#thought i'd misread it

[fictionadventurer]

August: Day 8

Adventures

Went to a thrift store and the library's used bookshop.

Bought a copy of Around the World in 80 Days that looks more readable than my current copy (so long as it's not an abridged children's edition). May make a new cover for it.

Bought a book about the basics of astronomy. If I'm going to write about an astronomer, I need to know a tiny bit, and this looks like it's written for idiots with short attention spans, so it'll be great for me.

Bought the coolest pop-up book I've ever seen. For a quarter. I'll have to show you guys pictures.

Treated myself to Youtube videos about Victorian literature. Indulged in a few Gutenberg downloads. Read the first chapter of Lady Audley's Secret and this may derail all my reading plans until I finish.

Accomplishments

Read a few chapters of Heretics. Am now halfway done.

Tire. Twice.

Signed up for a CPR refresher course

[carbonateddelusion]

if you had a hypothetical partner and who got a tooth knocked out which broke in half, made a necklace out of each side, giving one half to themself and one half to you, and then they broke up with you later on—would you keep the tooth necklace yes/no

Yes!

[shannonsketches]

What I actually went in to look for/laugh about was this --

Imagine spending three years locked in a room with this standoffish man, watching him be helpful and personable to a total stranger, being told by one of your oldest frenemies that it's because he feels nostalgic seeing another of his kind, reminding the frenemy that you're one of his kind, and then being told by that frenemy -- someone who shared the experience of the standoffish man -- , 'yeah, but he doesn't like you lol'

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

SkfhfkdpwyrbfpsuehfldodyispqjdhdiJEJTPDJEHDPFdjdSKWPdjG fuck the course site made it look like final paper was due in 9 days but it's actually due in 2 I have not started it yet fyfigdFkGJHF fUCK

[burningcomputerpersona]

how am i just now learning about this

[dandyshucks]

vividly imagined guz texting me and calling me baby over text and. ough. instant KO. (/positive)

[mangled-by-disuse]

SIXTY SIX US CENTS PER LITRE??????

My god, we are never getting out of this Hell are we, Americans are the fucking spoiled brats of the world and yet they demand to be pampered more

[things-i-dont-want-people-to-see]

SO.

I just tried to explain how ~the times~ people live in always stimulate some kind of psychopathology to appear more and more frequently (e.g. capitalism > anxiety) to MY MOM and it did not go well at all.

She immediately brought politics into play which would have been fine if she hadnt fucking hijacked the conversation altogether. Oh? You think all my patients suffering from thinking they SUCK as human beings because of how much more they COULD be working if they werent fucking EXHAUSTED all the time should stop COMPLAINING abt having to go to work because they voted for the wrong party? Oh?! You think I should blame them for it? OH? IS THAT WHAT YOURE SAYING? I THINK YOU MISSED THE POINT MOM-

[warrior-of-storms]

Yes, I love my reading order for comics. No, I don't think anyone else should ever have to experience comics like this. These aren't contradictory statements 👍

[dailymanners]

Tips and ideas for how to respond when someone is being rude to you

For personal reasons I won't get into, I have a history of just freezing when some is rude / hostile / aggressive / condescending / patronizing / etc. It's obviously not something I'm happy about at all, most people who freeze or fawn aren't happy about it and would change it if they could.

One day I confided in my co-worker, a middle aged woman in her 50's, that this is something I struggle with. Considering how confident and assertive she always struck me as, I was shocked when she told me this is also something she's struggled with.

The advice she gave me is to just memorize and practice a few broad statements or reactions that you can pull out of your pocket so to speak when someone is being rude or disrespectful to you. It's not easy if you're someone who's been conditioned to freeze or fawn, but practice helps. Practice saying these things when you're alone. Put up a sticky note next to your bed or on your bathroom mirror with these phrases and practice them when you see them. Practice saying these with a partner or trusted friend, role-play scenarios where you might need to use these phrases.

Here's a few phrases that have worked for me. The nice thing about them is that they tend to shut down the situation rather than escalating, while still letting the aggressor know that you don't find their behavior acceptable.

"Are you okay?"

This works well in professional settings, because it's not like your work place's residential bully can run to HR about you asking if they're okay (but they might if you try to retaliate and give them a taste of their own medicine). However, it still effectively sends the message "I think there's something wrong with your behavior and don't accept it". It's also not likely the response they're expecting, so it'll likely throw them off and prevent further verbal aggression.

"Could you repeat that for me? I didn't catch what you said."

This one is most effective for people you believe to actually have a conscious and might regret what they said if they actually thought about it a little more. I find that often when I do this one, when people repeat the rude/snippy/patronizing/etc thing they either shamefully stumble over their words and show some remorse, or they change altogether what they say. In the off chance they don't regret what they said and end up repeating exactly what they said, this at least buys you some time to think of a better reaction since you're no longer caught off guard by a sudden rude and snippy remark.

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

Similar logic to the last one. Often when people are being rude/snippy/patronizing/etc they're caught up in their own emotions in that moment and didn't think it through. This is a polite and civil way of putting their rude behavior in the spotlight and making them reconsider what they said. The other advantage to this one is that in case you did misread their intentions and they meant no harm by what they said or did, this gives them an opportunity to clarify that, instead of you just feeling bad over a statement or actions they actually had no ill intentions with.

If anyone has any further examples of reactions / responses / statements that have worked for them, I'd love to hear about them. I'm new to studying the art of how to civilly yet effectively shut down bad behavior from others, so I'm always open to hearing more suggestions.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Textual Tension

Summary: You accidentally send a very suggestive text to your awkward coworker, and he replies...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, awkward tension

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: has anyone ever sent a sext to the wrong person?? i've only ever sent them to my friends on accident and for that i am so thankful

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), mild breast play, soft dom spencer

You sit on your bed, the soft glow of your phone illuminating your face as you type out a rather suggestive message to the person you've been casually hooking up with. A smirk tugs at your lips as you hit send, confident that the message will hit its mark. 

I've been thinking about you… Can't stop imagining what I'd do if you were here right now. I want to feel your hands all over me, the way you’d make me moan… Let’s make fantasy a reality?

But within seconds, your heart stops as you realize the terrible mistake you've just made.

You’ve sent the message to Spencer.

Spencer.

Your coworker. The brilliant, kind, and awkwardly charming genius who you’ve always had a friendly, professional relationship with. And, of course, the one who has been harboring a massive, secret crush on you. A fact that, unbeknownst to you, has led to countless daydreams and wishes that you might feel the same.

The blood drains from your face as you stare at your phone, horrified, praying that somehow the message didn’t actually go through, or maybe, just maybe, Spencer won’t read it and will simply delete it. But you know better—Spencer is meticulous about everything. Of course, he’ll read it. You’re absolutely mortified, every worst-case scenario flashing through your mind.

Meanwhile, in his apartment, Spencer is settling down with a cup of tea, ready to dive into the book he’s been reading. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up absentmindedly, assuming it’s just a work-related message or something mundane. But as he reads the words on the screen, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat.

His thoughts run wild, heart pounding as he rereads the text, each time wondering if it could possibly be real. Could you, the person he’s admired from afar for so long, actually want him in the way he’s secretly yearned for? The idea is intoxicating, and before he can second-guess himself, he responds with a message that matches your energy, his pulse quickening at the boldness of it.

Wow… I didn’t know you were into me like that. I’ve been thinking about you too. If you want, we can definitely make that happen.

The moment you see his reply, your stomach drops. You can't believe this is happening. You’re completely mortified, your mind spinning with the implications. How could you ever face him again? You don’t respond, the fear and embarrassment paralyzing you, leaving you in a state of panic.

The next day at work, you’re a bundle of nerves. Every step you take towards the bullpen feels like you’re walking to your own doom. When you finally arrive, you try to act normal, but the tension is palpable. You can’t even bring yourself to make eye contact with Spencer, every interaction feeling like it’s laced with the humiliation of last night’s mistake.

Spencer, on the other hand, is caught in a whirlwind of emotions. At first, he’s elated, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance you were into him. But as the day drags on and you remain distant, the excitement turns to confusion, then a sharp sting of rejection. Did he misread the situation? Was it all just a mistake? He’s left feeling awkward and exposed, unsure of where he stands with you now.

