#why did i do this all these years you ask? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wttcsms · 2 days ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ adore me, mark your territory !!

ᝰ.ᐟ after having to endure locker room conversation since his blue lock days all the way up to his pro days, yukimiya realizes that if he wants to show you just how serious he is about his thoughts on his relationship with you, he needs to make his mark on you. ( fem!reader )

pairing kenyu yukimiya x reader word count 3.6k content contains corruption kink/innocence kink, loss of virginity (both you and yukki), first time, creampie, breeding kink, slightly manipulative!yukki, you two attended the same private catholic high school, mentions of purity culture, coercion, very naive reader, talks of marriage, dark(ish) content kinktober masterlist

To love someone is to know them.

You love Kenyu Yukimiya with all your heart; you know his hopes and his dreams, his fears and the tiny voice in his head that serves to either goad or encourage him. The two of you grew up together, attending all the same Catholic private schools up ‘til he went pro fresh out of high school graduation, and you decided to attend a tiny, private all girls university.

You know that he’s kind and funny, much more outgoing and adventurous than you. You know that he can be gentle, and that he chooses to always be gentle with you. You know that he loves you just as much as you love him.

But while distance makes the heart grow fonder, perhaps it’s the distance that has caused this newfound unfamiliarity between the two of you.

“Kenny, I don’t… I don’t understand.” You’re lying down on your painfully small twin-sized mattress in your dorm room. Kenyu’s on top of you, his body hovering over your own. He gives you that familiar, comforting smile of his as he asks you gently (your Kenyu’s always so gentle with you),

“We love each other, don’t we?”

“Of course we do.” You say softly. Your arms are by your side, and you’re playing with the frills on the oversized comforter of your bed. Your whole entire room still screams girl. Yukimiya finds it endearing; he finds everything about you so damn endearing. Your floral quilts, and the stuffed animals he’s won for you from claw machines and unfairly rigged carnival games. Your fluffy comforter, and the way you always love to wear dresses, even when it’s just to attend a lecture.

And your unwavering innocence.

Everyone knows that Catholic private schools aren’t as pristine as the parents of the students like to claim it is, but you’re the only one who remained devout. The only one who genuinely stayed true to the lessons taught. You didn’t drink, you didn’t smoke, you didn’t sneak out. The only parties you attended were birthday parties chaperoned by a trusted adult and held in the early afternoon. You always followed the dress code and never tried to get away with folding the waistband of your school-issued skirt to make it shorter, like some of the other girls did. Hell, Kenyu had to literally ask your father for permission to date you before he asked you out.

And while Kenyu’s always been on his best behavior, it’s not like he’s unaware of the world. He’s not naive like you. And that’s okay. One of you has to know enough to lead the other; Yukimiya’s more than happy that he’s the one taking on that role.

The thing is, Kenyu truly does love you. It’s why he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to force you to go further than what you think you’re capable of, than what you think you’re allowed to go. He ignores the hard on he gets every time you two make out, the way your hips sometimes move on their own, grinding against him with no thought to strip out of your clothes and let him finish. You’ve been together since the first year of high school, and now you’re in college, and he’s playing professional soccer, and he loves you, and he still hasn’t even seen your pussy. Honestly, his closest friends tell him he must be a saint.

But the talks in the locker room, the snide comments from his least favorite teammates, the jokes and the teasing and the mocking, condescending tones — gotta protect Yukki’s ears, can’t let him Mr. Private School hear this, as if he’d even know what we’re talking about; damn virgin — all of it is chipping away at his pacifist, mild-mannered demeanor, revealing the feral, greedy egoist that lies underneath.

You had been so excited to hear your beloved boyfriend was flying down to your college town this weekend, just to see you! Your roommate’s out on a holiday with her parents, leaving the dorm room all to yourselves. In your cute mind, this just means more room for the two of you to hang out.

For Yukimiya, it means he has no more obstacles to get in the way of him fucking you for the first time.

“And you know what two people who love each other do, right?” He’s still using the same pacifying, soothing tone he always uses when he’s trying to calm you down. When you skinned your knees and cried from the sting of the alcohol wipes used to clean the cuts, he had used this voice on you. When you cried at the airport because he was leaving the country to meet the team who paid an exorbitant amount to have him on their starting lineup, he had used this voice on you. Right now, you can’t understand why he’s using this voice on you. You’re not hurt; just confused.

“Kenyu, wh-what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about making love, [Name].” One large palm is rubbing up and down the smooth skin of your thigh. The movement causes the thin fabric of your sundress to rise up. Yukimiya’s never touched you down there before. You don’t know why his touch feels so good, but you do understand what he’s talking about now.

“But Kenny—” Your voice is reduced to nothing more than a nervous whisper, almost as if you’re scared someone is listening in. “—we can’t. That’s for married couples.”

Well, if it’s any consolation, Yukimiya’s always planned on marrying you.

He kisses your forehead, his hand never relenting from its position on your thigh. Your dress remains lifted up at an angle on one side. He can see part of your cotton panties; plain and white. If he moves his fingers up a few more centimeters, he could tug at the waistband of them.

“I know, sweetheart. But I’ve been thinking…” His hand travels from up your thigh to rest on your hip. The one side of your dress is now all the way up, and his thumb rests on the thin waistband of your panties, rubbing reassuring circles to get you to remain calm underneath him. “We’ll get married soon, anyway, right? I love you so much that I need an outlet to show you just how much I love you.”

“Married? Soon?” Your eyes widen. You find yourself daydreaming about marrying Yukimiya, starting a family. Yukimiya’s smile stretches wide across his handsome face. His sweet girl, he knew you’d be putty in his hands after he mentioned that.

“Of course.” He kisses you on your lips sweetly, his hand never leaving your hip. “And I want to give you all the love a husband has for his wife. Won’t you let me, [Name]?”

Kenyu’s always been handsome. You have a collection of all his professional photoshoots, and you know that he has a bunch of fangirls from just his looks alone. It’s so unfair of him, really, to give you that imploring look of his. You can’t say no to Yukimiya, and you think you never want to.

And so you do let him.

Kenyu’s quick. With the speed he normally reserves for on the field, Kenyu’s mouth meets your at the same time his other hand grips your neglected hip. Now both of his hands are bunching up the fabric of your dress, pulling the skirt up to reveal your simple, plain panties.

“Mmph.” You moan into the kiss. This is a bit different than what you two normally engage in; somehow, everything feels a lot heavier, headier. You can’t seem to think straight. All you can focus on is chasing after his lips, matching his hungry pace.

The heat radiating off the two of you is enough for Kenyu to separate from you momentarily. The lens of his glasses are fogged up, and he grins at you, satisfied at the progress you’re making, before taking his glasses off and setting them neatly on your nightstand.

And then he’s back to kissing you passionately again. You’re lost in the pleasure of his kisses, unknowingly bucking your hips up, not knowing why your body is craving friction, for some attention, down there. Your hands reach up to grip the front of Kenyu’s shirt, tugging at him, trying to bring him closer. You’re getting desperate, and he finds it so cute.

“Lift your arms up for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your lips, and your head’s too hazy for you to properly register his request. He repeats it, still as gentle as ever with you, and this time, you manage to comply.

“Fuck.” You don’t hear Kenyu curse often; he says it’s impolite to do so in front of his girl. He breathes out the word, and you feel shy all of a sudden as his eyes roam over your body. He tossed your dress to the side unceremoniously, and because the dress itself had padding, you decided not to wear a bra. You’re laying on your bed, nothing to protect your modesty besides your cotton panties.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. The only girl I see.” He praises you, and you don’t feel too shy anymore.

“K-Kenyu—” You look up at him, all doe-eyed and sweet. You’re pressing your thighs together, drawing his attention to the plush of your thighs, the way hiding in between your legs is your special place that only Kenyu will be allowed to see, to touch, to taste, to love. “What do we do now?”

He leans down, whispering in your ear in his familiar, kind voice, “Now, you lay down, and let me show you how much I love you.”

You love Kenyu so much, you think it should be impossible for your heart to have so much room for him. You know Kenyu must feel the same way, but never before has his love for you ever felt so overwhelming. Kenyu pries your thighs apart, forcing you to open your legs for him, but you didn’t know showering you in his love meant that he was going to take his fingers and rub against the mound in your underwear.

“W-wait, Kenny!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs, but he’s too big, too strong. He blocks the movement, keeps you nice and spread for him. “I—” You don’t know what to tell him, and you don’t know how to explain why there’s a tiny puddle gathering in the thin fabric of your panties. Sometimes, you feel funny and this starts to happen, usually after a long makeout session with your boyfriend.

“You’re so wet for me, [Name].” He almost sounds in awe, staring down at your covered pussy almost as if in a trance. The pace he’s using is rather slow; he’s content, for now, with just stroking his fingers up and down your covered slit, fascinated with the way he can watch you slowly drench through the cotton. The wet spot only continues to grow; he bets he can get his fingers damp with your arousal soon, and he wouldn’t even have to take your panties off to do so. “Do you always get this wet for me?”

You want to cry, and you can even feel the tears welling up in your eyes. He looks up, instantly stopping his ministrations, his concern written all over his expression. “Hey, hey.” He shushes you, peppering kisses all over your face. He’s not stroking you anymore, but his large hand is cupping your pussy, the heat of his hand encasing your special place. You’re practically throbbing against him, your cunt aching and hungry for his touch. He just has to get you to open up for him, to understand. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re supposed to get wet right here for me, you know that?”

You sniffle, unsure if he’s just placating you. “Really?”

“Really.” His smile is so gentle, his tone so soothing and reassuring. He’s back to grazing his knuckles across your cunt, enjoying the way the fabric keeps on getting damper. “It means your body is happy, and it lets me know that you love me as much as I love you.”

His other starts to tug at your waistband, dragging down your panties until he’s pulling them right off. His breath catches in his throat as he looks down and stares at your pussy for the first time. Your folds are glistening, your little clit peeking out at him, begging for him to suck on, to rub against.

“Cute.” He tells you, tracing a finger curiously against your slit, the tip of his index finger so close to entering your clenching, unbreached hole. “I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay, [Name]? Tell me, have you ever played with yourself down here?”

“Wha-?” You’re confused, appropriately so. The boys and girls were separated during sex education, but you remember your teacher drilling it into your heads that under no circumstances should a young girl ever touch herself. You had been confused at the time, confused as to why anyone would ever. You’ve been taught that only your husband should ever touch you right there. But Yukimiya loves you, and he’s going to be your husband, and now you’re starting to think you know why girls may want to touch themselves. You’ve felt this heat in between your thighs before, this mysterious hunger for something, but now you’re feeling it tenfold. You shake your head, too choked up to speak.

“No? Not even like this?” You don’t expect Kenyu to insert his finger. The intrusion is foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. Your walls instinctively clench around his digit, and he has to remind himself to breathe, to remain collected, to take things slow so you can enjoy yourself properly. “You’re clamping down on just one finger.” He breathes out, curling his finger, moving it against your walls. He brushes against a spongy spot inside of you, one that has you jerking up, a shocked, pleasured moan escaping from your parted lips. “That feel good?” He asks, before adding a second finger, both of them bumping against that same sweet spot.

