time had passed.

A part of you wanted to laugh it off again, to brush it aside as a product of the intensity of the moment. But another part of you, the part that had missed him just as much, felt the familiar warmth in his words, the truth in his gaze.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of uncertainty. “I… I need time. I can’t just—”

He nodded quickly, cutting you off before you could finish. “I understand. I do. I just needed you to know. I don’t want to scare you off. Take all the time you need.” His expression softened, his hand hovering just shy of yours. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

You smiled faintly, your heart a confusing mess of emotions. Spencer was something you thought about countless times over the years, getting back to him and being with him. But you never imagined he felt the same, and now that you were faced with the reality that he did, the gravity of his words hit you hard.

Spencer nodded slowly, his heart still racing but his mind catching up with the reality of what he had just done. As he turned to head back to his desk, hoping to salvage at least a little bit of his pride, your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Spencer?” you called softly.

He turned back to face you, his expression still holding anxiety and hope. Your lips curled into a gentle smile, your eyes soft as you looked at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” you said, the words slipping out with such ease that they caught Spencer completely off guard.

His entire face lit up, his eyes widening as if he hadn’t heard you right. “What?” he breathed, his voice full of disbelief and cautious excitement.

You nodded, a slight blush rising to your cheeks. “Mhm. I love you too. But…” you bit your lip, your smile turning a little playful. “Maybe we should go on a date before we walk down the aisle, yeah?”

For a moment, Spencer stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as if the world had suddenly righted itself after years of being off balance. He blinked, trying to process what you had just said, and then a wide, genuine grin spread across his face.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, his voice filled with relief and a newfound joy. “Yeah, a date. That… that sounds like a good place to start.”

You laughed softly, your heart warming at the sight of his happiness. “We’ve got time,” you assured him. “No need to rush things.”

Spencer nodded eagerly, his mind already racing through every possible date idea, every opportunity he had missed in the years you were gone. But now? Now he had a second chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

As the two of you stood there, the tension between you easing into something lighter, more hopeful, Spencer couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He had waited years to hear those words, and now that he had, he knew he wasn’t going to let you go again.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said, still beaming, unable to contain his excitement.

You grinned, shaking your head affectionately. “I’ll be ready.”

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

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic

740 notes · View notes

thechy-fychannel · 8 months ago

Text

I saw a few other blogs doing this so I thought I'd share my input on what I think would happen in the House MD universe in 2024:

the constant jokes abt house and wilson's relationship turns into the fellows jokingly writing fanfic abt their boss and his boy best friend. somewhere along the way they all get very serious abt the quality of it and it turns into a Whole Thing, a 150k+ novel that they vow to take to their graves.

house discovers the fic by accident and sends it to wilson. wilson discovers things abt himself and then he and house discover each other shortly thereafter.

house purposefully posts the fic online and credits the fellows by their entire full names so it embarrasses them more than house and wilson. It's never spoken abt again but it gets way more online attention than any of them expected.

wilson doesn't get how the Cloud works and accidentally uploads his and house's nudes to the google nest hub on his desk. He doesn't notice it until one of his sweet little old lady cancer patients points it out to him during their appointment. He throws the google nest hub into his trash can until he can figure out how to get the naked pictures off of it.

house has an alexa and abuses the hell out of it. sometimes ppl hear him screaming at someone in his office, only to walk in and find a robotic voice replying with "sorry, I didn't get that" and house throws it off the balcony.

wilson gets addicted to online shopping. house has to stage an intervention bc they do not have enough room in their closet for another pair of prada loafers and their kitchen is full of shitty gadgets that wilson bought off temu or something.

some right wing social media influencer comes in with a mysterious illness and ends up getting castrated as part of the solution. 13 personally does the procedure herself and house watches like a proud dad.

a patient reveals chase's grindr by shoving his phone at him and asking "is this you?" abt the headless profile with the ripped abs that says Dr. Feel Good, 0 feet away, in front of the rest of the team.

foreman finds the team doing tiktok dances bc house told them to learn it in order to understand their 15 yr old patient better.

chase medically murders mitch mcconnel and the entire hospital celebrates ding dong the witch is dead style.

there's a whole episode where house faces his transphobia bc of a trans patient that he connects with. the patient tells him to fuck off and go face his own problems instead of pretending to make it right by being nice to one trans person. And house does, even if he's not perfect, he really tries to do better.