—

The tension between you and Spencer had become a nearly tangible thing, a thread pulled taut between the two of you, ready to snap at any moment. At first, your glances in his direction were purely out of necessity—quick, fleeting looks to gauge his mood, to see if he was as affected by this as you were. But as the days passed, those glances became more frequent, more lingering.

It started innocently enough. You’d look over and notice how effortlessly his hair seemed to fall into place, the soft waves framing his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal. You’d never paid much attention before, but now you couldn’t help but admire how it suited him, how it added to his charm.

Then, it was his forearms. You’d catch him pushing up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, revealing the sinewy strength beneath the fabric. There was something about the casual way he did it, the way the muscles in his arms flexed ever so slightly as he worked, that made your heart skip a beat. It was such a simple thing, but it had a profound effect on you, stirring something deep within.

And then there was the way he licked his lips when he was focused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on whatever task was in front of him. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his attention focused solely on you, to feel the intensity of that gaze as he looked at you, not with confusion or uncertainty, but with desire.

The more you noticed these little things, the more conflicted you became. This was Spencer—sweet, brilliant, and awkward Spencer. The idea of seeing him in a different light had never really crossed your mind before, but now… now it was all you could think about. The memory of his bold response to your accidental text played on a loop in your mind, taunting you with the possibilities.

What if you responded? What if you stopped overthinking everything and just… saw where it could go? The idea terrified you, but it also excited you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something thrilling about the thought of exploring this new dynamic, of seeing if there was something more between you and Spencer than just a shared workspace.

You found yourself daydreaming about it, wondering how he would react if you sent him a message, if you matched the energy of his reply. Would he be as nervous as you were, or would he surprise you with a confidence you hadn’t seen before? The thought of it made your pulse quicken, a flush of warmth spreading through you.

But with the excitement came doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if you were reading too much into things, and responding to his text would only make the situation worse? The fear of making things awkward again, of possibly ruining your work life further, held you back. Yet, the thought of doing nothing felt like a missed opportunity, like you were letting something potentially amazing slip through your fingers.

As the day dragged on, you found it harder and harder to focus on your work. Every time you saw Spencer, every time you noticed another little detail about him that you hadn’t before, the urge to reach out grew stronger. It was like there was a tug-of-war going on inside you, with one side urging you to take the risk and see what could happen, and the other holding you back out of fear.

Finally, as the workday was winding down, you made a decision. Maybe you were overthinking this—maybe it was time to just go for it and see what came of it. After all, Spencer had responded positively, hadn’t he? There was a chance, a real chance, that he felt something for you too, something more than just a workplace friendship.

Sitting on your couch with your heart pounding in your chest, you pulled out your phone, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you debated what to say. You didn’t want to be too forward, but you also didn’t want to be vague. After a few moments of contemplation, you typed out a message, your hands trembling slightly as you reread it.

Hey, about that text… Maybe we should talk. Or… you know, not just talk. If you’re still interested.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as you watched the message deliver. There was no going back now.

The rest of the evening was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his response might be, what it could mean for the two of you. When your phone finally buzzed with a new message, you hesitated for just a moment before opening it.

I’m definitely interested. Let’s talk… or not just talk, whenever you’re ready.

The words were simple, but they held so much promise. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read them, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding your senses. This was happening. You and Spencer were about to cross a line, to explore something new and thrilling.

Just as you were contemplating what to say, how to navigate this sudden and unexpected turn in your relationship, another notification lit up your screen.

Come over? Now?

The message was short, simple, and completely electrifying. It sent a jolt through your system, leaving you momentarily speechless. The implications of it were clear—Spencer wasn’t just thinking about this; he was ready to act on it, to turn this accidental confession into something real and immediate.

Your mind raced as you considered what to do next. Just minutes ago, you were agonizing over whether or not to even respond, and now he was inviting you over, as if the decision had already been made. The sheer boldness of his message left you breathless, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like—showing up at his place, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you all day. The thought of being alone with him, of crossing that line from coworkers to something more, sent a thrill through you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was a pivotal moment, and whatever you decided now would set the course for what happened next.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate, you typed out a response, your heart racing as you hit send.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

—

You parked outside Spencer’s apartment building, your heart racing as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. The 20-minute drive had been filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a lingering thread of uncertainty. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you arrived, especially considering how different Spencer had seemed over text compared to how he usually was in person. The Spencer you knew was shy, adorably awkward, and hesitant when it came to personal matters. But his texts had shown a side of him that was bold, confident, and unafraid to take charge.

As you approached his door, your nerves started to get the better of you, but there was no turning back now. You lifted your hand to knock, hesitating for just a moment before finally letting your knuckles rap against the wood. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity, your mind racing with possibilities of how this night could unfold.

When the door finally opened, you were taken aback by the sight that greeted you. Spencer stood there, shirtless, the soft glow of his apartment’s light highlighting the lean lines of his torso. He wore nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the defined muscles and trail of hair beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it moments before opening the door, and his eyes, usually filled with a mix of curiosity and gentle kindness, now held a smoldering intensity that you had never seen before.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. This wasn’t the Spencer you were used to—this was the man who had responded to your accidental text with a confidence that had both surprised and intrigued you. The awkward, hesitant Spencer you knew seemed to have taken a backseat, making way for someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

And what he wanted, it seemed, was you.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched your reaction. There was a heat in his gaze, a silent challenge that dared you to step inside, to see just how far this newfound confidence could take him.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad you came.”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there like that—so effortlessly confident, so unapologetically enticing—made it difficult to think of anything but the rush of desire that was quickly building within you.

“Hey,” you managed to reply, your voice a little breathless. “You… uh, look different.”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped aside to let you in. “Well I should hope so,” he said, his tone teasing, but with an underlying seriousness that sent your heart racing even faster.

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of his apartment wrap around you as the door clicked shut behind you. The atmosphere between you was charged, electric, every moment filled with unspoken possibilities. Spencer moved closer, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. The scent of him—a mix of something clean and masculine—filled your senses, making you even more acutely aware of the heat radiating from his skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” Spencer began, his voice soft yet steady, as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “About what was said...”

Your breath hitched at the light touch, your skin tingling where his fingers had just been. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid that your voice might betray just how much his presence was affecting you.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “But I also don’t want to pretend that nothing’s changed… because it has.”

He was right—everything had changed. The air between you was thick with tension, with the unspoken acknowledgment of what you both wanted but were too nervous to voice. And yet, here he was, standing so close, shirtless and confident, laying it all out in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found your voice. “So… what happens next?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, almost mischievous smile. “I think that depends on what you want.”

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation all at once. You could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction drawing you closer to him, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

With a boldness you hadn’t known you possessed, you stepped even closer, your body nearly brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “I want to find out what happens when we stop pretending.”

The last remnants of hesitation melted away as Spencer’s smile turned into something more—something hungry and determined. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips descended on yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was fierce, consuming, a release of all the tension that had been building between you.

As his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer still, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you had only begun to scratch the surface of the side of Spencer Reid you were about to discover tonight.

The world around you blurred as Spencer’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with every passing second. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you lost yourself in the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the way his hands gripped your waist with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. It felt like you had been kissing for an eternity, and yet when he finally pulled back, you found yourself gasping for breath, your mind spinning, and your body aching for more.

Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken. Without saying a word, he took your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, leading you down the hall towards his bedroom. The anticipation thrummed in your veins, every step heightening the tension between you. But just as you reached the doorway, Spencer suddenly stopped, turning to press you against the doorframe. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses that made your knees weaken and your breath hitch.

You barely had time to process the sensation before he pulled back again, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gently but firmly guided you into the bedroom. With a swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed, and you bounced slightly, a surprised giggle escaping your lips. The unexpected shift in his demeanor—this newfound confidence, this playful dominance—left you both intrigued and a little off-balance. You’d known Spencer as the quiet, reserved, and somewhat shy genius, but this side of him was something entirely different, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it.

As you lay there, still trying to wrap your head around this change, you found yourself blurting out a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot, Reid?”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. He shook his head with a smile that was equal parts reassuring and teasing. “No, not ever really,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady, as he reached for your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your legs. His hands rested on your thighs, the warmth of his touch seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment.

“Call me Spencer,” he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was something intimate about the way he said it, as if this wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about letting you see a side of him that no one else had. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the request, the simple act of calling him by his first name in this context making the moment feel even more personal, more real. 