Your legs feel like jelly, and you nod weakly. It does feel good. Too good. So overwhelmingly good that a foreign, euphoric sensation is taking over you. You can’t seem to control your body, and you can’t stop the flow of cute, pleasured mewls flowing from your mouth, and you manage to scream out a warning to Yuki. “S-something is—”

A clear stream of liquid spurts out of you, splashes onto him, soaks your cute comforter.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” Your walls are too sensitive now, but throughout the whole process, Yukimiya never stops thrusting his fingers in and out of your inexperienced cunt. His eyes are wide, but the gleam in them is sharp, hungry, calculating. “I didn’t even get a chance to mess with your cute little clit. You came just from penetration?” He finally removes his fingers, examining the way your juices are dripping off his digits. “You didn’t just cum, you squirted.”

You turn your head, trying to bury your face in a pillow so he can’t see the embarrassed and debauched expression on your face, but he takes his dry hand and forces you to continue looking up at him.

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart.” He coos, sucking at his fingers obscenely before releasing them from his mouth with a pop!. “It means you’re perfect and all ready for me.”

Kenyu knows that his cock is the first cock you’ve ever seen, and he’ll make damn certain that it’s the only one you’ll be seeing for the rest of your life. There’s no frame of reference for you to use, but you don’t think that men should be so big. When he frees his dick, making a show of squeezing tightly at the base and pumping it, showing off to you, you swallow hard.

He taps the head of his cock against your swollen, needy clit, teasing the both of you. He’s losing all sense of restraint, and even rubbing the underside of his cock against your glistening folds, trying to slick up his cock so it’ll be easier to glide into your soaked cunt, is enough to make him want to cum.

“I’m going to fuck you now, sweetheart.” His voice sounds strained, the gentle tone hanging on by a thread. “We’ll be making love for the first time. Aren’t you excited?”

You nod. Excited and nervous. His cock much larger than his fingers, and maybe he should have prepped you more, but you came so easily. He always knew you were perfect for him. Pleasure is so unknown to you, the tiniest taste of it is enough to take you out. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

He holds your hand and kisses you to distract you from the sting of his cock breaching your virgin cunt. You gasp into the kiss, pain registering in your mind first, but Yukimiya is quick to take your breath away, to swallow up any potential protests that might have come. He keeps on kissing you, his fingers intertwined with your own, and he’s pushing himself as deep as he can go. He only lets up from the kiss the second he’s buried to the hilt, and you greedily swallow up the oxygen you’ve been deprived of.

The feeling of a hard cock inside of you is foreign, but your body clings to his length. Unlike his fingers, with its dexterous ministrations that had you keening and squirting when he brushed them against a special spot, his cock fills you up, stuffs you full. Your cunt is greedily sucking him in, and when he whispers that he’s going to really start moving now, it’s not just one spot that he’s hitting.

You’re not sure what’s happening to your body, but it feels like Yukimiya is wringing out pleasure from you from every angle inside of you.

“Ah, fuck, you feel so good for me, sweetheart. Such a tight pussy, so wet, so warm.” The heat encasing his cock is nothing like he’s ever experienced before. The wet warmth of your pussy is so inviting, so intensely pleasurable, that Kenyu doesn’t think he’ll be able to last. Cumming so soon might be embarrassing, but it’s not. Not when it’s his sweet girl’s pussy that’s begging for his cum.

You wail out his name, your legs reflexively encircling around his waist, locking him in, keeping him close to you as you cum again. This orgasm is practically ripped out from you, your cunt way too sensitive, the repeated battering of his cock drilling into your hole too much for your inexperienced mind and body to handle.

“Kenyu, Kenyu, Kenyu!” When you say his name like that, it makes it hard for him to not immediately bust a load inside of you. Gone is the gentle expression from your boyfriend’s face; in its place is something feral, dark.

When he pulls out, he sees your white cream coating his cock. When he thrusts back in, he hears the lewd squelch of your wet, overstuffed pussy. It’s enough to drive a man insane with lust.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grunts out, and your head struggles to remain straight, to not loll to the side and let yourself be used. You look up at him, but your eyes are glassy and your mind seems to be in a far away place, so far gone, so fucked out. “We’re going to get married soon. So it’s okay if I get you pregnant right now, right?” His bare cock fucking your virgin pussy raw. He’s going crazy. “I’m gonna fill you up, get you all nice and bred for me. Make you my wife, make you a mommy.”

The domestic daydream makes you tighten up around him, even though your body is too weak to cum again. That’s alright. He’ll just have to cum enough for the both of you.

“Hang onto me, sweetheart.” And you do. Your legs are still wrapped around him, but you weakly raise your arms, holding him close to you. He starts pounding at your pussy, his unrivaled speed and strength turning you into mush. You have to dig your nails into the muscled skin of his back, feeling like you’re on the edge of a cliff, about to crash.

“Fuck, I’m about to put a baby in you, love. My sweet girl, my sweet wife.” He kisses you, messy and sloppy, and he stills. The aggressive thrusts stop, and you realize why.

There’s a new heat entering inside of you; hot spurts of his cum are pouring into you, and he only moves his hips a bit to plug you up further, to make sure none of his seed can trickle out of you.

You’re about to lose consciousness, your brain fried from pleasure and exhaustion. All you do is weakly mumble out his name before the world goes black.

You think if this is what making love is, you love love.

“Holy shit, Yukki.” Isagi gapes at his shirtless teammate.

Yukimiya glances up, about to pull his jersey over his head. “What?”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Hm?” He asks, before turning to try to examine his back. Across the pale muscles are thin, red scratches, fading slightly from the time it’s been etched onto his skin by your nails. He smiles serenely, his mild-mannered attitude ever present. “Oh, this? My fiancee likes me close to her at all times.”

#kenyu yukimiya x reader #yukimiya x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #kanyu yukimiya x you #yukimiya smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk scenarios #drabble #one shot #imagine #smut #lemon #kinktober 2024

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aroacedragongirl · 22 hours ago

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Im just going to answer all of these because why not

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

its complicated

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

my father

03: Do you regret anything?

so many things :)

04: Are you insecure?

definitely

05: What is your relationship status?

single, hoping to stay that way

06: How do you want to die?

preferably painlessly

07: What did you last eat?

Honey bunches of oats with almonds

08: Played any sports?

i did karate for like eight years and hated it for at least like half of that

09: Do you bite your nails?

not really

10: When was your last physical fight?

see #8

11: Do you like someone?

this is a really ambiguous question. not romantically or sexually, thats for sure

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

yes

14: Do you miss someone?

I miss my friends who have all gone off to college around the country

15: Have any pets?

two dogs and a chinchilla

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

tired and annoyed by my mother

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

nope, never anywhere, for that matter

18: Are you scared of spiders?

no, i think they are cute

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

probably not, because it is impossible to predict the far reaching effects of what you do, and you could irreversibly change your life forever

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

what the fuck does that even mean? actually I dont think i want to know

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

i have no idea right now

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

nope

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

nope

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

calculus, physics, and computer science, probably

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

that is literally the same question as question 14

26: What are you craving right now?

sleep

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

probably by accident at least once without realizing it

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

never been in a relationship

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

never been in a relationship

30: What’s irritating you right now?

upon reading this my entire body spontaneously became itchy, fuck you

31: Does somebody love you?

I think my parents do?

32: What is your favourite color?

purple

33: Do you have trust issues?

definitely

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

I crashed the car that i am borrowing

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

one of my parents, i dont recall which

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

probably

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

i am guilty of both

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

never have; hoping to continue that

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

51: Favourite food?

i wrote an entire essay on this one in response to an ask if you want to know go read that

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

if the consequences of our actions and random chance count then yes, otherwise no

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

game with friends

54: Is cheating ever okay?

I dont think i am qualified to answer this (aroace)

55: Are you mean?

sometimes unintentionally

56: How many people have you fist fought?

complicated answer, see question #08

57: Do you believe in true love?

58: Favourite weather?

just cool enough to wear a hoodie, not too cold

59: Do you like the snow?

yes

60: Do you wanna get married?

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

definitely not

62: What makes you happy?

Making things, success, sometimes hanging out with my friends

63: Would you change your name?

probably, idk to what though

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

jokes on you ive never kissed anyone

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

apologize for being unable to adequately reciprocate also why exclusively opposite sex?

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

idk

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

my mom

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

also my mom

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

probably not

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

#aroacedragongirl #ask game

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stylesispunk · 2 days ago

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"Is God watching our eyes burn?"

Not outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Two best friends are falling in love. What could have gone wrong?

w.c: 6k

warnings: angst as always. No proofreading.

a/n: I wrote this during the afternoon, so please don't hurt my feelings. I hope you like it, though. It has the potential for a second part. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated.💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Falling in love with your best friend. What a typical beginning or an ending of a story.

From your eyes you could see people describing their partner as their soulmates, their other half, and their best friends.

What are the odds of you falling in love with yours? How? when he had never seen you with those loving eyes you witnessed in others.

Joel loved you. That wasn’t in doubt but he had loved you as a brother loved a sister, as a friend loved his friend.

And that's why you were simply that. Best friends.

You watched him as he spoke, hands moving animatedly as he shared some story or other, and you smiled and laughed at all the right moments. Still, there was a part of you that was miles away, caught in a daydream where he was looking at you, just once, the way people looked at their person.

It wasn’t something you’d wanted to feel. For years, Joel had been your rock. You knew each other in ways no one else did, inside jokes, old scars, even that soft corner of his heart that few others got to see. He’d been the one person you could count on, even when things got messy, and you never wanted to risk that. But somewhere along the way, the little moments started to change. His hand on your shoulder, his smile in the morning, his laugh when he caught you dancing alone in the kitchen, all those things that had once been innocent had started to mean something else.

You used to feel safe around him. Now, every word, every glance, every touch was charged with a question he couldn’t hear, and it scared you. You kept asking yourself, When did it happen? How did it happen? It was like a puzzle you couldn’t solve. One minute, you were friends; the next, you were wondering what his hand would feel like if it held yours just a little longer.

He had found his way inside you. You didn’t mean it sexually, but spiritually. It felt like him and his bared hand ripped the skin off your chest and took your most precious belonging. Your heart.

From that day on, it felt like your breathed for him. That you belonged to him. To his breath, to his thoughts, to his gaze. Every time he wasn’t looking at you, you felt your heart tearing apart.

It was maddening, really, how much you had come to need him, how each of his smiles, each of his laughs, felt like something you couldn’t live without. You’d catch yourself watching him, memorizing the lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed when he was with you, how his voice softened when he talked about something he loved. You’d watch him in the little moments when he didn’t know you were looking, like when he was lost in thought, eyes drifting away as he tapped his fingers against his knee.

But you were losing your hold on yourself, inch by inch. You knew it every time he walked into the room and your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat as if he was the most important person in the world. And he was. At some point, he’d become everything. And you could do nothing about it.

It felt like you breathed for him.

The more you tried to keep those feelings quiet, the louder they seemed to get. There were nights when you’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the ache of his absence like a weight pressing down on you. It was terrifying to know that you belonged to him in a way that he’d never understand. You belonged to his laugh, his gaze, the casual touches he’d give that left their mark on you long after he’d pulled away.

And you had came to understand why your relationships never worked out.

And why all his flings and lover weren’t very fond of you.

It all made sense now, why every other relationship you’d tried felt hollow, why every time someone else held you, it felt like a betrayal. You had always been searching for something that could fill the space Joel left behind, something that could compare to the feeling of being with him. And no one ever measured up. No one could make you feel the way he did with just a look, just a laugh, or a soft touch on your shoulder.

His girlfriends must have sensed it, too—the subtle pull that kept you by his side, the way he’d cancel plans with them if you needed him, the way he always looked for you in a crowded room. They saw what you tried to keep hidden. They could see that in some quiet, unspoken way, you were always there, between them and him.

