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babybatsunite · 3 months ago

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My girl - Spencer Reid x tattooed!fem reader

Genre: Fluff, romance

Word count: 1,5k

Summary: Spencer’s tough girlfriend, Y/n, was never the type to take shit from anyone. And it's not like a new recruit with attitude problems would be any different.

Warnings: Misogynistic views, homophobic language, English is not my first language.

The Quantico bullpen was buzzing as usual – ringing phones, the hum of the coffee maker, and agents running around with files. The BAU had been assigned a fresh case earlier that morning, leaving Spencer buried in boring paperwork.

It was around lunchtime when Spencer’s focus was interrupted by the familiar click of boots and a voice that sent his heart racing every time he heard it.

“Hey, genius,” you called, holding up a brown paper bag. “Thought you might want something that doesn’t taste like printer ink for lunch.”

Spencer’s head shot up, his lips curving into a soft smile as he took you in—blue hair tied up messily, tattoos peeking out from under the rolled-up sleeves of your dark flannel, ripped black jeans, and those scuffed combat boots you refused to part with. You looked effortlessly cool, as always.

“Y/N,” he said, standing up to greet you. “You didn’t have to do that!” Spencer said, kissing your lips softly.

You smirked. “Please, you’d survive on coffee and air if I didn’t step in.”

The interaction caught the attention of several team members. JJ and Garcia exchanged knowing glances, while Morgan shot Spencer a teasing grin. “Ah, the queen herself. You spoil him too much, Y/N.”

“Somebody’s gotta,” you shot back playfully, setting the bag on Spencer’s desk. “The man doesn’t even own a proper umbrella.”

“I do!” Spencer said defensively.

“That's not a travel-sized shower curtain?” you teased, earning a round of laughter from the nearby agents.

Everything was lighthearted and fine, until the new recruit, Agent Carter, sauntered over. Carter had been with the team for about two weeks, and while he was competent in the field, people whispered around about him being a complete asshole.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone clipped, eyes raking over your appearance with clear disdain.

You raised an eyebrow. “Nope. Just here to see my boyfriend.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Boyfriend? Here? You sure you’re not lost? You don’t exactly scream ‘i have a boyfriend.’” His tone was biting, with a sneer. “More like… a dealer who stumbled in from a punk concert.”

You stared at him for a beat, processing his words. “Wow,” you said flatly. “You’re bold for someone who looks like he barely passed the academy fitness test.”

“Who’s this?” Carter asked, nodding toward you with a smirk that made your skin crawl.

“This is Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice friendly but firm. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Carter’s eyebrows shot up, and he let out a low whistle. “No way. Didn’t peg you for the type, Reid.” You frowned but stayed quiet, observing the situation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spencer asked, his posture tensing slightly.

Carter shrugged, his tone casual but dripping with condescension. “I mean, no offense, but she kinda looks like… I don’t know, a lesbian junkie or something.”

The room went silent. JJ’s jaw dropped, Morgan stood up straighter, and Garcia’s eyes widened like saucers. Spencer’s face hardened—a rare sight, but one that immediately made everyone uncomfortable.

“That’s incredibly disrespectful,” Spencer said, his voice colder than anyone had ever heard it. “Y/N has a PhD in chemistry and is one of the smartest people I know.”

Carter laughed, clearly not reading the room. “Sure, she’s smart. But, come on, man. Look at her. She’s wearing more tattoos than clothes-”

“Excuse me?” you said, stepping forward before Spencer could react. Your tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, one that Spencer learned to identify quite early in your relationship. You were pissed.

The recruit scoffed, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. “I’m just saying, you don’t look the part. In fact—” He glanced at Spencer, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “—you kind of look like the man in the relationship. If that’s what we’re calling it.”

The bullpen went silent. A few heads turned, agents pausing mid-task to watch the scene unfold. Spencer’s cheeks flushed red, but before he could step in, you beat him to it.

You laughed—low, sharp, and dangerous. “Wow,” you said, shaking your head. “That’s the best you’ve got? I look like a man? Cute. Here’s the thing, son: there's nothing wrong with being a lesbian, and I don’t give a single damn what you or anyone else thinks I look like. I didn’t show up here for your approval, and I sure as hell don’t need it.”

You stepped even closer, your boots nearly touching his. The recruit visibly stiffened, his confidence faltering as you stared him down.

“Y/N,” Spencer called out, his voice a mix of warning and pleading.

You ignored him, stepping closer to the recruit with a calm tone that somehow made you more intimidating. “But let’s make one thing crystal clear,” you continued, your voice dropping to a near growl. “If you ever disrespect me or Spencer again, I’ll make sure you regret it. And not in a fun, HR-friendly way.”

The recruit opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked to Spencer for support, but Spencer just stood there, arms crossed, letting you handle it.

“Got it?” you asked, patting Carter’s shoulders. Your tone was sweet but with an edge sharp enough to cut glass.

The recruit nodded stiffly, clearly out of his depth.

“Good,” you said, stepping back. You looked at Spencer as if nothing had happened, flashing him a casual smile. “There you go, Penny. I hope you enjoy your lunch.”

Spencer blinked, torn between mortification and admiration. “Uh, thanks,” he said, taking the bag.

As you turned to leave, you shot the recruit one last look. “Oh, and FYI,” you added, smirking. “If I was the man in the relationship, you’d be begging me to fuck you. Think about that.”

The bullpen erupted in quiet murmurs as you walked out, leaving the recruit red-faced and stunned.

Spencer sank into his chair, running a hand through his hair. The team slowly gathered around him, grinning.

“Dude,” Morgan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Your girl is savage.”

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, smirking. “How’d you land someone like her again?”

Spencer groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I have no idea,” he muttered.

---

Back at your shared apartment, whatever happened that day seemed like a distant memory. You were both curled up on the couch, freshly showered, with the muted hum of a playlist Spencer had made playing in the background. Spencer was lying with his head in your lap, legs stretched out along the cushions, while you twirled a strand of his long hair around your fingers.

A half-smoked cigarette rested in the ashtray on the coffee table, the faint smell of it lingering in the air. Spencer’s book was closed on his chest, his brown eyes tracing the tattoos on your arm gently.

“You know,” he said suddenly, his voice soft.

“Hm?” you hummed, looking down at him.

“I don’t understand why some people think you’re a lesbian.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the comment, then snorted. “Oh, yeah? That guy got in your head, huh?”

He shook his head quickly, his brow furrowing. “No, it’s just… I’ve been thinking about it. I mean, it doesn’t make sense. You’ve been with me for over five years. You’re—well, you’re you. You’re not exactly subtle about being with me. It’s not like you’re walking around holding a giant ‘I’m gay’ sign.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Babe, people are just dumb. I dress dark, I’ve got tattoos, and I don’t really scream ‘girlfriend of a genius FBI agent.’” You paused, smirking as you leaned down slightly. “Plus, you can’t lie—there’s a part of you that gets a little kick out of people being shocked I’m with you.”

His ears turned pink, and he looked away sheepishly. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, smiling.

You chuckled, brushing your thumb against his cheek, bringing his face towards you. “Look, I don’t blame them for getting the wrong idea. You’re my girl, after all.”

That caught him off guard. Spencer blinked up at you, a startled laugh escaping his lips. “Wait—what?”

“You heard me,” you said, leaning back smugly. “You’re my girl. Pretty, soft, and way too nice for your own good.”

“Pretty?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief but his smile growing. “I’m pretty now?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, nodding firmly. “You’ve got that whole delicate, intellectual vibe going. Pretty as hell.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment before he reached up and poked your side, making you squirm. “Well, if I’m pretty, what does that make you?”

You shrugged, grinning. “The badass who gets to call you hers.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, pulling you down into a kiss.

“And yet, you’re still here,” you teased against his lips.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he replied with his voice low.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other, as the night stretched on. Pretty boy and his badass girlfriend, what a team, huh.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #imagine #self insert

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mooishbeam · 2 years ago

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『♡』 Losing Game

�� featuring: ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: simmering feelings boil over as you're confronted by the man you hate the most; tartaglia, your boss. wc: 3.1k+

♡ cw/tw: afab, degradation, humiliation, creampie, squirting, light choking, sadism, throat-fucking, cum play, fingering, overstimulation, brat taming, mind break, pet names (doll, baby)

notes: hiii, the positive response from the last one motivated me to get this done just in time for Fontaine. kinda long this time so sorry abt that. ajax my beloved <3 art by sonomi_rap5 on twitter comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Working for the fatui wasn’t easy in the slightest, especially when you aren’t on harbinger status. You were sent on long, grueling tasks only to be met with loose interpretations of gratitude and sometimes silence from the higher-ups, in which most wouldn’t even glance in your direction. Pleasant beginnings became a sour afterthought, and your perception of the fatui changed drastically. Your grievances, however, weren’t helped by your quick-witted snappy attitude and competitiveness; Presumably why you ended up under the division of Tartaglia. You assumed a binding contract from the capricious redhead wouldn’t mean much, but that was quickly proven false.

You'd rather climb every mountain in Snezhnaya than spend a minute talking to that airhead. He was instructed to keep a watchful eye on you during missions despite the competence you demonstrated. It was insulting. Anything he did you could do better. It’d been proven multiple times from the petty challenges you created. How much water you could drink, how long you can stay up. You won every time. How could you not hate him? His feigned ignorance and careless flirtations were enough to drive you mad. “Please, call me Ajax” he’d say, winking. The simpering smile he gave you after every comeback shot daggers in your pride. What made you particularly furious was the incessant drum of your heart whenever he was near you. The warm autumn morning that was his hair. The cool still waves his eyes sent to your core. You couldn’t fall for him, or else he’d have one up on you. You had to be stronger than that. You quelled your stress in a tattered journal gifted years ago.

