#where they can read her letter that she made for them
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Crashing on the rocks


part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
pairing: jackson!joel x f!reader
summary: You been writing letters and hiding them in places around the house in all the years you've been married to Joel. It was a matter of time until he found them.
tags: established relationship, age gap (30s-60s), pure fluff and fools in love.
w/c: 2.1 k
notes: I wrote this while listening to 'Sanctuary' by Tamino ft Mitski ♥

Joel’s not exactly a man who cleans the house. But on days off from patrol, he tries to fill the silence by doing things around it.
Ever since you started volunteering at the orphanage, the afternoons he spends alone feel... dull. Off. Used to be something he didn’t exactly enjoy, but it never bothered him. Now, your absence hangs in the air like a shadow. He waits for you like a damn pup waiting for its owner to come home.
Still, cleaning is ridiculous. He finds himself wiping down what’s already spotless. Spraying what already smells fresh. Sweeping the damn floor that’s already polished. You keep the house like it’s a goddamn trophy.
And in a way, it is. There’s folks out there who got nothing.
“This fuckin’ woman…” he mutters under his breath, trying to organize the drawers in the dresser. Your pajamas tangled with your underwear like pieces from the same threadbare quilt. He tries to separate them, unknot the fabrics. He barely even registers the lace and straps. He’s no teenage boy.
Then, his fingers hit something sharp at the bottom of the drawer. A quick sting. His jaw tightens slightly. He pulls his hand back, a tiny cut on his fingertip. Frowns. Reaches in again, slower this time, and pulls something out.
An envelope.
He turns it over in his hands, reads the writing on the back: “Newlyweds.”
And a date. Six years ago.
Their wedding date.
If you could even call it that.
Joel takes a step back, never taking his eyes off the envelope. Gravity does the rest. He ends up sitting at the edge of the bed, still holding it. After a long breath, he opens it. Two yellowed pages, handwriting neat and careful, like it was inked with reverence.
He feels it at the back of his neck.
Don’t do it.
Put it back where you found it.
She’ll be pissed.
But his eyes betray him.
And read
"If my past self could see what I did today, she’d probably smash a chair over my back. And I wouldn’t blame her. I get it. I know where she’s coming from.
Believe it or not, there’s someone who says he loves you. He doesn’t say it often, still struggles with it. Might never come out naturally. What a curse, huh? A woman who needs constant reassurance that everything’s real, marrying a man who barely says twenty words in a day.
There’s something in him I can’t run from. Don’t want to run from. I see it in his eyes—a whole world he's willing to show me. That pain that used to cloud his pupils melts when he looks at me.
I hated him. God, I hated him so much.
He was unbearable. But it doesn’t matter now, because now—strangely enough—I love him. I go to sleep wondering if he’ll still love me in the morning. And somehow, he always does. After all the push and pull that I swore would snap the rope in half, he pulled hard enough on his side to bring me all the way in.
And I don’t wanna fly away again.
I don’t wanna run.
That instinct I always had to leave once I got too attached to the place or the people, vanished. I don’t picture a day without him. I don’t picture a problem without his fix. I don’t picture a night without his arms.
He might be a jerk sometimes. But what can I do when my knees go weak every time he looks at me?
What can I do when I see his eyes fill with tears the second I walk through his door, like he spent the whole day terrified I wouldn’t come back?
What can I do when he wakes up from nightmares and asks me to kiss him just so he can come back to earth?
What can I do when his breathing is my lullaby?
We made it official in silence. In the old barn out near the north edge of town. No one ever goes there. Not in summer. Just the leftover hay, a horse at the entrance, his best shirt and jeans, and me—in the dress Maria gave me that spring as a ‘sister-in-law gift’.
Wooden rings. Wildflowers. Oh, girl. If only you knew what was waiting for you beyond that QZ…
No, not all men hurt. This one does—but never you. Never.
This one pulls your dress up over your thighs and fucks you on a bale of hay after sunset, when the wine runs dry and the vows are fresh on your tongue.
Hang in there.
It’s worth it."
He touches the pages like they’re made of your skin. Reads them again. And again. Then puts them back where he found them.

He never says a word about the letter. Doesn’t move it. Doesn’t act different. Doesn’t make you breakfast to speak in some quiet love language. But the thought lingers. The thought of the possibility of there being more of those letters hidden somewhere around the house.
It becomes a quiet obsession. He starts swapping day patrols for night ones just to have the afternoons free to look. In the process, he finds old photos from a time long gone. When Tommy brought back those old film cameras from a run, the whole family took a few pictures. Keepsakes.
It had been a while since Joel saw himself in a photo. The last one was with Sarah, back when she’d won another one of her soccer tournaments.
It’s almost unsettling. How much you and him resemble each other in the eyes.
His thumb grazes over the printed photo: you, in front of the fireplace. That calm, serious look on your face. Those eyes hold so much, he sometimes wonders if deep down, you hate him. Or if maybe you don’t even think about him at all.
He remembers Tommy asking you to smile and you just curled your lip slightly, like it cost you a whole life to do it. Or maybe it cost you nothing, and you just saved that expression for the rare times it was worth it.
After hours of rummaging, he finally finds another one.
Under the bed. In a shoebox. Sarah used to do the same. An old Converse box covered in glitter and colored feathers. She kept drawings, letters from friends, movie stubs, fair brochures. A normal teenage girl. In a normal world.
A world that died when she did.
Joel doesn’t let himself linger on those memories. They only ever end with him locked in the bathroom, crying until the sky outside turns black.
He opens the box carefully, trying not to disturb anything too much. You’d notice. Inside, there are more letters. Different names, occasions. A few photos. Trinkets. And among them, the wooden ring.
He holds it up to the light pouring through the open window.
He can’t remember when they stopped wearing them. It just… happened. One day, neither of them had theirs on. No one said a word. Not that it mattered, everyone in town already knew they were together.
But holding it now, he wonders. Was it time? Anger? Had he failed to take care of you?
He grabs one of the letters. Random. The title: 'First night.'
"I don’t know why I’m writing this, but I need to. Maybe just to remind myself it happened. That he let me touch him. That he let me be his. That it was real and I don’t regret it.
I cried after. I know why. And I’m a little embarrassed he saw me like that. He must think I’m a total mess. That my head’s all over the place. And yeah. It is. I’m not okay. None of us here are. That’s what you risk when you bare yourself, body and soul.
It wasn’t soft. Not even close. God, no one’s fucked me like that in years. Hell, it felt like he hadn’t fucked in years either. I was the one who shut the door. I was the one who undressed, just waiting for him to come at me like a starving dog.
He was hungry. For everything. Warmth, sex, skin. And love.
I want to believe.
I can’t stop hearing it. The headboard slamming the wall, the slap of his skin on mine, his groans, those breathless grunts. Is it even legal for a man to sound that good when he fucks?
He wouldn’t let me leave the bed. We lost a whole day in there. And I’m not complaining.
I think I really like him. And that scares me. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who cares about waking up next to someone. Or the type to show affection easily. Am I really ready to throw myself into something I know is gonna end badly?
But he feels different. The days sound different beside him. Even the silence changes with him around. I’m scared I’ll never be what he needs, but maybe… maybe I can be. Maybe, to a man who’s been nothing but cruel in a world that’s punished him endlessly, maybe I’m the prize in all this mess.
Or maybe I’m just full of myself.
This whole thing’s got me spun around. And that’s why I cried.
What the hell am I doing? What was I supposed to do?
There’s nothing out there. Nothing worth it. And maybe this isn’t worth it either, but… what if this is all I’ve got?
Falling for the first broken man I hated with every ounce of blood in me and now crave inside me?
We all get what we deserve, right?
Maybe this is my karma."
His shoulders tremble. Shame blooming in his chest. Thoughts circling his head like wolves. Is all that still in your eyes? Is any of it still there?
After a long while, he pulls out another one: 'Third anniversary.'
"It’s 11 p.m. on our third anniversary.
He came back from patrol. We had dinner. He kissed me. We watched a movie. Now he’s asleep. He’s always asleep. He’s tired. I stay behind. He’s tired. Of work, of life... of me. I get it. And I don’t know what to do.
Why does he always look so… sad when he looks at me?
Why does it feel like I break his heart just by being here?
Have I really become this depressing?
Or maybe I’ve always been like this. I wonder when he’ll leave me.
I made his favorite. Meatloaf. He barely touched his plate.
What do I do?
Do I become the same background character my mom was in my father’s life? Just let it pass? Pretend I don’t feel how he pulls further away each day?
Mom…
What would you have done with a second chance?"
He doesn’t think he can read any more. Doesn’t think he can look you in the eye after this. Do you hate him? Are you with him out of habit? Joel feels something bitter rot inside him.
He adores you. Never looks at you with sadness. Only with a tenderness that cracks him open because yes, he’s a mess. Yes, he doesn’t deserve a damn thing. But somehow, you’re still his. And he’ll never feel worthy of your eyes.
Then he hears the front door shut.
You’re home.
“Why didn’t you do the dishes?” you call out, loud enough for him to hear you wherever he is. You hear his footsteps coming downstairs.
“You’ve been home all afternoon, Joel. You couldn’t even do the dishes?”
And then you see him.
Descending slowly, heavy-footed. Eyes dim, but holding a soft spark. In one hand, a dress. In the other, a ring.
“What’s this?” Your gaze moves between the items. “You’re wearin’ your ring again?” you ask, raising an eyebrow with a hint of a smirk.
He nods. A warmth settles in his expression. He doesn’t want to fight.
“I want you to wear this. Both of these.”
He extends his hands. The ring, and dress.
“The one from the wedding?” you ask, frowning. Your fingertips graze the slightly wrinkled fabric, still smelling of long storage. “It’s freezing…”
“I ain’t fuckin’ you on a bale of hay again, don’t worry” Joel says, glancing at the dress, then up at you mirroring your smile. It tickles something in your chest.
“…Alright.”

A few minutes later, you come down the stairs wearing it. It’s a bit tighter now, still too light for the weather, but it’s beautiful. Full of memory. You swear you can still feel that summer’s warmth against your skin. Joel’s eyes fix on you the second you cross into the living room. He stands, a flicker of nerves dancing in him. He remembers that teenage feeling—waiting for his prom date, drink in hand, nervous as hell under the girl's dad watch.
You make him feel young again. Like you’re about to become his all over again.
His chest burns like a bonfire in the dead of winter.
You,then and now. Still here. Everything floods back like a summer storm. He looks at you and it all makes sense.
This is what it’s about.
Life forgave me again,
and gave me something to care for.
Now I can do it right.
I want to do it right.

this one is a bit soft. hope you liked it. <3
#pedro pascal fandom#joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#fanfic writing#fanfiction#jackson!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel tlou#jackson joel#joel the last of us#joel smut
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The Song of Eufonía
The Questers—Cuphead, Bendy, Felix, Boris, and Mugman—had just finished packing up their camp when the map began to glow with that familiar otherworldly shimmer. Boris pulled it out, ears twitching, and watched as the lines shifted into new shapes. Strange letters scrolled across the parchment, swirling into a riddle that he read aloud in a hushed, awed voice:
“Where laughter plays on silver strings, And streets with endless chorus ring, Seek the town whose heart won’t age, Where music traps both bird and cage. Climb the tower, chase the tune, And there your piece shall be hewn.”
They shared a glance—equal parts thrill and dread.
Eufonía. A city rumored to be forever in celebration, never silent, all orchestrated by a single being that never seemed to grow old. It was their next stop.
When they arrived, the welcome was eerie in its perfection. The entire town burst into song at once—hundreds of voices in radiant harmony, waving flags and dancing as though this was the happiest moment of their lives.
“Awful lot of energy for... everyday,” Mugman muttered, his eyes darting around.
Felix adjusted his hat, suspicious. “Their eyes—they’re smiling, but they’re... vacant. As if they’re trapped mid-note.”
Boris shivered. “Like they’re there, but not there.”
The Questers stayed days in Eufonía, trying to locate the machine’s piece. But everywhere they searched—taverns echoing with harps, fountains spraying notes instead of water, even bakeries piping cakes in musical scales—there was no sign of it. Worse, the constant, cloying music began to gnaw at their sanity.
Cuphead finally snapped. “IF I HEAR ANOTHER STUPID MELODY—!”
Then he paused, eyes narrowing at the horizon. In the distance stood an ancient tower, its spires dark against the dusk, strange ripples of magic humming from its peak.
“Boys,” he growled, grin twisting almost maniacally, “I think I found it.”
They hurried through streets that tried to pull them back with cheerful parades. As they reached the tower, the celebrations distorted into something sinister—street lamps flickering, dancers stumbling like marionettes cut loose.
The tower was worse. Every step inside set off traps—chimes that became slicing razors, harp strings that tried to ensnare them, floors that rippled like organ pipes. But nothing stopped them from reaching the top.
At the summit stood a little girl. Her skin was pale, her eyes dark, and on her chest glowed the unmistakable shape of the music disc—half-buried into her heart. She tilted her head, curls floating as if underwater.
“You’ll take it from me?” Her voice was melodic but cracked, haunted. “Then... you’ll have to silence me first.”
Her eyes flared, and from her mouth spilled a violent, echoing song that made the very walls weep. The music ripped through them, throwing the Questers to their knees. Felix staggered up, shouting, “We have to counter it—fight song with song!”
Mugman paled. “None of us can sing like that!”
“Bendy can!” Boris said in desesperation.
Everone turned to look at Bendy hopping for him to do something.
Bendy—trembling, claw clutching his chest—lifted his head. “I... I can try.”
He took a breath and sang. At first his voice cracked—raw, fragile. But he forced it out, voice growing warmer, strong as it soared:
🎶 “I found you in a place where sorrow hid beneath the gold, A world of shining lies, a tune that’s grown too old. But I’ve been burning, golden, rising higher than your chains, I’m more than haunted echoes—I’m the storm behind your rain...” 🎶
The girl shrieked, her music battling his, notes like jagged knives. Bendy stumbled, but Mugman grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. Cuphead, scuffed and bloody, grinned fiercely. “Don’t stop now, hotshot!”
Bendy drew in another trembling breath and let it out, voice breaking into a soaring confession that glowed with life:
🎶 “So tell me now—what it sounds like when your heart breaks free? When the echoes fade, when you finally see— That the music inside you can dance without pain, I’ll hold your song close, sing it again, again...” 🎶
The girl’s melody shattered into sobs. The disc on her chest cracked, sending out a final wave of silver light that wrapped around Bendy’s hand. With a soft chime, the piece pulled free and dissolved into his palm—now safely his.
The girl collapsed, tears streaking her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve sung for centuries, unable to stop. You’ve... set me, and my town, free.”
Below, the city went silent for the first time in living memory. Then a gentle, natural hush settled—a peace that was more beautiful than any orchestrated performance.
As they caught their breath, Boris held out the map, now glowing with script. He read aloud, voice soft:
“Where melody was prison, heart became the key, The past sings on, but forward lies the sea. You’ve freed one note, but beware what lies ahead, For shadows dance where even angels dread.”
Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s... deeply foreboding.”
“Eh,” Cuphead chuckled, clapping Bendy on the back. “Nothing we haven’t handled before. Right, crooner?”
Bendy, cheeks still flushed from singing, only grinned shyly. “Guess we’ll find out.”
They left Eufonía behind, now a quiet, gentle place. The road still long, the machine still waiting—but with hearts a little fuller, songs a little braver, and the bond between them stronger than ever.
As they walked down the quiet road the next morning, Cuphead sidled up to Bendy, nudging him with an elbow. “Hey. Didn’t know you had a voice like that.”
Bendy’s cheeks went bright red. “W-what?”
Felix, suddenly very interested, turned around. “He’s right. Why have you never sung before? That was—actually stunning.”
Mugman joined in, eyes squinting with mock suspicion. “Yeah, devil boy. Been hiding talents from us?”
Bendy scratched his neck, embarrassed. “People used to say I sounded horrible. Laughed at me. So… I just decided only Boris could hear me. He doesn’t judge.”
Felix huffed. “Well, they were idiots. You sang beautifully.”
Cuphead threw an arm around him. “Yeah, trust me—there’s only one horrible voice in this crew and it sure isn’t yours, right Mugs?”
“HEY!” Mugman shrieked. “EXCUSE YOU?!”
The whole group burst out laughing, even Bendy hiding his grin behind a hand as Mugman shoved Cuphead playfully. The chaos of their teasing carried down the road, echoing over the hills—a reminder that even in the middle of ominous quests and haunted songs, they were still friends first. And sometimes, that was enough to conquer anything.
#babtqftim#bendy and boris the quest for the ink machine#headcanon#short story#felix the cat#cuphead#bendy#boris the wolf#mugman#bendystraw
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sayaka being pleased ceras likes her yasai-san plushies so cutes ♥️
#ceras likes tomati the most but the most delicious looking one (sayaka: 😰) is the corn#sayaka's so distressed at the thought of the yasai-san being eaten its so funny (corn is new and she whispered for it to run away)#gemitus#ceras has discovered fuku usagi (hana-chan also likes them) and there are so many flavours she can try a new one every day#sayaka's favourite gaming term is Peel [from LOL???]#izumi made ceras onigiri as a midnight snack while she was reading the script for the game event and told her one of them might have wasabi#so she ate them all nervously but none of them did! and izumi said she must be feeling awake now!!! she's still mad!!!#'secchan sacchan×meets after'#ceras requests sayaka make a giant oyaki and each member can choose a flavour#ceras likes pumpkin and anko oyaki so those two will be hers and izumi's picks. izumi likes what she likes#sayaka is visibly concerned about making this oyaki because shes never made one before#last letter asks where they would go together. ceras likes coffee shops and pudding so sayaka recommends a place#she also watched ceras' movie stream and saw she wanted to watch B movies with her!#'sacchan-senpai!' 'secchan...-san“
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hang on are cougars like panthers
#'the cougar also known as the panther' SCREAM#dont mind me rewatching carmilla as a side effect of my newfound interest in vampires#you'd think it was renewed interest in vampires but no#i actually have never been all that interested in vampires as their own thing i was just gay#and i dont think carmilla really explored the concept itself#like A* in using the medium. D or whatever in exploring their subject matter#actually tbf their subject matter was lesbianism so. again probably an A. they knew what they wanted and they did it well#idk how letter grades work tbh#also not actually sure how much they got into the vampire thing which is why im rewatching to check#bc i was reading iwtv and i was like damn carmilla left stuff on the table#but i also think a lot went over my head#even just english wise im a little stunned at how much i didnt catch. like i was fluent in 2015 for sure but. you do keep learning words#also carmilla is like a popculture remix and i dont have a lot of popculture knowledge so a lot of that went over my head too#now i have just enough to know that im missing a lot#like theres a line in s1 where laura goes 'im living with a vampire. an honest to lestat vampire' and like. never caught that#bc i didnt know how the fuck that was fhkjghgh#but anyway im watching s2 and laura's like 'vampire seductress here is just crabby bc im not falling for her 17th century idea of game'#and like they keep calling armand Ancient right? but carmilla is not much younger#just the difference in framing is what made me start thinking abt it all#like carmilla is 400smth and laura is aware abt that to joke abt it and probably thinks it's a little hot but then you think abt how they#depict that kinda age with armand like what he says to madeleine. 'how do you go on when everything from your era is gone'#and sure carmilla has that loneliness but DAMN. like fuck. shes been doing this same trick. being like the abigail hobbs to the dean for#centuries? i mean there was that century or idk how long where she was buried alive or whatever. but THAT TOO#like damn fuck!!!!!!!!!! ive been going through the fanfic again this week and like there really isnt much#at least doesnt seem to be much that explores this. unless it's in all the aus bc i filtered those out (and still got them)#also interesting difference is if i remember correctly the hollstein happy ending is that carmilla becomes human#in iwtv of course like every important relationship is between vampires. and every lover turns vampire. and every vampire is a lover#sorta. bc abuse themes and stuff. so the inversion makes sense but wouldnt it have been kinda cool if she turned laura tho#anyway. can you believe they were like 'well shes a cougar thats her job and also her supernatural power' dhfkhjgkh as i said: A*
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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 Hello dear army 💜 I decided to make a list of my recommendations for the stories I read and liked the most. Each of these works sank into my soul and I consider these writers very talented and they literally made my heart flutter! Inspiration to you my dear to create even more beautiful stories! 🫶🏻
Most of these fanfics contain explicit scenes, so read at your own risk 😉