But you also knew he was far away from healing from his last heartbreak. And you knew that when he kissed you like he mean it, he was looking out for comfort from you, the person who always was there.

And you gave in.

You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let it happen. You told yourself a hundred times that you could be his friend, his rock, without crossing that line. But when he showed up at your door late one night, shoulders slumped and eyes tired, the air felt different. He looked worn down, like he’d been carrying too much for too long, and all he wanted was relief, a place where he didn’t have to pretend to be okay.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice low and raw, and you knew what that meant, knew it had to do with the last woman who’d walked out of his life, leaving him with wounds that hadn’t yet healed. You’d listened to him, night after night, as he talked through the pain, the trust he’d put in her, the hopes he’d had that had all fallen apart. And though every word cut deep, you were there, steady as ever, offering him comfort, reassurance.

So when he stepped closer, when his hand reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your face, you felt your own resolve crumbling. You could tell yourself all you wanted that this wasn’t real, that it wasn’t the way you’d dreamed it. But the truth was, his touch set you on fire, made you feel like you’d been waiting for this moment forever.

He leaned in, his face inches from yours, and you could see the flicker of need in his eyes, the desperation. You knew he was reaching for you to fill a void, to ease a hurt that still felt fresh, and maybe it was wrong, maybe you were both vulnerable, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You wanted to be the person he needed, even if it was only for a night, even if he was looking at you through the lens of heartbreak and loss. Because the way his gaze softened, the way he touched you, it was everything you’d been longing for, even if it came from his own need to feel whole again.

So you let him. You let him take that step, let his lips press against yours, let him hold you close as if you were the only one who could fix the pieces left broken. It wasn’t the love you’d dreamed of, but it was real in its own way, a moment where you belonged to each other, even if he would never see it that way.

And as he kissed you, as he held you close, you knew you’d regret it in the morning, that you’d feel the ache of him slipping away once the moment passed.

But that never happened.

Instead, everything between you and Joel shifted that night, as if a door that had always been locked was suddenly wide open. You had thought it would be one moment, a single night where you could pretend that his touch was a promise, that his kisses meant as much to him as they did to you. But he didn’t let you go, didn’t pull back into that safe distance of friendship once the night had passed. Instead, he lingered, stayed close, as if he was finding something in you he hadn’t expected, as if he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The next morning, you’d braced yourself, heart pounding as you turned to face him, expecting to see the hesitation, the discomfort. But instead, you found him watching you, his expression soft, almost vulnerable, as he reached for you again. “Hey,” he murmured, and his hand found yours, fingers intertwining with a certainty that left you breathless.

And from there, it didn’t stop.

Joel didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess the leap you both had taken. In the weeks that followed, it was as if he had been waiting just as long, holding back feelings he hadn’t even realized he had. He wasn’t careful, wasn’t cautious; he didn’t linger in that unsure space between friendship and something more. Instead, he was all in, crossing every line with a steadiness that left you dizzy.

It only took him two months to raise the bar, to show you what it was like to be truly wanted. He’d come over with flowers in hand like it was nothing, his face breaking into a grin when you’d open the door, as if the sight of you made everything right. He’d brush hair from your face, a little slower than he used to, letting his fingers linger on your cheek, his gaze holding a warmth you’d once only dreamed of. There was no hesitation in his touches now, no holding back. He’d pull you close on a crowded street, run his fingers down your arm as you laughed over breakfast, hold you just because you were there. With Joel, you never had to wonder if you were enough.

And you found yourself slipping into those roles, playing the parts of the lovers you’d once watched from a distance. You both did, almost instinctively. At first, it felt strange, like you were walking on a stage, wearing someone else’s life. You’d spend your days together, trying to believe it was real, that the Joel who laughed into your shoulder and kissed you in the middle of a conversation was yours.

The first time he told you he’d fallen for you, it was casual, thrown in like he’d said it a thousand times before, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Even in the warmth of his love, in the softness of his gaze when he looked at you, there was always a flicker of something else, something he couldn’t quite hide. A shadow that lingered behind his smile, a sadness that clung to him no matter how hard he tried to bury it. You could see it in the quiet moments, when the laughter faded, and he’d look at you as if he was searching for something, as if he was afraid of losing you even while you were right there in his arms.

It hurt to see that sadness in him, knowing you couldn’t reach it, couldn’t pull him fully into the light. You’d watch him sometimes, catch him lost in thought, his eyes distant, and wonder if he was thinking of his past—of the scars he’d carried from those who had left him, the pieces of himself he’d lost along the way. There were nights when he’d hold you close, his grip a little tighter, as if you were an anchor keeping him grounded, and you’d feel the weight of that sadness, as if he was trying to drown it in the warmth between you.

One evening, after a quiet dinner, you both sat on the couch, his arm around you, fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. The glow of the lamplight softened everything around you, casting shadows that danced across his face. You could see the sadness there, deeper tonight, almost heavy enough to spill over. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Joel,” you whispered, reaching up to brush your fingers along his jaw, hoping to ease the ache you saw in him. “What is it?”

He looked down, his thumb moving over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles, as if he was gathering his thoughts. “Sometimes, I think about… how lucky I am to have you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And it scares me. Because I’ve lost things before. People. And… I don’t ever want that to happen with us. I don’t want to wake up and find out this was just… I don’t know, a dream.”

You felt your heart twist, aching for him, for the years he’d spent holding onto pain he couldn’t let go of. And yet, you also understood. You’d been best friends for so long, and even in love, you could sense that he was still trying to protect himself, to guard that broken part of him that he feared would shatter if he let himself believe too much, hope too much.

So you held his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with a steady resolve. “I’m not going anywhere, Joel. I’m here, and I want to be here. Whatever shadows you carry, I’ll be here to help you face them. I love you, all of you. Even the parts that hurt.”

His eyes softened, and he looked at you like you were something he didn’t deserve, something precious he’d stumbled upon and was still afraid to hold too tightly. But then, he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes as he let himself breathe, let himself feel the weight of your words.

But you knew, just as he did, that there was a part of him still haunted by her—by the girl he’d lost, the one who followed him like a ghost he could never quite shake. She lingered in the quiet corners of his mind, a memory that wouldn’t fade, an echo that haunted him even when he was wrapped in your arms. You could feel it in the way he held you sometimes, as if he was clinging to the present but couldn’t fully leave the past behind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love you. You knew he did; you could feel it in every touch, in every whispered word. But there was a part of him still lost in a place you couldn’t reach, tethered to memories you could never truly understand. He didn’t talk about her, didn’t bring her up, and you never pushed him to. Still, you sensed the weight of her shadow in his silences, in the moments when his gaze grew distant, as though he was looking right through you to someone who wasn’t there.

It was a strange thing, learning to share him with a memory, a ghost that still lived somewhere deep inside him. You’d told yourself you could handle it, that you could be patient, that one day he’d let go of her completely. But some nights, when you caught him staring into the distance with that quiet sadness in his eyes, you felt a pang of jealousy—not for her, but for the part of him she still held captive.

In those moments, you couldn’t help but wonder if she would always be there, lingering just beyond the reach of what you and Joel were building together. If he’d ever truly be able to let go, to give himself over to this love without the pull of that past, that echo.

"Sometimes, it feels like I’m not really here," you said, voice tight with a vulnerability you’d tried to keep hidden. "Like you’re looking past me—to her."

Joel’s eyes flicked up, surprised by the intensity in your voice. He shifted, as if he wasn’t quite sure where this was coming from, but the sadness you’d seen in him so many times was still there, familiar and frustrating. "That’s not fair," he murmured, his tone soft but guarded. "You know it’s not like that."

“Then what is it like, Joel?” you demanded, feeling a pang of guilt even as the words escaped. “Because every time you get that look in your eyes, every time you drift off… it’s her, isn’t it?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, weary. “She was a part of my life. I can’t just erase that.”

"And what about us?” you shot back, the words sharper than you intended. “Do I always have to share you with her? Am I ever going to be enough, or am I just supposed to be okay with half of you?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, his face shadowed. “You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then help me understand, Joel,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “I’ve tried. I’ve been patient, I’ve given you space, but it’s like… it’s like there’s this wall between us that I can’t get past. And I don’t know if I ever will.”

He looked back at you then, his gaze heavy with something unreadable. “It’s not about you,” he said, frustration seeping into his tone. “This is my burden, my past. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“But it does mean you’re not all here,” you replied, the words trembling with pain. “And I can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be.”

There was a long, aching silence as your words hung in the air. Joel looked away, his face set in a hard line, and for a moment, you felt a wave of regret, of fear that maybe you’d pushed too far. But you needed him to hear it. Needed him to understand how much it hurt to be constantly measured against a memory, to feel like you were always fighting to pull him into the present.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and raw. “I’m trying. But it’s not that simple. You think I don’t want to let go? You think I don’t want to be… whole?”

The vulnerability in his voice was almost too much, cutting through your anger and leaving you feeling exposed. You could see how much he wanted to give you what you deserved, how he hated the way he was bound to a past he couldn’t change. And yet, part of you still felt that ache, that longing for a love that wasn’t haunted by shadows.

“I don’t want to be your second choice, Joel,” you whispered, feeling the tears rise, though you tried to blink them away. “I don’t want to keep feeling like I’m… not enough.”

Joel reached for you then, his hand finding yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re not my second choice,” he said softly, his voice barely holding together. “You’re the one here, the one I want. I just… sometimes, I don’t know how to shake the past. I don’t know how to make it stop hurting.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch grounding you even as you felt the weight of his words settle heavy on your heart. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words reassure you, but the doubt lingered, a painful reminder of the distance that still stretched between you.

“I know you’re trying, Joel,” you said quietly. “But I know better than to wait for you back here.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you prepared to say the words you’d kept buried for too long. “I mean… I can’t keep standing on the sidelines, hoping one day you’ll be fully here. I can’t be the one waiting for you to decide if you’re ready to move on.” You paused, watching as his face registered the meaning of your words, a flicker of fear crossing his eyes. “I love you, Joel. But I can’t keep giving all of myself if you’re not ready to do the same.”

He looked at you, the silence stretching between you, and you could see the conflict etched into his expression. “You think I don’t want that?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You think I don’t wish every day that I could leave all that behind?”

“I know you do,” you replied, feeling your own voice tremble. “But wishing isn’t enough. I need to know that you’re here, that this—us—isn’t just you trying to fill some empty space.”

He took a step closer, his hand tightening around yours. “You’re not just filling a space, not to me,” he insisted, his voice filled with a rawness you rarely saw. “But… I don’t know how to give you more when there’s still a part of me that’s… trapped there.”

You nodded, a painful understanding settling over you. “I know. And maybe that’s something you have to work through—without me.”

His grip loosened, and you felt the weight of your words sink in, the realization in his eyes piercing. He opened his mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he looked at you, the anguish plain on his face, and you knew he understood. This wasn’t what you wanted, wasn’t the ending you’d dreamed of, but you also knew it was the only way forward.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper.

“And I don’t want to lose you either, Joel,” you replied, your own voice choked with emotion. “But I can’t lose myself waiting for you to be ready.” You paused, your own breath shaking. “I’ve breaking my own heart for years already. I can’t do it anymore” you confessed, the truth spilling out in a rush, leaving you feeling exposed. The words hung in the air, heavy with all the unspoken feelings that had built up between you over time. You had spent so long convincing yourself that you could wait, that love would be enough to bridge the gap, but now it felt like the dam had finally burst.

He flinched, his expression twisting with a mix of regret and sorrow. “I didn’t realize…” His voice trailed off, the weight of your admission hitting him like a freight train.