“Hey, comrade!” His bubbly tone makes knots in your stomach, and you choose to stay silent. You’re hoping this mission will go without a hitch, as long as he doesn’t get in your way. Ajax lets out a teasing whistle.

“Yeesh, tough crowd.” As you’re collecting the items needed for the deal, he rocks back and forth on his heels directly in front of you, absent-mindedly watching.

You whip your head to face him, “You can’t see I’m doing something right now?”

“Oh, I see what you’re doing. But this isn’t entertaining.”

“Unlike you, your majesty, I have no choice but to be perfect. I apologize if that’s not exciting enough for you.” You retort with sarcastic curtsy.

“Haha! You’re always a pleasure to be around, (Y/N). My faithful, kind-hearted companion.” he said with a taunting wink. You're beyond flustered, haphazardly stuffing the remains in your bag and lugging it over your shoulder.

“Let's go.” You say lazily. He follows closely, arms crossed behind his head. “Calling me like a dog, how romantic.”

“If you don’t want to be called like a dog stop acting like one.”

“You could at least give me a treat if I'm gonna be your dog.” He looks at you, making his best impression of puppy-eyes. You bite back a few choice words, and glare at him instead. He isn’t fazed by this and flashes a beguiling smile that makes your ears warm. Glancing at the weight you’re shouldering, he comments, “You sure you don’t need any help with that?”

“No. The last person I need help from is you.”

You and Ajax regroup in an alleyway deep in Fontaine’s bustling city. You are assigned to retrieve a rare gem for one of Pantalone’s elaborate schemes, and you quickly prepare yourself for this interaction. Ajax studies you, leaning against one of the walls.

“Can’t you be a little nicer to your superior? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be in a lot of trouble half the time. You’re welcome.” You scoff. “I don’t know why you’re here in the first place, I have no problem doing this on my own.”

“I’m sure. Don’t mind me, Ms. Independent.” A sly smirk crawled up his face. “Fucking asshole” you mumble under your breath. “I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat it?”

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” After a few moments of silence, Ajax grips his chest in feigned agony. “Ouch. I’m gutted!”

Just as you're about to leave, he snatches your wrist, now only mere inches away from your face. His hand gently brushes away the strays of hair on your forehead. “There you go, doll. Gotta be perfect for your debut.” A whirlwind of emotions strangles your ability to think clearly, you pull your wrist away and start speed walking, attempting to gather yourself before you get to the jewelry store.

You enter the empty store and are immediately confronted by the jeweler.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Do you have an appointment?” You proclaim your business and appointment under a fake identity, posturing yourself as wealthy. “May I see identification please.” Of course, you say. As you’re looking through your purse you notice something: there’s no identification here. Surely you weren’t that negligent over something so simple. You rummaged through the other compartments, trying to stay calm in front of an increasingly concerned jeweler. But it’s not there. How is this possible. Your nerves are heightened and the anxiety of failing the mission starts to creep in. “I made an appointment with Lottie; she’ll be able to provide reference. I believe I left my passport at home.” The jeweler seems slightly disappointed. “Unfortunately, ma’am, I am not allowed to present any gems without identification.” Your heart beats faster. “Well, sir, I’m very busy and I’m afraid this is my only chance to close on this item. You wouldn’t want to push away a well-paying customer.”

“I have no choice in the matter. If you have no proof of identification, I must ask you to leave.” Should I take it by force? You thought, thinking about the next possible option. As you’re about to handle the rest physically, the door swings open. Ajax comes up to you, placing his arm around your waist.

“My love, were you able to get the gem we were discussing?” You’re annoyed, but you improvise and look at him as if he’s the love of your life. “Not yet, dear.” Suddenly, he places a plush kiss on your lips. You’re stunned and speechless, filled with anger and wanting.

The jeweler interjects. “And are you the husband? Would you happen to have any identification.”

“Yes, sir.” Ajax pulls out a passport and fake birth certificate unbeknownst to you and begins to close the deal. The rest of the meeting you sit speechless.

“Thank you for your patronage.” are the last words you hear as you leave the store, Ajax guiding you with his hand. You’re silent the whole way back to your room.

You turn your bag upside down and begin looking for the mismatched documents. All while Ajax stares at you expectingly. You ignore his presence.

“So... how about a ‘you’re welcome?’”

“For what.”

He lets out a mocking laugh. “For what? I don’t know, maybe saving your ass back there? You froze, and you were unprepared, Ms. Independent.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten it if it wasn’t for the obnoxious bullshit you did this morning.”

“That’s dishonest, I wasn’t even talking!” he pretends to be hurt. “Admit that you need me.”

“Fuck off.”

“No.” His light-hearted inflection vexes you and makes it hard for you to focus as you read through the mountains of pages in your folder.

While your head is down, Ajax comes across the tattered notebook just peeking out from under the bed. Storing the months—no years—of feelings you had regarding the fatui. Regarding him. Some time passes and you finally raise your head, met with the horrifying reveal of him skimming through the journal, mischief coating the deep void in his eyes. You spring up and reach for the book but he’s faster, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head.

“This is really good stuff... really good.” You shout profanities over and over, anything to get his attention away from the book. But he continues to read as if you’re not there. When he’s done reading, he lets you go, and you instantly try to swing at him. Before you can land a hit, he grabs you by the throat and stares into your soul, almost as if he’s trying to swallow your being.

“You’ve been acting like a little fucking brat all over a crush? Not very big girl of you.”

“I know you think you’re beyond charming, but I promise you don’t have that effect on me.”

“Really? Let’s play a game then.” He knew you’d accept just to beat him at anything.

“If you don’t cum by the end of this journal, I’ll apologize for everything. I’ll do whatever you want. But if I win-” he steps closer to you, “You have to do everything I say.”

You almost burst out laughing. Such an easy challenge, how hard could it be?

You're panting, trying your hardest to focus on the words that seemed to melt off the page. Your back lays comfortably against his chest, with his legs keeping yours spread.

“Next page, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your words are lenient and breathy. Your underwear is still on, but Ajax’s fingers are covered in your slick, playing with the erect nub just enough to make you fuzzy. “You look like you’re tapping out.”

“This? This is nothing” You respond meekly, continuing the reading.

“I can’t help but have fe-elings for himph.”

“There’s some nice things about me in here, why aren’t you always like this?” He says, circling and dipping into your gushy folds, smearing the glossy mess all over your vulva. You try so hard to read the letters, squirming from his touch. The sensation pulsing from your clit to your brain made you incoherent; the more you move, the more he moves. The contents of the journal are humiliating, detailing your romantic and sexual attraction towards Ajax, and your attempts to stifle these feelings. He was getting a kick out of seeing your flustered face stammer over his appearance. He plays with the precum glazing his fingers, widening them to watch the trail it left. Only two more pages left.

“I-I-” You couldn’t get through the first sentence on the last page. Your thighs are trembling, and your pussy began to twitch. “Uh, s-shit. Ajax, wai-.” He trails his fingers over your clit spelling his name, then pushes two inside, fighting back an amused grin. “You’re almost done” Teasing in your ear. You bite back the moans threatening to escape; at the very least you couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He watches you fall apart, shaking more aggressively before your body gives in and you cum on his fingers.

“Uh oh, that’s unfortunate.” You try your best to catch your breath, but he rides out your orgasm, making you subconsciously grind yourself into his palm. Then you’re struck with the reality of losing. He licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling back from the taste. “So fucking good, does being a bitch make you taste better?” You were too embarrassed from the loss to retort. “You won.”

“I did.” He lifts you off the bed and onto the floor, your legs still recovering. He hikes your shirt up, trailing kisses up your stomach until he gets to your nipples. He flicks and sucks one while kneading the other one, occasionally biting the slightly bruising flesh. “Not gonna moan for me, huh baby?”

“Not in the slightest.” You rasped. He smiles and blows cool air on your tits, sending a rippling feeling down your back. “That’s okay, you’ll give in.”

Ajax unbuttons his pants, and they drop in front of you. Unsheathing his thick throbbing length, drooling with desire. His balls are full and heavy, and as you look up at him his eyes are clouded with lust. The pretty freckles that dotted his arms and chest are much more visible now, and so are his battle scars. He breathed in deep, "take care of this for me, yeah?” You wanted to say no and say fuck this; but there was another side that wanted him desperately, that needed this.

You force your jaw open to accommodate his size and push yourself halfway on his girth, feeling his cockhead hit the back of your throat. Once you feel like you got it in, you slobber all over his cock, dampening his balls and begin to bob your head. You stroke with one hand and massage his sack with the other, leading to a breathy whimper from him. “Ah fuck, feels good. Suck it slow, slut.” You begin to move faster while cupping his balls, obscene noises leaving your sopping mouth. You have tears running down your sweating face trying to keep up with the vigorous movement of your tongue. You feel him throb a few times, his moans and grunting getting progressively louder.

“Need more” is all he says, putting one of his legs on the bed and grabbing both sides of your head. Before you can register what’s happening. Ajax pushes your head onto his cock until your nose reaches his pubes. He lets out a breathy sigh and starts throat fucking you with an animalistic grip. The gagging and spit noises echo off the walls, along with his continuous whimpering. You wanted to hate him, but your blood was buzzing, and your panties were drenched. “Shut up and take it” followed by broken fuck’s and yes’s. He threw his head back, hair slicked and torso gleaming with sweat, “look at me.” You reluctantly look up, addicted to his passionate expression. “I want you looking at me when I cum.” You grip his thighs, and he twitches a few times before spurting white, thick cum down your throat. He pulls out slightly to drag his semen over your lips and then taps it on your face, holding you in place.