𓏵 The mask of purity by @lostinbangtan7 | ongoing
— Jungkook idol x Y/N famous/artist/singer
— Rough sex, unprotected, overstimulation, impregnation
ᝰ In a world where desire and ambition intertwine, Y/N and Jungkook share a secret that threatens to consume them both. When jealousy takes hold of Jungkook, he reveals the possessive darkness lurking beneath the mask of purity that defines his public image. What began as clandestine meetings evolves into a mutual obsession where desire and danger merge, challenging them to confront an unsettling truth: their connection transcends the physical, but it could destroy them.
𓏵 cruel secrets - J.JK - epilogue (M) by @hellokittykookies | finished
— doctor! jk, twin! jk x fem! reader
— murder, identity fraud/theft?, doctor! jk, twin! jk, fraud, divorce, escaping/moving away, labor, pregancy sex, unprotected sex, public sex (plane), oral..? (Male)
ᝰ Marrying one of the twins, especially if they're identical, can be fun. but what if one starts pretending to be the other? especially murder involved, but what you don't know won't hurt you.. right?
𓏵 Hot and pissed and on the pill by @hellokittykookies | finished
— oc is tipsy but sober enough to know what she's doing, riding, jk having a lil thing with oc and her skirt, praises, jk calling oc "slut" once, spitting, hairpulling, slapping, dry humping at first, jungkook asking if she's sure first, oc breaking his window lock lmaoo, big c! jk, unprotected sex (USE CONDOMS FOR SAFETY YALL), praise, oc taking the initiative, the heathers inspired, dead girl walking from the heathers, literally porn and lastly it's not proofread
𓏵 “3 words, 8 letters. I mean it” - J.JK - Mini (M) by @hellokittykookies | finished
— j.jk x fem! Reader
— chuckblair inspired, limo sx, gossip girl parties setting, unprotected sex (yk what to do babes), riding, praisekink, comparing, big c!jk, slight public sex, not proofread, lemme know what i missed!
𓏵 ego season masterlist | jjk by @sparklingchim | ongoing
— hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend
ᝰ your ex-high-school crush is now your fuck buddy. you just gotta make sure that your older brother taehyung, jungkook's best friend, doesn't catch you red-handed.
𓏵 𐙚 safeword (smut+comfort) by @redcherrykook | finished
— daddy!jungkook and sub oc, "bunny, doll, sweet girl , baby, princess", usage of safeword "melon" , doggy, choking(?)/ face into pillow, spanking, rough, soft make up care, praise, very sweet dom JK, size kink, oc has pink tones in her skin, crying
𓏵 𐙚 bad boy, good girl / highschool sweet♡s by @redcherrykook | finished
— highschool sweethearts, parking lot blowjob, backshots, they r lovebirds, dirty talk, praise, big cawck JK, creampie, desperate seggs, getting chased by cops, jungkook smokes and sells weed, is tatted UP, oc is a quiet good girl nerd
𓏵 𖤓.ೃ࿔* WARM + jeon jungkook by @mmegwrld | finished
— angsty, hurt.. comfort, situationship jk, you’re too patient with him.. crying, slow build up? a little bit of smut - praises, oral (m receiving), JK IS AN ASSHOLE IN SOME PARTS
ᝰ you and jungkook are college roommates, but sometimes you two hook up. all the time, actually. he continuously pushes you away.. and you stay.
𓏵 she's not me - JK - FF - ONE SHOT (M) by @hellokittykookies | finished
— ex!jk x ex!fem!reader
— ex2l, cheating, smut, fluff if you squint
ᝰ He said he moved on, but why does your toothbrush still stand next to his, even when he has "someone new" already?
𓏵 Pose for me by @hellokittykookies | finished
— Model! jk x Photographer! reader (y/n also ji ah)
— slow burn, fake dating, forced proximity, angst, romance, mutual pining, emotional hurt/comfort, smut, hidden identity, jealousy, Fashion industry au.
ᝰ After years of running from the life you never wanted, you thought you had finally succeeded. erasing y/n, becoming ji-ha, and leaving your past behind. But then came him. A model you accidentally brought to a cotillion, a man effortlessly loved by the woman who had become family to you. And it just so happens He was connected to the one person you abandoned nine years ago. You were supposed to avoid him. To walk away. So why did you keep finding yourself right next to him?
𓏵 Just one night by @gleamingseok | finished
— Smut, Soft Dom Jungkook, Club AU
— Grinding, public touch, dom!Jungkook, car fingering, overstimulation hints, soft dirty talk, protected sex
𓏵 A Black Eye & Two Kisses. by @igwb | finished
— strangers to lovers au, angst
— angst, set in the 90s, mentions of; sexism, patriarchal society, shitty husbands/men in general :(, blood, & violence, jk is the only good man here♡, mentions of; sexual contents (no actual smut!), womens struggles & having to fight for a place in a patriarchal society
ᝰ you knew life wouldn’t be easy as a woman in a world built by men. you had grown up knowing that it was only a matter of time before you, too, would face that same brutal reality. even as you dreamed of something else—something as simple as independence—you understood how utopian that idea was for a woman in times like these. but who could have known that, sometimes, freedom could come from a man himself? a lost soul, like you, caught in the same struggle, trapped in his own way. a soul that, despite everything, might just understand your pain.
𓏵 Lines of fate | jjk by @kookiestarlight | ongoing
— tattooist!jungkook x f. reader
— apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, eventual smut
ᝰ the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.
𓏵 "something" in @awrkive docs 🤭 | finished
— dol!jk x producer!(fem)reader, they are mean to each other 😬, just.. weird dynamics tbh. explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x, multiple positions, cre*mpie, brief c*nnilingus
ᝰ where you and jungkook are in a situationship and you kind of hate each other but the sex is great
𓏵 jeon jungkook - handle with care by @dreamersparacosm | finished
— oral (f recieving), he hits it from the back, hair pulling, blue collar dick🚨🚨
ᝰ in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.
𓏵 Parasocial | jjk (m) by @youthguk | finished
— smut, best friends with benefits, a little bit toxic, jungkook and reader are a little messy and ruin life’s of people around them
ᝰ Everyone in your circle knew that where there was you, Jungkook wasn't far behind. It was just your natural state of being - together. Your relationship had this beautiful, messy way of coloring outside the lines of typical friendship. But somewhere between algebra homework and growing pains, his protective streak went from "adorably concerned" to "intensely involved in literally everything."
𓏵 𐙚₊˚⊹ POINT OF VIEW // JJK ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ by @muniimyg | ongoing
— fluff, crack, & angst
𓏵 Thoughts of You by @scarluna | finished
— plus sized reader, fuckboy jungkook, insecurities, smoking
— mature language, a little sexual tension
ᝰ Y/N starts work as a client agent at a big corporate co company. There, she meets Jungkook, a man who confuses the hell out of her.
𓏵 D&D (m) by @aajjks | finished
— roomate!jk x fem!reader.
— 18+, explícït längüägë, vëry gräphïc änd fïlthÿ dïälögüë, drünk Jüngkook, H Ô R N Y JK, ïntënsë sëxüäl tënsïön, rïdïcülöüsly bôld flïrtätïön, händ pläçëmënts gëttïng ä lïttlë tóó clösë, dïrty hümör, änd füll-ön läck öf fïltër, brò ís hórny.
ᝰ There is a lot to deal with whenever your horny roommate ends up drunk as fuck.
𓏵 The Shower Show (m) by @aajjks | finished
— roommate jungkook x female!reader
— shôwêr wârs, rôômâtês tûrñêd châôtîc fôês, jûñgkôôk bêîñg â flîrty lîttlê shît, tôwêl drâmâ, bîg d sélf-hypê, înâpproprîâtê shôwêr sêx rêfêrêñcês, dîrtÿ jôkês, thrôwîñg shâmpôô âs â wêâpôñ, sêxûâl têñsîôñ bât nó shôwêr shârîñg (fôr ñôw).
ᝰ A lot happens when you find out that your horny housemate is taking a shower in your bathroom and the worst way to find out is when you walk in on him naked in the shower.
𓏵 what are you willing to do? by @trivia-yandere | finished
— smut, light yandere tendancies nothing too crazy (yet), power imbalance, dirty talking, kissing, nipple sucking/rubbing, oral sex, dry humping, fingering
ᝰ After managing to dodge your property manager out of rent for two months, you're left in a vulnerable position when he finally comes looking for you.
𓏵 bridges we almost burned 𓇼 𓂂 ˚ ◌ by @kooffeecup | finished
— angst, romance
ᝰ when you see your boyfriend giving ride to the new intern frequently because he thinks it’s convenient, something snaps inside you.
𓏵 Stuck With You. (m) by @aajjks | finished
— stûck în â rôôm tôgêthêr trôpê, crîngê jûngkôôk, hôrnÿ jûngkôôk, tsûndêrê ÿn, sêxûâl jôkês, ônê bêd trôpê, hê jûst wânts tô hît ît wîth ÿôû ând lîvê hâppîlÿ êvêr âftêr.
ᝰ Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.
𓏵 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔 by @pennyellee | ongoing
— heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader
— dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s, minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem receiving), forced oral (m receiving) spanking, squirting, cum swallowing, creampie, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language, oppressiveness
ᝰ You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?
𓏵 IN HIS MERCY | JUNGKOOK FF by @horchatakoo | finished
— yandere jk x queen bee y/n, manipulation, blackmailing, big dick jk, dom jk, mean jk, smut cause grahhh, cumming inside
ᝰ who would have thought that you, the queen bee of the school, would be a crying mess beneath the very boy you bullied?
𓏵 dear me — jeon jungkook by @writesvani | ongoing
— lawyer! jeonjungkook x privatechef! reader
— estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?
— angst, fluff, smut (all characters are of age), YEARNING, explicit language, pinning, misunderstandings, forbidden love, JK being torn (but so is Y/n), this is NOT a cheating fic, arguing, cursing, substance use (alcohol & cigarettes), nostalgia, happy ending (probably)
ᝰ Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.
The end. Except it isn't.
One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.
But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?
𓏵 study break | jjk by @ggukivrse | finished
— college au, established relationship, smut (?)
— jk wears glasses (yes that is a warning), oc and jk are both menaces, kissing, making out, allusions to sex
ᝰ in which you’re all distraction and no remorse, and jungkook keeps coming back for more
𓏵 to turn a bad thing good | jjk by @chateautae | ongoing
— ceo!jungkook x law student!reader
— series, arranged marriage!au, fwb!au (?), haters to lovers!au, smut, fluff, angst
— swearing, alcohol/marijuana consumption, mentions of ptsd/trauma, mentions of confrontative violence (with other characters, not each other), explicit sexual content, oral (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (chapters have their own warnings!)
ᝰ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.
𓏵 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 by @jungkoode | ongoing
— enemies to lovers, emotional slow burn, smut with plot, fuck buddies
ᝰ When your search for affordable NYC housing leads you to apartment 6B, you think you've hit the jackpot. That is, until you realize your new roommate is the guy from that one wild night on January - the one who ruined you for anyone else. Now you're stuck sharing walls with the living embodiment of your worst mistake, and the sexual tension is thick enough to choke on. Between his emotional damage and your trust issues, this arrangement is a disaster waiting to happen.
But hey, at least the hate sex is phenomenal.
𓏵 ⋆。°✩ TABLE 3 by @justarkive | ongoing
— pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc
ᝰ Before Jungkook enlists in the military, his life takes an unexpected turn when he visits a local restaurant with friends and meets a waitress who doesn’t recognize him. Surprised by your lack of star-struck reaction, Jungkook finds himself drawn to your down-to-earth nature, especially his previous struggles with the pressure of constant drama on social media regarding his relationships. Little do you know, Jungkook is about to leave for the military, which inevitably bring’s complications to your connection… do you find a way to fix it?
𓏵 ( 전정국 ) . . . BURNING HOUR jeon jungkook by @jungqkook | finished
— SMUT ! including : unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex but not really public, missionary, doggy, kook’s dirty, dirty mouth, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), fingering + fluff <3 ! this work is fiction and therefore it does not represent the real jungkook !
ᝰ there’s nothing better than spending an entire day at your boyfriend’s yatch, tanning and waiting for the sunset with a drink in your hand… too bad your boyfriend had other plans for you.