“I never wanted to hurt you. You’ve always been my best friend, and now you’re so much more. I just thought… I thought we had time.”

You shook your head, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Time is what I don’t have, Joel. I’ve given so much of myself to this, to us, and I thought it would be enough. But now, standing here, I see it’s not just about love.”

He swallowed hard, the realization dawning on him. “You’re right. I need to figure this out. I can’t just keep pretending it’s all okay when it’s not.”

The truth of his words cut through you, leaving a raw ache in your chest. You wanted him to be free, to find that peace, but the thought of stepping away felt like tearing off a bandage that had just begun to heal. “I care about you, Joel. I always will. But I need to put myself first for once.”

“Please don’t go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the best part of my life.”

You could see the pain in his eyes, and it nearly broke you. “I need space,” you whispered, barely able to hold it together. “I was brave enough when I let you in. I need to find out who I am without you being my everything. Maybe one day, we can find our way back to each other. But right now… I just can’t.”

The weight of your words hung in the air between you, heavy with the uncharted territory of separation. You could see the flicker of panic in Joel’s eyes, the realization that he might lose the one person who understood him the most. But you knew that this was necessary—for both of you.

He opened his mouth, searching for the right words, but they wouldn’t come. Instead, he simply stood there, helpless, as you took a step back. “I don’t want to lose you,” he repeated, the raw vulnerability in his voice piercing through you. “You’re the only one who knows me like this, who gets me. What if… what if we can find a way to work through this together?”

Your heart twisted at the thought, but you had to be strong. “I don’t think I can be what you need right now,” you said softly. “And you deserve to heal without me holding you back. I’ve become a crutch, Joel, and I don’t want to be that. You need to find yourself again, without the ghost of her and without me. We both do.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mixing with despair. “I don’t want to face the world without you by my side. You make everything better, you know? I can’t imagine not having you here.”

You felt a tear escape, rolling down your cheek as you realized how much you would miss him too. “I know. But..It’s really a shame we caught each at a bad time,” you said, the words tasting bittersweet on your tongue. The reality of it all hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. You had both wanted more, but life had a way of complicating things, of intertwining your paths at the wrong moments.

Joel looked at you, his expression shifting as if he were grappling with the same sentiment.

I wish things could be different. I wish I could turn back time and be in a place where I could give you everything you deserve.”

The ache in your chest deepened. “Me too,” you admitted softly. “But wishing won’t change anything. I can’t keep hoping that one day you’ll wake up and be ready to love me the way I need to be loved. You need to find your way first, Joel.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words pressed down on him. “I know. I just… I don’t want to lose you in the process. I don’t want this to be the end for us.”

“It doesn’t have to be the end,” you said, feeling a flicker of hope amid the sorrow. “Maybe when you heal, I’ll be there still waiting, but now I have to free myself from you.”

“It doesn’t have to be the end,” you said, feeling a flicker of hope amid the sorrow. “Maybe when you heal, I’ll still be there waiting, but right now, I have to free myself from you.”

His brow furrowed as he took in your words, and you could see the conflict within him, a part of him wanting to fight against the inevitable. “Free yourself from me? That sounds so final,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “What if I need you?”

“It’s not about what you need right now, Joel,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “It’s about what I need too. I’ve spent too long being your comfort, your escape from pain, and I’ve lost sight of who I am in the process. I need to find myself again, separate from you and your memories.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you raised a hand, cutting him off gently. “I care about you deeply. I always will. But I can’t be your crutch. I can’t let my happiness depend on your healing. It’s unfair to both of us.”

The silence that followed was heavy, a shared understanding lingering in the air. You could see the flicker of realization in his eyes, the understanding that your decision was not just about him—it was about you reclaiming your own life, your own identity.

“I just wish…” he began, his voice trailing off.

“I know,” you interrupted softly. “I wish too. But wishing isn’t enough. We both deserve to find our own paths, even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts.”

He nodded slowly, the understanding settling in, and you felt a pang of sorrow for the love that had been, but also a glimmer of hope for what could be.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of what you were about to say. “Before I go, I want you to know something important,” you said, your voice steady but filled with emotion. “I don’t think of you as a bad guy for reaching out to me when you needed comfort. You were kind to me, and you opened your heart in ways I never expected. It’s okay to seek solace in the people who care about you. Just like you were there for me, I was always there for you, and I don’t regret that.”

His eyes met yours, vulnerability shining through the sadness. “I didn’t mean to put you in this position,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said softly, a tear escaping as you fought to keep your emotions in check. “And I don’t blame you. We were both trying to find our way, and sometimes, it’s messy. I’m not angry with you for needing me, or for those moments we shared. I just need to prioritize myself now.”

He nodded, the understanding settling deeper between you. “I just wish things could be different. I wish I could give you everything you deserve.”

“I wish that too,” you admitted, your heart aching at the thought of what could have been. “But I need to find out who I am beyond us. We both deserve that.”

You took a step back, feeling the distance grow between you, both physical and emotional. “I’m going to take some time for myself. I need to breathe, to figure out what I want. I hope you do the same.”

His eyes met yours, vulnerability shining through the sadness. “I didn’t mean to put you in this position,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

He nodded, the understanding settling deeper between you. “I just wish things could be different. I wish I could give you everything you deserve.”

“I wish that too,” you admitted, your heart aching at the thought of what could have been. “But I need to find out who I am beyond us. We both deserve that.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you raised a hand again, cutting him off gently. “Let’s not prolong this. It’s hard enough as it is. Just know that I care about you, and I always will. You’ve been an important part of my life.”

With one last lingering look, you turned to leave, each step feeling heavier than the last. The door behind you closed with a soft click, sealing away the warmth of what you once shared and leaving behind a bittersweet ache in your chest. You took a deep breath as you stepped into the world outside.

A world without Joel and you crossing paths again.

Five years later, you stood in front of the mirror, your heart racing as you adjusted the veil that framed your face. The reflection staring back at you was beautiful, but it felt like a stranger wearing a mask. The dress hugged your body in all the right places, the delicate lace and flowing fabric crafted with love, but it couldn’t hide the uncertainty churning inside you.

As you applied the final touches of makeup, you could hear the soft hum of voices filtering through the closed door. Friends and family gathered outside, their excited chatter mingling with the gentle music playing in the background. They were all waiting for you, eager to celebrate a love that was supposed to be yours. Yet, as the minutes ticked away, a feeling of pressure weighed heavily on your chest, a sense of urgency that made you question everything.

You thought about the man waiting for you at the altar, a kind and caring soul who had been there for you in ways you had never expected. He loved you deeply, and you admired him for it. But as you glanced at your reflection, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Was this truly love? Or were you just filling a void left by someone else?

And then there was Joel. The memories of him flooded your mind like a bittersweet wave. The moments you shared, the laughter and the pain, the way he had opened your heart and left you wanting more. You hadn’t seen him in years, and yet he lingered in your thoughts, a ghost of what could have been. The ache for him had faded, but it had never truly disappeared. You had always wondered if you could love someone else as deeply as you had loved him.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself, ready to face the music outside. As you turned toward the door, your heart pounded louder, each beat echoing your uncertainty. Just then, a firm grip on your wrist stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the world around you fading away as you stared into his eyes, those deep, expressive eyes that had once held your heart captive. Everything you had thought you’d left behind rushed back in an instant, and for a moment, you were both suspended in time—two souls that had once been so close, now standing on the precipice of an unknown future.

“Joel,” you breathed, the weight of his presence crashing over you. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you,” he replied, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to show how serious he was. “I know this is crazy, but I couldn’t let you walk down that aisle without telling you how I feel.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken words, memories swirling like ghosts in the space around you. You could feel the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you caught a glimpse of the reflection you had tried to ignore. It was a moment of reckoning, one that could change everything.

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aperrywilliams · 12 hours ago

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Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

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The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #babymetaldoll #aperrywilliams #writting challenge

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micia5 · 1 day ago

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The most painful part is that sometimes the teacher would have a favourite who got good grades regardless for how they were drawing, but everyone else?

They all had strict rules to adhere to!

And even then, when you tried your best and did it step by step, the teacher would not like it

And when you did try to do something fresh or even try to do something similar to the favourite, the teacher would say, "This is not what was assigned"

Even when the assignment in question they said it was was "Make an illustration to this concrete poem"

And illustrations to poems are always unique, they always represent the feeling instead of only the literal meaning.

After so much time to feel lesser with no explanation, to being "worse" with no reason why,

A child is scarred and scared of creating because there is so many people better

And why try if all ends the same?

Why try if at the end of the day people still won't tell what's wrong?

We are all learning through this that even if you put effort and try as you might you never will be better than someones favourite, and there is no need to try and explore, and there is no need to learn, because no matter what

You Will Be Always Worse Than Someones Favourite.

School is teaching that to children for years because it represents the corruption in the world, some people become favourites naturally, some through masking, some through faking and some using money

But that is not the message I want to bring, If you agree with me that's good, if you don't then that's alright, What I want to say however is that

You May Not Be Someones Favourite But You Always Will Be A Favourite To Me!

I Want to see you try and learn and be better then you were before whether you are my mutual or not, what matters is your passion and willingness,

I have gave up many times, but just as many times I have tried to pick something up again.

Don't be scared to try what you failed at before, I did and now I regret being scared, yet the second best time to try something is Now.

If when reading this you thought of a concrete hobby or passion, of something you loved or even tried just once, of something that you gave up on, Then Please I ask of you Only One Thing, Try this AGAIN

#I deffinetly am one of those scarred children #a long time has passed but I still feel bad about trying art #I don't let this stop me #Do not let this stop you #tags #writers #writers on tumblr #writing inspiration #art #artists on tumblr #creative writing #drawing #writing #clay sculpting #3d sculpting #music

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 2 days ago

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Summary: Worst! Logan thinking you're dating Wade and is pining for you. Only for Wade to say that he's been spending hours telling YOU everything about LOGAN so you can ask him out.

A/N: Reader is mentioned as she a few times but mostly is referred to as sweet cheeks. Logan is insecure and gets too in his head. This is left on a cliff hanger sort of so lmk if you'd like a part two! This was requested; thank you @squishyfruitloop for the idea I hope you like it <3

You were there the first night he moved into the apartment. You welcomed him along with Al and he just thought you were the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. He wanted to know more about you and it was easy to fall more in love with you with the more he learned about you.

You seemed to always be around, not that Logan was complaining. He would come home from work, and you were there making dinner, he would wake up and you were there making a pot of coffee or standing at the kitchen counter trying to finish a last-minute work project. You were just always there.

At first, he thought it was just him assuming things, he knew that you and Wade had been friends for a few years now and that you two were close. You helped him become Deadpool, you helped him with the breakup with Vanessa, you just always helped so of course he understood why Wade would want you around. However, you started emerging from Wade's bedroom in the morning wearing his shirt or pajama pants. The two of you started whispering amongst each other and just seemed to be closer than before, so obviously he figured you and Wade had started seeing one another.

He was really hurt by this realization; he started to really fall for you and was wanting to ask you out, but he kept talking himself out of asking you. He was more hurt by Wade; he had confided in him about his feelings towards you and when Logan asked Wade what he should do Wade continued to reassure him that asking you out would be a great idea.

Logan sent Wade glares all day trying to figure out what the hell was going on. It’s not like Wade didn’t deserve someone like you, but he was so ensuring that you felt the same as Logan. Wade deserved someone as sweet as you, but you were Logan's in his mind. He called dibs and Wade knew that. Now he’s dating her... What the fuck kind of friend does that? Logan shook his head; maybe it was a misunderstanding. It had to be that. Right?