13 gets her medical marijuana card and accidentally becomes the team's plug. her main customer is wilson who still supplies it to certain terminal patients. She hears "hey, can I hit your pen?" at least four times a day.

foreman buys a tesla and it blows up in the parking lot. they spend the entire episode trying to figure out who tried to kill foreman, but it turns out that teslas just do that sometimes.

there's an episode where house finds out that netflix is removing his favorite obscure tv show that ran for 2 seasons in 2002 and wilson recruits the team to hunt down a dvd copy of it without house finding out. they somehow manage to find one and spend a ridiculous amount of money on it, only to open the dvd case and find a copy of the porno wilson starred in that one time instead of the dvd of the show. park saves the day at the last minute by finding a copy of it in a box of dvds in her parents house.

#might fuck around and add more later if i can think of some more #chyanne speaks #house md #hate crimes md #medical malpractice md #hilson #dr. gregory house #dr. james wilson #remy thirteen hadley #eric forman #chris taub #chi park #robert chase #house md headcanons

1K notes · View notes

hedgehog-moss · 5 months ago

Note

Do you know much of the history of the town you live near? I noticed some very old-looking stone buildings in your photos from the cow parade - does much of the town look like that or were those heritage buildings?

Unfortunately almost every town has some Ugly Modern Houses, but they're usually in the outskirts, while the centre is quite preserved. It's mostly ~200yo houses though, with the occasional very old house (like, 17th century). The towns that used to have a castle often still have a mediaeval layout, with a cluster of houses and narrow streets; sometimes (remains of) ramparts. And every village worthy of the name has the mandatory mediaeval church in the plaza (except mine which has a modern Victorian Gothic church that's like 150yo, but we have the ruins of a mediaeval monastery to make up for it)

One little local history fact I know is that this town that had the cow parade was named after a Central Asian tribe that invaded the region ~1,600 years ago and later helped fight off Attila when the Huns were invading! The cows don't know that. I love knowing where place names come from (unless they mean stuff like "by the river" which is boring.) I went to visit a Gallo-Roman site recently and there was a sign displaying some text by Julius Caesar in which he listed all the Celtic tribes he defeated here, and I thought it was so cool that some of these names are still familiar because they are preserved in place names. The Roman invasion days, two millennia ago, already feel quite faraway but by then the Celts had already lived here for centuries—I wish the specific Gallic tribe that started farming around here in the Iron Age could know that 2,500 years later people are still farming in this place that's still named after their tribe.

Your question made me realise that what I associate with "appreciating local history" is like, going to see the ruins of some 2nd century Roman thermal baths or temples or learning that a town was named after a guy who owned the place in 847 AD, and I don't pay enough attention to the 16th century houses near my dentist's office or the 12th century church in front of the vet clinic. I should appreciate these time periods more! I do love the look of mediaeval towns with their tiny tortuous streets that make life difficult for people who drive stupidly big cars. And I love mediaeval castles, though I've only visited 2 of the 150-or-so castles (not counting the ruins) this region boasts (I use 'boasts' ironically, there's another region nicknamed "the 1001 castles" so our score is pitiful.) (They don't actually have 1001 castles, they're lying, it's like 600, plus some glorified manor houses that don't count)

Last-minute addition: I drafted this reply last weekend and today I saw some ruins in a town where I went to have my spring water analysed, and decided to pop by the town hall to learn more. I learnt that the ruins are what remains of the town's castle, which "successfully resisted many English attacks" (that's what they always say) and was then offered by the King to a courtier in the 1450s, and the courtier hated it because it was 400 years-old and cold and draughty and falling apart so he never lived here. The town hall lady was so unimpressed by her town's attractions it was funny—I imagine if I'd been a tourist she would have tried to sell it to me more but knowing I live nearby she was like, well our town has a 13th century church like everyone else and here's our "castle" that's a ruin now and that was already a ruin in Joan of Arc times. To add some fun fact about their castle she said that a Valois Queen had slept there for a few nights at some point and I said eagerly "Queen Margot?" and the woman said "... no it was in the 1300s. Queen Margot went to [better castle farther North]", in such a humble tone that I felt bad for accidentally pointing out that unlike [Rival Town] they got one of those obscure Valois queens no one cares about.