I think that's all for now 🙂↕️ I think this list will continue 🫶🏻 Enjoy 💜
💋 Diylynn T
#bts jungkook#bts#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook x f!reader#jungkook imagine#jungkook friends with benefits#jungkook fanfic#jungkook jeon#bts fanfction#jungkook fanfic recommendations#jungkook fic recs#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook#jk x you#jk x reader#jk#bts jk#jeon jk
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JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES
Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:
This fic will have two parts!
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut
A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more
PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE
~~
The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.
It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.
What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.
Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.
Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.
Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.
God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.
Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.
Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.
So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.
Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.
The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.
The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.
Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.
But he didn't.
”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.
”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.
But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.
~~
Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.
”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.
One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.
”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”
Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.
He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.
It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.
As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.
Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.
Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.
...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.
Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.
Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.
...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.
Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.
It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.
”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.
The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.
She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.
***
”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.
”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.
Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.
”Be careful, dear.”
Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.
”Always”
Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.
Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.
Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.
Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.
”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.
”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.
"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.
A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.
”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.
Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.
”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.
”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.
Fuck
Part two upcoming
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#tommy shelby#tommy shelby dark#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby smut#thomas shelby dark#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinder imagine#john shelby#arthur shelby
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letters (MV33)
꒰ max verstappen x childhoodbestfriend! reader ꒱
synopsis┊it was confusing, even though you were continents apart, you never understood why max never responded to your letters, until you attend the belgium gp to finally get the answers you were looking for. inspired by the prompt, "why did you never reply to my letters?" "you wrote me letters?"
genre┊ fluffy, the fluffiest fluff i've ever fluffed.
word count┊ 4.4k
aria yaps┊ i have worked on this non-stop for two days, and i loved the way it turned out, maybe one of my favorite works. enjoy reading this as much as i enjoy writing this!!
SECOND PART
she was always around max, either from the sidelines or the first person max ran to when he won a race, it was always her. not even his father, even though he held his father to the highest regard, but it was always her.
the little wrinkles on the edge of her eyes when she smiled at him, the way her lips would curl up, or the way she would giggle every. single. time. that he would come and hug her after every race finish. he remembers it all. and the way he would snuggle his face in the crook of her neck and asked her softly after he would win a race, 'did you see me win, schatje?'
she would always smile back with a laugh, 'of course i did maxie.'
it was always about max, her life revolved around him, whether he liked it or not. she adored him and maybe he adored her a little bit more. they were childhood friends, they were inseparable since they were little babies, their mothers being friends made it even harder for the both of them to not be attached at the hip.
she loved being in his presence and he loved her.
the divorce between jos and sophie was hard on max, he blamed himself and his career but she was always there to tell him that it's not his fault. that their decision was their own and she never forgot to tell max that it wasn't his fault, no matter how much they told him that it was.
she saw the way jos had pushed max to his limits, get physical with his own son and his way of escaping that life was run to her arms, she was there tending to every bruise, every wound whether physical or emotional. she was his rock and it was final. nothing anyone could ever say or do would change his name.
"schatje," max had gently woken her up from her slumber, and she stirred awake from his soft voice, she noticed where she was and finally remembered what happened.
max had finished lower than expected and jos had thrown hurtful things about max, she was there on his mother's couch, comforting him and had fallen asleep that way, with max on her lap, "are you sleepy?"
she shook her head, not wanting to admit that yes, indeed she was sleepy, but if max needed comfort then that wasn't a big deal to her, "what's wrong maxie?"
"nothing, you can sleep on my bed if you're tired. i can sleep here," max had brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear but she refused, she hated taking his bed because she knew how uncomfortable the couch was, she wanted him to sleep well.
but he wouldn't allow her to take the couch, so they both slept on sophie's couch almost cuddled with eachother because they were both stubborn.
max was necessarily content with how he was living his life right now, but she made it better and that's all he could ask for. was it her smile? maybe her presence? max didn't care. the first memory he could remember from his early childhood was her, and it was etched into his memory like stone.
she was content with being max's rock, she was there to keep him grounded and she too only had memories of him from her early childhood. she wouldn't replace him for the world, he was too precious for anything in this earthly world.
but there was one day, it felt like a bomb dropped on her. her father had told her that he would have to move to korea to continue work, and she didn't know how to break the news to max until a few days before she had to leave.
she knew it was wrong to keep something this big away from max, but she was so stricken with anxiety that she never got the chance to until max came over to her house and saw all the packed boxes with their belongings.
"why didn't you tell me sooner?" max was angry, she could tell, by the way he was pacing around her room, looking at the packed boxes around. max thought he meant more to her than just a measly friend, he felt frustrated— betrayed almost. why wouldn't she tell him? why would she keep something as big as this away from him?
"why didn't you say something before? why now? why before you could see me race this weekend?" max was raising his voice now, and she didn't know what to do. her eyes turned glassy and those doe eyes max loved so much just looked so sad.
she stayed quiet, a guilty look on her face. she knew max would break from the news, and she knew that it would affect his performance, but she didn't know how to stay, how to convince her father that she didn't want to go, so yet again, she stayed silent in important moments of her life.
"schatje, can you say something? say anything?!" max yelled and she flinches, she didn't know what to say or what to do, she wanted to say something, say anything. but nothing would come to her lips. it was so hard for her when he was angry like this, it reminded her of his father and his father was deathly scary when angry.
a sigh escapes max's lips when he sees her flinch, coming close to her to wrap her in a hug. tears escaped from her eyes as she held onto max tight, "i didn't know how to tell you," she whispers into max's ear but max didn't say anything to that, just held her even tighter and he did not want to let go.
"it's okay schatje, i'm not mad at you. i could never get mad at you, i'm sorry for raising my voice. i just don't want you to go," tears started to escape max's eyes too, he didn't want to see her go. he wanted her to stay, and she did too. but the universe was pulling them apart and there was nothing either of them could do about it.
the ride to the airport was tough, being only fifteen and sixteen respectively. max held her hand the entire time, not wanting to let go, he didn't want her to leave, she was his biggest support system and he couldn't imagine her gone like that.
she was the most scared of the two of them, what if her father never returned to belgium? what if she was stuck there in korea forever? what if she never got to see his pretty blue eyes anymore?
max was the one to ground her, no longer lost in her thoughts, "can you promise me we'll keep in touch? or maybe visit from time to time?" max was holding onto her hands tightly, she felt like they would bruise, she could only smile and nod.
her mother had called her over, it was time to go. she looked at max for what it felt like the last time and left her life in belgium.
dear schatje,
hi, this is the first week that you're gone and it's bene been so hard without you here with me. i forgot that you weren't here anymore and i was expecting to see your face, but when i didn't, i may or may not have almost cried.
i miss you so much. tell me how it is in korea, is it cold? do they have bears there? what about the food? is it good? can you eat it? i heard there's a lot of spiy spicy food there? honestly i don't care about what they have there, i just care about you.
when can you visit again? can you tell me if you're ever coming back? i'm so worried about you there, i miss you... so much schatje.
written with a lot of love, your maxie.
max always handed off his letters to his father, telling his father to hand it off to his mother because apparently they kept in contact and wanted to send it off to the post office on behalf of him.
he just wondered how she was doing there.
it's been months and countless of letters max had sent, and none of them replied. he was starting to lose hope, he didn't want to think that his best friend would forget about him so easily like that, but he held out hope. he knew that she wouldn't magically forget about him now that she was there.
jealousy bubbled within him when he realized that she would be meeting new people, what if she met someone like him? who enjoyed karting and wanted to steal her attention?
no, he couldn't be thinking like that. he loved her and he knew she loved him as much as he did, so he told himself to just be patient, maybe letters to korea took months to reach?
the naviety was almost laughable but he was fine with it. he just wanted to hear back from his pretty girl.
"i do not understand why you keep writing letters to that stupid girl, she doesn't reply to you and all it does is distract you," jos had reprimanded his son, but max was stubborn. he didn't care what his father had to say, he loved all of her, even when she was thousands of kilometers away. he wanted to talk, even when she never replied.
max was in the process of writing another letter, but he never listened to his father, not about her. not about how much of a distraction she's been to his career, he didn't care. he used it as motivation to get better on the track, so the next time she saw him, he would be a world champion, that's what he silently promised to her.
it had been two years, and he hadn't heard a peep back. slowly, he was starting to lose hope but he couldn't lose hope, every single time he would send off the letters, he told himself that maybe it got lost in the mail.
max kept writing though.
max's debut in f1 was explosive to say the least, his interviews would absolutely go viral by the things he was saying in them. he didn't understand why, he just said what was on his mind.
what was truly on his mind was her.
was he not good enough for her? was him being in f1 not enough to impress her? why wouldn't she write back?
oh god how he missed her.
he still wrote to her weekly, it was religious at this point. he never forgot and he always told his father to send them off to his mother and the week after that was always disappointment because he wouldn't hear anything back.
little did he know, she never received those letters.
max had slowly stopped writing letters as he got into f1, he didn't see a point in it anymore. she never replied. she didn't care. letters didn't take years to reach korea, and he finally lost hope.
winning his first championship felt empty, the pretty girl who used to be waiting for him wasn't there for him anymore. of course, he was happy to win such an impressive feat, who wouldn't? but it just... lacked her.
max indeed lost hope that she would ever write back, but never lost hope that she was out there, somewhere, watching him race every single week and beat the shit out of his rivals. she loved watching him race and that's what he intended to do until the day he died, he wanted to impress her, maybe that was his ulterior motive to becoming a formula one driver.
all just to impress his best friend who had lost contact with him for a decade now.
"you need to stop figdeting so much," her mother had scolded her, she could only laugh nervously and stop fidgeting around. she wondered why max never wrote back to her, she had written him letters. did he hate her for moving out to korea and not coming to visit belgium?
she shook the thoughts out of her head, she was here now. for his home race, and for the rest of her life. her father had now decided to move back to belgium, because and i quote, 'i don't want my daughter to lose touch with her culture'.
she was 26 now, and she had guessed that he turned 27 not too long ago. it's been so long since she talked to him and she hoped that the spark that she had been yearning for had not been lost to the passages of time.
getting the paddock passes was not easy, it was a war and a half but she managed to snag some for herself and a friend that wanted to visit belgium and would arrive later on in the week.
"how did you even manage to get paddock passes for us?" heejin, her friend that wanted to visit had asked, she could only laugh and explain how she got them, it was a war and a half. heejin laughed along with her as they both arrived and scanned their passes at the entrance.
"i'm gonna meet my best friend here— well it's complicated. i don't think he considers me a best friend anymore, but i still do," she had softly told heejin who was a big formula one fan even before meeting her, heejin raised her eyebrow when she said that.
the both of them were walking down the paddock, passing all of the different team's hospitalities. heejin raised her eyebrow at her friend, who shrugged.
"who's your best friend?" heejin had asked as they pass by the red bull hospitality, she stopped which signalled heejin to stop as well, she looked at the redbull in awe. she hadn't been to a formula one race yet, the closest she'd been was to karting but that didn't bring on the feelings she felt when standing in front of this red bull building.
"well, he's driving the number one car."
"YOUR BEST FRIEND IS MAX VERSTAPPEN?!"
"YOUR BEST FRIEND IS MAX VERSTAPPEN?!"
max had heard a girl yell, he slowly turned his head. he was confused, he didn't have a best friend— well not anymore. she had moved to korea, all memories of her stuck in his head being replayed all over and over again.
that's all he had left of her.
the other girl shushed the girl who yelled, and that's when it dawned on max. the other girl looked awfully familiar, he couldn't quite place why she looked so familiar but she looked like her, like his best friend.
"shh! you can't just yell that out in public," she clamped a hand on her friend's mouth, "they're gonna think i'm insane!" then the both of them giggled, it did sound ridiculous but now he was curious.
was she back? was that her? who was she with? is that her new best friend? is that her?
as they both walked away, max wanted to run up to them, to ask that one particular girl what her name was. what she was doing here and who she was with but all of that died when he got approached by his race engineer.
then he forgot all about that familiar girl that he saw in front of the red bull hospitality.
max would only get another glimpse of her when it was race day, they were walking through the paddock in a similar fashion, but max promised to himself that he would approach them, that he would ask but there was doubt in his heart.
what if she forgot about him?
she couldn't, right?
and so approach them he did, tapping the girl that he felt was so familiar to on the shoulder, she had turned around and they had locked eyes.
it was as if she never left.
the sparks, they all came rushing back and then his heart started beating out of his chest, he wanted to ask so many questions, why she was here, who she was with, when she came back— why she came back, why she never wrote him back.
but the only thing that left his lips were a simple, "hi."
heejin was freaking out, she could tell. she knew that heejin was a big red bull fan too, always talking about how the team was dominating and they had the better car. she had heard all about it. but the little dutchboy she left all those years ago was standing in front of her and not-so little anymore and all those thoughts about her girlfriend was forgotten.
he looked the same, but grown and decked out in red bull merch. she wanted to laugh at how innocent he looked when he tapped her on the shoulder to get her to turn around, he looked stupid, stupidly cute.
all of those feelings from when she was back in belgium came back, she almost forgot what it felt like to be around max— her max. he looked like he was going to cry when he got a good look at her, that he finally realized that yes, it's her. the one that left him in belgium all those years ago.
and maybe she could cry too.
"maxie?" a familiar nickname slipped from her lips and she didn't get a response back, but a bear hug in return.
god, her scent. it was everything to him. he fucking missed it— miss her.
"i thought... i thought you forgot about me," max buried his face into the crook of her neck, she too wrapped her arms around max and buried her face into his chest. his voice was so vulnerable, all she wanted to do was curl around him and tell him that she would never.
she shook her head as she sank into the hug, "i could never forget my maxie," she mumbled into his chest, he held onto her tighter. he never wanted to let go, not now, not ever. she was where she was finally supposed to be, right in his arms.
once they got time alone after his race, max had stolen her away from her friend and dragged her into his driver's room, locking the door and pushing her against the wall, slamming his lips onto hers. he had been dreaming about this for so long, his lips on hers.
he didn't want to so sexual with her, no not yet. being in the small driver's room where they couldn't be free out of the public eye wasn't a good place. he just wanted to touch her, hold her, love her, make sure that she knew how much he had missed this.
missed them being together.
her hands instinctively went up to hold onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he kissed her softly. the feelings going through him were a mix of nostalgia, longing and love. he loved her for so long and it was so like her to show up when it mattered the most.
he won it for her today, to show her, that the little max she knew still had it in him to win and to impress her even with a world championship under his belt.
she felt the softness and the gentleness that max was touching her with, she knew how much he loved her. how much he care, how much he longed for her touch and she did too, only so much more.
she had so many questions in her, on why he never replied to the letters she sent or why he never sent any himself, not knowing what happened with her letters and why they never arrived properly.
but she didn't care at the moment, all she cared about was that she was safely in his arms, never to be let go ever again.
safe to say, her lips were to the point of bruising that night. max had forbade her to go back home, or to be away from his sight. he had kissed her silly, not wanting to let her go and there she was, settled nicely in his arms.
it's not like she wanted to go anywhere anyway.
the movie in the background was long forgotten, max's lips felt like they were molded for hers. he had waited for her for so long, waited to feel her skin after so long and this just felt right, it felt right when he was with her.
"maxie— mmhh— my love, stop," she had to talk in between kisses, max didn't want to let her go, his fingers were basically imprinted onto her waist. she was straddling max as he sat upright and kissed her, so softly. like she would break if he was any harder, even though he absolutely did want to kiss her harder.
max released her from the kiss with a pout, his pretty lips were red and swollen from all the kissing they did. everything in the world just seemed to fade into the background when they were together, like everyone else in this world was so insignificant for their time and they were the only people worthy of each other's time.
"but why? i wanna kiss you, i miss you. i have waited for you for ten years, the least you can do is let me kiss you until you're sick of me," max mumbled against her lips and all she could do was giggle.
god, her laugh, he loved it.
she shook her head and left a final peck on his lips, "because i want to talk maxie, we can't just kiss whatever questions we have for eachother away," she told him but he seemed to think otherwise, she had moved back to put a bit of distance in between them, to make sure max didn't go in to kiss her again.
"oh yes we can, i don't care about the questions, schatje. i just wanna be with you, just like old days, but now it's so different because in those ten years without you, i finally realized what i felt and how i felt for you and i can't wait any damn longer to finally kiss those pretty lips of yours, so please. just let me do this for another three hours and we can talk," max begged as he pulled her closer.
she couldn't imagine kissing for another three hours as they spent the last hour doing it, but with him? she would do it for another life-time if she could.
the both of them later had the serious talk when they were done kissing each other, now wanting answers from eachother. their legs were tangled and intertwined with each other's, not wanting to let go from their skin to skin contact.
"first off, why did you never reply to my letters? i wrote you so many. so many that i lost count, i would always write to you but you never replied, why?" max's voice came out strained, all of the painful feelings from the last ten years of his life were coming out, her doe eyes looked up from where she was, laying against his chest.
"you wrote me letters? i wrote you letters, you never replied. i thought you got too busy with your karting career to reply—"
"i could never get too busy to reply to you, but i never got any of your letters, schatje," max murmured against her forehead, kissing it gently after he spoke. she hummed a response before it dawned on her, she had always sent the letters to his father's address and she knew that his father wasn't fond of her, even offering her a huge lump sum of cash just for her to stay away from his son but she never accepted it, always choosing to be beside max, no matter what happened.
she looked up and sighed, she knew what happened now, she connected the pieces, "did you send your letters off to your dad?" she asked, and max nodded before it dawned on him too.
"that fucker hid the letters from you and never sent mine..."
she could only nod sadly, but it didn't matter now. all that mattered was that they were reconnected now.
scattered around them were the countless of letters max had written to her and all of the letters from her that he never received, the years of pining, longing— all of them tucked neatly away into these little envelopes that held all of those unsaid feelings.
a soft sigh escapes her lips, she looked at all of them, there were hundreds maybe. all of them posted to where she stayed in korea but never sent, always kept in a big box where all of his letters were and hers were stuffed in there in a similar fashion.
her heart clenched when she saw how many there were, there were far more many than whatever she sent, even though she did send quite a big sum.
when max had found out, he stormed into jos' house and demanded to ask why he never sent out the letters that he wrote and a big fight broke out, she had to hold of max from physically harming his own father. then they left after given the big box filled with letters.
"there's so many..." she watched in awe as all of them were sorted by date, from the latest to the earliest, max looked up at her with those big blue icy eyes of his, he looked really sad. stuck in his feelings almost, not understand why his father would do whatever he did in the past.
max held her hand gently, pulling her into his embrace, "i have always loved you, even when i was a little kid. i just didn't understand what those feelings were, i just acted on how i felt and being away from you... i just couldn't. so i sent you my love in the form of these letters."
she left a lingering kiss on his cheek, she felt sorry for having to leave all those years ago. she should've fought, should've stood her ground on how much she wanted to stay but she was just a 16 year old kid who didn't know how to, "i know. i'm sorry i had to leave all those years ago."
"don't apologize, schatje. i have never blamed you for leaving me. i have always held love for you in my heart, even if you didn't know it."
"i always knew max, and i still do."
very willing to do a part 2 to this btw, will only do it when requested tho. not proofread, excuse grammar mistakes.
#leclarifies fics#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen fic#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x yn#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen oneshot#f1 fanfic#f1 fic
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Unrequited love