Tonight was movie night and Logan was excited to see you, he was hoping to get you alone for a moment and to finally talk things out. He had a strong feeling that the whole you dating Wade idea was a misunderstanding but the voice in the back of his head wouldn’t stop nagging him until he had the confirmation. Logan was sitting next to you on the couch and before he could say anything to you Wade plopped himself right next to you and showed you the movie he picked for the night. Apparently, it was your favorite. You squealed with excitement and gave Wade a hug, thanking him for finding the movie you’d been wanting to rewatch. Logan could feel himself deflate and curl into himself, maybe it wasn’t a misunderstanding. Maybe you actually did like Wade and Wade was just an asshole who wanted to fuck with Logan’s emotions.

He wanted to leave movie night so bad; it felt like he wasn’t welcomed anymore, and he wasn’t paying any attention to the actual movie. He could feel his hands starting to shake and his ears were buzzing from trying to hold back from lashing out at Wade. His chest was getting tighter and tighter as he could hear himself scream in his head. As soon as the movie was over, he ran to his room trying to breathe again. Sitting next to you was his favorite thing in the world, having you close gave him the ability to smell your shampoo and body wash, it gave him the ability to feel grounded but now it felt like he was being suffocated.

You watched as Logan ran from the living room to the spare room that he calls home now. You felt your heart break and your eyes started to sting as you blinked back tears. “Did we do something?” You asked Wade meekly and the merc felt growing frustration with his friend. “You didn’t do anything sweet cheeks. How about you head home, it’s getting late, and you know how everyone who lives here needs their beauty sleep” You giggled and nodded before getting up to collect your things.

Wade waited for you to leave before he confronted his lovely roommate.

“What the fuck was that Wolvie? Now she thinks she did something when you’re just a moron!” Wade huffed and got even more angry when Logan rolled his eyes, “Are you going through puberty? Is that the issue? Too much angst bottling up in you that you just can’t communicate anymore because then I think by law, I need to enroll you in high school or something.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself I mean really do you ever shut up?” Logan muttered not wanting to look Wade in the eyes. Wade shook his head dramatically, “Nope, never it’s a disease. But I definitely won’t shut up when you hurt sweet cheeks feelings. What’s the deal? I thought you liked her?” Logan’s eyes snapped to Wade, and his anger finally boiled over.

“Yeah, I do like her! You know this and you still get with her? What kind of shit are you playing at? Do you just get off on fucking with emotions” Logan lashed out, yelling at Wade.

Wade’s faces scrunches with confusion, “Get with her? I’m not with sweet cheeks metal man! I’ve been trying to convince her that you love her! I've been telling her all the stupid little facts about you! How do you think she knows how you like your coffee, or how you always are missing socks, she thinks you're this amazing man, and I finally had her believing that you loved her too when you wanted to act like a pre-teen! Now she’s home probably crying over the fact that you seem to hate her and can’t even be in the same room as her!” Wade groans loudly after his rant “Oh my god do I have to do everything in this universe!!” He sighed, calming himself and looked at Logan, “You are going to her apartment and apologizing and admitting your feelings for her. Then maybe you finally get fucked and I can meet the happy version of you too.” With that Wade left Logan alone to think and to get himself a beer.

Logan was left standing in his room with wide eyes. Wade was trying to convince you that he loves you…why would you need the convincing? Obviously Logan knew that he needed convincing, like look at him? Hundreds of years older than you, from a whole different universe than you, full of a dark past and trauma…but you loved him too? Or at least you did before he threw a hissy fit tonight.

FUCK! Logan yelled out when he realized that he had to go fix this now!

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #james logan howlett #xmen fluff #xmen imagine

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myriad-rainbows · 2 days ago

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From observation:

Collect a small group of ADHD and/or autistic and/or polyamorous people (other types of people may also work but I haven't tried that) (you also don't have to date them. but having SOME kind of mutual long term commitment probably helps.)

Spend ~5-10 years communicating with them in a daily or near-daily intentional way about things that matter (such as values, goals, feelings, needs, wants)

Everyone also goes to a regular therapy during this time and works on learning how to give and receive constructive criticism effectively (note: you do NOT have to get perfect at this at any point, but it is essential to commit to the intention and keep coming back to attempting it)

This helps you learn how to act like a person who it is safe to be mad at AND helps the other people learn to trust that you are safe to be mad at (& express it), provided they are doing their own work

Recognize & accept that sometimes people will still have Feelings about being asked if they're upset with you about something, and then you might even have Feelings about their Feelings, but nobody's feelings inherently dictate that anyone has to act in a specific way

Congratulations*, you've made an "are you mad at me" that (with these specific people, provided they haven't hit skills breakdown) is taken neutrally and informationally!

Sample script: "Hey, I'm wondering if you're upset with me, because [X]. If that's true even a little bit, would you tell me? Because I care about hearing your feelings, and I'd also like to know if there's something I can do that would help."

The "because [X]" is optional, but if your reason for wondering is something about how they're behaving, it gives them an opening to explain the reason for that behavior if it isn't that they're mad at you. X could be a mannerism, a way they're treating you, OR something like "I would be/understand being mad at someone who did [thing you're worried they're mad about]" or "other people have been mad at me about [action] before", or probably a secret nth thing I haven't thought of.

If you are talking with someone who you know or suspect has trouble believing that you actually want to know when they're mad at you, you could try (either in the moment or in some other metacommunication conversation) adding further reassurance/arguments for why they can and should tell you; for example:

"It helps me trust that when you tell me you're not mad at me, you're telling the truth, rather than trying to spare my feelings [optional: because even though I think you're trustworthy, my nervous system can't always get with the program]"

"It makes me feel honored that you feel like I'm a safe person to share difficult feedback with"

"Even if I feel hurt over you being upset with me, the fact that you shared that with me feels like a way you're showing that our relationship is important to you and that you know it's important to me too, which feels good"

Huge shoutout to my wife for helping me learn All That, practicing it very well themself, and being one of my small group of people.

*Results not guaranteed. Terms and conditions apply.

They should make a "are you mad at me" that is taken neutrally and informationally every time and doesn't make everything worse when you ask it

#OP: sorry if this is a “I know fish can't sin okay” type of situation. but not sorry enough to not post it.#communication #coping skills #therapy #myriad mutters #i will be your mrs spooky

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brattyspence · 11 hours ago

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safe and sound | s.reid

summary: in which post-prison!spencer finds himself so comforted by your presence that he can’t help but fall asleep whenever he’s around you. (anyone else remember that tiktok trend abt how frequently falling asleep around certain people is a sign of someone feeling safe? no? just me?)

tags: fluffy! post-prison!spence (but its not rlly mentioned in detail)(just reminding u all that man is Traumatized capital T), gun mentioned, sleeping… that’s it i think

a/n: hey idk how to follow up my last fic so here is this??? its a drabble!

word count: 651

(a very short) masterlist here

You had been sitting on your couch, laptop open on your lap as you typed away the last bit of paperwork you needed to complete for the night. The TV was playing softly, some random documentary channel you’d put on hours ago. The room was dim, only the soft lighting from the table side lamp illuminating the space.

Even though your relationship was relatively new, you were at a point where simply existing in each other's presence was an acceptable reason to hang out. You didn't need to be doing something, you were just content to exist in each others orbit.

In recent weeks, you’d observed a new phenomenon; nearly every time he came to your apartment, he would fall asleep within an hour.

Not that particularly you minded. Sometimes you found yourself tangled somewhere in his arms, the book you had been reading slipping from your fingertips as you also fell asleep. Other times you were so busy with work and laundry and whatever else you were up to to notice that he had been sleeping at all.

You shut your laptop and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. It was late now, nearly 11pm.

“Spence…” you reached over to ruffle his hair softly, hoping to stir him. “It's past 11.”

He made a slight whine of protest before fluttering his eyes open. You watched him squint at the digital clock on your TV stand. “Ugh. I'm sorry. I’m going.”

“I wasn't kicking you out,” you reply. “I just thought maybe you didn't want to spend the night on my couch.”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes for a few seconds. “Yeah, that's probably not very smart,” he replied, a slight smile creeping across his lips. “I don't know why your apartment makes me so tired.”

He did know, in fact. It was no secret that the past year hadn't been kind to him. Prison had left him changed, and touched every part of his life irreversibly, including his own home. It was stupid, he knew. He was a fully grown man, a trained agent who owned a gun and knew how to use it, and he still could never feel as safe in his own apartment as he was in yours. You were the only person in his life who didn’t see him during that point in his life. You hadn't watched him change and expected anything from him. Being in your presence was the only time there was no weight to bear.

“It's more than fine with me,” you said. You shifted across the cushions enough to tuck your head against his shoulder. “You can sleep on my couch whenever you want. But you should probably consider the bed instead, if you don't want back pain for the rest of your life.”

He chuckled softly, sliding an arm around your side to settle you against him. “I’ll consider it.”

The air grew still again. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his fingertips tracing lines up and down your side. Eventually you felt him place his cheek against your head. You were certain you’d also succumb to the temptation of sleep that had been creeping up on you.

“You should just stay the night,” you mumbled.

“We both have work tomorrow, honey.”

You huffed. “But we’re so comfy right here. Please?”

“Maybe I can just get up extra early tomorrow to have time to go home…” he said. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

“Mhm. Do that.” You nodded. “And next time just pack a bag. Or I'll make space for you in my closet. Whatever will get you to stay.”

You felt him laugh quietly before he removed his arm from its position around you. He stood up before you could protest further, offering his hand to you.

“Come on. Let's go to bed like adults.”

You groaned, accepting his hand anyway.

#spencer reid x reader #my things!#short fics #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencerreid

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my-castles-crumbling · 17 hours ago

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celebrate - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 288

Staring out at the frozen grounds, Regulus couldn't help but sigh, a familiarly debilitating weight on his shoulders.

It wasn't like he ever felt happy. But around this time of year? Things always got worse. As the Christmas trees were raised, his spirits lowered. As lights in the castle were strung, he just felt darker, somehow.

Because while most people were happily shopping for presents and looking forward to going home to celebrate, he was dreading the moment he had to step off the Hogwarts Express and see his family.

He was so busy brooding about it all that he didn't hear the footsteps of the boy approaching him.

"Reg?"

The soft voice made him frown. He didn't want to be seen like this.

But when warm arms wrapped around his waist, making him shiver, he couldn't help but turn into James Potter's embrace, sighing into his chest.

"Everything alright?" James asked, his voice full of concern.

"Fine," he lied, having learned long ago that showing his emotions was weakness. "Just not looking forward to the holidays, that's all."

But James pulled away, frowning. "Why not? Mum's cooking and Dad can't wait to meet you and-"

He interrupted, heart beating wildly in his chest. "What do you mean, meet me?"

There was a pause. "Oh. Did I forget to ask you?" A beautiful smile fell over James's lips and Regulus couldn't decide if he wanted to shove him or kiss him. "You're coming with us, of course! You think I would make you go back to that hellhole?"

Relief. Pure, unadulterated relief was the only thing he felt as he pulled James close again, burying his head in his chest and breathing him in. "Idiot," he murmured fondly.

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mrshowlettsgarden · 3 days ago

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The Day We Met - Logan Howlett: the one where Logan meets reader the day he arrives at the X - mansion

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ content warning: fluff, flirty; this is loosely base off of the first xmen movie

─➭ note: welcome to my first post! I'll start taking requests! (prompt list)

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Logan Howlett definitely didn’t welcome the invitation of practically being kidnapped by a couple of freaks in black and loud leather suits. The teenager he was with in the car accident, Rogue, did though because she found a place to call home and Logan? Well, he claimed he didn't need one to the Professor as he introduced himself and the others to Logan. But Charles made a bargain with Logan.