“Spencer,” you repeated, the name slipping from your lips like a secret, a promise. His smile widened, a spark of something almost wicked flashing in his eyes, and you realized that you were about to discover a side of him that you’d never imagined existed.

Spencer leaned in, his hands sliding up your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, you know. I just never thought…” He trailed off, as if realizing that words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. Instead, he captured your lips with his again, his kiss searing and insistent, as though he were making up for lost time.

Spencer's hands, warm and steady, slowly trailed up your sides, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of your t-shirt as they moved. When he reached the hem, he hesitated, his touch gentle but deliberate as he curled his fingers around the edge. He looked up at you, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness, but there was something else too—a careful consideration, a need to ensure that you were just as willing as he was.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his eyes searching yours for the reassurance he needed.

For a moment, you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, with such raw want and yet so much care, made it hard to think clearly. You nodded quickly, your eyes wide with anticipation, but Spencer didn’t move.

His grip on your shirt tightened slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to need you to use your words, sweetheart.”

The way he said it—his voice rough, almost gritted out with barely restrained desire—made your head spin, the sheer force of his need for you sending your pulse into overdrive. There was a command in his tone, but also a gentle reminder that this was your choice, that he needed to hear you say it.

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to find the words. The air around you felt thick with tension, every second stretching out as you stared up at him, the look in his eyes making it impossible to deny him—or yourself.

“Ye—yes, please,” you finally managed to say, your voice a little breathless, but full of the same want that you saw reflected in his eyes.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with satisfaction at your response, a small, almost predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he began to lift your shirt. The fabric slid up your torso slowly, the cool air of the room hitting your skin as he revealed more of you. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.

For a brief moment, you felt exposed, vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. But the way Spencer looked at you, with a mixture of awe and hunger, made all your insecurities melt away. His hands roamed over the newly exposed skin, his touch both soothing and electrifying, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and desire, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your collarbone, his lips lingering against your skin.

You had forgone a bra that night, thinking nothing of it when you slipped into your comfy clothes after a long day at work. After all, you hadn’t planned on anything like this happening. But now, with Spencer’s hands on you, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like awe, you found that you didn’t care in the slightest. If anything, it added to the intimacy of the moment, the rawness of it, making you feel closer to him than you ever thought possible.

His touch was slow, deliberate, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every reaction he elicited from you. His fingers brushed over your skin, exploring you with curiosity and desire, as if he was trying to learn every detail, every response, to what he was doing. When his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body arching towards him instinctively, craving more of his touch.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it felt like a confession. There was something in his name, in the way it rolled off your tongue, that made the moment feel even more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was a declaration, an acknowledgment of what was happening between you, of the connection that was quickly forming.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. There was something almost primal in the way he looked at you now, a hunger that was barely restrained, but also a tenderness that made your chest tighten with emotion. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… how long I’ve wanted you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the sheer weight of them. It wasn’t just lust in his voice—it was something deeper, something that made you feel cherished, desired in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The realization that Spencer had been holding back, that he had wanted you for so long, made your heart swell with emotion, your need for him growing even stronger.

He kissed you again, his lips capturing yours in a way that was both gentle and demanding, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. Each touch, each caress, was filled with passion and care, as if he was trying to show you just how much you meant to him without needing to say the words. And with every kiss, every brush of his fingertips, you found yourself falling deeper into the moment, your own desire for him becoming overwhelming.

You reached up, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat of his body against yours. The way he responded, the way his hands gripped you tighter, as if afraid to let go, made it clear that he was just as lost in the moment as you were. There was no more hesitation, no more awkwardness—just the two of you, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Spencer’s hands were warm against your skin as he gently laid you back on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above you. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability. His fingers trailed down your sides, the touch sending shivers through your body as he slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest.

“Tell me, Y/N…” His voice was a low murmur, filled with an edge of something deeper, as he kissed his way down your chest, taking his time, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his lips. “Did you think about me too?”

The question hung in the air, making your breath hitch as you squirmed beneath him, the sensation of his kisses igniting a fire deep within you. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body on high alert as you felt his breath ghost over your skin, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I did,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless as the confession slipped out. It was the truth, after all—you had thought about him, more than you ever wanted to admit. The idea of Spencer, sweet, awkward Spencer, being the one to push you to this point had always been a secret fantasy, buried deep within you. But now, with him here, in this moment, it was no longer just a fantasy—it was real.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin as he reached your hip, his teeth nipping playfully at the delicate flesh, making you gasp. The sensation was a mix of pleasure and surprise, and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly in response. His hands moved to your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband as he tugged them down slowly, teasingly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he did.

“That text wasn’t for me though, was it?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he watched your reaction. The smirk on his face was something you’d never seen before—confident, almost cocky, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. You hadn’t expected him to catch on to that detail, but of course he had—Spencer was nothing if not observant. The thought that he knew the text wasn’t meant for him, but was still here, still wanting you, made your pulse quicken even more.

“Uh, no, it wasn’t,” you admitted with a whine, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no point in lying—not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze full of heat and understanding. “But I’m glad I sent it to you,” you added quickly, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of desperation.

Spencer’s smirk softened into a small, almost tender smile as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your navel. “Maybe your subconscious wanted you to,” he suggested, his voice low and smooth, each word making your head spin. The idea made you dizzy, the thought that some part of you had always wanted this, had always wanted him, even if you hadn’t fully realized it until now.

“Uh huh,” you breathed out, your voice floaty and airy, your mind clouded with desire. The sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, was intoxicating, making it hard to think clearly. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and completely lost in the moment.

Spencer’s fingers continued to work on removing your shorts, sliding them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he was savoring every second, every inch of skin he revealed.

As he finally discarded your shorts, leaving you completely exposed to him, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

The words made your heart swell, a wave of warmth washing over you as you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was nothing left to hide now, nothing left to hold back. This was exactly where you wanted to be—where you were meant to be.

“Do you always skip out on bras and panties, Y/N?” Spencer’s teasing comment sent a ripple of laughter through you, the sound mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. The playful banter between you only intensified the electric connection that was already sparking between you both. His bite on your inner thigh was both a tease and a promise, igniting a fire that made every nerve in your body come alive.

“N–no, only at home,” you managed to scream out, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his touch and the vulnerability of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer.

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, echoing softly in the room as his fingers continued to explore your skin. “But you didn’t put any on before coming over?” His tone was light, yet there was an undeniable edge of desire that underpinned his words.

You took a moment to catch your breath, the playful challenge in his eyes urging you to respond. “Are you–are you complaining?” you asked, your voice wavering between breathless laughter and the growing urgency of your emotions.

Spencer shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not at all, although–” His sentence was cut short as your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him fully into you. The sudden, decisive movement left no room for hesitation, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace.

“Oh my god, Spencer, just shut up,” you laughed, the sound filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Put your mouth to use.”

His response was immediate, his lips finding your core with a fervor that matched the intensity of your own longing. The way he ate you out was everything you had been waiting for—passionate, deep, and downright filthy. His hands left their place on your thighs, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that made you feel both cherished and desired.

As he sunk his mouth deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, Spencer guided you gently but firmly onto the bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you.

“Spencer,” you moaned, the name slipping out like a sacred vow, sealing the moment between you. His response was a dirty smile, his mouth shining with your juices, making your pulse throb.

He paused for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes, “You’re fucking delicious,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

As Spencer’s mouth continued to work its magic on your core, a whirlwind of sensations overwhelmed you. Each touch, each stroke of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but the intense feeling of being completely consumed by him. The way he moved, so skilled yet so attentive to your every reaction, left you breathless, your hands clutching at the sheets as your head swam in a sea of ecstasy.

But amidst the pleasure, a fleeting thought crossed your mind—how close you had come to letting this moment, this incredible opportunity, slip through your fingers. You couldn’t believe that you had almost dismissed the idea of responding to his bold text, that you had almost let fear and hesitation keep you from experiencing this side of Spencer. A side that was confident, passionate, and utterly devoted to your pleasure.

How could you have been so close to missing out on this? On him? Spencer, who had always been there, quiet and thoughtful, had somehow managed to unlock a part of you that you hadn’t even known existed—a part that craved the connection and intimacy he was now offering with every caress of his lips.