“What are you doing? Clean me up.” he husked. You clean him up without complaint and lick your lips, forced to maintain eye contact with him the entire way.

In one swoop, Ajax picks you up and throws you on the bed, eager to get your underwear off. “You proved your point, stop being an ass" you slurred out. The room was intoxicating, all you could smell and feel was him. He takes your panties off, spreading your pussy to watch the slippery puddle dribble down your thighs. He shoves your panties in your mouth, “Fucking liar, I know you like it. Can’t taste how wet you are?” He aligns himself with your aching hole, keeping your arch steady with you bent over. Shoving his cock in, moaning from the feeling of your body perfectly molding for him. Ajax starts moving at a rapid pace quickly, his big slender hands tightly gripping your ass. The sound of wet sticky skin slapping together and the squelching from your core made you shudder. It was all too much; you have been teetering on an orgasm since you went down on him, and the way his balls thump your clit make you quiver.

“Whiny brat. Just needed to be fucked good to shut up, yeah?” he groaned through his words. Tears were coming down your eyes now, you can’t tell if he’s edging you by accident or on purpose. But right now, you’d do anything. He turns your head to face him, gazing at your tear-stricken face. “Aww, you cryin’ for me?” He stops to kiss and lick your tears, delighted by your tenderness. Taking the panties out your mouth, he brings your body flush with his and continues to pump inside with you looking at him.

“So sweet all of a sudden, where’d that attitude go?” The morals you had for moaning went missing and mewls and soft whimpers began to leave you. “Let it out, baby.” You’re suddenly babbling please’s begging for him to let you have it. “Pathetic, can’t even get off on your own. You need me that bad?” You nod repeatedly, dangerously close to your release. He had a dark look in his eyes and a sinful smirk. “Yeah? Okay, you’ve been so good.” He reaches down and starts to rub your clit ceaselessly, kissing your cheek. Your whimpers become loud shaky moans and he finally lets you have it, shockwaves going through your body as you’re dissolved into pleasure. You pulsate through the explosion, jello-brain and boneless as your cum leaks down his thighs. Just as he pulls out and flips you over. You’re dizzy and drunk off him, legs shaking indefinitely from the intensity. Then he puts it back in. “You can take one more, yeah baby?” Your overstimulated and violent shaking wasn’t enough for him to stop. He wanted you ruined. He keeps going, grabbing your face to kiss you deeply, tongues intertwining with each other. He feeds you deep strokes, tip prodding your spot every time and watching as your tits bounce. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You have no thoughts, only his name rings in your head. You can feel the coil inside you winding up, pleasure beyond the searing pain of your swollen pussy. He looks down at you and smiles.

“Look at me." You can’t hear anything at this point, not even the sound of your own voice. So, it’s a pleasant surprise when your voice carries his name, “Ajax, Ajax”, chanting as if he’s your god. “Fuck. Gonna cum. Let it out. baby” he says grinning. You’re clamping him so tight and throbbing until you ultimately shatter with him, releasing a stream of squirt onto him and the sheets. He bucks into you, letting out thick spurts, panting heavily as he watches you in disarray. You instinctively hold on to his arms, trembling uncontrollably as you try to search for breath and ride it out. You’re completely hysterical and sobbing from the emotion it ripped into you. You were in shambles and Ajax couldn’t help but smile out of happiness for what he caused. “I’m so sorry.” you say repeatedly, eyes shut and lined with tears. He got closer to wrap you in his arms, and you cling to him for stability. “It’s okay, I’m here for you.”

You didn’t want to talk about it when you woke up. You were hoping he’d be gone, and therefore wouldn’t have to deal with the humiliation. But there he was, watching you sleep just as the sun rose. His ginger hair danced with golden flecks of light, and he looked at you like you were the only person on Teyvat.

“Creep.”

“Good morning to you too, baby~.”

#childe tartaglia ajax #ajax x reader #genshin ajax #genshin smut #childe smut #tartaglia smut #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #ajax smut

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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this is cheesy but when spencer and reader start getting more comfortable in their relationship and they exchange keys to each others places, reader starts going over while hes away. just to chill because she misses him or borrow something or get something she left. but then dhe notices his apartment is a little messy and he doesnt have a lot of food in the fridge.

the first time he comes home to a full fridge and clean apartment he's a little confused, but when he brings it up and she confesses hes just sooooo touched and appreciative.

the first time he comes home and shes asleep on the bed or couch or wherever he just MELTS. like an actual puddle on the floor kinda melting bc hes just so overwhelmed with love 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Spencer Reid is, quite possibly, the smartest motherfucker in the FBI. As an esteemed profiler, he notices right away that you've been in his apartment, from the post-it note grocery list sitting on the top of what's in his trash can, and a lack of dust over his kitchen counter like there typically is after he's gone on a case for a few days.

He spots 'donuts' on the list, and when he pulls the fridge open, lo and behold, there's a bag of mini chocolate donuts on the top shelf. He smiles to himself, giddily so, more than elated that you'd remembered an offhanded comment he'd made about liking them so much, especially when they're chilled.

He remembers everything anyone tells him, but people rarely stop to listen to his own words. So often it can be cast aside as nerd babble, so knowing that you'd picked up on the small tidbits of personal information he'd given you makes his seldom-fluttering heart do just that.

He feels a little bad that you'd stocked his fridge and ran, but he doesn't have to for long, because when he heads to the living room to drop his messenger bag there, and restock it with a different book, you're snoozing in his chair.

It's a recliner, one he'd splurged on so that late-night reading would be more comfortable. You've popped the footrest up, but your feet barely touch it, because you're curled up closer to the seat. Your head rests on one of the arms and is dangerously close to slipping off, so he kneels by the armrest, joints cracking.

His face hovers millimeters away from your own, your breath hitting his cheek and vice versa. He smooths a stray wisp of hair away from your face, leaning in to kiss the skin it had been covering.

"Hi, angel," He croons, keeping his voice as soft as humanly possible. He doesn't want to ruin this, whatever heavenly moment that the seldom-kind universe has decided to grant him.

Your lashes flutter at the feel of his lips on your skin, and you turn your face to lean into the touch you don't yet know is there. He can't help but laugh at the way you arch like a cat to be closer to him, and the breathy huffs fan out against your forehead.

His slender hand comes up to hover beneath your head, because when you worm closer to him, it slips off of the armrest. He holds your head up but you're finally starting to stir from the movement, and you lift it to blink groggily up at him.

"Spence?" You ask, like you're verifying his identity and not asking why he's home.

"That's me," He smiles, dimples puncturing his cheeks. His hair is slightly sloppy, frizzed and out of place from the day's hectic activities. At his confirmation you hum sleepily, resuming your cat-like activities by shutting your eyes again, leading with your nose as you nudge your face into his own. From the angle you're at his lips can only pucker to hit an awkward spot between your cheek and your nose, but the skin there is warm and soft from a facial mask he knows you used last night.

"Morning," You grumble, and he won't inform you that it's 7 at night.

"Hi, sweetheart." He croons, unable to stand up straight before you decide you want a hug. It means his butt hits the floor when you lunge for him, and he laughs as he tries maintaining an upright position.

"Oh- ah!" He laughs, eyes scrunching in a gleeful smile-turned-laugh when you knock into him. He cradles the back of your head, feeling you settle into his embrace like he's your new reclining chair.

"'Missed you, Spence." You mumble against the fabric of his jacket that's covering his shoulder. He curls his fingers into your hair at your admission, stroking briefly through the strands.

"I missed you too," He agrees, "I saw you bought me donuts."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I did." You recall, eyes already drooping again, "We can have some for- for dessert later."

"That sounds like a good plan," Spencer grins, but you can't see it where you're nestled into his shoulder. He's waiting for you to get up, not because he doesn't want to hug you anymore but because he wants to stand and move, but when you stay firmly in place he realizes you're sleeping again, and that there's no way he's getting off the floor in the meantime.

He could wake you, tell you it's time for a late dinner and ask you to work on the eggs so that he can chop up the add-ins for an omelet. He could corral you back into the chair and take the bed for himself, read for a bit after getting changed. He could do any number of things to make himself just a bit more comfortable, but instead he chooses to commit his butt to the floor, surely flattening it for all eternity. He scoots back carefully until his back is up against the couch, so that his less-than-perfect core strength isn't relied upon as much.

From there he rests, disinterested in using his phone and too far away from his bookshelf to read. But he finds just as much meaningful entertainment in counting the breaths that you release against his shoulder, as well as counting the different possessions of yours he can see scattered around his apartment.

Your shoes, one. Your water bottle, two. Your sweatshirt, three. Your snack, four. Your keys, perhaps the most meaningful possession of all, the spare that he'll never regret giving you, five.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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andy-15-07 · 23 days ago

Note

Aahh i saw you were accepting requests! And I was wondering if you could write Joel Miller just being smitten with fem reader and is constantly admiring her and everything she does

The Way You Move

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1625 | Requests are open! (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The crackle of a campfire was one of the few sounds filling the quiet evening, accompanied by the distant rustling of leaves in the breeze. Joel Miller sat on a log near the fire, eyes fixed on Y/N as she carefully unpacked her bag. Her hands moved with deliberate precision, pulling out supplies and setting them aside.

He wasn’t even aware he was staring until Ellie’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Uh, Joel? You’ve been looking at her like she’s the last piece of cake at dinner.”

He shot her a glare, though his cheeks turned a subtle shade of pink. “Mind your own business, Ellie.”

“I’m just saying.” Ellie smirked, leaning back against her pack. “It’s kinda obvious.”