“While you stay here, Dr. Grey and I will help regain the memories you had lost,” Charles said calmly.

A dirty look was seen on Logan’s face when the bald man said that. “Now why would I let you or her get into my head, huh?” he scowled at the Professor and Jean, who was protectively standing behind him.

“You never wondered where you got the name the Wolverine from?’ Charles asked as he nodded towards Logan’s dog tags, “We can help you, Logan. You can move on from cage fighting and stay here.”

A scoff slipped from Logan’s lips as he anxiously looked around Charles’ office almost looking for an out from this stupid conversation. He gave up the idea of figuring out where he came from years ago or at least he thought he did. Of course he wondered where he got his dog tags from and that’s all he’s ever known for as far as he can remember. But he needed to move on from those thoughts or at least forget the fact that he can’t ever regain his memories again.

Letting out a deep breath Logan looks back at Charles and thinks for a bit longer. What if the Professor can actually help him? What if this is his only chance at figuring out who he is and how he came to be? Can any of these damn geeks actually help at all?

Fuck this bullshit…

“Fine,” Logan snaps against his own thoughts, “But the second shit goes sideways and I don’t like it, I’m fuckin’ outta here.” He points his finger at the Professor.

Charles smiles and moves towards the door, “Perfect. Now come while I show you around your new home.”

Logan can’t count how many times he’s scoffed since he woke up in this new place. He reluctantly follows Charles and gives a dirty look to Scott or Cyclops before he leaves the room. Scott sighs as he looks back at Jean and then Ororo, also known as Storm, “He’s going to be nothing but trouble while he stays here.”

“Everyone is troubled when they first start off here, Scott,” Storms says with a smile as she walks out of the room.

Jean smiles too as she walks towards her fiancé and gives Scott a kiss on the cheek, “You were nothing but trouble too.”

Scott rolls his eyes as he follows Jean out. “I wasn’t even that bad.”

”You blew up Charles' tree.”

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Logan and Charles made their rounds around the mansion. From classrooms to the bedrooms and as well as the laboratories similar to the one Logan first woke up in. As they walked, Charles shared that this place was a school and a home for mutants, mainly youngsters who are trying to navigate the hardships of being a mutant and having mutant powers all while trying to live a normal life as humans do at their age. Charles also shared that Rogue has the choice to stay and rejoin the world as an educated mutant if she so wishes.

“Most of the adults here were my earlier students who are now teachers. I also teach physics throughout the week,” Charles shared.

“Yeah, well I ain’t about to teach shit while I’m here either,” Logan rolled his eyes.

“No,” Charles lets out a soft chuckle, “But you will be subbing for those who are away and cannot attend their class. Call it your payment while you stay here.” Logan couldn’t get a word in to talk back as Charles moved ahead of him towards a couple of double glass doors that lead outside, “Now for the backyard.” The professor opens a set of doors with his mind and leads Logan to the balcony that oversees the property.

“This is a backyard?” Logan questions with a raised eyebrow as looks around the massive green field and trees decorating the property. There’s a fountain ahead of them both and if he looks further there is a trail that leads to a pond further back. There’s students running around on a basketball court. Some are sitting in the grass reading or talking. He also sees a small farm to his right and swears he can smell horse shit from where he’s standing. “The hell is this place…”

Ignoring Logan’s comment he takes him further into the yard onto a cemented path. “You’ve so far met Storm, Scott, and Jean but we have another Professor here who enjoys spending her time outside so she wasn’t part of your welcome party,” Charles says as he leads Logan towards a glass greenhouse.

Logan looks up and around the huge building and immediately notices the green vines and various plants surrounding the perimeter of the glass walls. He almost guesses that it’s a two-story building with how high the roof is and he’s not even inside yet. “Lemme guess, she’s got a green thumb for powers,” Logan scoffs with assumption behind his tone.

Charles laughs as they walk towards the double doors, “Something like that,” he says.

And before they even reached the door, two brown branches covered in leaves on both sides of the door began to move towards the door handles. Logan’s eyebrows furrow on high alert as he watches the branches turn the handles to open the doors for the two of them to enter. After both doors open, Logan is greeted with the greenest view he’s ever seen. While it’s not a two-story building like he thought, the high ceilings were a matching height with trees set up around the huge room.It’s like he walked into a second backyard. He can see and smell the collections of plants and flowers filling his senses as he and Charles walk further into the greenhouse.

And as the further they walk the more Logan can see different landscapes that he assumes correlate the plants to where they’re originally from. He follows the professor as he makes a turn to their left around a hedge to a research area decorated with science equipment and desks for the students.

“Professor?” a soft female voice calls out anxiously, “Why is everyone telling me there’s a wolverine running around the mansion?” Logan hears Charles softly laugh at the question. “If there’s an actual animal running around, I don’t know how to feel about that because everyone is stressing me out about being eaten!”

There’s a concerned tone in the voice and Logan nearly rolls his eyes at the woman’s thought of him being the animal “running around” and him “eating” them. Before he can bark out a snarky comment, you come around a different corner of a group of plants with a watering can in your hands. Logan cannot deny the fact he almost lost his breath at the sight of you. But he shook the fluttering feeling away before it settled in his chest.

“Oh!” you say in surprise and pure embarrassment as you see the professor and the “animal” you were stressing about standing tall and intimidating behind Charles’ wheelchair. You really want to slap yourself with the watering can for believing the damn plants about being eaten by a wolverine.

Charles smiles as he moves closer to you. “No, my dear. No animal,” he speaks softly to you, “This is Logan. The Wolverine that your friends were warning you about.”

You feel your body heat up with more embarrassment while you nervously laugh at the professor’s words. But the nervous smile you were holding went away in a split second as you locked eyes with a pair of scowling hazel ones across from you. You shy away from the dirty look Logan was giving you. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out, “If I knew you weren’t an actual wolverine, I wouldn’t have called you an animal… That was very rude for them to say that about you.”

“Them?” Logan questions with a slight attitude.

“The plants,” Charles says like a proud father would sound as he turns himself towards Logan who stood locked in his place, “Logan, this is Dr. Y/n L/n. She teaches biology to the students here in the greenhouse.”

Logan hums as his eyes study your face and he sees that you move your gaze away from his and it makes him smirk. “So, your mutation is making friends with plants?” he chuckles as he looks at his surroundings.

You look back at him with a slight frown at the overused assumption about your powers. “I can move and grow plants at my own will,” you sigh out with a disappointed look in your eyes but you carry a neutral face, “Communicating with the plants is a bonus…” Logan looks back at you after you answer and sees the disappointing look in your eyes and he starts to feel bad for trying to pick fun at you.

“I was giving Logan a tour of the property. He will be staying with us for a while,” Charles says as he notices the soft look Logan's holding as he looks at you. With a knowing smirk he turned his full attention to you and you looked back at him, “Y/N, why don’t you continue the tour for me and show Logan his room? I sense that Jean is requesting my presence back in the lab,” he lies through his teeth as he sends you a picture of one of the vacant rooms for Logan from his mind.

Not knowing the real hidden reason for making you finish the tour for him, you nod your head with an understanding look. “Will do, Professor,” you say in a gentle tone.

Charles moves away from you and past Logan going back toward the doors, “I will see you two for dinner.”

And with that Charles left and silence took over the air between you and the bruting man standing across from you. “Um, well let’s take you to your room. I’m sure you’ve had a rough day,” you say as you put the watering can on top of the table next to you. Logan nods as he begins to follow behind you to leave the garden.

As he follows you towards the door, Logan sees you raise one of your hands as green like dust form from in between your fingers and with a wave of your fingers he feels something shift in the room. He turns around back towards the greenhouse and sees the branches and vines move to close down the lamps illuminating the gardens in the room then he hears the sound of water in the background slowly die out from the fountains. When he looks back towards you, he swears he sees your eyes turn from green back to your original eye color.

“Ready?” you ask with a small smile.

Logan nods silently again and follows you out.

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

The walk back into the mansion was quiet. You nervously played with your fingers as you led him inside and all the way upstairs. As you both walked through the hallway of the corridor, Logan couldn’t help but to steal a glance towards you as the afternoon sun slowly turned to evening. The light that was shining through the window at the end of the hall brightened your facial features that he couldn’t see back inside the greenhouse. He wanted to look at you a little longer but he knew he'd already pushed your boundaries from earlier so he looked away before you could realize.

You then walked a couple of extra steps ahead of him towards a closed door to what he assumes is his room. You open it and extend your arm out with a soft smile. “This is your room,” you say and Logan walks in silently with his hands behind his back to look around. “You have your own bathroom around the corner right here,” you maneuver around the room to open another door to the said bathroom. Then you look towards another side of the room and point to a closet and a set of drawers, “You should have enough room for your things to put in there too.”

The brunette haired man hums in acknowledgment as he walks about his new home. He opens and inspects his closet then turns towards you. “And where is your room?” he asks as he walks towards you.

Your eyebrows raise at his question. “Down the hall,” you say in a flat tone as you stare at him. Logan hears the faintest attitude behind your words as a soft smirk forms on his lips. You almost want to back away from how intimidating he’s being but that's just because he’s so freakishly tall and built compared to you. Your soft gaze meets his as he’s just an arms length away from you. “Do you need anything else, Logan?” you ask in a soft tone.

His hazel eyes analyze your face a little better up close and…god you’re so fucking beautiful. He’s eternally beating himself up on the inside for being a brash asshole to you in the beginning. Seeing you this close is making this fluttering feeling in his chest come back again and he’s not going to fight it this time. His gaze moves from your eyes to your rosy lips and he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from making a move on you. Logan can already feel how good it’ll feel to have your lips against his as his hands move gently across your body and down to your –

“Logan?” you snap him out of his daydream that he blinks away from, “Are you alright?”

No… No he’s not. He can feel himself getting hard at the thought of him just kissing you.

What a damn pervert…

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he says back in a gentle tone, “Didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything like that about your powers.”

A soft cheeky smile formed on your lips at his words. He then realized that he wanted to keep seeing that cheeky smile from here on out. “It’s okay, Logan,” you say back, “Take it as payback for when my plants and I called you an animal when you're not.”

An airy laugh slips from Logan’s mouth. He moves his eyes down to your hands where you’ve been nervously playing with your fingers and then grabs a hold of one of them with his calloused hand. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you watch him guide your hand towards his lips. His soft lips lightly meet your knuckles before he looks back at you. “Still… That wasn’t right of me, darlin’”, he says.

You can feel your cheeks warming up from the gesture and your words nearly don’t form in your head or voice. You gently pull your hand away from his with a small but nervous giggle. “You haven’t been here for a full day and you’re already flirty your way in,” you joke as you slowly walk backwards towards the door. “You should’ve waited to settle in first at least.”

Logan smirks as he watches you walk away from him, “Don’t be afraid to like it, darlin’” Your pretty smile graces his eyes again as you nod and take your leave as you close his door. Logan lets out a near blissful sigh as he sits down on the bed. He runs a hand through his unruly hair nervously before laying down on his back to look up at the ceiling.