You let out a soft moan, your hips arching towards him as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. The sounds you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulled you closer, his tongue working with a precision that left you teetering on the edge. Every nerve in your body was alive, the world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you, the heat of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer,” you gasped out, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. It wasn’t just the pleasure he was giving you—it was the realization that this was Spencer, the man you had known for so long, who was now showing you a depth of care and passion that you had never imagined.

The way he responded to your every movement, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, made you feel cherished in a way that went far beyond the physical. It was as if he was attuned to your very soul, using his touch to communicate something deeper, something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had realized.

As you felt the tension within you coil tighter and tighter, ready to snap, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had fallen into this moment with him. All the hesitation, the uncertainty, had melted away, leaving only the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Spencer. A connection that had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to be brought to life.

And now that it had, you knew you could never go back to the way things were. Spencer had opened a door to something new, something beautiful, and you were ready to step through it with him, no matter what the future held.

With a final, skillful flick of his tongue over your clit, Spencer sent you tumbling over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your release. The world around you seemed to dissolve into a haze of pleasure and warmth, your mind barely able to process the overwhelming sensations that flooded through you.

As you came down from the high, Spencer’s hands and mouth softened, his touch becoming gentle, almost reverent, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that left no doubt about how much this moment meant to him. He crawled up the bed to join you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a slow, languid kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips.

You smiled against his lips, a sense of contentment and excitement washing over you as you whispered, “I’m glad I’m here too, Spencer. So glad.”

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

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[sqgeism]

hey there!!! love your work sm eheheh

anyway, i was wondering if you could (perchance) do a vampire reader x dr ratio? preferably where the reader is STARVING and bites him lolol

stay safe and stay silly!!

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 take a look into my eyes | dr. ratio and anaxagoras (seperate) x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; can you feel the tension ? between us boy, i know you want this potion ! bloodstains : a course of how to have a vampire lover. written by anaxagoras and dr. ratio.

love mail — hi anonnie ! thank u sm for requesting >< misread the comment originally and wrote vampire anaxagoras b4 scrapping as i reread it (;´Д⊂) anaxa's is lowkey suggestive.. experimental fic.. and if you can give me criticism on that part i'd really appreciate it cus i don't write make outs often (´；ω；`) this was so weirdly long mama help

,to be quite frank, dr. ratio figured it out before you revealed yourself to him. it explained why you seemed to never sleep, or your fast regeneration, things like that. so when you two started dating, he kept an eye on how you satiated your appetite. even if you didn't like it.. fresh, red meat from butchers weirdly worked. instead of buying the packaged stuff—ratio accompanied you to a butcher every week to get a big slab of undrained cow meat. then it'll be your meal till it would no longer suffice.

unfortunately, not only did it not taste good, but it was barely enough to keep you functioning. you had enough strength to move and do usual tasks, but your power was significantly weaker, as well as regeneration. your body responds negatively to the lack of proper blood, but still accepts it as such. like forcing yourself to eat uncooked meat. (which is what you were doing)

and because of your weakening state, and having your arm chopped off after a battle.. it was regenerating, worry not (albeit very slow). but then, to your dismay, you two got into an argument. "your cowardice is killing you." ratio began with a sharp tone, causing you to scoff. "what am i supposed to do, ratio? bite random people on the streets?" you retorted, and he lets out a forced, amused laugh.

"your solution stands before you, (name)."

he looms over you. "bite me, for aeon's sake. you think a measly bite will hurt, compared to the suffering you go through?" he's never sounded so.. mad, but gentle. his hand grips your unharmed shoulder, grip like a vice yet still tender. "bite me." he demands, yet also pleads.

dr. ratio begging is a sight you never thought you'd see, but his eyes pierce through you in complete seriousness. he won't let you leave this conversation without a bite mark on his neck, and you don't remember how long it's been since you've had mortal blood. "..f-fine."

in your weakened state, your legs force themselves to stand. your body really only has the strength to lean against him, as his arms wrap around you to keep you stable. your head weakly makes its way to his exposed bicep, and his hand guides you, knowing it likely won't hit anything vital.. and it's the easiest to access currently. after all, your other arm is far from fully regenerating, and ratio was starting to worry that the blood you had wasn't enough.

slowly, your mouth opens—revealing eager teeth but still hesitant. you hover over his arm for a bit, before slowly biting down.

he doesn't wince, not at all, but he does grunt at the initial bite. he listens to you slowly feed, feeling the blood drain from his body as he stands tall. and while he's faltering, you grow stronger. hell, your intact arm grips his hips as you dig deeper. little mumbles as you suck on his arm, like it's the last drop of blood you'll ever have.

you're brought back to reality as ratio's head slumps against yours and you pull your teeth out quickly, licking the bite and stopping any more blood with a cloth. "ratio!"

you don't even realize that your other arm has regenerated as you use it to stabilize him. guiding him back down on the chair you were just sat on as he groans. he can't speak, he's too lightheaded to try. but he feels lips press against his and a whisper of a sorry before he completely slips.

you care for him till he wakes up. feeling much.. much stronger, but needing to communicate how they'll go on forward. after all, you liked that a bit too much. and with the way ratio's heart was racing, you can make a wild guess that it was either adrenaline or attraction.

anaxa doesn't feel too weird about your vampirism. it explained the long sleeves constantly, big hats and umbrellas, fangs that came with sharp nails.. typical vampire lover packaging.

though something he found intriguing, was that you never drank raw, mortal blood. it was always blood bags.. nothing that had a beating heart. you were always so delicate that way.. even as your body physically withered, you wouldn't have your fangs get anywhere close to a human.. especially not anaxa.

but coming with you when you were hungry always.. saddened him. after getting your hands on a blood bag that are provided to keep those of your kind that aren't too far gone.. at least a little sane—you clearly never liked it. described it as too cold, bitter, and was the vampire equivalent of spoiled milk.

it didn't help all too much either. while it kept your hunger at bay, you were still much weaker compared to your full potential. you could transform, regenerate quickly, hide in shadows.. but you could only do the last one. and as previously established, even if regeneration is part of your abilities, it was greatly weakened. your body didn't have enough energy or blood to regenerate with, therefore straining your physical and mental.

and it was a great trouble for you, because the demands of an astral express member was starting to get rougher. all while you weren't regenerating in time to be able to meet what was expected of you. missions were getting rougher, injuries were worsening, and your body couldn't catch up to it all.

so that leads you here, a large gash in your face as you lay in anaxa's lap, waiting for the pain to disappear as you rustle and turn, unable to really rest due to the uncomfortable sensation. you can feel your muscles trying to pull themselves back together, skin sparing no effort to resort itself. and anaxa is doing no better. he pushes your hair away to see the full extent of the wound, and his heart aches. you're in so much pain.. yet you won't do what you have to in order to fix it. "my dove, please." you know what he's going to offer, and you'll refuse it every time. "anaxa, no. i swore i wouldn't bite after turning." yet you aren't getting any better. you've been like this for hours, and changing what you wear won't erase the wounds he knows are still healing beneath your top.

he doesn't want his frustration to get the better of him, but the scholar quietly seethes. you're being so stubborn—for what? too afraid to hurt him? he loves you for your selflessness, but he's not above begging you to be selfish for once.

in the silence of your struggles, his brain is racking to figure out a way to get you to drink his blood. considering his loss of morality and not necessarily caring if something is harmful to him, he doesn't think twice about what happens to him. just as long as you're okay.. staring down at your lips a little too long gives him an idea.

he taps your shoulder softly, and one anaxa's hand makes it's way to your back to slowly guide you back up to him, the other resting on your hip. "my love, i know it's a bad time. but may i kiss you? i know that you're in pain, and i'd like to do anything i can to make you feel better." you seem hesitant at first, thinking your bloodied wound would make you a little.. unattractive to your boyfriend, but it's anaxa, it makes sense why he wouldn't care. so you nod and barely get a breath in before he's all over you.

it isn't the short kisses anaxa has been known for to you, it's hungry. he's practically devouring you, the vampire between you both, might i add. it doesn't help that he's dipping down to you and keeping your head in place with his hand, effectively trapping you in his little plan. the other, while you're too busy melting against his advances, squeezes you—harshly. it causes you to make the sweetest noise that he's sure to relish, but more importantly—your mouth opens just enough for your fangs to be exposed. that's when he forces your lower jaw upwards, making you bite his lip hard enough to bleed.

he groans, no doubt, but he doesn't pull away. in fact, this is where he returns with much more fervor. you panic in realization of what he's done, but anaxa's grip is unforgiving. he's making sure that his blood gets and stays in your mouth.

your struggle doesn't last long, thankfully. because your worry turns into relief, as the long forgotten taste of human blood begins to flood your tastebuds. eventually he doesn't need to hold your head for you anymore, you've recovered from your lightheadedness and began to take initiative as well. kissing him softly and licking the blood clean off of his lips.

when you finish with one last peck, you look at your lover with a bit of conflict. unsure whether or not to be upset or.. thankful. because the pain has stopped, and you feel stronger. your body doesn't ache as much either. "you're a madman." is all you grumble, hitting his chest.

the scholar laughs, burying his head against your hair. "whatever you say, dove."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[kanmom51]

Jikook at the airport

Weren't they lovely?