Joel’s gaze flickered back to Y/N. She was now humming softly to herself, the melody faint but soothing. The light of the fire played across her face, highlighting her features in a way that made Joel’s chest tighten. There was something about her presence that had always drawn him in—a quiet strength, a warmth that was rare in the world they lived in.

“You need help with that?” he asked, breaking the silence. His voice came out gruffer than he intended.

Y/N glanced up, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve got it, but thanks.”

She always had it. That was the thing about her. Y/N had a way of handling things, of taking care of herself and others, that left Joel in awe. Yet, he couldn’t help but want to ease her load, even if just a little.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

“Go to sleep, kid,” Joel muttered, his focus still on Y/N.

The next morning, the group prepared to move on. Joel found himself walking a few paces behind Y/N, his eyes tracing the way she moved. There was an ease to her stride, even with the weight of her pack. She carried herself like someone who had seen the worst of the world but refused to let it break her.

“You’re quiet today,” Y/N said, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Just keepin’ watch,” Joel replied, though he knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

She arched a brow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You sure you’re not daydreaming?”

He huffed, looking away to hide the way her comment made his heart skip. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Y/N laughed, a sound that made the corners of Joel’s mouth twitch upward. It wasn’t often he heard genuine laughter anymore, and he couldn’t help but soak it in.

Later that day, they stopped by a river to rest and refill their water bottles. Y/N knelt by the edge, her reflection rippling in the water as she leaned closer. Joel’s eyes lingered on her, taking in the curve of her jaw, the way her hair framed her face. He shook his head, trying to pull himself together.

“You’re doin’ it again,” Ellie whispered, sidling up beside him.

“Doin’ what?”

“Staring at her like she hung the moon.” Ellie grinned. “You should just tell her, you know.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “Ain’t that simple.”

“Why not?” Ellie pressed. “It’s not like she’s gonna laugh in your face. She likes you too, you know.”

Joel’s eyes snapped to Ellie, his heart skipping. “What makes you think that?”

Ellie shrugged, looking smug. “I’ve got eyes. And ears. She talks about you when you’re not around.”

Before Joel could respond, Y/N called out. “Joel, can you give me a hand?”

He was by her side in an instant, ignoring Ellie’s knowing smirk. “What do you need?”

Y/N held out a canteen. “Can you check the filter? I think it’s clogged.”

As he worked on the canteen, Y/N watched him, her expression soft. “You’re good at this,” she said.

“At what?”

“Taking care of people.”

Joel’s hands stilled for a moment. He glanced up, meeting her gaze. “Don’t know about that.”

“I do,” she said firmly.

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away. Joel felt like he could drown in the warmth of her eyes, in the quiet assurance of her words. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he admired her strength and kindness, but the words caught in his throat.

Instead, he handed the canteen back to her. “There. Should be good now.”

“Thanks, Joel,” she said, her fingers brushing against his as she took it. The brief contact sent a jolt through him, and he had to remind himself to breathe.

That night, as they set up camp, Joel found himself sitting beside Y/N by the fire. Ellie had already gone to bed, leaving the two of them alone. The silence was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.

“You ever think about what life would be like if things were different?” Y/N asked, her voice quiet.

Joel glanced at her, surprised by the question. “All the time.”

She nodded, staring into the flames. “Sometimes I think about the little things. Like going to a diner for breakfast or going to the movies.”

“What’d you watch?” he asked, curious.

She smiled. “Anything, really. I just liked the escape.”

Joel’s heart ached at the wistfulness in her tone. He wanted to give her those little things, to make her smile the way she deserved.

“If things were different,” he said slowly, “I think I’d…” He trailed off, unsure if he could say it.

Y/N turned to him, her expression open and encouraging. “What?”

He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I think I’d want to take you to one of those diners. Maybe get you somethin’ sweet. You’d probably like that.”

Her smile widened, and for a moment, the world didn’t feel so broken. “I’d like that too, Joel.”

The next morning, they packed up camp and began their trek through the dense woods. Joel kept close to Y/N, his protective instincts on high as the foliage grew thicker. His eyes darted around, scanning for any sign of danger, but his thoughts kept drifting back to their conversation by the fire.

“Joel,” Y/N said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. She had stopped walking and was looking up at him, her expression unreadable. “Can we talk?”

His stomach flipped, but he nodded. “‘Course.”

She glanced back at Ellie, who was a few yards ahead and out of earshot, before stepping closer to Joel. “I just wanted to say… thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

“For being you,” she said, her voice steady. “For always looking out for us. For looking out for me. It means more than I can say.”

Joel’s throat tightened. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to thank him, that he’d do it a thousand times over without question, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering uncertainly before resting gently on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I… I’d do anything for you.”

Her eyes softened, and she placed her hand over his. “I know, Joel. And I hope you know I’d do the same for you.”

For a moment, they stood there, the world around them fading into the background. Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, and he knew, deep down, that he couldn’t keep holding back. Not anymore.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I care about you. More than I probably should.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t look away. “Joel…”

Before she could say more, Ellie’s voice rang out. “Hey! You two coming, or what?”

Joel and Y/N exchanged a look, a mixture of amusement and frustration passing between them.

“We’re coming,” Joel called back, his hand lingering on Y/N’s shoulder for a moment longer before he reluctantly let go.

As they started walking again, Y/N leaned closer to him, her voice low. “We’ll finish that conversation later.”

Joel’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

And for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope.

By mid-afternoon, the group reached an abandoned cabin nestled in a grove of trees. It was small but sturdy, with enough room for them to rest safely for the night. Joel inspected the perimeter while Y/N and Ellie worked on clearing the inside.

“Think this place is safe?” Ellie asked as Joel re-entered, brushing dirt from his hands.

“Safe enough,” Joel replied. “We’ll keep watch in shifts, just to be sure.”

Y/N nodded. “I’ll take the first shift.”

Joel frowned. “You’ve been on your feet all day. I’ll take it.”

She crossed her arms, a playful glint in her eye. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“When it comes to you?” he admitted, his voice low. “Yeah.”

Her expression softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. “Joel, you don’t have to carry everything on your own. Let me help.”

He looked at her, his defenses crumbling. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “But wake me if there’s the slightest problem.”

“Deal,” she said with a smile.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first stars appeared, Joel sat by the window, pretending to read a map while stealing glances at Y/N. She was perched near the door, her posture relaxed but alert. The firelight danced across her face, and Joel felt that familiar ache in his chest.

“You should get some rest,” she said without looking at him.

“I’m fine,” he replied gruffly.

“Joel,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “I’ll wake you if anything happens. Promise.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Joel.”

As he lay down, Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that, for the first time in a long while, things were beginning to fall into place.

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 4 months ago

Text

Closer Than You Think

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Warning: fluff, Simon being very observant (kinda giving silent but deadly stalker vibes)

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy, this is inspired by @machveil Off-Putting! Simon Fic Link here: https://www.tumblr.com/machveil/765073373377249280/off-puttingsimon-riley-with-a-reader-that-matches (definitely check them out💜)

Word Count: 1.3 K

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The kitchen was warm and quiet, filled with the familiar scent of spices and simmering food as you moved around, focused on your makeshift lunch. Simon was supposed to be cleaning dishes, his usual routine after meals, but he’d been washing the same plate for over two minutes now. From the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you, his intense gaze following each step as you sliced vegetables and spread condiments with the quiet concentration of someone completely unaware—except you were more than aware.

The faucet ran uselessly, water spilling over his hands as he held the plate. His stare was unblinking, a quiet, focused intensity as if he were afraid you might disappear if he looked away. Finally, you turned to him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “You can keep looking, Simon,” you said softly. “Just turn off the faucet.”

He blinked, almost as if snapping back to reality, and then, with that familiar smirk of his, he shut off the water, letting the dish slip into the rack. His gaze remained on you as he stepped closer, his presence heavy, grounding. You felt the warmth of his hand hovering at your back, close but not touching, like he wanted to reach out but held back, that fierce intensity tempered by the quiet tenderness he saved just for you.

---

Simon’s need to be close extended far beyond quiet mornings and kitchen counters. He was your shadow throughout the day, moving with you from room to room, an ever-present figure who seemed to appear whenever you least expected it. You’d be folding laundry in the bedroom when you’d catch sight of him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you with that same unwavering focus.

Once, while reading in the living room, you looked up to see him seated nearby, his eyes never leaving you as you lost yourself in the pages. He held his coffee mug in one hand, watching with an intensity that felt both comforting and slightly unnerving. It was as if he was memorizing you, studying every detail, absorbing your presence in a way that made you feel as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

He just gave a slight shake of his head, that rare, almost shy smile softening his features. “Nothing. Just like looking at you.”

There was a weight in his words, a depth that went beyond simple affection. Simon’s love was a fierce, consuming thing, one that he conveyed not with grand gestures or pretty words, but with his quiet, undivided attention. And in those moments, you could feel it as clearly as if he’d said it out loud.

---

At night, his need for closeness became even more palpable. Simon would slip into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist with a firm grip that sometimes bordered on possessive. He’d hold you tightly, his hand splayed across your hip, fingers pressing into your skin with a roughness that left faint red marks in the morning. It was as if he needed that physical connection, a tangible reminder that you were his and right there with him.

There were nights you’d wake up to find him watching you in the dark, his gaze soft but intense, a quiet kind of reverence in his eyes. He’d reach out, brushing a hand gently down your arm, his fingers lingering as if reassuring himself of your presence. And when he thought you were asleep, he’d press a kiss to your shoulder, the tenderness in his touch a stark contrast to the hard lines of his usual demeanor.