In which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst x fluff x smut (18+) Content warnings: spoilers for s8e12, very angsty but no worries there's a happy ending Word count: 5,4k A/n: for anyone who can relate to not having their love reciprocated, I'm hoping you'll find your spencer reid soon
It’s stupid, really, to love someone so wholeheartedly. It’s even more stupid to expect them to love you back.
Never in your life had anyone reciprocated your love — hell, no one had even accepted it. Unrequited love was a burden that has clung to you all your life, a thread of rejection woven through the fabric of your earliest memories.
You remember the moment clearly, when as a little girl you found your mother hunched over the dining room table, furiously wiping away tears she did not want you to see. You watched from afar, making sure she left the room when you tiptoed to the table, finding a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook. Your small finger traced the letters of the handwritten note. The words were jagged, some unfamiliar, making you skip them. You experienced a rush of pride and excitement when you could make out some words: leaving, sorry, woman, goodbye. It was the first time you’d read something that wasn’t written in the large colorful books Miss Abigail assigned in school. It wasn’t until a few days later, when your mother explained that your father wasn’t coming back, that the weight of the note fully sank in. From that moment on it felt like your fate was sealed.
In middle school you had some friends, but when the moment came to pairing up for school trips, it was you being the one left out. You always had someone you would call your best friend, but you’d never be theirs. Someone always seemed to be better, more lovable, more wanted.
In highschool, you got your first boyfriend, Timmy. You weren’t sure you loved him, but you wanted to be seen, to be noticed. So when he asked you out, you said yes. For a while, you reveled in the feeling of someone showing you off. That was until the day you overheard his friends, talking by the lockers.
“I swear, his tactic is working!” one of them said. “Jessica dumped James the second she saw Timmy walking hand in hand with Y/N through the hallways.”
“Oh shit, man,” another friend laughed. “If I knew that, I also would’ve used a fake girlfriend to get to Hannah.”
A fake girlfriend. The words echoed in your mind as you started to make sense of the situation. It suddenly clicked how Timmy only showed you off in public, only kissed you in the busy hallways, where people could see. It was never about you.
You decided to give love one more chance in university, but when a night that was supposed to be the first of many, ended in a one-night-stand and a “I’m sorry, but I don’t really see you that way”, you made yourself a vow: no more chasing love. You stopped giving your love to people who would never truly appreciate it, and instead, you gave that love to yourself. The library became your refuge, spending endless hours studying to give yourself the future you deserve. You passed your exams with flying colors and never forgot to reward yourself after every small victory. And when you landed a position at the BAU, making it as an FBI agent, you knew you made the right decision to never fall in love again. That was until you stepped into the office, and you saw him. Spencer Reid.
—
“And this is doctor Spencer Reid,” your boss Hotchner introduced him with a nod.
He was tall, awkward in the way only someone who was brilliant could be, but he smiled warmly as he waved a hand at you. “Hi.”
You smiled back and stuck out your hand instinctively. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”
He blinked at the gesture, looking uncomfortable. He swallowed, his voice uncertain. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like shaking hands.”
You tilted your head and laughed. “That’s totally fair. Do you know how many germs your hands carry?”
His eyes widened in surprise, as if no one had ever said that before. “I-I actually do! The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to-”
“Kiss?” you interrupted, a grin spreading across your face.
The words came out simultaneously, and you both laughed. A sound that felt... easy. Like something you hadn’t experienced before.
Someone you would later come to know as Morgan, who had been leaning against a desk, looked up at the two of you, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he shook his head.
It was then you realized — there was something special about Spencer Reid. It was something unspoken, something more than just the intellectual connection. Before you even knew it, you had fallen in love.
—
You never confessed your feelings to Spencer, but you felt like there was an unspoken understanding between you. Every morning, you arrived at work with an oversweetened cup of coffee for him, and in return, he made sure you never went without your favorite sandwich from the shop around the corner, especially on days when you were too absorbed in a case to remember to eat. On your days off, you took each other on trips. Sometimes to a museum where you would explain the art in great detail, and he would pretend not to know any of the facts, just to hear you talk. Other times, you’d go to a movie screening, where he would simultaneously whisper translations of the foreign dialogue to you, making you giggle when his breath tickled your ear. You convinced yourself that this was what love was: understanding someone to the point of not needing words.
But how foolish were you to have forgotten about the shadow that lingered behind you, always ready to remind you of everything you could never have.
—
“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Have you heard the news?” Penelope squealed in delight as she rushed toward you, the rhythmic click of her heels making a melody against the office floor.
You glanced up from your desk, raising an eyebrow. “Based on the excitement, I’m going to assume you're not talking about the wildfires in California.”
“Oh no, no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m talking about big news. The juicy kind.”
You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you sipped your tea. “Alright Pen, bring it on.”
Penelope’s grin widened. “Spencer has a girlfriend!” She yelped, hands flying to her mouth as she realized just how loud she’s gotten.
You blink as you try to process her words. “He finally adopted a cat?”
Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Y/N, I mean a real girlfriend. An actual human being girlfriend!”
You scrunch your forehead, the words not quite connecting. “I don’t think I understand.”
Penelope leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Derek told me that Blake told him that Spencer’s been making calls... to a woman.” She glances around quickly, making sure no one can overhear.
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your smile drops at the familiarity of the situation. Spencer had been leaving the bullpen often recently. You’d always assumed it was because he was still struggling with his headaches and didn’t want the team to get worried. Not in a million years would you have expected Spencer was seeing someone.
Penelope continues speaking, but her words fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. “Excuse me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you push yourself out of your chair and rush to the bathroom.
Once inside, you lock the door behind you. Your chest tightens, the familiar weight of a panic attack settling in as if it had never left. Your breath comes short and shallow, the room spinning slightly as you grip the sink. The air feels thick, suffocating even. For the first time in years you find yourself back in this situation, fighting to breathe.
—
After a while, the whispers and giggles about Reid's love affair had died down. Still, it took Spencer some time to feel comfortable enough to share more about her — Maeve Donovan, the brilliant, lovely woman who had stolen his heart. Being his best friend, it was you who he turned to. The one who had to endure all the little details of their intimate phone calls.
And you tried, you really did. You tried to be the supportive friend, even when each word about Maeve felt like a thorn twisting in your chest. You’d joke, asking him if he was sure Maeve wasn’t some sixty-year-old man catfishing him, or teasing him about how it didn’t count as a relationship if you’d never actually met the person. The snark was the only way you could cope with the sinking feeling every time he smiled when her name came up, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her. But Spencer was oblivious to your remarks. No matter how hard you tried to plant seeds of doubt in his mind, it never seemed to have any effect.
It was a sad thing to admit, but on nights when anxiety kept you awake, you couldn’t help but wish for their relationship to end. You prayed for a chance to tell Spencer how you really felt. You convinced yourself there would be time, that everything was going well, and eventually you’d find the courage to speak up. But on nights like these, you deeply regret never having thought of the possibility of another girl realizing how incredible Spencer is, and making a move before you ever could.
Those feelings of jealousy turned into big regret, when Spencer came bursting into the bullpen, panic and fear evident in his eyes. He was frantic, certain that Maeve had been kidnapped. His suspicions turned out to be tragically true, and your world crumbled the moment the gunshot rang out, taking Maeve from him. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as Spencer broke down in front of you, and you couldn’t even reach out to comfort him, believing it was you who caused this. That the ghost you knew as unrequited love, finally gave you what you wished for.
You wanted to scream, to turn back time, to take back every selfish thought. But now wasn’t the time for regret. When Spencer locked himself in his apartment, unwilling to speak to anyone, you made it your mission to be there for him. You were the only person he let in, and when the door creaked open, you were struck by the sight of him — pale, hollow-eyed, and worn down in a way you’d never seen before. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The two of you cried together, until his neighbor shouted at you both for the noise. From that moment on, you’d take Spencer to your apartment. Making sure he had a warm, homemade meal waiting for him as you’d binge Doctor Who episodes, trying to get him to smile even just a little. Slowly, he began to open up, the weight of his grief pouring out in quiet conversations. And you made sure you listened to every word as you held him close, offering whatever comfort you could.
As the weeks passed by, the weight of the situation was becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t easy hearing the love of your life talk about another woman. The way he spoke about her, like she meant more to him after just a couple of months than you ever did in all the years you stood by his side. It was almost too much to bear. When you overheard a moment between Reid and JJ, where Spencer mentioned how he would’ve had kids if it weren’t for Maeve dying, you realized you couldn’t keep going like this. You needed time to process what you were feeling, to grieve what you’d lost — even if it wasn’t really yours to begin with. So, you called in sick for the next case. Hoping you could clear your mind, while the team was out of state.
—
So here you were, experiencing heartbreak like all those times before — rotting on the couch with a pint of ice cream as you watched reruns of Love Island.
You jumped when a loud banging echoed from the front door. Your surprise faded as quickly as it came, knowing there was only one person that would bother you this late an hour.
“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up!” Spencer’s voice rang out, firm and insistent.
With a sigh, you shuffled to the front door, trying to steady yourself before facing him. The moment you opened the door, you were met with Spencer, brows furrowed in concern and annoyance.
“Where were you? You didn’t show up on the jet, and you’re never late,” he said, brushing past you to step inside.
“Sure, let yourself in,” you muttered under your breath, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t feeling well, had a headache,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.
Spencer paused, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes landed on the TV blaring in the background and the half-empty pint of ice cream on the coffee table. He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.
“Your TV is on full blast, and you’re eating ice cream,” he said, his tone skeptical, clearly aware of your lie.
You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I just needed a break.”
“A break?” He scoffed. “You never take breaks. We practically had to force you to stay home when you got shot. You’re always there, no matter what. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”
As much as you appreciated hearing that he needed you, this wasn’t the time to feel flattered by it. “Spencer, I know,” you started, your voice taut with frustration. “I just had my own things to worry about.”
“What things?” He stepped closer, his tone rising. “What could be more important than your work? Then being there for a friend when he needs you?” It was obvious how upset he was.
“I was worried about you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I called you every day, and you didn’t pick up.”
His words hit harder than you expected, and a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. “What about me, Spencer?” you snapped. “Have you ever thought about me needing a break? Or am I not important enough for that?”
“Oh, please.” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’ve always been there for me, but suddenly you can’t pick up your phone because you need time for yourself?”
“God, you’re such an ass,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
“Me? I’m the ass?” His voice pitched higher, his eyes widening in disbelief.
“Yes, Spencer! I told you I wasn’t feeling well. I needed time off.”
“You could’ve just picked up the damn phone!” he yelled. “Do you even realize how worried I was?”
“It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than me,” you countered in an icy tone.
His face twisted in frustration, but then his shoulders sagged. “Is that what you think? I was worried about you. Can you even imagine what it was like for me to call and get no answer?”
You swallowed. For a split second your mind drifted to Maeve, thinking that he might’ve felt the same fear as when she didn’t pick up the phone. You quickly put the thought away, he didn’t care about you like that.
“If you’d just asked Hotch, you would’ve gotten an answer right away,” you responded, crossing your arms in defense.
Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, so Hotch knew?”
“Of course, Spencer. He’s my boss!”
“And I am your friend! I always tell you everything before I let anyone else know.”
You rolled your eyes, frustration taking over. “Well, that’s on you. Just because you feel the need to bother everyone with your problems doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”
The instant regret was written all over your face as the words left your mouth. Spencer’s expression shifted, looking completely stunned.
“Spencer, I didn’t mean-”
But the damage was done. His shoulders stiffened and his jaw tightening before looking away.
“Please, Spence, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” your voice trembled as you reached out to him, but he instinctively took a step back.
“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded. “I don’t know why I said that.”
He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, but you said it. And you meant it.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow it felt heavier. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced with something worse: disappointment.
“Spencer,” you whispered, the sound barely audible. You were terrified to say anything else that could upset him.
He gaze fell down, before he looked back up at you. His expression had softened slightly, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you really think I bother people with my problems?”
“No!” you replied in a desperate cry. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t think that at all. I’m so glad you opened up to me and trusted me with your feelings.”
“And yet…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You ignored my calls. You avoided me. And then you said that. Jesus.” His hands fell to his sides as he let out a tired sigh, exhaustion etched into every feature.
“Spencer,” you started, but he interrupted. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at you like he was searching for answers he couldn’t find. “If you’re glad I talk to you about my feelings, why did you shut me out?”
You swallowed hard, the weight of his question bearing down on you. “It’s just… a lot to handle, Spence,” you admitted. “I’m not a therapist. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. I want to be there for you, I really do, but it takes a toll on me too.”
“It takes a toll on you too?” His voice rose, and you cursed yourself for triggering another outburst without meaning to. “I’m the one with ‘the problem’. I’m the one with the dead girlfriend! All you had to do was be there for me when I needed you.”
You exhaled heavily. “I’m getting a drink,” you muttered as you made your way over to the kitchen. Spencer followed behind you, not willing to give up yet.
“Of course,” Spencer said, with a sarcastic edge. “Grab a drink. That’ll fix everything.”
Ignoring him, you grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey. You raised it to your lips, savoring the burn as you swallowed.
He crossed his arms, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “You know what? Go ahead. Keep ignoring the problem. That’s what you’re good at, right? Avoiding things.”
Your hand trembled slightly as you set the glass down. “I know you don’t believe me,” you said, your voice shaking, “but I am trying.”
“Trying?” Spencer’s laugh was humorless. “You didn’t even call me. You just disappeared. I needed you, and you left. What kind of ‘trying’ is that?”
“God, Spencer, I didn’t want to avoid you. I wanted to pick up the phone, to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d just hurt you more, and I couldn’t-” Your voice broke against your will. “I couldn’t risk ruining all the progress you’ve made.”
Spencer’s expression softened, his furrowed brow easing as confusion replaced his anger. “You’re not protecting me by keeping whatever it is that’s bothering you to yourself. You’re hurting me even more by shutting me out. I want to be able to help you when you’re struggling, Y/N.”
Your throat tightened. You bit your lip in an effort to stop the tears and confessions from spilling out.
He gently cupped your hands in his. “Please,” he whispered. “Let me in. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.”
Your chest ached as you stared into his glistening eyes. How could you possibly tell him? How could you burden him with the truth when he was already carrying so much? But the way he looked at you, so desperate — it broke something inside you.
The words escaped before you could stop them. “I’m in love with you.”
It felt like the world had stopped. Spencer stood completely frozen, his heart skipping multiple beats. Then he loosened his grip on your hand, and you immediately regretted speaking up.
“You.. you’re in love with me?”
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest.
He stared at you in silence, his gaze unreadable as he processed your words. After a long pause, he spoke up. “You’re sorry?”
At this point, tears were streaming down your cheeks. “I’m an awful friend.”
“No, no, no,” Spencer said quickly, stepping closer. His heart ached as he reached up to gently cup your face, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. He hated to see you cry. “You are not an awful friend — you’re wonderful.”
“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not wonderful, Spencer. I listened to you grieve every night, and still I felt jealous because she got your love, even if it was just for a second.”
His eyes widened. “Jealous?” he asked softly. “You were jealous of Maeve?”
You cringed at his words, shame tightening your chest. “I know, it’s disgusting. I get it if you never want to see me again.”
“Is that what you think? That I’d stop wanting to see you?” He shook his head. “How can you think I’d judge you for having feelings for me?”
“Because I blame myself, Spencer!” you cried. “I should’ve been happy for you, but I wasn’t. And now she’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”
He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of that. You didn’t make any of those things happen,” he reassured. “They were just… they were just an unfortunate turn of events. You didn’t have any control over it.” He held you tightly against him, trying to comfort you as his heart ached.
“You shouldn’t touch me,” you sniffled, but you weren’t able to pull yourself away, needing his touch.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. “I should touch you,” he said firmly. “I should hold you, and comfort you, and be there for you. Because that’s what friends do. That’s what I want to do.”
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion. “I did feel jealous, but please, don’t think for a second that I didn’t care. I’d do anything to bring her back.”
“I know you care,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you do. That’s why I could never think of you as a bad friend.”
You cried against his chest, as the weight of all these months finally came crashing down. His arms tightened around you, grounding you. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”
You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”
“Yes, I should,” he said. His arms didn’t loosen, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go. “Your feelings matter. Your happiness matters. I don’t want you putting yourself aside for my sake.”
Something in his tone gave you the courage to lift your gaze. His eyes searched for yours, and they were filled with an emotion you hadn’t dared dreaming of. Carefully, he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing against your tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that made your chest ache.
“I mean it,” he firmly repeated. “You matter to me, more than you probably realize.”
It was out of instinct that you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand calming you down.“You can still talk to me,” you said quietly. “I just… I needed a break. But we can still have our talks.”
He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know. And I’ll take you up on that.”
His hand remained on your face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “I care about you. I always have, and I always will.”
The proximity was impossible to ignore as his thumb traced slow, soft circles on your cheek, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice quiet and pained, “for not realizing sooner how you felt about me.”
“It’s fine, Spence,” you replied with a shrug. “I should’ve been more obvious.”
A quiet sigh escaped his lips, his heart heavy with remorse. “You were, I should’ve known. Penelope and JJ never treated me the way you did.” He admitted. “I wasted so much time. I could have had you, but I was too blind to see it.”
“You… you would want to be with me?” you asked, surprise noticeable in your voice.
His expression filled with disbelief. “Of course I would. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re caring, you’re beautiful...” His voice dropped to a tender hum. “You’re everything.”
You looked away, as doubt crept in. “You’re just confused,” you said. “I gave you a lot to process all at once.”
“I’m not confused,” he said steadily, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not about this. I know how I feel. I know that it’s you that I want.”
Your heart ached at how convincing he sounded, but you couldn’t stop your uncertainty. “You’re not over her, Spence.”
The mention of Maeve made him swallow, his gaze flicked downward for a moment. “I know,” he said quietly, as he looked up at you. “I know I’m not completely over her. I may never be. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
Tears welled in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It doesn’t feel fair that I get to have you now.”
Spencer gently urged you closer. The simple comfort of holding you in his arms felt overwhelming. “You deserve everything, Y/N. You’ve been here for me from the start. You’re one of the most selfless, most loyal, most caring people I know.”
The warmth in his gaze, the tenderness in his touch, made it impossible to look away.
“I need you,” he said, his voice a raw confession. “Not talking to you these past days was torture. I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. Not just as a friend.” He paused, his next words coming out in a whisper. “You deserve to be loved, please let me be the one to do that.”
You felt your breath catch. No word in the dictionary could describe the way you were feeling. “Can I kiss you?”
His lips parted in surprise, before his eyes flashed with emotion. “Yes. Please.”
His hands cupped your face, before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was everything — raw, urgent, and filled with years of unspoken longing. A desperate whimper escaped your throat, conveying the need you’d kept bottled up all this time. Spencer seemed to feel it too, deepening the kiss as his fingers threaded into your hair, afraid you might slip away.
He effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as you wrapped them tightly around his waist. The closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy your need. Your fingers found his tie, fumbling to loosen it before letting it fall to the floor.
They continued their path to the buttons of his shirt. Spencer groaned softly against your lips, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. Your palms met his bare skin, causing his grip on your hips yo tighten. The air around you grew hotter, as every inch of his body seemed to react to your touch.
“God, Y/N…” he roughly murmured. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. But his hands never stopped, sliding down your sides and pulling you even closer.
You continued your exploration, your fingertips tracing the planes of his chest and shoulders as if trying to memorize him.
You’d always imagined taking your time when this moment finally came — savoring every touch, every kiss. But now that it was happening, you couldn’t stop the rush coursing through you. The need to feel him everywhere, to prove that this was real.
“Spencer, please,” you whimpered against his mouth, your voice filled with desperation.
“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, knowing exactly what you needed. His hands slid down to your thighs, gently parting them to make room for himself. His touches made you desperate for more, and you let out a quiet cry of relief as his fingers moved to his belt, the soft clink of the buckle filling the air.
You didn’t want to waste any time, tugging your pants down your legs in a frenzy, eager to meet him halfway. Spencer’s gaze flickered to yours, his eyes dark with need, and in an instant, his mouth was on yours again.
His kiss was hungry, all consuming. One hand grasped your waist, holding himself steady, while he used the other to hook beneath your leg, lifting it effortlessly to pull you in even closer.
You threw your head back as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet folds. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he slowly pushed into you, the stretch intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his back as you sunk your nails into his skin.
The sharp bite of pain drew a low, guttural groan from him, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against you as he murmured your name like a prayer.
“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you gasped, as he began to move, his hips rolling into yours.
His breath hitched at your words, and he pressed a soft kiss to your jawline. “I know, baby,” he mumbled. “We’ll make up for it,”
A soft giggle escaped you, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as his pace quickened.
“Oh, Spence… I’m already close,” you confessed, never having reached an orgasm this fast.
“Thank God,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation, as his grip on your hips tightened. He guided you to meet his thrusts, the intensity of his movements growing erratic, overwhelmed by pleasure.
Unable to resist, you cupped his face, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss as you moaned and gasped for breath.
Your walls clenched around him, drawing a string of delicate moans from your lips as your head fell back. Spencer took full advantage of your exposed neck, sucking and biting on the skin, claiming you. His thrusts grew deeper. He was determined to hit the spot that he knew would make you cry out in pleasure.
Spencer’s low, breathy groans filled the air, and you could tell he was close. Your legs began to shake around him, and as if perfectly in sync, your release crashed over you at the same time that he shuddered and spilled into you.
“I love you,” you gasped, the words leaving your lips over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was the sheer intensity of the feeling or the flood of emotions you’d been bottling up for so long, but what you did know is that you meant every word.
Spencer stayed close, his breaths uneven as he gently rocked into you, drawing out the shared high. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to brush your hair out of your tear-streaked face. His eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he truly saw you — every part of you.
A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.
“I love you too.”
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid angst#criminal minds smut#criminal minds angst#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic
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the girl dad!spencer I’m prison shattered me 🥺 how do you think the reunion would go (if you want to write, feel free to ignore)
the girldad!spencer in prison one is here
the reunion is overwhelming.
spencer clings to you and your daughter the second he’s free, his arms shaking as he pulls you both against him. he buries his face in your hair and presses a dozen frantic kisses to your daughter’s head, whispering "i missed you, i missed you so much"against her hair.
your daughter, blissfully unaware of where he really was, tugs at his sleeve excitedly, chattering about how long his "work trip" felt.
he doesn’t let go of either of you the entire car ride home. one hand stays tangled with yours, fingers interlaced tightly. he also keeps looking back at his daughter in the backseat in disbelief.
when you get home, she immediately drags him by the hand to her room, chattering excitedly about all the things she’s been saving to show him.
she proudly presents her newest drawings, and his breath catches when he sees one in particular: a crayon family portrait with the three of you, labeled “mommy, me, and daddy (at work).”
the second she points to the pile of plushies on her bed— "look, daddy! you sent so many from your trip!"—his eyes dart to you, realization crashing over him.
you sent them. you kept up the lie, you protected her, you made sure she never doubted him for a second.
his eyes lock onto yours, shimmering with tears, and before you can say anything, he’s pulling you into a crushing hug, lips pressing against your temple in a silent thank you, i love you, i don’t deserve you.
then she shows him his letters, the ones he wrote from prison.
she’s kept every single one under her bed in a glittery box. spencer’s composure shatters. he drops to his knees, pulling her into his arms, pressing kiss after kiss to her hair, her cheeks, her tiny hands. She squeals, wriggling halfheartedly, but he doesn’t let go.
that night, he asks her to sleep in your bed. she agrees easily, thrilled at the idea of a "sleepover" with mom and dad. spencer tucks her between the two of you, one arm curled around her tiny frame, the other reaching for your hand under the covers.
when she finally drifts off, nestled against his chest, he finally looks at you. your eyes are wet, lips pressed together to keep from crying. his breath hitches.
"i’m so sorry," he whispers, voice breaking. "i—i never wanted—"
you cut him off immediately, cupping his face. "it wasn’t your fault. none of it. you’re home now. that’s all that matters."
the tears spill over then, streaking down his cheeks as he clutches your daughter closer. you wipe them away gently, whispering reassurances until his breathing steadies.
for weeks after, he’s terrified of letting you both out of his sight.
he walks her to school every morning and drives you to work, reads her three bedtime stories instead of one, and falls asleep with his hand tangled in yours. he goes to bed with a smile on his face every night.
because he's finally home with his girls.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#gf2bellamy headcanons#spencer reid drabble#criminal minds drabble#dad spencer reid
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Suprises | M.R X Reader
a/n: ahh pt 9 finally finished and ready to post!! Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Single mom!Reader wc: 2.2k
prev | masterlist | send me a love letter