Seriously.

I thought I'd talk about JK's nails and the 'handshake' seeing that we are once again going down the path of diminishing something that those two do.

Let's start with JK's nails, why don't we?

JK showing up with nail polish on some of his fingers.

A choice.

A statement he was making.

The voices of doubt is what I call them.

We've been hearing them for years.

It's the level of scorn shown towards the numbers theories, the inability to understand that it is a Korean thing, that K army believe in the day counting and the numbers imbedded into Jikook posts in the past. JM's day counting (even when it's as clear as day, like it was during the Seoul PTD concert) or the 8-11 that keeps showing up in the days and times they post, or within their posts even.

It's the whole "that J that 'happens' to be placed over the M can't stand for JM because JK told us ARMY stood for army and not the members and he said the J stands for JK , so it can't be JM", oh and it goes on with "he didn't even think it through when he placed that J there, over the M, and people misreading it that it stands for JM". An insult to JK's intelligence really, especially seeing that the J was added at a later date. J over M. JM. Intentional. Thought out. Executed with intent and reason.

Not everything has to or in this case can be said out loud and clearly. JK denied the ARMY being other members, ran by the J like he was running from a burning building, most definitely didn't address the J over the M. Intentional. By addressing the ARMY while not addressing the JM we have our answer. Sometimes not saying something says it all. And let's be real here. Could he really say it out loud? 2023 JK. Before their solo endeavours. Before enlisting together. Sometimes they tell us half of the story for us to get it (same as in LA 2021 and him telling us he goes to JM's room cause it's the closest to his... seriously, lol).

And now the nails.

JK deciding to show up at the airport dressed in black, black cap with blue Tokyo embroidery, nails pained blue and black. All while JM happening to show up in blue jeans and a blue sweatshirt (very similar colour to the colour choice of JK's blue nails).

And while the initial reaction was exactly what you would expect, I am talking about Jikookers here, clear excitement, noticing the colour coordination, noticing the choice of the JM ring finger being painted in blue, the colour JM is wearing, people couldn't and wouldn't leave it at that.

Not only Army that flee from anything Jikook as fast as they can. Jikookers as well. I understand Jikook's need for deniability, you know, being a queer closeted couple and all. But Jikookers hanging on to deniability is beyond me. Why? Scared of being proven wrong? At this point is there still a doubt these two are a long term couple? Really?

But what gets to me is not only the insecurity. It's the latching on to every and anything that can explain away Jikook's actions as a couple. They will ALWAYS try to explain away JM and JK's actions/choices. Is it a fear of being wrong? Or perhaps a fear of being right? No idea. I only know that it is starting to bug me (this is me trying to be demure).

Once again these Jikookers feel the need to question JK's actions, question the intent. Because no, JK couldn't be that loud, right? It HAS to be something else, right?

So the voices started.

Let's take away from what he did.

Let's diminish from it being a clear statement, another one added to many others, that they are a couple.

And they came up with 2 options, because apparently both are easier to stomach than the clear intent behind JK's actions.

First is: "this was just JK doing the Polished man"

It would be a beautiful cause, and I wouldn't put it past him supporting it.

But...

I really don't think this is what he's doing here.

And what gets me is the assertiveness in which people are posting about it. Stating a fact. No question marks, no doubts, no "maybe it's not that, maybe it's something else". No. It's a fact. That's what he's doing.

The movement is about paining ONE nail and one only in blue.

And there is a reason why it's only 1 nail painted.

To symbolise the fact that 1 out of 5 children is subject to violence before turning 18!! That is the statement.

But you see, JK had both hands painted in black and blue, altering fingers.

There is a reason that only the one right hand keeps being shown in the posts and even articles.

JK has blue nails on both of his hands. He also has black painted nails as well.

Left hand.

Right hand.

Could he be supporting the cause while also making a statement?

Maybe?

Although, again, the two hands painted kind of doesn't fit that bill.

But if he was, then the left hand index finger does that perfectly.

Right hand though...

Blue nail on his ring finger. His JM ring finger. While JM happens to be wearing blue. A same colour tone of blue!!!

Another clear choice.

Yeah-nah. Those are clear choices. A statement alright, of the Jikook kind.

And if we are going down that path of trying to suggest there is a meaning to JK painting his nails blue, other than matching JM's outfit, then why not this?

The blue nail theory?

A theory that also fits perfectly, wouldn't you say?

Yeah, he's telling us he's in a relationship with the one person who's name is tattooed on his right ring finger, and that he happened to paint that finger nail in blue...

And then we have the "it's clearly part of a CK campaign he just did and it matches the blue and black of the CK hat he is wearing as part of that campaign".

As a side note I want to talk about a specific account, those who know know, that was basically bullied into taking a break and deleting posts they made, an account that does Jikook fashion, after trying to find out more information about JK's hat and is it part of a new campaign or on sale (and finding out it isn't on sale in the US and not part of a US campaign while waiting on an answer from CK Japan). At this point we don't know if that hat is custom made or off the rack. Custom made can mean heaps.

We have this:

And this:

And this:

But I guess now we will never know if this hat was custom made, another JK choice (not that choosing the hat even if it was ready made couldn't be, but having it custom made would be just WOW).

Back to the nail painting being part of a CK campaign he might have just come off of.

Only little problem is that his nail painting is clearly one of two: either nail stick ons that don't fit his fingers or a very botchy self done nail painting.

This isn't hard to see.

Bottom line being that people just can't accept that JK does these things consciously to point out them being a couple. And so many times it comes with "they wouldn't be so obvious". But you see, this is exactly what they would do. What they do. What they have been doing for years now. This is their way of showing, to those who are willing to see, that they are a couple. This is exactly the way a closeted couple can hint to their relationship without saying it out loud. This is their way of claiming each other in front of us. The outsiders. Those who aren't part of that inner circle that KNOW. They know they are being watched. They know that every single thing they do is put under the microscope and analyzed. They know we see it all. And they show us what they can.

And this brings me to the 'handshake', because that too is being downplayed.

You have those that will be using this as proof the two haven't seen each other for long (laughable), or those that just downplay it, again, with "this wasn't them holding hands". The usual, you know.

Remember when they hugged at Hobi's enlistment and the haters were going rabid claiming it meant they haven't seen each other for ages, just for the two to let us know they spent the previous night having drinks? Lol. You'd think they would learn...

Let's start with saying that there is a clear difference between a handshake and holding hands.

Clear as day.

And we have many examples of the two of them doing just that. Shaking hands sometimes, and others holding hands. Neither, in their case, are because they haven't seen each other for a while. They are done as acknowledgement of each other, as comfort, as part of their non verbal language with each other.

So, we have multiple ways those two find a way to touch, to hold hands. And for a multitude of reasons.

Including in their post military lives.

So, not a handshake. And not a greeting after not seeing each other for a while either.

Then what was it?

As if we can really know...

Doesn't mean we can't guess, or at least place that hand grab and hold on the spectrum of what it might have meant.

Let's start with the fact that as Yoongi and JM got out of the car the staff member, probably manager, was trying to get JM to start walking into the terminal. But JM stands put, looking towards the second car pointing in that direction. He's waiting for JK. Period!

As JK approaches JM holds out his hand for JK to take. And he holds on. They hold on. Not letting go for quite a bit, even while starting to walk towards the terminal.

To me this was beyond acknowledgement. This was about reassurance. This was about "I'm here with you". About "we've got this".

"We've got this".

That's what it screams to me.

JK needed that from JM and JM gave it to him.