“You’re really watching me all night?” you murmured one evening, breaking the silence.

“Only sometimes,” he whispered back, a hint of a smile in his voice. But his hand tightened around you, pulling you close in a way that made it clear he’d stay there forever if he could.

---

Grocery shopping was another arena for his quiet protectiveness. Simon followed you through each aisle, staying a few steps behind, his tall frame casting a watchful shadow as you moved through the store. He’d let you wander ahead, giving you space to browse, but he was never far. Sometimes you’d look up to find him at the end of the aisle, his eyes tracking your every movement.

One day, while you were comparing brands, a well-meaning stranger approached, glancing between you and Simon. “Excuse me, but… are you aware that there’s a man following you?”

You laughed softly, casting a glance at Simon’s intense, unflinching stare. “Oh—thank you. He’s my husband.”

The stranger’s eyes widened in surprise before he mumbled an awkward apology and hurried away. Simon stepped up beside you, his hand finding its way to your lower back, a grounding presence. You felt his thumb press against your spine, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature as he leaned in, murmuring in your ear, “I like when they know you’re taken.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, nudging him lightly as he smirked, his hand lingering just a moment too long.

---

Sometimes he’d follow you outside too, finding excuses to be close even on the quietest strolls. You might be out in the yard, admiring the blooming flowers, and he’d appear beside you, silent and watchful, his eyes tracing over you with that same intense focus. If you wandered too close to the edge of the property, his hand would come to rest on your shoulder, guiding you back with a gentle but firm pressure.

Once, you caught him outside in the early morning, his eyes on the kitchen window as he watched you from a distance. You’d only been making coffee, the simplest of tasks, but he observed you with the kind of attention others might reserve for something far more significant. You stepped out onto the porch, calling his name, and he came inside without a word, his gaze never leaving you as he slipped into the kitchen and pulled you into a loose embrace.

---

In social settings, Simon’s need for closeness only intensified. He’d stand close behind you at gatherings, his presence a protective wall against the crowd, his hand occasionally brushing your arm or settling at your waist as if anchoring you to his side. His gaze stayed fixed on you, making it clear to anyone nearby that you were his, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

One night at a friend’s party, someone reached out to give you a friendly hug, and you felt Simon’s body tense beside you, his hand sliding to your shoulder with a possessive grip. He didn’t say a word, but his stare was unmistakable, a silent declaration that made the friend take a step back, nodding in understanding. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, reaching up to rest a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Relax,” you whispered, amused by the quiet fierceness in his gaze. He just shrugged, a hint of a smirk on his lips, but he didn’t let go, his hand remaining on your shoulder in a gentle yet firm grip that conveyed exactly how he felt.

---

Even in the smallest moments, his intensity was ever-present. When you’d return from running errands, he’d meet you at the door, his eyes scanning over you as if reassuring himself that you were safe and whole. He’d take the bags from your hands, his fingers brushing over yours, lingering just a moment too long. And at night, he’d hold you close as you drifted off, his arms wrapped around you with a gentle possessiveness that left faint marks in the morning.

Simon’s love was a quiet, intense thing, a devotion that showed in the way he watched you, touched you, held you. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes, his constant presence a silent declaration that he was yours, and you were his. And as you lay beside him each night, feeling the weight of his hand on your waist, the warmth of his breath against your neck, you knew that this was a love unlike any other—fierce, consuming, and wholly, irrevocably yours.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reblogging! -Midnight💜

#x reader #141 x reader #tf 141 #task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #tf141 x you #tf 141 x you #task force 141 fanfic #mw2 141 #cod 141

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marumarielle · 4 months ago

Text

— can i hold you for a little while?

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞.

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕, 𝐭𝐰𝐝 𝐝𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐭. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐬𝐨... 𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.. NOT PROOFREAD

Carl didn't like mornings. That's because he'd stay up late at night reading his comics until he'd fall asleep with the colorful cover in his hands. As a result, you have to deal with a half-asleep mini Grimes wandering the house like he's dead on his feet. On better days, he's allowed to sleep in thanks to Michonne. But, that's rare. But you know what made it worse for him? You not waking up with him.

Carl's palm roamed the sheets beside him, expecting your familiar warmth. But what he got instead was the soft sheets and the dip where you were supposed to be. He perks his head up with a furrow of his brows. "baby?" he doesn't get a response. He slid his legs off with a groan, lazily pulling up the waistband of his pants. "babe?" he repeats.

"yeah?" your voice called out from the kitchen. Carl caught himself smiling at the confirmation. He didn't waste time to shuffle over to where you were, already behind you in the kitchen.

"why'd you leave?" he snakes his arms around your waist, his curls tickling the back of your neck

"but I didn't? I'm still here aren't I?" you stirred the hot water in your mug, mixing the contents of sugar and dark coffee

"not in bed." he mumbled against your jawline. Planting a kiss below your ear, he spoke again "why do you have to wake up so early?"

"'Cause I'm a morning person"

"you say that everytime you get up earlier than me." his good eye opens to gaze upon what you were doing, smelling the sweet aroma. But, to your surprise, he scrunches his face. "ugh, it has sugar in it."

"what?" you arched your brow. "you hate sugar in coffee?" you stopped stirring to look at him resting his head on your shoulder

"the point of coffee is to wake you up. S'posed to be bitter." his fingers slide up your waist and to your arm, lightly pinching the flesh there in a gentle chide.

"Then that's good. I get this all to myself." tapping the spoon on the rim, you raised the mug to your lips, savoring the warm and deeply rich taste. "you hungry?" You felt Carl's chin brush back and forth against your shoulder. "thirsty then?" you felt his cheek brush upon you again.

Carl shifted behind you, whining lowly. "wanna have some."

you arched your brow "I thought you didn't like it with sugar?"

"you didn't make me a cup" God, has he always been this childish? But, it's not ike you can resist him. It's early and he's being too adorable for his own good. You raised the mug to him to which he takes with a small "thanks," sipping the contents for second before groaning and scrunching his face. Putting the mug back down, he complains "still don't like it with sugar." he buries his face back into your neck "liked sharing it with you though..." he mumbles quietly.

He stayed in that position for a while, his head buried into your neck as he savored the feeling of your warmth, the soft fabric of your---his---flannel against his bare skin. You were almost convinced he fell asleep standing if it weren't for his arms shifting around your waist occasionally.

With your coffee done, your fingers tried to peel his arms off you so you'd go over to the sink. With a small noise of complaint, he resisted, locking his arms tighter around you. Suppressing a sigh, you muttered "What?"

"What do you mean what?" you could almost hear his brow arch

"I have to wash this." you hold the empty mug up

"And?"

"I need to go over to the sink"

Carl presses his lips against the skin of the slant down your neck "no." he pouts "I just want to hold you for a little while."

a/n: this is so OGDEQIGFKJSFGE idk what to say. First fic in years so I'm pretty meh about it but YEAH. I'm kinda back, still busy with school and extracurriculars but I'm still figuring out this balance thing. Thanks for the patience by the way! And happy end of September!

#maruniverse #shiftblr #shifters #carl grimes x oc #carl grimes fanfic #carl grimes fanfiction #twd shifting #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x you #carl grimes #carl grimes x fem!reader

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

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wait wait wait, your requests are open for noble bell for this weekend only? (if i got that right?!) sound perfect gimme 14 of em. anywhos if i did not getting the date wrong i have one! and if i i did please just let me shrivel up and die, thank you.

post college rollo and reader who live together as “roommates.” they’re 100% more than roommates and everyone can see it but them. rollo is probably some senator or something and insisted reader moves in with him cause he insists that since he’s making laws more just for magicless people there’s literally no where safer for them to be. just basically some domestic fluff with two people who act like they’re married and don’t even realize it. i personally think it would be way cuter to read from the perspective of a third party but if you’re willing to write this you can do it anyway anyhow and i’ll still be happy. thank you! <3

(if i got the weekend wrong i will absolutely die so please let me down gently, i am accoustic so i no no understand very basic things such as “this weekend” or “next saturday” if the day of the week is before a saturday)

oooh a bit of a future au... this is cute

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ and they were roommates

type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda written from a 3rd perspective

Rollo Flamme's favoritism had never been a secret.

He might have been quiet, reserved, repressed beyond all reason, but there were some things even he couldn't hide behind his star-spotted handkerchief.

The very moment you arrived at Noble Bell College, you were his.

Rollo Flamme beheld you with a sort of reverence that could be called sacrilegious. That is to say, one had never seen idolatry until one had seen the way he looked at you, the way he touched you as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he could break you with an unclean hand and a breath.

His coldness and cordiality towards the others never changed.

For all your kindness, your smiles, your gentle touches upon his cheek that he would never have let anyone else give, you could not change him. And you did not try.

It was a tragedy in two parts.

Not that it mattered, of course. Not to you.

As far as you were concerned, the world began and end with each other. In a room full of people, mages and scholars and royalty, Rollo Flamme would still only look at you.

Nothing was confirmed. Your affection for one another was kept to lingering touches and burning glances across the long, morose hallways of Noble Bell.

If anyone had asked, and they certainly did, Rollo's handkerchief would come to sit over his mouth and he would remind them that gossip is unbecoming.

And to be decent, thank you.

Yet the rumors could never be smothered, and they lingered after Rollo's first graduation, and another, and to his seat on the Fleur City Council.

You lived with him.

You lived with him, in his family home.

And he would continue to deny anything romantic, giving the same excuse that he had since Noble Bell, that you simply had no one else to look after you, and it was his duty as a civil servant to see to your care.

Which was utter bullshit.

But, perhaps, bullshit that you both believed.