Your stomach had been in knots as you danced on stage, being careful not to express your worries on your face. Throughout bowing you had impatiently tapped your foot, anxious of the results.
Your thoughts stopped as your mother announced lacey’s first performance as a petal, she walked to the center of the stage, the lights beaming down on her face, she smiled brightly and took a dramatic bow to the crowd. She smiled and played with the ends of her dress while everyone clapped for her.
You watched with a wide smile, proud of your little ballerina.
“We did that y’know!” Nick whispered into your ear making you roll your eyes. “I did that..” You scoffed, shaking your head, trying to ignore him before sparking a smile as lacey motioned for your own applause.
Doing the same you walked to the center and smiled as the crowd cheered before bowing, taking lacey’s hand and bowing together once more before joining the other dancers and doing one last bow.
You smiled and waited as the curtain finally dropped, you turned to see lacey already letting go of your hand to go listen for your mother’s corrections on the show; Without skipping a beat, you ran off to your dressing room
“Where are they?!” You muttered to yourself as you tore the bathroom apart, looking for where your pregnancy tests could’ve gone. Crouching down to glance behind the toilet, checking the trash over again.
Your heart pounded against your chest as you began to have tunnel vision as you began searching your dressing room.
A knock on the door made you stop, your mom walked in, concern on her face. “What are they reading?” She asked, you had asked marissa to tell your mom of your last minute request as you were finishing off the waltz.
“Its not here..” You explained, sighing to yourself as you dropped your makeup bag onto the counter, defeated.
“You can take another test honey, why do those matter so much?” You mom sighed, walking over to you. “Because they were in my restroom, that means some purposefully walked in and found them and now they know my test results first..” You whined, covering your face with your hands.
“Maybe those tests weren’t meant to be, maybe you’re meant to take them with your boyfriend present?” Your mom theorized making you nod before looking at her. “Maybe you’re right..” Your tongue poked your cheek as you sat in thought.
“Your little lovebug is already ripping off her costume to go say hello.” Your mom told you, making you laugh before turning to the mirror, grabbing the wipes to take off your stage makeup, your body yearning for comfy clothing other than leg warmers and a zip up sweater.
- - - - - - - -
Little pigtails bounced as lacey ran over to robby, smiling as he handed her a small bouquet of flowers. “These are for me?” She asked, smiling as he held her up.
“Yeah, you like ‘em?” Robby asked, smiling softly at lacey’s expressions. She nodded and smelt the flowers before turning to see the other things the workers had brought for her.
“Candy?!” She squealed as jake handed her a party size bag of sour candy. Robby looked around the lobby, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.
“Where’s your mommy?” Robby asked, chuckling as lacey attempted to open the bag of candy.
“Hear aunty marissa said mommy was taking some tests..” Lacey said in between her breaths, letting out little sound of agitation as she failed once more on the bag. “Tests, what tests?” Robby asked, trying to catch lacey’s gaze, once he had she just shrugged and turned to jake, the candy outstretched.
“Open please!” She asked, smiling charmingly at him. Jake laughed and opened the bag, grabbing one for himself.
Before robby could ask more, you walked out from backstage, now in your sweatpants and a warm jacket.
You greeted everyone and thanked them for their gifts before turning to robby, quickly planting a kiss on his cheek and whispered into his ear.
“She forgave you?” You motioned towards lacey who had relaxed and was now slowly eating her candy with her free hand while her other held tightly to her flowers.
Robby pulled away and nodded, he stared at you lovingly before turning to jake and motioned for your flowers. You fanned yourself, acting flustered before accepting them. “You didn’t have too.” You sighed, smushing yourself against robby’s bicep.
Dana motioned for jake to join you three, her phone in hand.
“Lemme get a photo of you four!” Dana smiled, standing back as she opened the camera app and counted down.
You wrapped an arm around jake and smiled cheesily. “Beautiful smile there lovebug!” Dana laughed, showing the photo of you four but zoomed in on robby and lovebug; lacey showed her teeth off in the photo earning a snicker from you.
“Perfect pearly whites.” Robby smiled and rubbed her back before turning to you.
As he stood beside you, out of the blue he had tensed up and watched with a straight face as nick walked over to you all.
“Relax green bean giant, i’m coming to say bye to MY daughter!” Nicholas scoffed at robby before attempting to grab lacey from his hold. Lacey quickly held onto robby’s arm tightly and melted against him as robby tightened his hold on lovebug.
“Goodbye nicholas.” Robby spoke up, the others quickly gave nick dirtiest of looks as he backed away and left, muttering under his breath.
You sensed the tension and turned to robby, noticing as the workers began to say goodbye.
“Dinner?”
- - - - - - - -
Lacey sat by the window, her little face smushed against robby’s side, on her tablet as he looked through the menu. “What do you want to eat?” Robby asked, looking over to see lacey taking selfies on her tablet.
“Mac ’n cheesy!” She mumbled, sitting up from robby’s side to pose for another picture, robby in the frame as well.
You chuckled from the other side of the table as the pair both took a photo together.
“Let me take a picture of mommy!” Lacey announced, flipping her camera to show yourself. With a simple pose lacey giggled and turned her tablet to show her work off.
You smiled at the photo before nodding. “What’s with the blue dog on your tablet?” Robby asked lacey, who looked up from her bright screen. She held her tablet to her chest to look at her bluey ipad case.
“It’s bluey!” She looked at robby with a short smile, “She’s a girl! Not a boy!” Lacey clairfed making robby raise his hands and nod.
“Understood.” He chuckled and watched as lacey began to play her apps, turning his head to see you looking out the window, your mind elsewhere.
He leaned further towards you across the table and reached to grab your colder hand.
At the sudden warmth you looked back to see robby’s concerned brown eyes looking at you. You squeezed his hand in reassurance. “You alright?” He asked, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.
“Yeah, just thinking of stuff..” You smiled, not noticing as lacey placed her tablet down to listen.
“Did you fail those tests?” She asked, a frown on her face.
Your heart stopped at her words, turning to her. “What tests honey?” You asked, nervous for her answer.
“Aunty marissa said you had to take some tests..” She shrugged, you felt flustered as robby looked at you, a question on the tip of his tongue.
Thankfully you had been saved by your waiter asking for your table’s order.
- - - - - - - -
Once dinner had ended, robby followed you and lovebug to your apartment. Not questioning as you stopped at the pharmacy, assuming it was for lacey.
You had been grateful for robby being there, you had wrangle lacey into a bath and fresh pajamas. She sat on your couch, remote in her hand as she watched max and ruby. Robby sat beside her, rubbing her head as she dozed off.
You smiled at the sight, robby had also changed into pajamas he had left there. Robby smiled as lacey’s grip fell, dropping the remote on the plush carpet.
Robby looked at you, a smile on his face. “I was forced to catch up on max and ruby with her.” He explained, lightly chuckling before turning to pick her up.
“I’ll tuck her in, go relax.” Robby motioned for your bedroom with a tilt of his head as he carried lacey to her room. Her little body draped over him.
You had wordlessly agreed and grabbed the pregnancy tests you had stashed once you had gotten home. Setting them on the bed, you sat down on the mattress and waited, it had been a bit before robby entered your room, you didn’t speak of it, assuming lacey had just woken up and requested a bedtime story.
A smile on his face as he laid beside you and placed his head on your shoulder, his eyes finally catching the pregnancy test that were laid out. You sighed and pick one up.
“I haven’t gotten my period in two-ish months micheal..” You explained, robby nodded and took the test from your hands. “I’ll support you through this in anyway you wish me too.” He reassured you.
“Wait with me?” You asked, looking at him in the eye, he just bit his lip and nodded as you got up and left to go take both tests.
Time had felt like forever while both you and robby waited, you both sat on the bed, your phone flipped over as your timer rang out, you sighed and stopped it.
You looked up at robby and motioned to the bathroom where you had left everything. “Come with me?” You asked, feeling shy under his eyes.
He wordlessly nodded and followed behind into the small bathroom, he pick up the turned over tests and held them in front of you.
Feeling anxious you took a deep breath from flipped the tests over and looked at the results.
Positive
Positive
You felt a smile grown on your face, looking at robby who held a smile at the results. You quickly launched yourself into his arms, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m actually pregnant..” You muttered, a smile stuck on your face.
“I’m all for whatever you want to do.” Robby told you, holding you tightly, his hand running over the back of your head.
“I-I think I wanna keep it..” You spoke, turning to see a teary smile from robby as he just nodded and placed his forehead to yours.
Emotions filled the bathroom as you and robby celebrated your news quietly, remembering lacey had been sound asleep across the hall. “She’s gonna be a big sister!” You realized, tears slowly stopping as robby kissed your cheeks, smiling in between kisses.
“She’ll be the best older sister, and jake’s gonna have his hands full.” Robby chuckled, making you gasp.
“Poor jake...” You giggled, slowly you and robby had made your way to the bed, laying down robby smiled and knelt down before your stomach.
He pressed his lips to the skin and kissed it, making you smile at him. You both made eye contact, robby bowed his head down and mumbled something.
“What did you say?” You asked, lightly holding his head up, robby avoided your gaze and smirked as he spoke up.
“..I already knew it.” He confessed, it was a moment before your brain had caught up with what he said. “How did you know!?” You asked, a bit shocked. Robby sighed and placed your shirt down back in place.
“A believe a certain bug took something from your bathroom and hid them away..” Robby smiled as your mouth opened in shock.
“Lacey took them?!” You said in shock, all the panic that day of the missing tests had been due to your own child.
“She asked me what they were, thought you had covid.” He laughed, making you grin. “I had the worst anxiety over those tests..turns out my child just through i caught covid!” You laughed, rubbing your hands over your face.
Robby just laughed as he eased you into bed for the night.
- - - - - - - -
Weeks had passed since you had gotten four positive tests, both yourself and robby had sworn to keep the pregnancy a secret for the first trimester before telling everyone the news.
You had sighed, trying to ignore robby’s presence in the corner of the room. It had been rare you had gone down to the ED when transporting patients between floors, it had been a rare sight to see you enter the floor in a navy blue compress jacket, a matching color with robby’s occasional navy sweater he wore.
“You shouldn't be doing the stressful jobs right now.” Robby sighed, thankful it was just yourself and robby in the room, cleaning up as the ICU team had began to take the patient upstairs.
“Oh yes, i should wait til i pop a bump to do my job!” You huffed, picking up an extra tube from intubation they had did at the last minute.
“I didn’t say that..” Robby sighed, you just rolled your eyes and exited the room, sighing as robby followed you to central.
Leaned over the desk as you talked with dana, robby sighed and sat down to begin charting for the moment.
As you and dana talked, you felt a tap on the shoulder. You turned to see a young woman in causal wear. She asked for your legal name, once you had given it to her she handed you a manilla envelope.
“Nicholas callahan is requesting full custody of your shared child.”
lovebug taglist!! @nerdgirljen @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @snowflames-world @whimsicalfungiforager @lovebuggyies @itschelseacisneros @kmc1989 @foolishseven @rhysology @delicatetrashtree @evans-dejong @equallyshaw @qardasngan @fallout-girl219 @dantemorenatalie @18lkpeters @ohmystrawberrycheesecake @blackblueberries @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @isla-finke-blog @baileythepenguin @khaleesibeach @obfuscateyummy @li22ie2017 @hagarsays @catmomstyles3 @antisocialfiore @journalism2004 @capswife @obsessed-fan-alert @sabrinaselina55 @katydunn047-blog @jazzimac1967 @1mverstappen
#dr. robby x reader#dr robinavitch x reader#dr robby x reader#michael robinavitch x reader#michael robinavitch x you#michael robby robinavitch x reader#dr robby x you#the pitt x you#the pitt x reader#robby ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
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AN AMOROUS KISS WITH THE ONCE ENEMY.
day two of sevika week: first time.
set in the universe of this fic.
contains: royalty!au, sevika and reader are part of enemy kingdoms and have been pushed into an arranged marriage with each other for the sake of peace, reader lives with a toxic family, smut (minors + ageless blogs dni), sevika has a dick, mentions of breeding and pregnancy, soft sex, praise, reader is called "wife" and "girl," reader's body is referred to with the terms: "pussy," "cunt," "clit," and "tits"
a/n: this is inspired by an m4f audio I came across on reddit, made by u/AugustInTheWinter -- I haven't listened to it in full, so I can't guarantee all the content in it, so please check his warnings and keep it all in mind.
dividers by: @/strangergraphics and @/anitalenia
The last thing you expected upon Sevika’s arrival was for her to cup your face and plant on you the most amorous kiss you’ve ever received.
She’s been gone for two incredibly long months on account of counseling she’s had to do in several different provinces for the sake of peacekeeping. Your family jumped at the opportunity to have you back home, and while the prospect at first seemed tempting, it took only five days of staying with them to remember why you had agreed to the marriage of allegiance with Sevika in the first place.
Everything feels… tighter around the throat. The rules that had governed you all throughout your childhood were now wound back around your neck, forcing every interaction to have controlled coldness and false niceties laced in. Prior to your marriage, this sort of life came naturally to you, like a sort of second skin you donned with ease every morning and tore off during the late hours.
But, after ten months of marriage to Sevika, living in her country and experiencing a whole new way of socializing, one that prizes bluntness and passion above all else, this world you once called home feels foreign now. You can already picture your wife’s – God, your wife – reaction had she been staying here with you. She would’ve barked out a crude laugh at your mother’s insistence on what subjects can and cannot be broached in a formal dinner. She would’ve kept you in her stare during balls no matter how impolite it was deemed for a woman to give her spouse the “sinful gaze,” as your aunt once hilariously put it.
But, oh, how that sinful gaze feels like Heaven after being tied to her for so long. At first, you viciously hated it. You thought the way she looked at your body was pure filth, and you tried hard to ignore the way it made arousal bloom between your thighs. You were also under the impression that twisted into that stare was contempt and pure arrogance at knowing you were putty under her hands. And in hindsight, you’re sure that was the case.
But, then, the two of you spent time together after the wedding night. You still cannot decipher if it was the most blessed or stupid decision you’ve ever made. The wedding night turned into an immediate argument in the morning. And that argument unfolded into weeks of bickering. Then, a vulnerable night where someone at a dinner party made a rude comment about your people made you struck with tears – and, shockingly enough, made your wife fist the table cloth and defend you.
A rare moment of kinship turned into shared smirks in the middle of shooting snarky remarks back and forth. It turned into her squeezing your hip during public outings and biting back a chuckle whenever you shot her a glare. It turned into her reading her book aloud to help you sleep during the anxious nights. It turned into you advocating for her when her father dismissed her. It turned into fights over you defending each other and the pride broken in doing so, ending with mumbled apologies and feeble attempts to grab one another’s hand.
Somewhere, tucked away deep in your soul, it turned into an actual marriage. It turned into that four letter word you still can’t manage to unleash from your throat when faced with her cocksureness.
You gasp as her lips move against you in the fluid dance that nights upon nights of intimacy, all done under the justification of needing to produce an heir, have trained you both in. Your fingers twist eagerly into the fabric of her vest, pulling her in so that your fronts are squished together. She’s so tall, so lovely, so fucking strong. So warm when she’s on top of you, so dependable during the nights you meekly turn into her side when a nightmare leaves you feeling like you’re plunged into cold water. So steady – firm in her stance, cold and rough around the edges, but an inside, so tender and soft. An inability to ever deny you the care you need. You both know that. But, not only you. You’ve seen her show that care for so many people, including the ones she holds dearest to her chest and the strangers who have nothing to give her in return. It makes your admiration of her swell tenfold.
When she grabs your ass, nails digging into the plush of it, your mouth opens in a choked gasp. You can feel the longing for her, the desperate need for skin-on-skin contact. And you’d be uttering a terrible lie if you say that you don’t feel the same way. These last two months have been downright torturous, your brain itching for her thoughts on what you read, your face aching for the grins she causes in her rare moments of awkwardness, your body yearning for her rough touch.
She pulls away from your mouth with a wet squelch, and through the heaving breaths, you finally take her in. Her hair has grown longer, black strands hanging in her eyes, and her eyes are shadowed with dark under eye circles. And yet, the light in those grey irises doesn’t falter even once, searing through your skin as her gaze shifts over your face. The sharp focus of the movement causes your stomach to flip. Did she miss you? Did she envision your face at night as much as you did hers?
Your mind barely has time to run through more questions before her hands lift to your face and she’s pulling you into another impassioned kiss, muttering, “You been sleeping well?”
The soft question nearly brings you to tears. Still passively hanging your mouth open, letting her tongue lick into the crevices of it, you shake your head from side to side. You had grown quite accustomed to having her nearby during the late hours.
Her kisses sloppily move to your cheek, her next words firm with determination. “You will tonight.”
When she loosens your robe, her eyes take you in, focused and half-lidded, hand rubbing at your tummy. “Fuck. Get on the bed now.”
You bite your lip in eagerness, arousal coursing through you. You’re already damp between the legs, your wetness smeared on your inner thighs. You know it’s probably a horrible idea to be doing it here, at your parents’ estate (you try to ignore just how touched it makes you to know she made a detour on her journey home just to visit your parents’ and ensure you make the rest of the trip together). But, there’s something tantalizing about it. This kingdom, so rigid, so seeped in structure and sense, totally demolished in this small way. In the tangle of limbs, the hot mix of breaths, the depraved claiming she always stakes on you.
When you get on all fours, anticipating that she’ll want it fast and hard after the time spent away, she chuckles softly.
When you feel the slippery softness of her lips upon your spine, you gasp. A surge of heat shoots through you as she murmurs, “Get up. I want to see your face.”
The request makes your stomach tighten up, a wave of tenderness rolling through you. God, you want to see her too. So badly. You’re almost seized with fear at the enormity of your want, at the vulnerability that’ll be tethering you two together through this round of lovemaking. Lovemaking. Before, it was just sex – something you convinced yourself was only done for the necessity of bearing her child. Now, it’s something completely different. It’s another way you two have learned to mold yourselves together and allow your souls to dance in companionship.
Her skin, set ablaze under the warm light of the fire, is toasty under your roaming hands. She sits up with her back leaning against the headboard, your body curled up in her lap. You’re gasping pitifully as her dick slides between your pussy’s soaked lips, the hot weight of it getting slick as she grips your hips and helps you rock back and forth. Nails digging into her broad shoulders, breasts crushed together, your moist breaths fan against her cheek as you press messy, mindless kisses to the corner of her mouth.
Mind softened and turned malleable from the feeling of her cock brushing against your stiffened clit, you breathe out, “I missed you.”
She makes a small noise in her throat, then mutters, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft during my time away.”
The lack of reciprocation stings, and you immediately pause to pull back with a glare. “Will you not say it back?”
She levels you with a deadpan stare. “My dick is about an inch close to being inside you.”
You scoff, “Yes, and that’s how close you’ll get unless you tell me you missed me too. Or did you not?”
At the soft crack in your voice, one that has your face heating in embarrassment, Sevika’s eyes sharply flick to you. A moment later, she leans into you, grabbing the base of her dick and encouraging you to lift your hips. Mouth pressed to your jaw, almost as though she can’t bear to meet your gaze, she murmurs, “You think I would’ve added two days to my journey home unless I did?”
Your chest aches.
When she slowly splits you open on your dick, you immediately begin rutting desperately on her, the time apart feeling like an extended eternity.
She bites her lip, hard, the corner of it quirking up in clear amusement. “Needed it that bad, huh?”
Despite the taunt in her voice, you can hear the way it trembles, and you know it’s taking her every ounce of willpower not to thrust into you the way she desires.
You take advantage of the weak point, pressing your palms on her chest and swivelling your hips in circles, slow and measured. Her dick twists in you just right, and a low whine flows from your mouth.
Sevika grits her teeth from where she sits, the muscles of her chest flexing under your touch. “You’re so, fuck–”
She barely gets the sentence out before her thick arms wrap around your waist and she’s bending her knees to give herself the leverage she needs to begin pumping her hips up. You cry out in shock, a hand feebly pressing to the bed frame as her cock darts in and out of you without falter, your hole gushing with juices mixed in with her precum. One hand grips your ass, kneading and smacking, while the other is braced against your back, keeping you still as she pounds into you like her personal toy.
It’s pure ecstasy, rough and passion encapsulated in the quick, uncoordinated movements. But, what has your entire body eventually spiralling to orgasm is when she slows down. Continuing to hold you still, she rocks in and out patiently, leaning away from your shoulder to press her sweaty forehead into yours, the hairs plastered onto her skin making yours tickle and itch. Her eyes remain narrowed on how your mouth falls open in pleasure, utterly intent. You roll your hips to meet her thrusts, which are wet and loud with the cream you’re certain is coating her cock and your walls.
The forced eye contact has you crumbling from the inside out, feeling as though your insides are laid on display for her. And after so much time apart, basking in her desire and touch like this has you feeling like it’s the first time again.
The feeling is only exemplified by the praise she begins to grunt out, so different from her usual humiliation and teasing.
“Fuck, how did I stay away from you for so long?” she rasps, her voice rough like sandpaper. “This sweet little cunt, this pretty little face.”
A stuttering moan is racked from your throat, flutters twirling through your stomach. She thinks you pretty. God, she thinks you pretty. It feels silly to get so excited by such a revelation, considering she’s your wife, but you can’t help it. She makes you feel like everything is the first time, like she’s your first love. She isn’t, but when she looks at you like your body is a hidden gem found in a cave, when she mocks you and teases you and tentatively asks for your opinion as though you’re important, you can’t help it. She makes you feel wanted. And you want her just as badly, if not more.
Overwhelmed by the weight of your thoughts, you weakly utter, “I– don’t leave me again.”
The plea is more open than you had anticipated, brokenly uttered, honest to the core, and anxiety shoots in you as she slows down even more, her cock gently scraping against your walls.
“I won’t,” she says through her teeth, her voice hard. “I won’t leave you to the wolves.”
An instant need to defend your family rears its head, and you whisper, “I managed.”
“Just managing isn’t good enough for me.” She starts thrusting faster, holding the back of your head and keeping it still as she whispers, “You’re my wife. I’m gonna make sure you have better than that.”
Her words and movements make you sag into her, arms winding about her neck as you clutch on tightly. Her cock plunges in and out of you faster and you moan senselessly against her shoulder, lifting her hand from your waist to suck on her fingers.
“Messy girl,” she grumbles.
When she comes in you, your entire body is thrown into a fit of shivers, the thick strings of it bursting into your hole and filling you up delightfully. Keening, you press yourself down on her harder, trying to suck in every drop of her seed, downright greedy for it.
Deliriously, you pant, “More, more, more, give me it all, shove it in me. Please, please, breed me, get me pregnant.”
“Such a fucking needy girl,” she groans, continuing to thrust hard and deep into you, forcing her come into your hole as much as she can. “Take it, fucking take it.”
Moments later, the knot in your tummy releases, rolls of overbearing, heavy pleasure coursing through you as you bite into her shoulder, trying to muffle your noises. She hisses at the dig of your teeth, but you don’t care, wanting so badly to mark her up as your own. She’s no one else’s. She’s yours. Yours, yours, yours.
The words are right on the tip of your tongue, hanging precariously.
But, your adoration of her is triumphed by your fear of your rejection. So, you hold it in, content to keep her like this, her softening cock still inside you.
Her fingers smooth along the pimples of your back, ghosting over your skin and making you squirm.
When you clench onto her tighter, she sucks in a small breath, muttering, “Already needing round two?”
You weakly smack her bicep. “Shut up. I can’t help it.”
The rest of her arm wraps around you and you nuzzle further into her. It feels familiarly like a hug, and your chest throbs at the affection. Because, truly? As much as you relish in the sex, the aftermath, the excuse to hold each other without undergoing the intimacy of asking for it and making your needs evident, is just as fulfilling.
Wanting to linger in the moment, you ask quietly, “How was the trip?”
“Tiring.”
“Thank you for the details.”
She huffs. “I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”
After a pause, she asks, “How has the homeland been?”
You know her well enough by now to recognize the veiled message. Do you miss it here? Do you wish you hadn’t married me?
You press your nose into her collarbone. “Tiring.”
Her hold tightens. “I’m here now.”
And just like that, you hold on tighter, melting into the deep timbre of her voice, the words no longer a threat of dread and anger, but one of hope and comfort.
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🔆 ohjoy Follow
okay since I recently found out that me and literally 5 other kids in my choir had a phase where we made serious plans to run away and become a 9th penitent - is this an 8th House thing or are teens just like that
🔆 ohjoy Follow
BONE CULTISTS? ON MY HELLSITE?
✒ blackquill Follow
It's more likely than you think.