Knowing the cameras are there, knowing this will be seen and posted and dissected, none of it mattered. Because in that moment JK needed that reassurance and JM needed to give it to him.

Not that I think that at this point, post military, he actually gives a damn. But still.

And now they are in the US.

JM let us know they arrived safely.

💜

For 2 months. The where what and how is unknown just yet. Maybe they will share it with us, maybe not. I do hope we will hear from them. I expect we will. Can't wait!!

[matt-murdockk]

Love (?) is in the air

pairing: jonah simms x fem!cloud9!reader words: 1.5k summary: Sandra clearly misreads a situation between (Y/n) and Jonah. Or does she? warnings: one single f-bomb a/n: superstore fic can I get a hell yeah

"You know, when I pictured what I'd be doing at this age, I always hoped it involved a forklift and a six-foot bear with dead eyes," (Y/N) said dryly, hoisting the last of the giant plush monstrosities onto the display shelf before she got down from the forklift.

Jonah adjusted the row of novelty mugs for the third time that hour. “You know,” he said, glancing sideways, “if these mugs were any more passive-aggressive, they’d be my mom.”

(Y/N) snorted, steadying the bear before it could tip over and crush a cardboard standee of Cupid. “This mug literally says, 'I guess you’ll do.' Romance is alive and well.”

The fluorescent lights above them flickered like they, too, were judging the display. Somewhere in the distance, a child shrieked bloody murder— likely over a dented box of candy hearts.

Jonah picked up one of the mugs and turned it in his hand, mock thoughtful. “‘I’m Yours. No Refunds.’ Honestly? Kind of hot.”

(Y/N) arched an eyebrow. “That’s your type?”

He shrugged. “I like a little emotional blackmail in my dishware.”

She nudged his side with her elbow, grinning. “That explains so much.”

He laughed and leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice like he was about to tell a secret. “I mean, if someone gave me this mug and a half-assed note, I’d probably propose on the spot.”

“Oh, so we’re setting the bar that low now?” she teased.

“I work retail, (Y/N). The bar’s in the stockroom buried under a broken price scanner and my will to live.”

She barked out a laugh. “That tracks.”

They were standing too close now— not that either of them minded. It was just the kind of comfortable proximity that happened when two people spent too much time in the same blue vests, in the same aisles, pretending they weren’t already halfway to a workplace romance.

Jonah reached over to fix one of the mugs she’d haphazardly placed. Their fingers brushed.

(Y/N) looked up at him. “Wow. Perfectionist and poetic. Dangerous combo.”

Jonah smiled, a little crooked. “Don’t forget modest.”

Before she could reply, a small gasp echoed from the end of the aisle.

They both turned their heads.

Sandra stood frozen like she’d been caught in the middle of an unspeakable act. Her eyes were wide, darting between Jonah and (Y/N), and she clutched her clipboard to her chest like it might shield her from whatever she thought she was witnessing.

She lifted one shaky finger and pointed at them. Then back to her clipboard. Then at them again.

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Jonah blinked. “Uh… hey, Sandra.”

Sandra said nothing. Just kept pointing. Now with both hands, her clipboard forgotten on the ground with a mild thud. Her lip trembled slightly, as though on the verge of tears, or a nervous breakdown, or both.

(Y/N) took a slow step forward. “Are you okay?”

Sandra squeaked. Literally squeaked. Then turned on her heel and walked away at a brisk, flustered shuffle.

Jonah and (Y/N) stood in silence for a moment.

Finally, (Y/N) said, “So… that felt normal.”

Jonah nodded. “Textbook Cloud 9 interaction.”

“Well, at least that’s the weirdest today has gotten.”

And just as Jonah was about to make another joke about flower arrangements, someone in the toy aisle screamed, “IS THAT A RACCOON?!”

They both turned toward the sound. And sighed.

——————————————————————————————————

The breakroom smelled vaguely like burnt popcorn and cleaning fluid. Glenn stood at the front near the whiteboard, nervously holding a laminated emergency protocol chart with one corner already chewed off— presumably by the raccoon still unaccounted for in the store.

“So,” Glenn began, “in the event that you see the raccoon again, please don’t try to lure it with peanut butter. Or beef jerky. Or Cheyenne’s perfume.”

Cheyenne, from the couch, raised a hand. “Okay, but it really liked my perfume. Like, aggressively.”

Mateo scoffed. “I’m just saying, if it’s still in the building, I vote we name it and train it to do returns.”

“You’re all missing the point,” Glenn said, waving the chart like it held divine authority. “This is a serious—”

“Okay, everyone shut up,” Dina cut in, not even looking up from her protein bar. “Glenn’s talking. Which means you listen and pretend to care.”

The room quieted— well, as much as it ever did. Jonah sat near the vending machine, one foot bouncing lightly. (Y/N) was across the table from him, chin propped on her hand, looking both amused and half-asleep.

Glenn cleared his throat. “Now. In case of wild animal invasion, the protocol is to calmly evacuate the aisle and alert management—”

“Like that ever happens,” Amy muttered.

“And not to scream and throw a clearance Nerf gun at it,” Glenn added, giving Marcus a meaningful look.

Marcus just shrugged. “Instinct.”

The conversation derailed instantly, as usual. Someone brought up whether or not they should build a raccoon-proof panic room. Mateo started a pitch for his “Emergency Escape Fashion Capsule.” Cheyenne offered to draw raccoon warning signs for every aisle.

And then, without warning, Sandra stood up.

She’d been uncharacteristically quiet, sitting stiffly in the corner, eyes fixed on the floor like she was building up courage for something big. Which, in Sandra’s case, meant something dramatic and deeply misguided.

“I just think,” she said suddenly, “that we should take a moment to appreciate that love can blossom anywhere. Even in a hostile workplace environment.”

Silence.

Everyone turned.

Garrett, eyebrows raised, leaned back in his wheelchair. “Okay… continue.”

Sandra swallowed, visibly shaking. “I mean— Jonah and (Y/N). It’s just so beautiful to see two people finally realize what they’ve been denying for so long.”

More silence, but this time of the awkward and stunned kind.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jonah looked around like maybe someone else was being referenced. “I’m sorry, us?”

"Sandra, genuinely, what the fuck?"

Sandra clutched the edge of the table like she’d just made a profound announcement. “I saw you. This morning. In Seasonal.”

Jonah frowned. “With the… mugs?”

Sandra nodded solemnly, like this explained everything. “And the bear.”

Cheyenne gasped. “Wait, you guys?”

Garrett leaned forward, looking far too entertained. “Hold on. You’re saying Jonah and (Y/N) are a thing now?”

Jonah opened his mouth. “No, absolutely—”

“Thank you,” Mateo cut in, nodding solemnly. “Because finally, someone else noticed.”

Jonah threw his hands up. “There’s nothing to notice!”

“Oh please,” Cheyenne said. “You were standing like, this close.” She held two fingers about a breath apart. “And Jonah was doing his soft eyes thing.”

“I don’t do a soft eyes thing,” Jonah said.

“You one hundred percent do a soft eyes thing,” Garrett said. “You do it every time (Y/N) says something even remotely sarcastic.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jonah muttered.

(Y/N) looked around the table. “Can we get back to the part where there’s a raccoon loose in the store? Or is that less important than whatever hallucination Sandra had?”

Sandra, quietly, “It wasn’t a hallucination.”

Mateo sipped his drink. “She’s doubling down. Bold.”

Glenn clasped his hands. “I always hoped love would bloom here. Even in the presence of pest infestations and frequent cart theft.”

(Y/N) looked around the room, expression blank. “I am begging you all to get hobbies.”

“That’s what people say when they’re caught,” Mateo said.

“Caught doing what?” Jonah asked, voice rising slightly.

“Being all soft and couple-y,” Amy replied, like it was a felony, clearly enjoying this more than she should.

Glenn sniffled. “It’s just... nice, you know? Love in a hopeless place.”

Dina stood up, clearly done. “Alright. Break’s over. Glenn, your meeting has gone off the rails. You are spineless and a downright disgrace. As fun as this was, there is a raccoon loose in the store that we need to tend to. If I find that before you do, I’m keeping it.”

Everyone stood and filed out of the breakroom, still murmuring and exchanging knowing looks.

Jonah and (Y/N) stayed behind for a second. He gave her a look, somewhere between exasperated and amused.

“You think if we start actively being mean to each other, they’ll drop it?”