Outside of the council, it was rare to see him alone. When he went out, he went out with you. When he attended public events, you walked by his side. When he worked at home, you sat in his study, by the fireplace, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

Rollo would excuse himself from small talk and after-hour business like so:

"It's been lovely talking to you, Senator, but I'll be late for dinner,"

"Please, come by my office first thing tomorrow morning. I'm expected at home,"

"I'll have to be going, now. I have an excursion on the town tonight. With whom? Well, whom else?"

It became widely accepted, amongst his colleagues and the public, that Rollo Flamme was married. One might not have guessed, of course, from his cold demeanor, but rumors of the magicless alumni from Noble Bell that he so adored smoldered.

Rollo did not concern himself with the whispers or the knowing looks his colleagues gave each other, until a warm day in late March where a well-meaning secretary from another branch asked if he had any children.

"Children?" he had scoffed. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

The poor secretary looked like he had seen a ghost. "Well... you're married, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. What gave you such an idea?"

And he seemed reluctant to answer.

Rollo had gone home that night with much on his mind. When you asked him if anything had happened at the council, he said "Nothing eventful".

To Rollo, who had lived in Fleur City, lonely yet not alone, for so many years without a kindling of friendship and not a thought on romance, he had never once questioned your relationship. You were his companion. His first, and last. That's all that matters.

Isn't it?

He could ask for nothing more than you. Your voice, your smile, your hands and warmth mingling with his. He was happy with you. Your friendship is enough for him.

Isn't it?

Despite what he tells himself, that night, when you sit close to him in front of the fire, reading a book he recommended simply because he recommended it, Rollo finds himself looking at you twice as much as usual.

He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, and you stay there, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamme x reader

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eventualforever · 1 month ago

Text

haven (domestic! hamzah x reader, nsfw) ☁️

summary: y/n and hamzah spend a calm morning, hidden in the sanctuary of their home. y/n braids her hair and it drives hamzah crazy.

mentions: fluff, explicit content

Sunday mornings with Hamzah were your favorite. The two of you cocooned in your bedroom, basking in the kind of peace that came with being free from obligations. Neither of you had any plans to leave and honestly, there wasn’t a reason to. He had no videos to edit, no podcasts to record, and you had no tests to grade or lessons plans to finalize. The rare simplicity of it all made you grateful for your decision to be a first-grade teacher, a job that didn’t usually keep your hands full.

The morning was lazy and full of kisses, slow and warm like the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Occasionally Red and Blue would lay in between you and Hamzah, trying their very best to earn some morning belly rubs. You mentally took a picture of your view— Hamzah and your two cats cuddled in between his biceps— before peeling away to get ready for the day. Hamzah groaned in protest, making you laugh as you slid off the bed and walked toward your vanity.

You perched on the little stool, gathering your hair into sections to braid it. But staying focused wasn't easy. From the corner of the mirror, you could see Hamzah sprawled out on your bed, shirtless, his tan skin glowing from the rising sun. He was watching some game on TV, beer in hand, occasionally cheering or grumbling at a play. You caught yourself staring, a smile creeping onto your lips. He looked so boyish, so him, and maybe it was the fact that you were ovulating but you'd never wanted to jump his bones more than now.

"Hamzah, can you pass me my hair tie?" you called out, fingers working through one side of your hair. You knew he wasn't the best at finding things. You recalled last week when he called you because he thought he lost his phone. Still, you held out hope.

"Yeah, sure, babe," he replied, setting his beer down on the coffee table as his eyes darted back to the screen for one last glance at the game.

It took longer than you expected. You'd braided most of your hair by the time you heard him walking back into the room. Glancing down at the delicately patterned, Brandy Melville boxer shorts you'd been lounging in, you thought about what you might wear for the day—though, with Hamzah looking the way he did, staying in seemed like the best option.

"Found it!" he announced, holding up the hair tie like a trophy. His grin was as silly as ever. "Sorry, kinda forgot what hair ties were for a sec."

You laugh, thinking this is exactly why you fell in love with him. "Thanks, even if it did take you forever," you teased, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

He stood behind you now, his hands naturally finding their way to your shoulders. His thumbs began to knead the curve of your neck, and you felt yourself melting under his touch. His reflection in the mirror was all confidence and warmth. Sometimes his eyes were a pool you couldn't help but drown in.

"So... whose braids are these for? Who you tryna impress, missy?" He holds your head as he plants a kiss on the very top of it, gentle and sweet.

"Nobody," you replied with a shrug, trying to keep your blushing smile to a minimum, "Maybe you. Maybe not."

The crimson of your cheeks only made him want to kiss you more. "Mm... is that so?," he murmured, his lips brushing against the crown of your head again.

You finished tying off the braid, inspecting the finished product in the mirror. The braids were messy, loose in places, but you liked them that way. Hamzah seemed to, too. His gaze lingered on you, his pupils dark and wide.

"You're so beautiful," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His words sent a warmth spreading through your core, and before you could respond, he tugged you to your feet, his lips meeting yours.

The kiss was sweet and unhurried, his hum of contentment vibrating against your lips. Tasting a tinge of cherry flavor, he pulled back just enough to murmur, "Fuckin' love that chapstick you use, angel."

You smiled, leaning into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm," he muttered, his hands cradling your face now. You couldn't help but notice how much bigger his hands were. You rubbed your thighs together at the thought of them pumping deep inside you. "Taste so sweet," he added, his voice low and full of lust.

His thumbs brushed your cheekbones, his gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity. Slowly, his lips found yours again, deeper this time, with more hunger. His hands drifted, fingers tracing a line down your shoulders, brushing the thin fabric of your button up shirt. The fabric slipped down effortlessly, pooling at your waist, revealing nothing underneath.

"Jesus Christ," he murmured, breathless, against your lips, looking down at your chest. His voice soft and teasing, "M'so lucky. All this belongs to me."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, though it came out more like a breath, as his hands moved to the hem of your shorts, sliding them down in one smooth motion. His touch was firm and gentle in all the right places.

"Hamzah," you whispered like a prayer, your voice caught between a laugh and something softer, your hands resting on his chest.

"Hmm?" he responded, his eyes lifting to meet yours again.

"Tell me what you need, baby" he asked, your cheeks heating under his gaze.

You feel yourself melt, knees wanting to buckle. "Want you to fuck me,” you pleaded. Your panties were a pool by now— soaked from just a simple kiss. But that was Hamzah. You ached for him without even knowing. He pulled you closer, one hand firm on your waist and the other squeezing the curve of your ass.

"Mm-hm," He hums against your neck, sucking and kissing every spot from your jaw to your collarbone. "M'gonna fuck you so good" he added. A whimper falls out of you, earning a quiet moan from him. He was soon lifting you onto the bed, his touch firm yet impossibly gentle, like you were something he craved of devouring.

Confused, you sit up with your elbows holding you up, "Wanna taste you first, though," For a second you forget you're completely naked, until you watch as his eyes drag down your entire body, holding his gaze at your tits.

He's standing in front of you so you have to look up as you speak. "You sure? I can-" He asks.

His hard-on is apparent in front of you, it's stiff and the tip is about to peek out from the top of his boxers. "M'sure," You reach out one hand to palm him, slowly, but firm. "I really want it," you're teasing, and you know that he'll punish you for it later, but the thought only makes the hunger more insatiable.

You watch as he throws his head back, lips quivering with need. "Want it so bad, Hamzah," you whine, eyes stuck on his reaction.

Low whimpers escape him with every touch and squeeze. "Can I?" His reddened tip is peeking out and you watch as it begins to dampen his boxers with precum.

"Yes, yes, God, yes" his begs are hurried as he looks down at you. Your eyes lock before you push down his boxers, his cock springing out. Behind him, he holds his hands together, keeping him from losing all control and just grabbing you by the braids as he fucks your mouth.

He shakes the thought, looking down at you as you slowly spit a drool of saliva from your mouth onto his dick. Your hand wraps itself around the base of his cock, pumping up and down. Still looking up to him, you focus on the tip, squeezing until it's swelled up and leaking.

"Baby..." he grunts, lightly pushing your head forward with one hand.

You hum with curiosity, "Yeah?" The look in your big, brown eyes makes him want to cum on the spot.

"M-mouth, please baby.." He grunts out his request, lightly grabbing a handful of your hair in his fist. You spit on your hand this time before wrapping it back on his cock. You lower your head, kissing his tip with your wet lips before swallowing him whole. Every whine and whimper from him makes you hum with pleasure and the rubbing of your thighs has you craving release. Hamzah's hands have found a permanent home behind your head, pushing you further down his cock with each thrust.

"Mm-hm.... Fuck...." He whines as his eyes roll behind his head, the sight below him being overwhelming. He loves you exactly like this: fucked out and gagging for his cock.

"S'good, angel," he praises. Your mouth is warm and full of him, his tip often hitting the back of your throat. His movements have picked up the pace, using both hands to make you swallow his cock until you gag. It hurt so good and you thought maybe this is how you'd like to spend the rest of your life: making Hamzah cum with your mouth everyday.

He breathes out, "Fuck-" A quivering grunt follows, "M'cumming-" You hum in response, rubbing your clit at the thought. Your eyes hit the back your head as he thrusts into your throat one last time. You're brought back to life when he pulls out, strings of saliva sticking to your tongue and his tip. He grunts, pumping his cock until his cum spills on your tits. You still open your mouth to try to catch some on your tongue.

He reaches down to hold your face, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. "Fuck, I love you," he sighs out. You close your eyes, too out of breath to say anything. You hum and then lick your lips, trying to taste him.