♠ homefront-titties-of-the-4th Follow
i was dropping off the kids at the cohort seminar and the 2nd house recruiter saw my wheelchair and asked if I was a veteran ... like aye cap they gave me ms in the war
♠ homefront-titties-of-the-4th Follow
she asked me what front i served at and I said "the big one". she gasped
♠ homefront-titties-of-the-4th Follow
WHEN I CAME BACK TO FETCH THE SQUIRTS SHE HAD A VETERAN'S DISCOUNT STAMP READY FOR ME there were tears in her eyes i swear

🥴 badjokesbyjohn Follow
Why do milking stools only have 3 legs
Because the cow has the udder.
⚪ the-redeemerrrrrr-deactivated
username checks out man you fell off. tf does that even mean
👅 one-flesh-one-smash Follow
fuck off back to deaddit. john has been trying to get an ARG off the ground for so long, let him cook. That ancient colour of the sky post was a banger
☕ fidelitea Follow
TIL that weird baby blue sky post came from the bad jokes guy

🌸 rigormortis Follow

feeling so aenemic today...
👄 what-that-mouth-of-the-emperor-do Follow
it's the year of our lord 10000, can we leave consumptioncore in the fucking dust where it belongs?! It's not cute, you're not giving Duchess of Rhodes, you're giving none of my friends want to spend time outside with me

🍖 drchuckshingle Follow
some sad news for y'all today. once again two of my shinglers, "pounded in the butt by the realisation that none of us will live to see a time of peace" and its sequel, "pounded in the butt by the realisation that the previous realisation must have occurred to dozens of my ancenstors and still we fight on", have been placed on the eighth house index of heresies. OH WELL! i will continue to write as long as there is one person waiting to read, and that person is ME!
📜 solace-in-thighs Follow
aw shucks that sucks! at least your works are in good company among other works of art on the index (or so i hear)
🩸 saints-alive Follow
dude we can all look up the index. "saint of seduction" "cavaliers off the leash" "pounded in the butt by a chainsmoking saint that remains otherwise unspecified and could belong to any fictional religion"
is that the good company you're speaking off? or are you just sad you can't jerk it to pervert porn anymore
📜 solace-in-thighs Follow
Nice try. Among erotic works, several priceless artifacts with immense cultural and scientific value have been indexed by the Eighth. E.g. the collected letters of General Duodecim to his spouses in the year of 3097, being one of the only firsthand accounts of the establishment of the first shepherd worlds. That's so long ago they still called them colonies! It's from before the divine edict of 4001!
🩸 saints-alive Follow
general duodecim was a weirdo who wrote self insert fanfic about himself getting his guts rearranged by the saint of duty TO HIS SPOUSES
📜 solace-in-thighs Follow
Psychometrists from the Sixth have affirmed the authenticity of the texts again and again. The Saint of Duty fucks nasty and raw, die mad about it <3
🍈 magnus-quinn-big-naturals Follow
I'm sad I can't jerk it to pervert porn anymore :(

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
the good news: they're letting me go out tonight!
the bad news: it's for my great-uncle's funeral.
the secret good news: I met him twice and those were two times too many. Odious man!
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
worse news: they've sat me next to Captain Deuteros I hate it here
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
looooord undying she's talking about the weather. Nice yellow we're having tonight! Lemon, with a hint of cadmium - or is it cadmium with a hint of lemon?
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
her shuttle journey was uneventful, if you were wondering. heaven forbid she experience two consecutive seconds of excitement.
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
she saw me using necrumblr under the table and tutted at me. L-O-L!
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
Maybe I should faint. I haven't fainted in ages!
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
IMPORTANT UPDATE. The Crown Princess of Ida struck up a conversation with her from across the table and the captain dropped a dumpling into her lap.
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
it's been five minutes. the Princess is still talking to her and the window in which she could have picked the dumpling up with minimal embarrassment has passed ages ago.
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
dumplingwatch: it's still there. waiting. cooling. soaking through her trousers.
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
RIP DUMPLING! The Princess is giving a speech and the captain kicked it under the table. She thinks nobody noticed
💌 do-not-go-gently Follow
WE'RE TALKING ABOUT THE WEATHER AGAIN I NEED THE CANCER TO GET ITS SHIT TOGETHER RIGHT NOW
#dashboard simulator#the locked tomb#gideon the ninth#harrow the ninth#nona the ninth#unreality#tw terminal illness#shitpost#getting back to my roots with weirdly elaborate shitposts i hope this doesn't flop
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His Spoiled Babe
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───
Pairing: Idol!Han Jisung × fem!Reader
Summary: The final and last part of the SKZ boys loving their girlfriends ☺️ Enjoy being Han’s girlfriend.
Warnings: Definitely smut smut smut… Han’s tattoos! (If JYP is reading this 👀)
A/N: THIS IS IT. Done with the Spoiled series.
୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Leeknow ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Changbin ୨ৎ Jeongin ୨ৎ Seungmin
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───
She remembered the first time Han Jisung made her feel like the only girl in the world.
It was raining—of course it was. The kind of cinematic downpour that turned city streets silver, where every sound seemed muffled but every feeling turned up louder. She’d just gotten home from class, umbrella dripping, tired and cold and very much not in the mood to be perceived.
But then she heard it.
Music.
Off-key and desperate and beautiful.
And there he stood. Right in the courtyard of her apartment, soaked to the bone. His hoodie clung to his arms like second skin, black curls plastered to his forehead, guitar nearly slipping out of his hands—but God, the smile on his face.
Like he didn’t even notice the rain.
Like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at.
Felix was next to him, barely holding up a half-ruined sign made of printer paper and smudged Sharpie.
“I love you, Y/N.”
And Han?
Han was singing.
A song she’d never heard before. Something soft, laced with longing, and rough around the edges. A little like him. A little like the night she fell asleep on his chest and murmured nonsense against his skin—except he remembered every word she said and turned it into a melody.
She thought her heart might fall right out of her ribs.
And that was only the beginning.
Now?
────୨ৎ────
Their matching Vivienne Westwood necklaces were the talk of the fandom. His stayed tucked beneath his shirt, where only she could tug it out with her teeth. Hers sat proudly on her chest. One night on tour, he kissed his before walking onto stage. Cameras caught it. It trended worldwide.
People speculated. People guessed.
But no one knew.
No one saw what was beneath the fabric of his oversized tee—right at the tender dip of his inner upper arm.
Her name.
Tattooed in her own handwriting.
Flawless black ink.
Bold and sacred.
Just above the muscle he flexed when he pinned her to the mattress.
She’d kissed it. Moaned into it. Bit it.
It was her favorite place on his body—because it meant he was hers.
────୨ৎ────
The world called Han chaotic, eccentric, unhinged.
But with her?
He was devoted.
Soft when she was sleepy.
Obsessed when she smiled.
Absolutely whipped every time she giggled into his chest and played with his fingers.
He spoiled her not just with luxury, but with detail.
Her favorite chocolate, flown in from a tiny shop in Switzerland.
A Balmain jacket in his size, because she once joked about wanting one and she liked her Clothes better if they fit him.
Studio dates where he made her sit on his lap while he mixed tracks, headphones pressed to her ears while he whispered, “Tell me if you like this, babe. I only want to make things you love.”
Even her favorite pillow brand—he stocked his studio couch with them just so she’d be comfortable when she inevitably fell asleep waiting for him.
────୨ৎ────
Han Jisung had money, sure. Fame. A wardrobe of Balmain leather and Westwood chains.
But the only thing he ever really wanted?
Was her.
Soft. Spoiled. Sleeping in his bed. Wearing nothing but one of his shirts and the necklace he’d clasped around her neck himself.
And when she looked up at him with those sleepy eyes and whispered, “Hannie, can I wear your jacket today?”
He grinned like he won the lottery.
“Baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair, “you can wear everything I own.”
Han didn’t just spoil her.
He ruined himself for her.
────୨ৎ────
A necklace here. A pair of shoes there. A handwritten letter folded into her passport when she flew out to see him on tour.
But Jisung didn’t do small for long.
One rainy afternoon, they passed by a Balmain store in Gangnam. She paused at the window—just for a second—and tilted her head at a soft ivory dress on the mannequin. Ruffles, cinched waist, delicate buttons like pearls.
She didn’t even say anything.
Just a tiny, thoughtful hum.
He noticed.
And the next day?
The entire Balmain spring collection showed up at her door. Still tagged, perfectly steamed, wrapped in tissue paper that smelled like him. Every piece had her initials stitched inside—just under the label, where only she would see.
────୨ৎ────
He kept her closet full. Not stocked—curated. His stylists begged him to stop flying in racks from Paris every time she complimented a runway look, but he wouldn’t hear it.
“She liked it,” was all he said.
That was enough.
Her playlists?
Updated weekly. With demos he never released.
Love songs no one else heard.
Songs he wrote when she was asleep on his studio couch, breathing softly, curled up in his hoodie with one of her hands in his hair like she knew he needed the grounding.
Sometimes, he’d open her phone, tuck in a new audio file, and wait to hear her reaction the next morning.
The soft gasp. The slow smile. The inevitable text:
Ji, you wrote that for me?
And his answer was always the same:
Of course. Who else would I ever write for?
Han Jisung didn’t care if it was too much. He didn’t care if the world called him impulsive, dramatic, unhinged.
He’d burn through every cent he had if it meant seeing her eyes light up like that.
He’d carve new lyrics into his skin if it meant keeping her name there forever.
He’d give her the world if she even hinted at wanting it.
────୨ৎ────
It was a gift. Of course it was.
Everything was, when it came from him.
He’d had the corset custom-made in London. Cream silk with delicate boning, tiny laces up the back, and just enough ruffle at the top to make his mouth go dry. He hadn’t stopped thinking about how she’d look in it since the designer sent the sketches.
She didn’t know he’d cancelled an interview to wait at her apartment while she unboxed it.
Now, she stood in front of the mirror—hair up in soft pins, the corset hugging her waist like sin. She was still tugging at the ribbon ends when she heard it:
His breath.
Right behind her.
“I’ll do it,” Jisung murmured, stepping closer.
She stilled, eyes meeting his in the reflection. He looked flushed already, knuckles flexing like he was holding back from grabbing her on the spot.
“You sure?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just took the ends of the ribbon and began pulling—slowly, reverently, into her back.
Her breath hitched with each gentle tug.
Tighter. Snugger. Closer.
“You’re… so pretty, baby.” His voice cracked with how much he meant it. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”
She could feel him behind her, not touching—yet—but so close that she could feel the heat from his chest. She watched his hands move down, smoothing the sides of the corset. Palms heavy, thumbs brushing the top of her hips.
“I should’ve made this earlier,” he whispered against her neck. “You look like a dream. A fantasy. Mine.”
She barely had time to answer before his hands slid to her thighs. She gasped. The hem of the corset ended just above her hip bones—and he was already there, already parting her legs from behind.
He dragged her with him, easing her toward the vanity stool.
When she sat, he sank to his knees.
He was kissing up the inside of her thighs. Her reflection was flushed, her eyes glazed. His hands wrapped around her legs, steadying her while his lips found her softest, neediest place.
“You take everything I give you so well,” he said against her skin. “Even this corset—you wear it like it’s made of gold. Like it’s my name wrapped around your waist.”
And in a way, it was.
Because when she came—shaking, gasping, thighs locked around his head—the only thing she could feel tighter than the corset was his hold on her. Hands clutching her hips, arms trembling, heart pounding between her legs as he ruined himself to worship her right.
He helped her out of it later, too.
Lips brushing her shoulder like she was breakable. “Gotta take care of my favorite gift,” he said with a sleepy grin, cuddling her in the aftermath. “You. Always you
────୨ৎ────
And that look in his eyes. That Han Jisung look.
The one that said he was already imagining her ruined. That he wanted her messy and moaning, her lips on the spot that was his and hers alone. Her Name on his Arm. And she loved his Tatto. No one else ever saw it. No fans. No stage lights. Not even the boys.
Only her.
He always said it felt like a secret vow. Something just for them.
And when she kissed it?
God, he lost his mind.
Tonight she straddled his lap on the couch, fingers sliding up his sleeves. His hoodie bunched at the elbows as she leaned in, mouth warm on that sacred spot.
She kissed the letters. Slowly. Softly.
Then—bit.
A light scrape of teeth, just enough to make his breath hitch and his hips jerk beneath her.
“F–fuck,” he gasped, muscles flexing under her touch. “Do that again.”
So she did. Open-mouthed kisses. Teasing licks. Little nips right on the curve of the Last Letter of her Name.
All while his biceps bulged and his honeyed skin flushed under her mouth.
She loved his arms. Loved how he used them to cage her in, to lift her like she weighed nothing, to pull her down onto him like he couldn’t wait another second. And god, when he finally grabbed her hips and thrust up—it was over.
Her fingers curled around his tattooed arm like a handle.
“I got this so you’d never forget,” he rasped, dragging his mouth down her collarbone. “That I’m yours. Always yours.”
“Mm,” she moaned, grinding down on him. “Then claim me.”
And he did.
Right there, on the couch. Hoodie halfway off. Hair clinging to his forehead. His arm flexed and trembling beside her head while he fucked her like the world was ending.
And the whole time?
Her name was right there—pressed to the sheets, kissed raw, marked into his body.
────୨ৎ────
The studio lights were low—just a soft amber glow behind the monitors—and the only sound was the gentle thrum of his guitar as he tuned it, absentmindedly plucking at the strings with those unfair fingers. Rings glinting. Veins peeking.
She was already squirming in his lap.
“Baby,” he drawled, not even looking up. “You keep moving like that, and I won’t get this demo done.”
She barely heard him. Not when his fingers—calloused from years of music, fast from nights of practice—slipped under the hem of her skirt and pressed against her without warning.
“Ji—”
“Shh.” He looked at her then. Big eyes, sharp grin. Dangerous. “You can be quiet for me, yeah?”
She nodded, dazed, but the second his fingers started moving—really moving—all she could do was bite her lip and cling to the edge of the mixing desk.
And he kept talking.
About her.
“You know that Hermès bag you liked?” he said casually, like he wasn’t knuckle-deep inside her. “The new one. Rose tea color. I ordered it. Custom engraving on the charm.”
He curled his fingers just right, and her entire body jerked.
He smirked.
“She’ll deliver it next week. Maybe I’ll make you wear the corset with it.”
She tried to glare, to sass him back like always—but then he slid his thumb higher, slow circles with maddening pressure. All she could do was whimper.
His rings caught the light every time he moved.
Vivienne Westwood. Sharp, elegant, gold and black. One of them was engraved with her birthdate—his “lucky charm.”
“You hear this melody?” he murmured, guitar abandoned now, fingers moving in rhythm against her wet heat, while the demo was playing“I wrote it for how you sound when you fall apart.”
And then—
kissed her.
Not sweet. Not soft.
Just teeth and tongue and hunger, his hand still playing her like an instrument he knew better than his own guitar.
She came with his mouth over hers, her fingers in his hair, hips grinding into his palm like her body was begging.
When it was over, she collapsed against his chest, panting.
“Jisung,” she gasped.
And he just held her, stroking her thigh like he hadn’t just short-circuited her brain.
“Don’t fall asleep yet,” he whispered, grinning. “I still gotta feed you, baby. I picked up those stupid expensive rice cakes you like. And you’re not allowed to say no after I fingered you to my demo.”
────୨ৎ────
The tattoo machine buzzed low in the private studio. Tatto Fresh up. She sat across from him on a velvet bench, legs crossed, trying not to stare—but failing completely.
Han Jisung was shirtless.
Not for attention. Not this time. Just because his artist needed clean access to the inside of his upper arm, where her name was inked in delicate script. Right above the muscle that flexed when he held her close. Right where only she got to see it in full.
He sat there, breathing slow, gaze locked on her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“You’re watching,” he said.
She blinked. “Of course I’m watching.”
He bit his lip at that—hard. The needle dragged across his skin and his fingers curled into the cushion, jaw tense, a barely-there hiss escaping his throat.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered.
He looked at her, eyes blown wide. “Yeah,” he breathed. “But I like it. You’re worth it.”
The artist kept working, careful and focused. And Y/N?
Y/N couldn’t stop staring. At the way the lines of her name deepened, darker now. Sharper. Permanent. At the way his other hand gripped his thigh—tense, trembling slightly—as though holding himself back from something. At the sweat that glistened on his golden skin, dampening the curls behind his ear.
The studio was warm. Too warm. And she swore she could feel it in her throat—that slow, sticky kind of want that started somewhere behind her ribs and pulsed all the way down.
When it was done, he stood. Walked over. Still shirtless, the new ink tender and glistening. He didn’t say a word.
Just offered his arm.
“Kiss it,” he whispered.
And she did.
Soft. Reverent. Lips to her name.
Then she bit.
Just a little. Just enough.
And he groaned—full-body, wrecked, neck tipping back like she’d ruined him in that one single second. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “You’ll kill me, baby. You know that?”
She just smiled, smug and sweet.
────୨ৎ────
Later, when they were tangled up in bed—her wearing nothing, him tracing her body like it was the only song he ever wanted to learn—he fed her sweet melon slices and kisses, made her tea and rubbed her feet, and whispered all the things he didn’t let the world see.
“I’d give you everything,” he said once, voice thick. “All of it. My awards, my money, my name—”
“You already did,” she whispered.
“Not enough,” he said, pulling her closer. “I’ll find more.”
And he always did.
She never had to ask.
He remembered everything. From the way she took her tea to the shade of pink that made her glow. From the size of her rings to the day she looked at a dog in a Adoption Center ad and said, “He looks like he wants to come home with us.”
He’d got the dog. Of course.
He filled her days with music, flowers, warmth.
But none of it compared to him.
Because it wasn’t the gifts, or the bags, or even the Vivienne Westwood necklaces. It wasn’t even the way he wrote her into every love song he ever touched.
It was the way he loved her.
All of her. Loudly. Delicately. Unapologetically.
And if she ever forgot it for even a second?
All she had to do was look at his arm.
Right where it said her name.
#felix#felix stray kids#felix x reader#felix yongbok#lee felix#skz felix#stray kids#lee felix smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#han jisung#han jisung smut#han skz#han jisung skz#han jisung fanfic
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hiii how are you doing ^^?
I love your writing style so much and I was wondering if I could request a James x deaf!reader where they have a very bad first encounter as first years (because James is James and because he didn’t realize reader was deaf at first), and reader has protective friends who won’t let James get near reader anymore, which makes James more determined to get to know reader and befriend them? Alternatively you can obviously write the story however you like, angst is very appreciated!!
Thank you regardless!
patch your broken wings | j.potter
note : I love this request, I have been well and just celebrated mother's day yesterday! Hope you are well too! Thank you for reading my other fics, and for the kind words about my writing! I hope I did this request some justice, thanks for the creative liberty as well and FOR ANGST YESS! I love angst! I hope you enjoy <33 given how neutral "reader" was described in this request, this will be a general reader fic with 4.4k words
warnings : hufflepuff reader, also made the gender as neutral as possible so if I missed anything then pls lmk! reader is Deaf, James is clueless and kinda stupid, sprinkle of bullying, ableism, sorry fellow slytherins we're the villains again