(Y/N) stood, grabbing her half-empty coffee. “Probably not. We’ll just end up on a different kind of list.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, next time I’ll just high-five you from across the aisle to avoid scandal.”

(Y/N) smirked. “I feel like that it will actively make it worse.”

Jonah opened his mouth, stopped, sighed. “Cool. Awesome.”

She paused at the door. “For the record? You do do the soft eyes thing.”

Jonah blinked. “What’s the—?”

She gave him a deadpan look as she leaned against the doorframe, then rolled her eyes and walked away, smiling. Jonah instinctively felt his entire demeanour change, soften, in fact.

Oh.

[berfgrimm]

staring at the sun: epilogue | choi seunghyun

pairing: choi seunghyun x f!reader warnings: fluff, a tiny bit of angst, brief smut note: surprise because i swore i'd never do this but i got an idea, and i wanted to give you guys something special. it's short and sweet, which is unlike me.

You didn’t know that Seunghyun had been carrying an engagement ring in his pocket for two months. It was a fact that he didn’t even tell you on the day he proposed, but weeks later, in your car, between choruses of Prince’s Raspberry Beret. You’d think of it every time you heard the song.

The day he proposed did not start out as a good day; Seunghyun had started the day gloomy, and when he found himself surrounded by his bandmates and the crew for their video shoot, his mood upgraded to annoyed. Any time someone spoke to him, he would roll his eyes before responding, his words  coming out more petulant than you’ve heard in the past. He became whiny whenever he was asked for another take by the director, and, try as you might, he would not listen to reason. You told him later that this was funnier to you than you imagined possible.

When he was waiting to move to the next set piece, Seunghyun would scowl, quickly slipping his sunglasses over his eyes and putting on a mask to hide his face while he sulked in the corner. Unfortunately for you, his brooding and antagonistic attitude was working for you that day, and you could not take your eyes off of him. Every sharp gesture and pointed word would make your body thrum, desire coursing through you.

As you thought of it, you were sure it had been a while since you were able to be intimate with Seunghyun. Work obligations had him spending long days with his bandmates, leaving you alone in the house on your days off. By the time he would drag himself into bed with you, sleep would be the first thing on either of your minds. You noticed that his mood shifted as the days went by, changing from his normal excitable self to something more subdued. He told you later that he wondered if he’d ever be able to give all of himself to you, the way that you deserved.

You stayed on the fringe of the crew, making sure to stay out of view of Seunghyun as best as you could while still being able to get a clear view of him. During moments where he was left alone, everyone presumably tired of dealing with his attitude, he appeared withdrawn, opting to stay quiet and hug his legs to his chest. The desire in your bones didn’t change but it’s direction shifted – now you needed to kiss him and hold him. Maybe tenderness was what he needed. Until his attitude would rear its head, and no one was safe.

What you didn’t know was Seunghyun always felt your eyes on him. He could see the way your body would react to him; the way you’d straighten your back when he would snap at his bandmates, or how your hands would ball into fists when he hid in the corner to avoid the others. He told you later that the corner was the best place for him to watch you slowly fray at the edges until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Production wrapped for the day, with a call to finish reshoots the following morning with better lighting and improved attitudes. Seunghyun stayed a few steps behind you en route to the car, and didn’t speak on the drive. You toiled over how to approach him when you were finally back at his, no, your home – should you make a joke about how rough the day was? Should you ignore his demeanor and try to speak kindly to him? Or should you be direct and tell him how turned on you were?

It was lucky that he made the decision for you. With your feet barely out of your shoes in the entryway, Seunghyun grabbed you by your wrist, pulling you along, sliding on socked feet across the slick floors towards the bedroom. His grip on you was just loose enough that you could slip free if you wanted to, an obviously intentional act in case he misread your emotions, but you allowed him to pull you across the apartment, before he sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at you expectantly.

You didn’t know where to start – your instinct was to card your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scrape gently over his scalp. He hummed softly, closing his eyes and placing his hands on your hips to hold you still in your spot between his legs. Still, you’re torn with emotions, unsure of what he needs the most; you figured your best bet was to ask him.

“How do you need me, baby?”

You kept your tone light and gentle, hoping that it would coax it out of him. Seunghyun didn’t respond immediately, instead tipping his head back to allow you to continue your actions of softly rubbing his head. When his eyes finally fluttered open, they immediately found yours.

“Take me however you want me.”

Your voice was stronger, an urgency to it that was absent before. Seunghyun noticed, a faint smirk spreading across his lips that you were unable to read. It was odd, you felt, because you thought you’d seen every iteration of your boyfriend that there was; happy, sad, overly excited, loving, tender, dominant, sleepy. But this smirk held a secret that you didn’t have a name for. Not yet.

Seunghyun undressed you slowly, not uttering a word as he worked until finally you stood before him completely naked. He slipped his jacket off and carefully laid it onto the floor before looking at you, silently giving the command for you to finish undressing him. You took your time, savoring every inch of skin you revealed, leaving bites on his favorite spots. Seunghyun’s gentle hums of pleasure traveled through your body, finding a home amongst the butterflies in your stomach.

When you straddled him, his contented sigh blew a breath across your chest, goosebumps breaking across your already flushed skin. Each touch was electric, like it was the first time you felt one another, your hands taking care to press harder into the places you had nipped before. Seunghyun kept his hands low on your hips, dragging you back and forth on his lap so he rubbed against your slick folds.

“Are you wet from watching me all day?” Seunghyun blinked slowly, the way he did when he wanted to tease you. You tucked your face against his neck to hide the small whine that his question brought out of you, but Seunghyun nuzzled his head against yours. “Are you shy now? When I watched you on set all day, panting, and longing where everyone could see you?” “I needed you.”

“Do you think they couldn’t see how hungry you were for me each time I opened my mouth?” Seunghyun’s dulcet tone bordered on mocking, but skirted the aggression just enough to keep it sweet, causing a deeper flush to spread from your neck. “My princess, my girl. I’ve been neglecting you. Maybe that’s what left you aching for me so openly.”

Seunghyun took advantage of the distraction and eased himself inside of you. He was right, it had been too long since he touched you, and his size stretched your walls like it was the first time all over again. You moaned against his neck, the sound getting lost, until Seunghyun nudged you gently with his shoulder, signaling for you to lift your head. When you found his gaze, your heart fluttered, your grip on his shoulders tightening.

Seunghyun looked at you with unabashed adoration, like you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It was the closest thing to seeing hearts in his eyes. You held his face between your hands, kissing him over and over, never growing tired of the way his lips and his tongue felt against yours. The moment felt perfect – you didn’t care about sex, you only cared about seeing that look in his eyes every day for the rest of your life.

Time escaped you as you stayed on his lap, his length buried inside of you to the hilt, neither of you in a rush to move. It felt infinite. That was the word. It felt like so long ago that Seunghyun had used it, but it perfectly encapsulated what you felt at that moment. Infinite. Neverending, with him. It was the exact word he used later when he described the sensation he felt in his chest when you kissed from his jaw to his ear.

“My baby.”

Your teeth had gently scraped over the shell of his ear after you spoke, hoping he felt the soft exhale you released when he ever-so softly pushed his hips against you.

Seunghyun gently guided you to ride him, the pace was astoundingly slow. The gentle motions squeezes of your hips, rocking you back and forth in his lap felt as though his fingers became a part of you, holding too tight to be anything else. You wondered if you could come from such gentle friction.

When he finally asked, your heart stopped. For a brief moment, you wondered if you misheard him, maybe you hoped that was what he asked. Until his grip tightened, and he dragged you closer on his lap burying all the way inside of you again. He made sure your eyes were on him, that your thoughts were on him, that all you knew was him in that moment before he asked again.

“Will you marry me?”

“Wh-what?”

He didn’t ask a third time, merely waited for it to sink in. You continued your slow, languid rolls of your hips, as you stared back at him, purely on instinct. The thoughts in your head were moving so fast, you couldn’t stop them. In a moment, you envisioned the rest of your life with him, flashes of your future holding hands and kissing as you explored your hometown, or standing in museums, having him explain paintings in intricate detail.

“Why do you always ask me these things with your cock inside of me?”

“Because I know I’ll get an honest answer.”