He kisses your forehead this time, "Good girl," His lips reach for yours as he lays you down on the bed, dragging his hand down your cheek to your neck. He kneels at the edge of the bed in front of you, eyes wandering your exposed body. You hold yourself up with your elbows to lock eyes with him and suddenly you realize he's looking at your dripping cunt.

"Please..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, earning a low grunt from him, his hands slipping down to caress your thighs. Your core was aching at this point, pulsing for touch— his touch.

"Look at you," His hands spread your legs open, holding them in place.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as his hands slid up the bare skin of your legs, his touch as light as a whisper. His lips followed, pressing tender kisses along the inside of your thighs, each one sending a wave of warmth coursing through you. He paused to glance up at you, his eyes soft and full of adoration.

"So beautiful," he murmured, the words so quiet they almost disappeared into the space between you. "So good for me," he added. His hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs gently stroking your skin, and then he leaned in, dripping a pool of his saliva onto your clit.

The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, coaxing low whimpers out of you. His movements were careful as if he were savoring every taste. You gasped, your fingers instinctively tangling in his curls, and he hummed against you, the sound low and content.

"Fuck," you breathed, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. He glanced up at you, his lips glistening.

"Taste so good," he said softly, his voice like a balm. His tongue moved with unhurried precision, tracing gentle circles that sent sparks of ecstasy coursing through you. He was teasing, excruciatingly gentle. His hands reached to massage your breast, focusing specifically on your nipples— hard and perked up. Unwillingly, your back arched as every part of you felt on fire.

Your breaths grew shallow, your body arching toward him as he found a rhythm that made everything else fade away.

Your body perched up when he suddenly stopped.

Hamzah pulled back suddenly, his lips glistening, his breath heavy as it ghosted over your skin. The absence of his touch was agonizing, and you squirmed under him, the ache in your core sharpening with every passing second. His hands, still gripping your thighs, tightened possessively, his fingers pressing into your skin like he needed to anchor himself.

"W-why?," you breathed, your voice trembling, unsure if it was from desperation or frustration.

He tilted his head up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. They were molten, a smoldering mix of desire and something deeper. His gaze burned with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

"Can't cum yet, baby," His voice was low, rough, and dripping with authority. He leaned forward suddenly, his body pressing into yours, forcing you to feel the weight of him. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping them firmly before pulling you closer, his strength undeniable yet controlled.

"Look at you," he growled, his eyes raking over you for the millionth time. His hands roughly roamed your entire body— your hips then your thighs and your ass.

Your eyelids feel heavy, dazed with anticipation for some sort of release. Looking up at him felt like torture— his face and toned stomach followed by his already hard cock springing close to his stomach. Using one hand, he grabbed your wrists, interlocking your fingers with his, his grip firm but not painful. The other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so you couldn't look anywhere but at him. His lips hovered over yours, so close, before locking them with yours.

"Wanna feel you," he pleaded, his voice a rasp against your skin. "Can I?"

You nodded, your body trembling beneath him, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. His grip on your jaw softened just slightly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as his eyes softened, just for a moment, before pushing his thumb past your lips.

You instinctively suction your lips around it, swirling your tongue against his thumb, eyes wide and locked with his.

You let go of it with a pop, coaxing a hum out of him. "You're gonna kill me, baby," he murmured, his voice low, almost vulnerable before the edge crept back in. "Gonna take it good, okay?"

"Yes," you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice.

His lips crashed into yours then, the kiss rough and claiming, his teeth grazing your lip in a way that made you gasp. He took advantage of the sound, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tangling with yours. All the while, his knee was pressing down on your cunt, reveling in the sensation.

Hamzah's free hand roamed down your body, gripping your waist before sliding up to cup your breast. His touch was firm, possessive, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple in a way that had your back arching against him.

"Hamzah...." you whimper, breathless, his lips leaving yours to trail down your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin there. You whimpered, your body betraying you as you arched again, desperate for more.

His breath falters and he thinks that saying his name like that was probably going to be the death of him. His lips grazed your collarbone before he kissed it gently.

You shut your eyes, feeling like yourself throb against him. His hand released yours, but only so he could grab your hips, pulling you flush against him.

"Fuck me, please," you choked out, your voice trembling, tears pricking at your eyes—not from pain but from the sheer intensity of him.

He grunted, his lips capturing yours again, rough but full of a love so fierce it stole your breath. It was overwhelmingly all-consuming and sweet.

Hamzah's lips pressed against yours, stealing your breath with a kiss that was deep and consuming, a delicate balance of control and reverence. His hands slid down your body, rough and demanding, gripping your waist firmly before moving to your hips. His touch left a trail of fire in its wake, a stark contrast to the tenderness in his gaze.

"You're so perfect for me," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with need. His hands moved lower, squeezing your ass with deliberate roughness, making you gasp and arch into him. "Every inch of you."

He didn't wait for a response, tilting your head back to kiss down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he sucked gently at the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. One hand slid up to your breast, palming it firmly, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple in a way that made your breath hitch.

"You take everything so well," he said, his voice low and rough in your ear as his hand kneaded your breast. "So good for me."

You whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips continued their descent, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. When he took one of your nipples into his mouth, you cried out, your body arching into him as his hand moved to squeeze your other breast.

"Hamzah—" His name came out as a broken plea, and he chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin before pulling away.

"I've got you," he promised, his hands sliding back down to grip your thighs, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you feel the raw strength in his body. "You don't have to do anything but feel me."

He spread your legs wider, his rough palms gliding over your thighs before delivering a sharp smack to the soft flesh, just enough to make you gasp. “That’s it,” he said, his voice dripping with approval as his hands soothed the sting. “So responsive for me.”

He pressed into you with slow, deliberate movements, watching every flicker of emotion on your face. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and kneading, his touch leaving no part of you untouched.

"Feel so fuckin’ warm," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "So beautiful. So perfect." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that made you cry out, his hands tightening on your hips to hold you in place.

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity as he stretched you out. You quietly cursed every time he hit that spot deep inside you. He leaned down to kiss them away, his lips brushing against your cheeks. "Doing so well, angel," he said, his voice softening for a moment. "Taking me so perfectly."

His hands gripped your ass again, pulling you closer as he moved faster, his head rolled back. You tried to keep your eyes open, watching him as he used one hand to rub your cunt. You cried out, back arching, as you held onto his wrists for stability. already being on the edge, you felt like cumming any moment now.

"Hamzah— gonna cum-" you pleaded, trying to hold on for a little longer. He felt you tighten around him, slipping in and out of you quicker with every second.

"Cum for me, angel," He begged, groaning. You feel yourself spilling over the edge, his name tearing from your lips, your body trembling beneath him as he held you through it, his voice low and soothing. He followed short after, shooting spurts of come in you.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips pressing against your forehead as he followed, his body shuddering as he buried his face in your neck. "So, so good for me."

Hamzah didn't pull away immediately. His body stayed pressed close to yours, his breathing ragged but already evening out. His hand, which had gripped you so firmly moments ago, softened, his thumb brushing lazily over your hip in soothing circles. He pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before letting his forehead rest against yours, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The silence wasn't awkward but comforting, filled with the quiet intimacy that only comes with knowing someone completely. His hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, tired smile. "Mhm," you murmured, your voice still breathless. "Just sleepy."

A small smirk tugged at his lips, and he kissed your forehead before reluctantly rolling off you. He reached down, grabbing the blanket that had been shoved to the side, and draped it over both of you. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

Hamzah buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell like me," he murmured, his voice low and full of satisfaction.

You chuckled softly, turning your head slightly to glance at him. Sometimes he said things that made you want to marry him. "Good," you smile. "I like smelling like you."

There was a beat of silence. "I love you.” he said simply, his hand slipping under the blanket to rest on your stomach.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing mingling with his, and you were just beginning to drift off when you felt a light pressure at the foot of the bed.

You opened your eyes just in time to see one of Hamzah's cats—Red—jump up onto the bed. She made a beeline for you, circling a few times before curling up at your feet.

Hamzah chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against your back. "Here comes trouble," he teased, his voice warm and affectionate.

As if on cue, his other cat, Blue, hopped up onto the bed as well. Unlike Red, Blue didn't hesitate to make himself comfortable right on Hamzah's chest, his purring loud and insistent.

"Seriously, Blue?" Hamzah groaned, though he didn't sound annoyed. He scratched behind the cat's ears, earning an even louder purr. "You couldn't wait, huh?"

You laughed softly, reaching down to stroke Red's silky fur. "I think they were feeling left out."

Hamzah sighed dramatically, though the small smile on his lips gave him away. "Guess I have no choice but to share you now," he said, his voice teasing.

Blue, clearly content, flopped onto his side, his tail flicking against Hamzah's arm. Red stretched out, her paws pressing lightly against your legs as she settled into her spot.

Hamzah's hand found yours under the blanket, his fingers intertwining with yours as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Y'know...," he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of suspicious humor.

"What?," you replied, leaning back into him as Red purred softly at your feet. You tried to contain your smile— knowing that when he talked with this tone he was either about to say the most out of pocket shit or tell you something really sweet.

Hamzah kissed your shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment before he rested his head against yours. "It's barely 1 p.m...," he murmured, his voice full of quiet affection. "Wanna go again, angel?"

—————————————————————————

a/n: thank you for reading! im so sorry for the wait i kinda ended up hating everything i wrote like halfway through aaaanddd i did not proofread this bc reading my own writing makes me cringe so i apologize for any grammar mistakes lol. HOPE U LOVE IT or u might hate it idk❤️

let me know what you think or any ideas for the future! im thinking some yellowjackets smut idkidk😏

#hamzah fic #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzahsmut #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzah fluff

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itsnevercasual · 8 months ago

Text

Infinity

pairing: college au!harry x reader

summary: The guy next door likes to blast music. You maybe-sorta-kinda really like him.

warnings: cussing, not edited, im not in college idk how it works…

—

You didn’t want to be annoying. Truly, you didn’t. But you and your roommate, Daisy, were asleep.