“Maybe, I’ll stay a little longer…”

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

#logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x you #logan x professor!reader #james howlett #james logan howlett #x men movies #x men

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rosepetalkitty · 2 days ago

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oh boy tw for family trauma 🫠

yeah no that's. damn.

my dad only ever hit me once, and he probably doesn't remember it, but i do. i never told anyone because i didn't want him to get in trouble — he was always the parent who was less of a threat.

that's the only physical thing that ever happened (thank god) but there was a lot of other shit and moving away to uni really helped me realize that.

my mom would sit on my bed behind me while i worked on homework and shout at me if it seemed like i was falling asleep. she would keep me up until 1am some nights, and when she was tired and angry in the morning she would tell everyone it was my fault no matter how much i tried to say that i wanted her to just go to bed, that i didn't want to keep her up, that i was tired too... that started at the beginning 9th grade (during quarantine) and lasted until the beginning of 11th.

before that, in middle school (i was 12) when i first got a phone, she told me one of the expectations was that i would give her the password and let her go through it. i did give her the password, but even at that age i didn't really trust her, so i used another app to put a second password on my home screen. if you put it in wrong it took a photo of you and emailed it to me.

a few weeks later she told me she wanted to go through it, and i told her that was fine, but because it was past my bedtime she wouldn't let me stay up and sit with her while she did. i asked if we could do it in the morning so that we could go through it together, and she said that was fine. guess who woke up to an enraged mother and an email with a picture of her face in the morning...

i brought that one up in therapy four years later in response to her telling the therapist she didn't know why i didn't trust her, and she interrupted me to say, and i quote, "that was so long ago that it doesn't matter anymore." she then turned to the therapist to tell her about how when i was in middle school i wouldn't let her go through my phone "to make sure i was safe", and that that was evidence that the trust issues were my fault. the therapist just looked at me like 😬 and quickly moved on to the next topic. my mom now refuses to acknowledge that she ever said that.

in high school my parents always kinda treated me like a toddler. i wasn't allowed to leave the house unless it was with them because they didn't trust public transportation and our neighborhood wasn't safe to walk out of (giant road all around the perimeter). i didn't get to take a bus until i was 16, and that was only to the mall a few minutes from my house. it took until i was 17 to be able to actually go and hang out with my friends without her supervision or that of another parent who she would expect updates from.

now that im in uni living on my own, she takes every opportunity she can to berate me about my ability to take care of myself. ive been living alone for three months now and have been perfectly fine, doing what i can to get decent nutrition on a college campus that makes it somewhat difficult, and she argued with me about whether it was "responsible" to get a hamburger when she brought me to shake shack while was home to visit for a weekend. "you probably only eat stuff like this, anyways, order something healthy!"

and honestly, speaking of that trip, y'know what really showed me how much less stress i've been under in uni? having a nice brunch at a fancy-ish restaurant that we used to go to with my grandparents when i was little and being low-key appalled when my parents parents started having a not-so-quiet back and forth in which my mom was saying "oh you just think everything i say is wrong, just tell everyone that, be honest, this is ridiculous" over the fact that my dad had asked "hey just to make sure we did mean to get two orders of potatoes, right? just want to check before the server comes back in case that's too much."

those arguments were normal to me a few months ago. and they wonder why i don't tell them things...

(also for context, it's one of those places where two or three small plates is enough for one person and you share stuff, so he was counting up what we were planning to order to make sure we got the right amount — the answer was yes, everyone in the family loves those potatoes, and the second my brother said that my dad was like "oh cool okay, anyways-" before being cut off again by my mom going nuclear over being interrupted by my brother)

and also, final footnote before i post this, there is so much more. this is like. not the worst of my childhood. plus im not including anything from before i was like 12 because i don't remember any of it besides a couple snippets, so there's that...

#rosie rants #rosie rambles #family drama #family trauma #childhood trauma

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gottalovetumbler · 2 days ago

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𝑫𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖?

¹⁴¹ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛!! 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑚 🎺🎺

𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘: 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕/𝚟𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕, 𝚍𝚎𝚏 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 😅, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚈/𝙽 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻/𝙽, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

——— 🚔🚨🚓 ———

-Your boyfriend wasn’t the best man and you knew that. That didn’t stop you from loving him. You just learned that sometimes you needed to love him from a distance, to save yourself heartache.

-When he got mad, he got mean.

-It was your 3 month anniversary. It’s cheesy and embarrassing to celebrate such a short time together you know.

-It’s also your first ever relationship and your hoping to maybe even have your first kiss by the end of the night. If things get risqué that is 😉 (lmao)

-You were so excited and blinded by love in fact, that you even got said boyfriend a bouquet. A candy bar one. A gorgeous lily bouquet caught your eye but you know he’d flip his lid over you insinuating he’s a feminine man

-You pull up to the gate, full of smiles. Of course you were, how were you supposed to know that a base trespasser escaped in the exact make and model of the car you were driving not even 15 minutes before?

-Of course you don’t question it when the guards greet you confused before buzzing you in, not even asking for your credentials

-You didn’t question it because that had to mean that your boyfriend talked about you so much, his buddies are able to recognize you!

-You park at what looks like the main building and climb out of the car, smiling brighter than ever before. He must tell all his friends how much he loves you, how much he misses you when he’s on base and he also has to show them lots of pictures. How else would they recognize you?

-The pep in your step is paused as a man taps you on the shoulder.

-‘Hello luv, were you by chance drivin tha’ car right there?’ A kind eyed man asks, pointing at your car. You answer in the affirmative, happiness never leaving your eyes.

-He tells you to follow him real quick and oh gosh! I wonder if Chad has a surprise for me!?!?

-Your joy begins to fainter as your lead from the big building to a smaller, run down one. All concrete with minimal windows and lots of rooms

-Your led to a room towards the back and step in. Confused, you try to turn and question the nice man when you’re shoved into a chair. The gift and your bag are torn from your hands and thrown to the wall.

-In-front of you is not in fact the nice man. No he’s standing in the corner staring at you, accompanied by a man with mutton chops and one with a Mohawk.

-The only thing you can see clearly on the man who is in-front of you, are his eyes. Stark white against the eye-black and balaclava

-‘Who are you?’

-‘Y/N’ his stare somehow becomes meaner. ‘L/N’

-‘Ok, Y/N L/N. Wanna tell us how you got out and then tell us why the hell you came back?’

-‘Haha…… is this some joke from Chad? Cause it’s not very funny. Can you just tell him I don’t wanna joke around right now, I just wanna see him after-‘

-The man’s large hand slams down on the table with force that shouldn’t be humanly possible. All feelings are now replaced with fear. So much fear in-fact that your eyes begin to tear up.

-Growing up, your dad had a habit of getting mad at you when you did/got something wrong. His reaction brought you right back to being 8 years old again.

-‘Do you think this is some fuckin’ joke? You snuck onto this base and attempted to break into the armory. Is that fuckin’ funny to you? Are you that dumb?’

-Fear grips you and all you can do is repeat the same mantra from your childhood. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. No sir I don’t.’ Over and over, tears streaming down your face.

-Growing up you learned that the easiest way to get out of trouble, was to agree and apologize. To just get it over with.

-The giant masked man continues to berate you as you just cry and apologize. It continues for several seconds till one of the men in the corner, a new one, steps in.

-‘Hey si, lay off her fer a sec. She looks pretty terrified. Are we even sure it wa’ her, wasn’ the description o' a bigger 6'2 man, nae a 5'8 bonnie lassie.’

-The living shadow seems to suddenly snap out of whatever trance he was in and truly looks at you.

-Wide and scared… no… terrified eyes stare at him, full of tears. Apologies still falling from your lips seemingly not noticing he stopped questioning you almost a minute ago.

-Not sure what else to do he’s about to turn to the one man who would but he’s beaten to the punch.

-‘Hi luv, can you take a breath for me? Good now another one.’ His Captain says, crouching down to your level. ‘Do you mind if we help you walk. There seems to have been a misunderstandin’ and I wanna get you looked at. Make sure you aren’t hurt anywhere.’

-Still petrified in fear and not wanting to do anything else wrong, you nod weakly and allow him to support your as the mohawk man guides the 5 of you to the infirmary.

-About 60 feet from the stark white building a familiar voice calls out your name. Turning toward the voice, you see your knight in shining armor coming to your rescue.

-The men though, they see a furious ball of anger, one that looks like it wouldn’t stop for anything. Not even the fragile Bonnie little bird they were currently transporting.

-‘Are you fucking kidding me?? What happened?’ He yells as he gets closer. You look at him, drunk on appreciation and happiness.

-You’re glad he’s willing to step up for you even against four terrifying men. Your so love stuck that it takes you a few seconds, after Chads’ reached your little group, to realize he stopped in-front of you. He was yelling at you?

-‘Wha-?’

-‘Are you kidding me? Wow, you’re such a little bitch, I can’t have one damn thing in my life without you trampling all over it! Now you’re here EMBARRASSING Me?! How the hell did I get stuck with such a shitty girlfriend!’

-‘Chad? What are you-?’

-‘Yea chad, who th' fuck dae ye think yer yelling at? Aye know yer nae yelling at this wee birdie. If you are, then we're goin’ tae hae some big feckin' problems.’

-Mohawk man steps between you and your supposed ‘beloved’ boyfriend. The masked man standing beside him, fully blocking you from view.

-Your eyes begin to drip again as you try to listen to the angry exchange of words. You’re interrupted by a gentle hand grabbing your chin and turning you towards the kind man from before. His thumb comes up and wipes the tears away.

-‘Okay luv, let’s get you inside yea? Let LT and Soap deal with that asshole.’

-‘He’s not an ass*sniffle*hole. He’s my *choke* boyfriend.’

-‘Ex-boyfriend luv, ex-boyfriend.’ The man called Captain murmurs as you’re led through the doors.

-Unknowingly, the men that scared you shitless not even 10 minutes ago. Are the same ones that will soon show you how to live a happy life. A truly happy one.

——— Hope y’all enjoyed! ———

#tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x fem!reader #141 x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 #tf 141 #cod x reader #john price x reader #price cod #ghost x reader #ghost cod #kyle gaz x reader #gaz cod #john soap mctavish x reader #soap cod

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greengoblinswifey · 2 days ago

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Silent Desires—Brother’s!Bsf Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you’re the cool older sister who never paid much attention to your brother's shy best friend, Nicholas—until one night, you overhear a surprising conversation. learning he's never been with anyone, you find yourself more than ready to make him have a good first time.

warnings— tiny age gap(reader is 2 years older), sub!nicholas then slight dom!nicholas, dom!reader, fingering, choking, oral(m receiving), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, fluff, aftercare, L bomb.

a/n— yes this is long i fear i got carried away..

Nicholas had been coming over to your house since he and your younger brother became best friends in high school. He was the quiet, shy kid who seemed uncomfortable in his own skin whenever you were around. Being two years older, you didn’t pay much attention to your brother's friends, considering them too young and immature for your taste. You’d laugh sometimes at how Nicholas would get flustered, barely managing a stammered “hi” before rushing off whenever you entered the room.

Whenever you did make an appearance, Nicholas would steal glances, awkwardly trying to start a conversation. His brown eyes would light up whenever you laughed, especially when you teased him just to see his cheeks turn red. Though you didn't think of him seriously, you’d caught him staring more times than you could count. There was something innocent, almost sweet, about his crush.

One Saturday afternoon, you were heading downstairs to the basement, your mom needed your younger brother's help with some boxes in the garage. As you reached the basement door, you overheard Nicholas and your brother talking.

“Dude, you’re seriously still a virgin?” your brother asked, laughing.

Nicholas sighed. “Yeah, I mean, I got head once, but I didn’t even, you know, finish.”