#ask #this ask was all over the place i'm sorry! you ask about old houses i start talking about huns

449 notes · View notes

housecow · 5 months ago

Text

i have knee problems stemming from an injury when i was younger. if i step wrong and fall in a certain way, the pain is so bad i can’t walk. but sometimes i like to fantasize: what if something even worse happens and i can’t walk for weeks? what if i happen to be in regular close contact with my feeder?

it’d be hard being told i have rest and let myself heal. there are plans coming up that have to be cancelled, the few active hobbies i have left take a hit. but…it’s so easy to accept every snack brought to me. after all, i sought out a feeder—this lifestyle is the one i’ve eaten myself towards. and he knows i have an inclination towards eating too much. that first week goes easier than it should; weight starts to pile on. but i miss going out, even running errands sounds nice. in the few moments my hands are absent of food or a shake i am regularly in contact with my friends.

the next week i’m better but… i feel slow. my feeder has started to keep people away because i need to rest and he’s right, healing is taxing on the body. i start responding less to others, too. our funnel has gotten so much more use in the last few days. the sugar and constant snacks step up and i can tell there is an agenda behind it all but *god* it feels good to be doted on. he helps me through the necessary exercises but trips across the house are rare. i notice how difficult it is to lift myself up now—how sedentary have i been?

that question doesn’t cross my mind again, there are better things to focus on. my feeder knows how to use my adhd to his advantage—food, sex, TV, and games all provide the dopamine hit needed to keep me distracted. the 3rd week is similar enough to the 2nd: ritualistic feeding becomes the norm. we don’t need a valve to control the flow on the funnel anymore, he knows i can finish everything. my belly is swollen out into my lap all of the time now, if i hold my boobs aside i can see new stretch marks creeping across my expanding hips. i expect the snacks, “babe, can you grab me something from the fridge?” is a phrase heard several times in the day. and my feeder obliges.

the 4th week we have an appointment and im told i should walk and start being active again. the doctor looks nervous though and tells me i need to watch my weight, he says something like “its alarming how quickly this happened,” but i blocked it out because—i can’t even see how much i weigh? my belly blocks the view now. oh my god.

in the car afterwards my feeder expresses doubt at the situation: “you don’t look so steady on your feet, i think you should still take it easy.” his eyes meet mine and i don’t miss the brief glance away, desire obvious at the sight of my rounded figure that’s entirely his fault. i know what he wants and i can’t deny myself that want, either. and he knows better in these situations, i trust his judgement. maybe it is best to stay in. plans can be pushed further back… the walk back to the car was a little difficult, too.

the next weeks—or does it span months?—pass in a blur. staying in is all i want to do. although i’m supposedly healthy again, i rarely get up and walk around more than needed. “needed” means a slow, clumsy walk to the fridge and back to either the couch or the bed. when my feeder is not there to feed me himself he takes time to order food to the door. bending down to pick things up is a monumental effort for me—a heavy, wide belly pressing into my fattened thighs. my swollen tits obscure my vision but serve as an excellent table when i need.

my feeder comes home one day and im asleep, taking up more than my fair share of the couch. my breaths are not easy and its obvious how much i ate beforehand: mostly-empty 2 liters, takeout containers haphazardly stacked on top of one another as they were finished, countless snack packages balled up and stuck between the couch cushions because sometimes i like to squirrel stuff away. as if there was a chance of hiding these habits my feeder built.

but the best part of it all is the empty pitcher sat against the corner of the couch, because i couldn’t reach to the coffee table to properly set it down with so much fat making every movement difficult.

the remnants a weight gain shake. our usual ingredients of cake mix, melted ice cream, strawberries, chocolate syrup, nutella, crushed oreos. it was hastily made, however, and it’s obvious by the chocolatey powder on the sides of the container that it was about the calories this time, not the taste. he can see where some escaped the pitcher and poured down my overly plump, round face and past the lovingly cultivated double chin. it dripped onto my breasts, lovely puddles of calories he wish made it inside of me even if the sight is wonderful. after that thought, an idea comes up. how deep are the rolls he’s gifted me? a cow this size needs to be used.

#feedism.#feeder/feedee #feedee.#hucow.#writing #is this too much 🫣#i wrote this late last night after overeating :3 #formatting may be edited later #it was written with big chunky paragraphs but i find that hard to read #it may read choppily bc of how i split it though :((

462 notes · View notes