Truth be told, you would have said yes any way that he asked you. From the first night he kissed you, all you knew was Seunghyun. You couldn’t see a future that didn’t have him in it, and you always hoped that he felt the same.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than Seunghyun wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him to press a kiss to your lips. Your hands held him just as firmly, hoping that the moment would never end. Seunghyun helped you keep riding him at the same agonizingly slow pace until you both met your climaxes, the sensations coursing through you from head to toe, leaving you both trembling in one another’s arms.

After he laid you down gently on the bed, he retrieved his jacket from the floor, slipping a small box from the pocket. The tears stung your eyes, your heart full of nothing but love for him. When he slipped the ring on your finger, his expression was nothing short of amazement, as if he never thought you would say yes. A singular tear escaped his eye before he quickly wiped it away, and he told you later that he couldn’t believe that someone as perfect as you would choose to spend the rest of your life with him.

As you laid in bed, Seunghyun held you in his arms, keeping you close. He told you that he knew today would be the day to propose because if you could see him at his most irritable moment and still feel the need to love him, to touch him...he knew that he couldn't let you go. The dread he felt in his chest about worrying if he would be able to give you everything that you need slipped away, just from the look of adoration you gave him that day. That was when he was sure that it was forever.

Seunghyun didn’t know but you told your kids later that you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him from the first time he kissed you.

[pankowcrumbs]

shoelace-obsessed bulldog X Lewis Hamilton (Requested)

MasterList

F1 Masterlist

Request: Lewis Hamilton x Reader: Reader is Roscoes nanny and Lewis falls for her.

When I first met Roscoe, he tried to eat my shoelaces.

Not nibble. Not tug. He lunged at them like they’d personally offended him.

“Roscoe!” Lewis barked from across the sleek living room, jogging over. “Mate, she’s not even through the door yet.”

I laughed, bending down to rub behind Roscoe’s ears. “It’s alright. He’s got great taste in footwear.”

Lewis flashed me that smile I’d only ever seen on telly and Instagram. “He’s a menace in loafers. Consider yourself warned.”

And that was how it started. Not with engines revving or champagne showers. Just a shoelace-obsessed bulldog and a man in a hoodie who made my knees a bit weak.

I'd been hired through a luxury pet agency. “Discretion is key,” they told me. “Client confidentiality is a non-negotiable.” So when I saw Lewis Hamilton listed as my next dog-sitting client, I kept cool. I told no one, not even my sister, who'd once cried during one of his podium speeches.

The job was simple: look after Roscoe while Lewis travelled, trained, or occasionally just needed someone to keep him company on busy days. I fed him, walked him, brushed him, administered his supplements, and played fetch in the vast garden while pretending I wasn’t low-key starstruck.

At first, Lewis was hardly around. In and out. Brief hellos. Always polite, always soft-spoken. But then, after a few weeks, something shifted.

He started sticking around a bit longer before heading to meetings. Offering me a cup of tea. Sitting with me and Roscoe in the sun-drenched patio as we watched the dog chase butterflies.

“You’ve got a good energy,” he said one afternoon, his sunglasses pushed up into his curls. “Roscoe’s never this calm with strangers.”

I shrugged, flattered. “Dogs like me. They sense my deeply repressed chaos.”

He laughed. “I doubt there’s anything chaotic about you.”

He had no idea.

The more time we spent together, the more natural it felt. He started asking questions about my childhood, my family, the things I wanted in life. He told me about his parents, his travels, his love for music and fashion and meditation.

One evening, Roscoe had a tummy ache and wouldn’t stop whining. I stayed late, sitting on the kitchen floor beside him with my hand on his belly, whispering gentle things.

Lewis came downstairs in sweatpants and a hoodie, barefoot, and sat next to me without a word. For a while we both just watched Roscoe together.

Then he said softly, “You didn’t have to stay this long.”

“I know,” I said. “But I wanted to.”

He looked at me like he was trying to work out something quietly, then nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. “He’s everything to me.”

“I can tell.”

Silence fell again, but not uncomfortably. The kind that felt like something was slowly, gently blooming between us.

It was after a trip that things changed for real.

He returned late at night, suitcase in one hand, sunglasses perched on his head even though the sun had long gone down. I was curled on the sofa, Roscoe snoring beside me. I jumped up when I heard the door.

“You’re back,” I said, a bit breathless.

He dropped his bag and smiled. “Miss me?”

The words hung in the air between us. I laughed nervously, but didn’t answer.

Lewis stepped closer, eyes fixed on mine. “I missed you,” he added quietly.

My stomach flipped. “You mean Roscoe.”

“I mean you.”

I think my heart actually stopped. Like a dramatic soap opera pause.

“I don’t want to make this weird,” he continued, “and if I’m misreading anything, just tell me. But… I like you. Not just because you’re good with him. Not just because you’re kind. But because when I’m around you, I feel calm. Like I can just be myself. And I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

I swallowed. My cheeks were hot. I glanced down at Roscoe, who was obliviously drooling onto a cushion.

“I like you too,” I said. “I thought maybe I was being ridiculous. You’re… well, you’re you.”

He smiled gently. “And you’re you. And I like that.”

That night, we didn’t kiss. We didn’t even hold hands. He just sat beside me on the sofa and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as Roscoe’s snores filled the room.

It was… perfect.

From then on, everything shifted but softly. No grand declarations. No over-the-top gestures.

Just small things.

The way Lewis would wait until I arrived before heading out, even if it meant running late.

The way he started bringing back little things from his travels earrings he saw in Rome that he thought I’d like, a book from Tokyo with a note in the front: “Thought of you.”

The way he started texting me things like “Wish you were here” or “Just saw a golden retriever wearing sunglasses. Not as cute as Roscoe but close.”

And then one night, it just… happened.

I was leaving after a long day. Roscoe had curled up on his massive bed, full from dinner and clearly ready for his tenth nap.

Lewis walked me to the door like he always did. I turned to say goodbye and he kissed me.

Soft. Warm. Hesitant at first. Then certain.

When he pulled back, I was smiling so hard it almost hurt.

“About bloody time,” I whispered.

He laughed, pressing his forehead to mine. “Agreed.”

Dating Lewis was surreal in the way that felt both dreamlike and totally normal.

He still asked if I wanted tea every morning. Still let Roscoe up on the sofa even though we both knew he wasn’t supposed to. But now there were kisses in the kitchen. Whispered goodnights. Texts that made me blush and giggle into pillows.

We kept it private, mostly. For months, no one knew. We didn’t post. We didn’t say anything.

But people started to guess. I’d be spotted walking Roscoe in the paddock. My name would appear in the background of photos. And once, someone caught Lewis watching me with a look on his face like I hung the stars.

“Is it difficult?” I asked him one night, curled up in his lap.

“What?”

“Liking someone like me. Who isn’t in the spotlight. Who doesn’t wear diamonds to breakfast.”

He tucked a curl behind my ear. “You love my dog like he’s your own. You laugh at my worst jokes. And you make me feel grounded in a world where everything moves too fast.”

I blinked back tears.

“I don’t care if you wear diamonds or pyjamas. I care that it’s you.”

Eventually, we went public quietly.

A photo. Just us and Roscoe, sitting on a beach. No captions. No explanation.

The internet went mad, obviously.

But for every tabloid headline, there were ten fans saying things like “She looks at him like he’s home” or “Roscoe approved = we approve.”

We ignored the noise and kept building our life slowly, intentionally.

Holidays together. Sunday mornings with pancakes. Me brushing Roscoe while Lewis tried to sneak him extra food.

Then came my favourite day of all.

My birthday.

He told me to dress warm. That was all.

He drove us out to the countryside. Roscoe was in the back seat, snoozing. We pulled up to a cosy little cottage, fairy lights strung along the porch, the smell of cinnamon and pine in the air.

Inside: a fire, my favourite wine, and a cake shaped like Roscoe’s face.

I turned to him, laughing. “You absolute sap.”

He grinned. “Only for you.”

That night, as we lay in bed with Roscoe snoring at our feet, he took my hand and kissed my knuckles.

“You were the missing piece,” he said.

I looked at him, full of nothing but love.

“And you were hiding behind a bulldog the whole time.”

He laughed. “Best wingman I ever had.”

And I couldn’t help but agree.

Because somehow, in between shoelaces and Sunday walks, I’d found the kind of love people spend their whole lives chasing.

All thanks to a dog named Roscoe.

And the man who adored him.