Your brother cracked up, slapping Nicholas on the shoulder. “Bro, you need to get laid. I don’t get why you haven’t yet. Is it, like, nerves or something?”

Nicholas hesitated. “I just, it’s hard to find someone I actually want to, you know, do it with.”

“Fine, then who would you want?” your brother challenged, still laughing.

“Uh, what if it’s your sister,” Nicholas mumbled.

Your brother’s laugh stopped short as he punched Nicholas playfully on the arm. “Are you serious? She’d never go for you. You’re not her type. She’d never go for a guy like you,” he teased.

Nicholas shrugged, cheeks turning red. “Maybe, but I think she likes to 'dabble in snow,' if you know what I mean.”

Right then, you stepped in, smiling as you leaned against the doorframe. “Yo, mom wants your help with some boxes, get up there now.”

Your brother was already on his way up, not noticing the tension lingering in the room as Nicholas struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“You know, I heard what you just said.”

Nicholas turned bright red, stammering, “I, uh, I didn’t mean—”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you didn’t mean it? Could’ve fooled me.”

“Listen,” you said, lowering your voice, “when my brother goes to bed tonight, come to my room if you mean it.”

Nicholas blinked, wide-eyed, nodding slightly, his usual flustered self almost in disbelief. "Y-yeah, okay."

After overhearing Nicholas’s admission in the basement, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. You’d always thought of him as your brother’s quiet, shy friend, but the idea that he’d harbored these thoughts about you all along made you see him in a new light. For the first time, you couldn’t deny the thought that there was something a little bit attractive about him. The way he hid his muscular build under baggy sweaters and how flustered he’d get whenever you were around. A small thrill ran through you as you headed back to your room, feeling a surge of boldness. You lay in bed, the sheets pulled loosely around you, scrolling on your phone, fully confident that Nicholas wouldn’t turn down the “opportunity of a lifetime,” as you jokingly thought of it.

Around 2 a.m., you heard a soft knock at the door, followed by his low voice, “It’s me, uh, can I come in?” You recognized the nerves in his tone and couldn’t help but smile as you called out, “Yes, it’s open.”

Nicholas opened the door and stepped inside, looking both eager and hesitant as he glanced at you, lying there with nothing but your sheet covering your naked body. “I see you meant what you said,” you teased, watching him nod slowly, standing stiffly near the door.

“Don’t be shy, baby. Come over here,” you said, patting the bed beside you. He moved closer, each step cautious, and as he sat down, you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his neck, feeling him shiver beneath your touch.

With a soft laugh, you asked, “So, how long have you been thinking about this? About me?”

He swallowed, cheeks flushed, before he answered, “Years. I always, I’ve always had this huge crush on you. You’d walk around in those tiny shorts, or just your silk robe, and— and I’d know you weren’t wearing anything under it.” His voice trailed off, almost embarrassed.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confessed, nervously running a hand through his hair. “I barely ever got to see you, but whenever I did, it felt like everything was just, thrown at me all at once.” He paused, glancing down as he added, “You’d leave me, um, painfully hard, just being around you. Just smelling your perfume lingering in the air.” He let out a sheepish laugh. “I even, fuck—jacked off to the smell of your body wash in the bathroom once. I was so ashamed, but I— I couldn’t help it. You were just so hot and intimidating.”

You laughed, nudging him. “Intimidating, huh? And here I thought you just didn’t have much to say.”

He chuckled nervously, his hand brushing over yours. “It’s more like, I didn’t know how to talk to you. You’re my best friend’s older sister, and besides you usually go for white guys, right?”

“True,” you teased, amused by his observation.

As Nicholas sat there, looking nervous yet hopeful, he stammered, “Well, I think maybe now I have a chance with you—”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Who told you that?”

He flushed immediately, stuttering, “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I thought—”

Before he could finish, you silenced him by tossing the sheets off, revealing yourself fully naked. His eyes widened, clearly mesmerized, as you slid onto his lap, leaning in to trail kisses down his neck. As you left a mark, he whispered, “Your brother’s gonna see that and ask questions.”

“Let him see,” you said between bites.

When you moved up to his lips, his hands awkwardly rested by his sides. You pulled back just enough to murmur, “You know, you can touch me, right?”

He swallowed, nodding shyly. Gently, you took his hands, guiding them up to your neck. His fingers brushed lightly over your skin, and as he started to grip a bit more firmly, your eyes rolled back with a soft moan, catching him by surprise. “Didn’t know people were into that.” he murmured, half in awe.

You smirked, whispering, “I’m into a lot of things. You’ll just have to find out.”

“Please,” he whispered, voice thick with anticipation.

You placed his hands on your chest, guiding his touch as he squeezed, muttering, “I’ve always thought you had the most gorgeous—um, you know,” his voice faltered, “especially in those low-cut tops.”

You laughed softly, running his hand lower until his fingers brushed against your pussy, guiding him to explore. “Go ahead baby, play with my clit,” you encouraged.

He grew bolder, his touch becoming more certain as he asked, stuttering slightly, “Does- does this feel good?”

“Mm-hmm,” you sighed, “keep going, baby.”

He slid a finger inside, whispering, “You’re so- so small, and wet. I love how you feel.” His confidence grew as you moaned encouragement, and as the tension built, you gripped his shoulders, locking eyes with him as you came all over his thick fingers.

The look in your eyes, intense and dazed, left him breathless, and he knew it was a look he’d never forget.

“That was my first time doing that,” he said.

“Yeah? Well you did good baby, making me cum like that,” you murmured, half surprised and biting your lip. You took his fingers and put them up to his lips and he sucked the remnants of your juices off clean.

“Mm- you taste so good,” he hummed.

“That’s a good boy, next time you’ll get to taste my pussy, yeah?”

You could feel his cock jump in his sweats, whether it be from you calling him a good boy or confirming there would be a next time.

As you tugged at Nicholas' sweater, he hesitated, a little nervous, but let you pull it off. Your eyes widened as you took in what was hidden underneath. Defined abs, chiseled pecs, and strong, sculpted arms, he looked like he’d been carved from fucking marble. You smirked, knowing he’d been hiding something impressive.

“God, you’re hot,” you murmured, running your hands over his chest. “You shouldn’t be hiding this from me.”

He flushed but smiled shyly, glancing at you with a hint of admiration. “Have you seen yourself?” he replied softly. “It’s like Aphrodite herself sculpted you, you’re beautiful.”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him, before sliding down, your movements deliberate as he watched, breathless. Pulling down his sweats and boxers, he sprang free, hard and already leaking. You couldn’t help the genuine look of surprise that crossed your face as you took him in, rock hard, thick and long, all for you.

“Glad I’m the first,” you said with a smirk, your fingers wrapping around him. “And I’m gonna make sure I’m the last. No one else is gonna compare.”

Nicholas swallowed, his voice shaky as he said, “I- I know you overheard me tell your brother, I, uh, I’ve only had, you know, that once, and it didn’t, it didn’t make me—cum.” He stumbled over the words, looking both embarrassed and apologetic. “But not that I think you won’t!” he added quickly, almost panicked. “Just, a heads up.”

You laughed softly before leaning in, taking him into your mouth in one smooth motion, leaving him stunned. He was big, and you could feel the fullness as you took him deep, the sound of your gagging only spurring him on more. His moans grew louder, until you paused, pulling back briefly to whisper, “Keep it down a bit baby, or you’ll wake my brother.”

He nodded, barely able to keep his voice under control as you returned, intensifying your rhythm, you played with his balls and bobbed your head faster. His hands gripped your head lightly, and you guided them, whispering, “Hold me down.” His fingers pressed gently, sending him over the edge as he shivered, releasing into your mouth with a low groan.

After a moment, he pulled you up, his expression one of awe as he kissed you, tasting himself. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice thick with gratitude and amazement. “That was incredible. You’re so good at this.”

You smirked. “I know.”

As you gazed down at Nicholas, you asked softly, “Are you ready?”

He met your eyes, his gaze both nervous and full of longing. “Yes,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my first.”

You leaned forward, brushing a reassuring kiss along his neck, feeling him tremble. His hands settled on your waist as you eased yourself close, and he let out a shaky breath, his cheeks flushed.

“Are you sure?” you asked, searching his face.

He nodded, smiling with a bit more confidence. “With you, I’m sure, b-but I don’t have a condom.”

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill, and I want you to feel all of me.

You moved slowly, kissing his neck and quietly praising him as you felt him fill you inch by inch. He whimpered loudly, the cute sounds he made going straight to your core as you moved your hips on his cock.

“You’re so big baby, making me feel so good.” He moaned in response, his jaw agape as he struggled to contain himself. “You’re such a good boy moaning for me like this baby.”

You continued grinding on him, completely lost in the feeling of him being so deep inside you, he was stretching you more than anyone else had.

“Baby, lay back,” you panted, wanting to show him something different. He immediately complied and you began bouncing on his hard length, your tits doing the same as you did.

“Oh my fucking god,” he whimpered, staring up at the sight before him. He felt like he was going to explode watching you on top of him.

“C-choke me sweetheart,” you begged, your pace faltering but still bouncing on him as hard as you could.

“Huh- are you s-sure?” he asked, clearly surprised by your request. You nodded frantically and he obeyed. As he did, you began bouncing faster, his name on your lips like a prayer. The sound of Nicholas’ loud moans and skin slapping began filling your room and it was too late to worry about if your brother was hearing the commotion.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last,” he moaned out, his hand still around your throat.

“It’s okay baby, me too, I want you to.”

As soon as the words left your lips, Nicholas’ grip on your neck tightened lightly and he released deep inside your pussy just as you creamed all over his cock. You both shivered and you fell on top of him, his cock still deep inside you.

“You did so good baby, I’m so proud of you,” you praised, kissing him all over, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

You switched positions, arching your back beautifully, you spread yourself for him and he watched in awe as his cum leaked from your pussy onto the sheets.

“Show me what you got sweetheart.”

His cheeks flushed but he complied, slipping inside your slippery walls and stretching you once more. The pace he went made him hit your sweet spot continuously and it was now your turn to be a whimpering mess. Feeling bold and proud of himself, Nicholas pulled you back by the neck making you arch off him.

“Do I make you feel good? You love how my cock feels as I’m pounding into you?”

You struggled to form coherent words, only moaning in response as his thrusts got harder and sloppier.

“Words baby, use your words.”

“Y-yes, you make me feel so good, so so good.”

“That’s a good girl, now rub your clit.” You obeyed, rubbing your clit and sending even more jolts of pleasure through your body. “Cum for me, now.” You complied once more, shuddering under him as you came hard in his grip.

He laid you back down on the bed and you arched again. “Hold my hands behind my back,” you begged. He hesitated at first, shocked at how kinky the request was and you allowing him to restrict you but he did as he was told, holding your hands behind your back as he pounded into your tight pussy. Looking down at your ass slapping against him, his cock disappearing inside your pussy that was just sucking him in and how he had your hands firmly behind you, he couldn’t take it anymore. With a loud moan of your name, his warm load filled you up and he fell beside you, panting heavily.

He put his head on your chest as one of his hands went to caress your tits before he went to your bathroom and brought a rag to clean the both of you. Afterwards he came back laying his head on your chest once more.

You traced light circles on his back, and he looked up at you, gratitude and awe clear in his expression. “Thank you for everything,” he murmured. “I couldn’t have imagined it any better.”

You kissed his forehead gently. “You did great,” you whispered back, meeting his shy smile, “I’m proud of you.”

In the soft silence as you drifted to sleep, you heard him murmur, almost to himself, “I’ve always loved you—fuck I love you so much.”

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