Your parents were unsure about sending you to Hogwarts. Ever since you were a kid, you had known that you were different from kids your age, they had something you didn't.
But you had never felt lesser than them with the love your parents gave to fill any empty space that could ever break into the surface like a crack on polished marble.
So when your letter came, they were scared.
They did so well raising you with so much love and care, and it scared them to think of how the world outside their arms would treat you. How a world who did not have people like you often would react to your existence.
But they relented once Dumbledore paid them a visit and eased their worries. He has offered to do research on the matter, to offer any help he possibly could give you.
There was no cure, there is no curing you because you were born with it and if you would be honest, you didn't feel broken at all. Having been born Deaf, you never felt lacking.
That word was reserved for people who had something to begin with, and you didn't lack it at all. So you assured them you would be fine.
The world outside your home might not be as understanding, but it's a world you had to enter nonetheless, and no amount of keeping you safe could ever truly keep you inside.
Now, a first year - you look at the train, blinking in amusement at the bold red colour while the people around were bustling. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you turned to see your parents teary-eyed looking down at you.
You Mum signed, "I am going to miss you, hunny," her tears almost fell then, "you be good and write often, okay?"
You give them a firm nod, not allowing tears to come. You had to show them that you were brave, that you were fine and you were going to be okay.
After that, they watched you board the train and watched it leave. Off you go exploring the outside world beyond the walls they built for you, and they can't do anything but spectate.
You stepped into the train, nerves curling up in your stomach like smoke from a blown-out candle. It was loud inside - visually loud. Limbs and trunks and owls in cages, older students walking past in packs like they owned the whole place.
You hovered in the corridor for a second, unsure where to go.
You lingered near a compartment, scanning for an empty seat, nerves coiled tight in your gut.
Someone inside noticed you. A tall, freckled girl with a thick braid knocked twice on the glass and gave a friendly wave, beckoning you in.
You slid the door open, unsure how to explain, unsure if they'd mind but it beats sitting alone for the entire ride to your new life.
“Hey, you can sit here!” said the freckled girl.
You blinked, eyes flicking from her lips to her expression. She repeated it, Hey, you can sit here!, slower this time.
You nodded, grateful, and took the seat beside her.
There were two others already inside. One of them had wild hair and was digging through a pack of sweets. The other was curled up with a book and a pair of round glasses slipping down their nose.
The freckled girl leaned closer, speaking again, her lips moving fast.
You furrowed your brow. “Sorry,” you said carefully. “I’m Deaf.” you had hoped your voice didn't sound too strained and they were able to understand - you didn't try to speak much or at all.
She paused.
Then, slowly, and clumsily, she lifted her hands and signed: “You. Deaf?”
You blinked, surprised to read her hands.
“Yes,” you signed back, and then cautiously: “You know sign?”
She grinned sheepishly. “Little bit.” She fumbled the words, but her excitement was obvious. “Grandma lost hearing. I learn. . . still bad.”
“You’re not bad.” You smiled, stunned by the kindness. “Thank you.”
“Emma,” she added aloud, pointing to herself and also spelled it out with her hand, you smiled at that.
“Kip,” said the one with the sweets, throwing a jelly slug in their mouth. “And the library over there is Molly.”
Molly didn’t look up but gave a friendly wave.
The train rattled on toward Hogwarts, and as the countryside blurred by outside, Emma became your bridge with the other kids. When Kip said something, she translated. When Molly offered you a chocolate frog, Emma made sure you knew it wasn’t poisoned (probably). Every minute, you relaxed a little more.
By the time the train came to a halt, you felt a little less like you were stepping into a battlefield and more like you were stepping into something you might survive after all.

You stood with the rest of the first years near the front of the room, neck craning back to take it all in.
Your parents had told you all about it but it paled in comparison to the real thing - the floating candles, the vast ceiling and the esteemed Professor Dumbledore stood there so proud and tall.
Emma nudged you and pointed upward, “Look!”, and you gave a soft laugh, letting yourself be distracted.
You didn’t notice the boy walking up to you until he was already speaking.
“Hi!”
You didn’t hear it, you kept watching the enchanted ceiling in awe.
He stepped closer, waving. “Hi!” he said again, louder this time, a little too sure of himself.
You didn’t turn, barely feeling his presence from how distracted you were - your friends were chatting amongst themselves to notice him as well.
To him, it must have looked like you’d seen him and dismissed him entirely. Barely paying him any attention he didn't deserve.
James Potter frowned, shoulders squaring defensively. “Alright, then,” he muttered. “Bit rude.”
You still hadn’t looked. But Emma had, only catching the last bit he said.
She turned her head sharply just in time to catch his expression - the flash of wounded pride giving way to scorn. Her jaw tightened.
“Problem?” she asked sharply.
James blinked. “No. Just said hi.”
“Okay." Was all she said, dismissing him. James frowned and turned to Sirius who was watching the whole interaction.
"Whad'ya think that was all about?" James asked him and he shrugged.
"Must be future dark wizards in the making, already so stuck-up," Sirius rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "I know the lot."

Second-Year.
It started with a bang, a rain of glitter and then a chorus of screams from fellow students.
And suddenly the whole courtyard was flooded with enchanted snow that didn’t melt, and every person within twenty feet had sprouted neon-blue hair.
You blinked in stunned silence as a goldfish swam lazily past your head - through the air, no water required, like the weirdest dream come to reality.
You turned in a slow circle, watching the chaos bloom.
Kip had his arms raised in surrender, laughing loudly as his robes billowed with sparkles. Emma was glaring daggers across the yard, muttering something vicious you couldn’t lip-read fast enough.
And you?
You were laughing. Hard.
Snowflakes caught in your lashes as you ducked a flying toad (you hoped it was a toad), your chest heaving with silent joy. You hadn’t expected it at all but it was so funny to you.
Emma came up beside you, brushing flakes off your shoulders with a tight-lipped expression.
“Are you okay?” she signed, clearly trying not to scowl.
“That was amazing,” you signed back, still grinning.
She rolled her eyes. “That was them. The Marauders, again.”
Kip shrugged beside her, tossing a jelly bean in his mouth. “Honestly? Bit iconic.”
Molly didn’t look up from her book, even with glitter settling into her hair. Nothing could tear her attention away from those pages, she was married to her books.
Emma shook her head, arms crossed. “Trouble. All four of them.”
You weren’t so sure.
From across the courtyard, one of them 0 dark messy hair, glasses slightly askew - caught your eye before Sirius shoved him hard in the shoulder, both of them laughing like they'd never been in trouble a day in their lives.
You smiled, just a little.

Third-Year.
“Potter and…” Professor Slughorn squinted at his parchment. “Yes, Potter and ____, you’ll be together today. Cauldrons out, everyone!”
You froze halfway through reading the book instructions for the Shrinking Solutions.
James Potter - loud, glitter-happy James Potter was now standing beside you, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth.
“Alright, then,” he said. “Lucky you.”
You gave him a shy smile and nodded.
He took it as encouragement. “I’m not saying I’m great at potions, but I’m not terrible. Probably.”
You smiled again, a little smaller. You were unsure how to approach him, you admit you developed a little crush after that prank last year.
“Err. . . did you like the snowfish prank last year?” he asked, eyebrows wiggling playfully as he tossed a dried root toward your side of the table.
You caught it midair, smiling wider, but still didn’t speak. You couldn't tell him you loved it.
James hesitated. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
Across the room, Emma was watching.
Her eyes were sharp, unreadable. Her fingers twitched like she was seconds from marching across the class and dragging you away. Remus who was assigned as her partner could only watch in amusement.
James followed your gaze briefly, then glanced back at you, confusion brewing.
You were fiddling with your stirring stick, too flustered to sign, unsure if he’d even understand.
He leaned closer, voice still friendly. “I mean, that’s cool, if you’re just shy. Sirius says I talk enough for three people.”
You gave a small shrug.

James flopped backwards onto his bed like gravity had betrayed him.
“I think I’m cursed,” he groaned, arm thrown over his eyes.
Sirius, halfway through braiding exploding snap cards into his hair for reasons no one dared ask, didn’t look up. “You’re cursed because . . .what? Slughorn paired you with a quiet person?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know, it’s not just that.”
Peter popped his head out from behind his bed curtains. “Did they mess up the potion or something?”
“No! The potion was fine. It was me. I was awful. Embarrassing, really, I kept talking and they just looked at me. Smiled, like they were being polite while I absolutely embarrassed myself.”
Remus looked up from his book, already sighing. “So, business as usual.”
James groaned louder. “No, Moony, listen. I was trying to be nice! Charming, even! I said like, three whole jokes. And nothing! Just -tiny smiles. It was like talking to a wall. A very attractive wall, but a wall nonetheless.”
Peter snortedat his words, unexpectedly. Remus stared at him for a second. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
James peeked out from under his arm. “Get what?”
Remus shut his book with a soft thud. “They’re Deaf, James.”
There was a pause.
“. . .what?”
“____. They’re Deaf.”
James sat up so fast he knocked a pillow to the floor.
“They’re what?”
“Deaf,” Remus repeated calmly, folding his hands in his lap. “As in, they can’t hear you.”
“No - no, that can’t be right. I would’ve - someone should’ve - ” He looked around like the truth might be hiding in the bedposts. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Remus arched an eyebrow. “You ever ask?”
James stared at him. “No!”
“There’s your answer, then,” Sirius said, flicking a card at him. It exploded harmlessly near his foot.
“I was just - I was making conversation. I thought they were just shy!” James buried his face in both hands. “I said a joke about armadillo bile, Remus, and they smiled. They smiled like it was funny.”
“Well, maybe it was,” Remus said, deadpan. “Unlikely, but maybe.”
James groaned again, flopping backward. “Oh my God, they probably think I’m a prat.”
“They probably didn’t think much of it at all,” Remus said. “You didn’t know. Just don’t be a git now that you do.”
James peeked through his fingers. “How do you even know?”
Remus leaned back. “I read. I observe. Emma Hopkins, the other Hufflepuff signs with them all the time. It’s not exactly a secret.”
James stared at the ceiling, a quiet, guilty sort of energy settling over him. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No arguments here,” Sirius muttered, smirking at his dramatic antics.
James ignored him. “I want to fix it.”
Remus snorted. “You just learned about it five minutes ago, besides you didn't break anything.”
“I know,” James said. “But I was so weird today. If they thought I was just annoying and pushy - and they couldn’t even tell me to shut up, Merlin, that’s awful.”
He sat up again, something determined growing in his eyes. “I’m going to learn sign.”
Remus blinked. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even do your Divination homework.”
“This is different.” James stood like a man with a mission. “I’ve got to make it up to them.”
“You could also just. . .not,” Sirius offered lazily. “People exist without being your friends, you know.”
But James wasn’t listening. He was already digging through his trunk.
Peter watched him, baffled. “Do you even know how to start?”
“No,” James said cheerfully. “But I’ll figure it out. Can’t be harder than Quidditch.”
Remus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a little.
James may have missed the point at first - but now that he knew?
He wasn’t going to stop trying. Because what is James Potter if not determined to figure out a way to get his crush to like him back?

James lingered after class. You had already left with Emma, her hand gently on your back as she guided you down the corridor, her hands moving in quick, practiced signs.
James stood in the doorway, watching your silhouette retreat, guilt curling like smoke in his chest.
Remus fell into step beside him, a quiet presence as always. Sirius, on the other hand, jabbed James in the ribs with a smirk.
“She’s not going to bite you,” Sirius said, tilting his chin toward Emma, who had just glanced over her shoulder with narrowed eyes.
“No,” James muttered. “But she might try to hex me.”
Before he could start walking, Emma doubled back, her robes swishing around her ankles as she blocked his path.
James blinked. “Err - hi?”
Emma crossed her arms. “Look, I don’t know what this is.”
“What what is?”
“This sudden interest,” she said coolly. “I remember you back in first-year.”
James shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know. I didn’t realize - ”
“I know you didn’t,” she said, and her voice wasn’t cruel, just careful. “But it’s not about that.”
He frowned. “Then what is it about?”
Emma glanced past him to where the rest of the Marauders were waiting. “You and your friends pull stunts that leave half the school coughing up glitter or dodging enchanted dungbombs. You cause chaos for fun. And maybe that’s fine for you. But not everyone wants to be caught in the splash zone.”
James looked confused. “We’ve never pranked them.”
“That’s not the point,” she snapped, then took a breath and softened, just a touch. “You don't mean harm, Potter. I know that. But harm doesn’t always come from bad intentions.”
James opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out.
Emma’s gaze held steady. “They don’t need to be dragged into one of your harebrained adventures. They’ve got enough to handle without dodging slytherins or getting swept into another ‘legendary’ Marauder mess.”
“I wasn’t - ” he tried, helplessly, “I just wanted to talk.”
Emma gave a faint sigh. “That's up to them if they want to talk to you. But please remember, leave them out of your mess.”
And with that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.
James stood still for a long minute. He hadn’t been trying to drag anyone into anything. He just . . .wanted to talk to you.
But maybe Emma was right. Maybe his world - the loud, laughing, explosive one - wasn’t safe for someone like you.
Still, he couldn't shake the look on your face when you smiled at him earlier.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would mean to be someone safe for you, instead.

Fourth-Year.
The Great Hall was buzzing with the usual chaos - floating candles, gleaming plates, and the low hum of returning students catching up after summer. The Sorting Hat had finished its song, and plates were filling themselves like magic (because, well, it was.).
At the Hufflepuff table, you were smiling at something Kip signed (Emma has been teaching them the basics) while Emma inspected a suspicious-looking pudding. You didn’t notice the Gryffindor boy striding confidently across the hall until he stopped right in front of you.
James Potter. He smiled, maybe a little nervously, and then -
He signed : “Hi. How was your summer?”
The room didn’t go silent. But your table did, or the ones who saw at least.
Your eyes widened. You blinked once. then again, trying to register if you saw that right and it appears you did.
Emma froze mid-bite, fork halfway to her mouth.
You stared at James for a beat too long. Then slowly, you lifted your hands and signed back: “It was great. I read a lot of books. You?”
James lit up like a Lumos spell, reading your hands with practised ease.
“Brilliant. Spent half of it elbow-deep in sign books and tea.”
You laughed. It was quiet and mostly breath, but real, and surprised, and warm. Emma still looked wary beside you, but even she didn’t interrupt.
James gave you a mock salute. “See you around.”
And with that, he turned on his heel and sauntered back to Gryffindor, smug as anything.
Back at his table, Sirius blinked. “Did you just flirt in another language?”
“Shut up,” James said, grinning and flushing all at once.
Peter leaned in, eyes wide. “Can you teach me? That was so cool.”
James beamed. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can.”
Remus just nodded, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
James Potter, for once, had said something without speaking, and it had finally been the right thing.

It was quiet in the corridor outside the library, too quiet. The torches flickered low and cast long, crawling shadows across the stone.
You had come alone, just a quick errand, returning a borrowed book before dinner. You liked these quiet walks. Or at least, you used to.
But something shifted in the air behind you. You didn’t hear them approach. You only felt the way the air changed - colder somehow, staler. The moment your hand touched the brass handle, a figure stepped into your peripheral vision.
Then another. Then three more.
Green and silver. Slytherins.
One of them sneered. You couldn’t catch all their words, but you could read lips - and their expressions said the rest.
“Look who’s pretending to be special.”
“It was bad enough you're a Puff, but had to get associated with that blasted Potter, huh?”
“Maybe he likes broken things, he even got that scarred Loopy-n with him.”
Your stomach dropped. You backed up, hands hovering slightly, unsure if you should sign for help or run. Your fingers trembled.
They didn’t wait.
“She can’t even hear us. Isn’t that hilarious?” / “Wonder if it’s the same blood that made her Deaf. Must be rotten.” / “Magical defect. An abomination.”
The first jinx hit your side - hard. You stumbled into the wall, your bag spilling across the stone floor.
A second jinx flew, catching your hand, your signing hand - leaving it red and raw, already swelling. You gasped, clenching your wrist, pain blooming like fire up your arm.
You tried to shout, sign - anything. But your vision blurred, and you felt the walls closing in.
And then, bright light. You couldn't really tell what was going on, unable to listen in for context so you just watched as the Slytherins scattered like startled crows as a hex snapped past your head and exploded against the far wall.
You looked up in shock.
James Potter stood at the end of the corridor, wand raised, jaw clenched.
He didn’t hesitate. He advanced on them like a storm, wand flashing. He was shouting angrily but you couldn't read his lips well enough.
They didn’t try to fight back at all and there were more of them, they ran. He didn’t watch them go. He was already kneeling next to you, wide-eyed.
“Hey - hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said, fast, panicked. “You’re alright. You’re - bloody hell, your hand - ”
You flinched when he reached for you.
James froze. “No, no, wait - I’m not gonna hurt you.”
You stared at him, confused, shaking. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form the signs properly with your hand the way it was. You didn’t understand what he was saying, not completely, but his face said concern and regret and please don’t be scared of me.
Still, you edged back against the wall, trembling.
James reached slowly for your book that dropped a foot away, and handed it to you, his hands open and careful.
Then footsteps thundered down the hall.
Emma, Kip and Molly. Your friends, two in yellow robes and one in blue.
Emma’s eyes widened when she saw you on the floor, then immediately narrowed when she saw who was next to you.
“You.” She shoved James back, hard enough to make him stumble. “What did you do?!”
James’s mouth dropped open. “What? Nothing! I - they - I helped - !”
“They're injured, Potter!” Kip was already crouching beside you, inspecting your wrist with a worried frown. “Back off.”
“I didn’t - I swear, I stopped them!”
“I told you to stop before they get more attention,” Emma snapped, wrapping her arm protectively around your shoulder. “It's bad enough the heat we get from those snakes, you just had to bring the spotlight.”
You didn’t know what was being said exactly, but you could tell -Emma’s sharp voice, the way Kip pulled you close, the way James stood still and heartbroken and helpless.
James stepped back, hands falling uselessly to his sides. He didn’t argue anymore, nor did he fight.
He just watched as your friends gathered around you, guarding you like a flame in the wind, and led you away.
You looked back once, barely and James stayed frozen in that corridor, alone.

Kip was pacing, Emma had her arms crossed tight, and Molly has finally abandoned her books.
You sat curled into one of the armchairs, your hand bandaged and propped on a cushion, your eyes on the fire.
Then, finally, you started signing, slowly at first. Kip was the first to catch on, eyes flicking to your hands and back to your face.
“They were waiting for me. The Slytherins. I didn’t hear them come up. They said horrible things.”
Emma moved to your side instantly, her hand on your arm.
“They said I was wrong. That I shouldn’t exist. That I was - ” You looked away. “And then they hurtme.”
Kip’s fists clenched. “What?!”
“I couldn’t get away fast enough.” You swallowed, then added, “But James came.”
You looked up, meeting Emma’s sharp stare. “He fought them. He made them run.”
Emma’s jaw tightened. “Still doesn’t mean he gets a medal.”
“He didn’t expect one,” you signed softly. “He looked like he’d cry.”
Molly finally spoke up after heaving a sigh loudly. “They like him,” she said simply, nodding at you. “They’ve liked him.”
Kip’s head snapped around. “Wait - what? You and Potter?”
You flushed, your hands going still in your lap.
Emma heaved a long, slow sigh. “I guess. . . ” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t guard you forever. You’re your own person. If you want to do this, we’ll stand by you. But if he hurts you - Helga, I'll hex his bollocks.”
You smiled faintly. “He won’t.”
You turned to Emma again and signed: “I’m going to tell him. We’ll figure it out together.”
Emma just nodded once, fierce and fond.

The air was crisp, sun catching the edges of gold leaves as they fluttered down into the courtyard. James stood with Remus by the arched stone entryway, rocking on the balls of his feet.
“Hopkins said they wanted to talk?” James muttered, nervous.
Remus smiled. “Looks like your bravery’s about to be tested somewhere besides a Quidditch pitch.”
James shot him a look. “Not helping.”
Then he spotted you.
You stepped into the courtyard, hands tucked into your sleeves, expression unreadable - but calm and focused.
You glanced up at him, and James straightened instantly.
Remus gave a low whistle and faded back into the hallway with a muttered, “Good luck, Romeo.”
You reached James, heart thudding.
He opened his mouth, then closed it. He raised his hands instead, signing slowly: “Are you okay?”
You nodded. Then you signed: “Why did you learn sign?”
James blinked, surprised at the sudden inquiry. Then his face softened. “You.”
You raised your brows. “Me?”
“I wanted to talk to you. Properly,” he said. “And I - I like you. I didn’t want you to keep being the one left out. Or for me to be the idiot who didn’t know how to listen.”
You smiled, and it was slow, a little shaky. “I like you too.”
James stared at you. “Wait, really?”
You nodded. “I came to say it out loud - or sign it out loud.”
He let out a breath like he’d been holding it all year.
“Do I still have a chance?” he asked.
You didn’t need your hands to answer. You just grinned and nodded again. James took a step closer. “I meant what I said. I’ll protect you. From them, from anyone.”
“I believe you.”
He hesitated, just for a moment - then signed, awkward but earnest: “Can I kiss you?”
You didn’t sign back.
You leaned in and kissed him.
His hands found your cheeks, careful and warm, and yours found the hem of his jumper. It was a kiss with trembling nerves and quiet relief.
When you pulled back, you laughed under your breath. James then thought in that very moment that he ought to preserve that smile and laughter.
end. masterlist
#james fleamont potter#james potter#james potter marauders#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#marauders#marauders era#hp marauders#marauders x reader#harry potter#harry potter marauders#harry potter marauders era
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KINDERGARDEN
Paige Bueckers x MOM!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, emotional moments, child angst, light humor, minor tears
Synopsis: Hazel’s first day of kindergarten is a momentous occasion, but for her little sister, Violet, it’s a whole new world. Violet has never spent a day away from her best friend, and the realization that her sister won’t be around for hours hits harder than anyone expected.
I will post pregnant!reader soon, I promise !!
Y/N had really thought they were ready.
Hazel was glowing. Kindergarten-ready. Backpack slung over her shoulder, hair half up in the sparkly barrettes she picked “because they make me look like I read chapter books,” and talking a mile a minute about meeting her teacher and maybe starting a bug club at recess.
“I think today I’m gonna make three friends,” Hazel declared at breakfast. “But I’m saving one slot in case Violet gets old enough and wants to join.”
Violet, still in her pajamas, chewing the ears off her waffle, didn’t respond. She just stared at Hazel like the world was ending.
Y/N and Paige had exchanged a glance over coffee.
Uh-oh.
The car ride to school started in silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The ominous kind.
Hazel sat in her booster seat, humming to herself, already unzipping her backpack just to “double check” her pencils hadn’t run away overnight. Violet was in her car seat behind Y/N, clutching her battered turtle plushie and sucking the inside of her cheek like she was trying very hard to be brave.
Paige looked back once, then again. “She okay?”
Y/N whispered, “She’s trying to be.”
Hazel, blissfully unaware, started humming the “Bug Queen March” she made up last summer.
“and then vi you say—”
And then, quietly at first, Violet whispered, “Hazey don’t go.”
Hazel paused. “What?”
“I don’t want you to go.”
And just like that, the dam broke.
She was sobbing by the time they pulled into the school parking lot.
Real, full-body crying. The kind where her nose ran and she couldn’t catch her breath and kept yelling things like “DON’T BE A BIG KID” and “KINDERGARTEN IS BAD” and “I HATE LEARNING.”
Y/N parked and reached back, trying to rub her arm. “Oh, honey…”
But Violet only cried harder.
“Mama, don’t let her goooooo!”
“She’s coming back, baby, it’s just a few hours.”
“I don’t got anyone to talk to about snails!”
Hazel, now clutching the straps of her backpack, looked like she was seconds from crying too.
“I—I can maybe ask my teacher if she can come?”
“She’s THREE, Hazey,” Paige muttered, already unbuckling her seatbelt. “Okay, switch. I’m in the back.”
Y/N slid into the front seat as Paige climbed in beside Violet’s car seat and scooped her up, holding her like she was three months old again instead of three years.
“Oh baby,” Paige murmured, rocking gently. “You never cry like this.”
“She’s my bes’ fwen,” Violet hiccuped. “I can’t go a whole sun without her!”
Hazel let out a choked little breath. “But I have to go, Vi. I wanna learn stuff and meet other bug kids and maybe read real books!”
“Take me too!”
“You don’t even like shoes!”
“I’ll wear them for you!”
Y/N buried her face in her hands. “This is harder than labor.”
Eventually, Paige got Violet calm enough to at least hold her turtle again, though the little girl refused to let go of her leg.
Hazel looked heartbroken, but determined, and Y/N knelt in front of her.
“You’re going to be great today,” she whispered. “But your sister’s gonna need a little extra love after drop-off.”
Hazel nodded solemnly. “Can I write her a letter at school?”
Y/N kissed her forehead. “She’d love that.”
Hazel turned to Violet, knelt on the car floor, and whispered, “I’m coming back after snack. You’ll see. And we’ll play all the garden bugs when I get home.”
Violet sniffled. “No big kid friends?”
“I’ll tell them I already have the best one.”
Violet blinked at her. “Me?”
Hazel nodded. “You.”
Y/N and Paige watched Hazel walk into the school, tiny but brave, waving with both hands.
Violet pressed her face to the window and waved like Hazel was going off to war.
Then she whispered, “I wanna go to school when I grow more.”
“You will,” Paige said gently. “But for today, we’re gonna go home, and you can help me and Mommy make her a ‘Welcome Back From Big School’ sign, okay?”
Violet nodded slowly. Then: “Can I pick the marker colors?”
“All of them,” Y/N promised.
That afternoon, when Hazel ran out of the building with marker on her hands and stickers on her knees, Violet screamed across the parking lot, “HAZEY I MISSED YOU!”
Hazel tackled her in a hug.
Violet whispered, “Was it fun?”
Hazel grinned. “It was so fun. But it’s more fun telling you about it.”
That night, Violet snuck into Hazel’s bed, wrapped around her like a koala, and whispered, “You can go back tomorrow.”
Hazel kissed the top of her head. “I was gonna anyway.”
#princess diary ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚#wlw#wlw fiction#lesbian#wlw post#paige bueckers x y/n#paige buckets#paige bueckers x reader#paige x reader#paige bueckers#pregnant!reader
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letters from dallas part 1
paige bueckers x azzi fudd
a/n: in which i neglect all the other series and fics im supposed to be writing to send more angst ur way <3
lfd masterlist | main masterlist
May 1, 2025
Dear Azzi,
It fucking sucks here.
I know I’m supposed to be thankful for this opportunity. And I am, I swear. My teammates are nice. Arike’s been showing me around downtown. Nai and Lyss are funny. They’ve adopted me, called me their child. They remind me of us.
My therapist said it’s good to write down my feelings. Not sure how she’d say if it was letters, letters to you, but hey, something is better than nothing.
I saw a trailer for Frozen 3 last week and I thought of you. I hope you’re doing well. I called KK the other day. She was so excited - I felt bad. I haven’t been as good as I wanted to be with talking to our team - well, your team now - but it hurts too much knowing that they get to spend every day with you and I can’t. I asked her about you. She seemed hesitant to tell me. But I kept nagging her and she told me you’re good, spending a lot of time reading and stuff. Said they finally got you off Colleen Hoover. She wants me to move on, I can tell. It’s killing both of us, how I can’t let you go. But I guess writing these letters and stuffing them in my closet are how I’m trying to get my closure and deal with my feelings, so maybe this will help.
You’re on my fucking mind all the time, and I wish you weren’t. I miss you so bad sometimes it hurts to exist. If you saw the amount of melatonin I take every every night just to avoid you in my dreams, you’d probably yell at me.
Love,
Paige
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June 7, 2025
Dear Azzi,
Have I mentioned that Drew hasn’t been talking to me? He blames me for our breakup, and he misses you like hell. I do too.
I played like shit in the game yesterday. I can’t believe we lost to the Sparks. It was nice seeing Cam again though. I don’t know if you remember, but it’s our anniversary. I saw that you were at the soccer game with the girls. You looked really good, really happy. I guess it doesn’t affect you like it affects me. And I know that should make me like, mad, or jealous. But I’m glad at least one of us is healing?
Honestly? it sucks having to see your face all over social media. It sucks even more whenever I go on my Instagram page and you’re all over it too. I could be salty and delete all of it, but that would start too much drama. Besides, that would mean deleting like half my posts
I wonder how Jose and Jon are doing. Jon unfollowed me the other day. That one hurt pretty bad. I miss my little brothers, and I miss your parents.
Love,
Paige
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
August 28, 2025
Dear Azzi,
Yesterday was a fucking shit show. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to even show up when I heard you guys were coming. It was weird, seeing you in the audience. It was everything I’d always imagined, you coming to my games, but it also made me feel sick, knowing this is what could’ve been. What should’ve been. I was nervous the last quarter thinking about what to say to you after the game, but god, Azzi, you couldn’t even look at me. I tried to talk to you after the group pic but you disappeared.
Maybe it’s a good time to tell you that Katie and Tim were at my game last week, against the Mystics. I’m gonna be honest, when I saw they were there, I avoided them, and I’m not proud of it. I ran to my car straight after the presser but somehow they found where I parked and were waiting next to it?? If this was a different circumstance I would’ve laughed.
All they told me was great game before I started crying. I don’t even know what came over me. But your mom hugged me and that made me cry even harder. They told me I was their daughter no matter what, and they loved me. I wrote it down as soon as I left because I didn’t ever wanna forget.
Azzi, we didn’t even marry each other like we promised, and I still feel like we left a broken family. I didn’t mean for this many people to get hurt, for this many relationships to shatter because ours did.
It makes forgetting you so much harder, and that’s what pisses me off. That I’ve injured my knee and gone through months of rehab and moved across the country to a brand new city, yet this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
From,
Paige
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
October 2nd, 2025
Dear Azzi,
I was calling KK again and I didn’t ask about you this time. I think I’m making some progress.
Arike keeps trying to get me with some of her friends, but it still doesn’t feel right. I think I need a little bit more time.
From,
Paige
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
October 20, 2025
Dear Azzi,
I turn 24 today. Damn I feel old. I’ve spent a third of my life now loving you.
From,
Paige
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October 22nd, 2025
Dear Azzi,
I just got your present in the mail. You didn’t have to. I love it. Thank you.
- Paige
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
November 11, 2025
Happy birthday big head. I think you probably received my gift by now. I debated on writing a card, but you didn’t write me one, and I’ve decided to leave the cards (haha) in your hand. So I’m just following your lead. I hope you enjoy 23.
- Paige
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December 7, 2025
Azzi,
Hell of a game yesterday. Proud of you. National player of the year performance
- P
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 5, 2026
Az,
LET’S FUCKING GOOOO. Shit, man. Two peat natty champs??? Unbelievable. My hands are tweaking out, I can’t even read my own handwriting. I knew you could do it, Az. Thank you for not forcing me to wear irish merch..I never look good in green like you do
- P
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 13, 2026
Azzi,
Drafted to the Sky????
See you so fucking soon
Nice fit at the draft btw
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May 16, 2026
Dear Azzi,
Fuck, the way you smiled at me after that game. Maybe I’ll have the courage to finally text you. I know it’s probably not the best idea but…I still regret everything. It’s been a little bit more than a year and it still hurts as bad as it did the first day. Is this normal?
Love,
Paige
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