Or…

Trying to be.

It was difficult with the blasting music next door.

And honestly, you had tried to avoid it. Had let them play their loud music for months now. Sent Daisy over to tell them to shut up so you didn’t have to (because despite her name, she was terrifying when she got mad).

But.. really?

It had to be, like… three in the morning. They’d been blasting it since nine pm, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

So, clad in your bunny slippers, pajama pants you stole from someone (don’t ask who, you don’t remember) and a Fleetwood Mac shirt four sizes too big (because that was all they had at the thrift store), hair pulled back into a very messy braid, and glasses you rarely wore because you liked yourself better with contacts (mainly because you were so blind your glasses made your eyes look bigger), you stomped on over.

You pounded on the door (not really.. your knock barely made a sound), and miraculously, they heard you and opened the door.

A boy opened it.

No. Not a boy.

A cute boy. A very, very cute boy.

You blinked in surprise. You had expected girls… were boys even allowed on the same floor as girls?

“Ehm.. can I help you?” he asked after you were silent for a little too long.

“Oh. Right. Uh.. would you mind turning the music off? I have a final tomorrow, and.. I’m next door, so.. I can kinda hear it. On full blast. Um.. you don’t have to turn it off.. just.. down..”

He sighed, turning into the dorm to shout, “I told you to turn it down, Lou!” he turns back to you. “Yeah. Sorry. My mate’s practically deaf, I’m pretty sure. Doesn’t realize how loud he is… you say you’re next door?”

You nod.

“You got the alarmingly scary roommate named after a flower?”

Another nod. Why was he making small talk? You wanted to sleep.

“Ah. Glad y’didn’t send her over.”

He eyes you up and down, giving that sentence another meaning you didn’t really like.

"Right. Well.. just.. turn it down, please," you give an awkward smile and nod.

When you turn to walk away, he stops you, "’ey-- little rude to not give me y'name, isn't it?"

"Oh. Uh.. I’m Y/N."

He grins, "Well, hello, Y/N. I’m Harry."

You nod, pursing your lips as you pull on a strand of your hair.

There’s a beat of silence, and you contemplate just throwing yourself off a bridge, honestly.

"I'll see you around, Y/N."

With that, you scurry off to your room. Despite being uncomfortable in the moment, it wasn't because of him. You just were horrid at talking to boys.

A few weeks passed, and you accepted the fact that maybe you wouldn't see your neighbor as much as you hoped you would.

And really, you weren’t surprised. You’d never seen him before, why would that change? It made perfect sense that he remained as elusive as he had apparently always been.

Well, that is, until you were dragged to a party you really didn’t wanna go to in clothes you really weren’t all that comfortable wearing at your house— let alone at some douchey frat party.

The first hour was fine because it was early, so only a handful of people were drunk.

The second hour was less enjoyable, the longer the party went on, the more people drank.

In the third hour, your friends shoved a drink in your hand, and once you finished it, they sucked you into taking far too many shots.

The fourth hour was when you started to get antsy. You were pushing over the edge of just being a little too tipsy, and it was hot and sticky and crowded and had it always been so hard to breathe?

You shoved your way out of the crowd and onto the empty (or so you thought) patio, and exhaled. It was less of a patio and more of a balcony, since it was the second floor— but it was huge. 20 people could comfortably stand on it and not be crowded.

Your heels clack on the concrete as you walk to the edge of the patio, leaning on the railing as you take deep breaths.

“That bad in there?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the familiar british voice. You spin around with wide eyes and a hand over your heart, “Jesus Christ! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry!” he raises his hands in defense. “I thought you saw me!”

“Clearly not!” you pause and take a deep breath, “Sorry— I’m kinda drunk and I hate being drunk. I’m paranoid enough when I’m sober, so when I can’t even walk straight I’m extra jumpy and anxious. And I honestly didn’t even wanna come out tonight, my friends just dragged me along and put me in some ‘going out clothes’ that I don’t think I even have the confidence to wear alone in my dorm! And—“

You pause at his grinning face.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry, I get nervous when I’m drunk. Did I already say that? I think I did. Anyway, I talk a lot when i’m nervous, and I don’t really know how to talk to guys in the first place. If I get too annoying just tell me to shut up and I will. I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the— I’m still going. Sorry.”

“No harm done. I quite like your nervous rambling.”

Your cheeks heat up.

“So what made you run for the hills to come out here?” he asks, standing up from the chair he was sitting on.

“I’m not really a party girl.”

“Yeah, I could’ve guessed that.”

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not in a bad way!” he rushes out. “But you just.. are a jumpy person, like you said. Like a bunny. I’d be surprised if you went to parties every weekend on your own free will.”

And really— you have to laugh, because he’s right. “Yeah. I’m definitely not a party girl. And I am not the girl who wears this stuff. Not that it’s bad! But.. I’m just not.. comfortable in this,” you shrug, pulling at the short skirt.

The outfit your friends had picked out consisted of a white, very mini mini-skirt, a white cropped tank top, and some black heels. If the skirt was just a little longer, perhaps a little looser, you’d be fine. If you could at least cover up your belly button— you’d always hated it for no real reason except for the fact that, as embarrassing as it sounds, belly buttons freaked you out.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you look great,” he smiles.

You probably look like a tomato’s long lost sibling by now.

“Thank you.”

“But.. I also think you look great in pyjamas and bunny slippers and glasses and that little pout telling me my music’s too loud.”

“Hey!” You cross your arms.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughs as you try to smack his arm. “So, if you don’t like parties, why’re you here?”

“My friends wanted to go out,” you shrug. “I was done the second we got here.”

He pauses, as if mulling over a thought in his brain and you desperately want to know what, before he speaks, “D’you wanna go home, then?”

You blink at him, “What? I— I mean, yeah. I do, but I’m kinda drunk and all my friends are plastered—“

“I’ll drive you,” he cuts you off before you talk yourself up a wall. “Live next door t’ya anyway.”

“Really? I— are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered if I was. Let’s get y’out of here.”

The trip to the car took far longer than necessary, mainly because you ran into your friends doing shots and got sucked into one more round, which turned into ten more rounds.

By the time you were done, Harry was half carrying you out. He’d long since looped your arm around his shoulders, and his own arm around your waist as you stumbled towards the car.

“Alright,” he sighed once the two of you finally reached the car. “In you get, love.”

You can’t even stop yourself from grinning ridiculously as he helps you get in the passenger seat and buckle.

He shuts your door and slides into the driver’s seat. You stare at him. He smiles, but doesn’t call you out.

He turns on the radio, and you gasp. “I love this song!”

“Do you, now?” he laughs, and it’s almost teasing. Or, perhaps, it is, and your brain is too fogged up to comprehend that.

“Yes!” you exclaim, turning up the volume as Cruel Summer blasts through his car.

“I’m drunk in the back of the car! And I cried like a baby comin’ home from the bar! Oh, oh!” you sing, extremely off key.

“Quite the singer,” he comments.

“Said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true! I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you! And I snuck in through the garden gate—“

“You’re pretty,” you comment as Harry helps you up the stairs.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You have nice eyes. And hair. Your hair’s really soft.”

“Don’t think you’ve ever touched my hair, so I’m not sure how you came to that conclusion, babe.”

You grin. Babe. “It looks soft. Duh.”

“Oh, of course. Duh.”

You think he’s teasing you, but you don’t care to tease back or get offended.

“Alright. Where’re your keys?”

“My keys! They’re… with Daisy.”

“No spares?”

“No,” you pout. “Do I have to sleep in the hallway?”

“No, ‘course not,” he shakes his head, pausing. “Ehm.. new plan. Gonna set you up in my bed, yeah? That okay?”

You nod with a hum.

He moves you one door over and fumbles with the key before finally pushing the door open.

“Bed’s right here, love. In you get, c’mon.”

He helps you sit down on the bed, and you rest your head against the wall.

“Hey, hey— don’t sleep yet.”

“Why?” you whine.

“Gotta get you comfy,” he explains, tugging your shoes off. He quickly goes to the dresser before pulling out pants and a shirt.

“You need help changing?”

You frown and nod.

“Alright. I won’t look, love. Promise.”

True to his word, Harry turns you around so your back is to him as he helps you get out of the tank top. He quickly slips the t-shirt over it.

He lays you down on the bed and slaps a hand over his eyes as he pulls your skirt down and helps you into the pants.

“Alright.. better, yeah?”

You nod, lying on the pillow. He helps you under the covers that smell like him and gives you an extra blanket.

“M’kay. Gonna sleep on the top bunk, yeah? Just say my name if y’need me.”

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“‘Course.”

He moves to walk away, but— “Wait, Harry—“

He turns back to you, “What’s wrong?”

You lift a hand up and run it through his hair. “I was right. It’s soft.”

He laughs.

“Go to bed, babe.”

“Sir, yes, Sir.”

He knew you’d probably be embarrassed in the morning, but he wouldn’t tell you that he enjoyed how touchy you got when drunk.

You didn’t plan on telling him that you’d slightly sobered up on the drive home and just played the drunk bit up as an excuse.

And your keys were in your purse.

a/n: YAYYYY COLLEGE AU HARRY!!!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry #college harry #college!harry styles #fbh #lhh #phh #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction

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mischiefinbloom · 2 months ago

Note

Hiiiii! Could you please do a James x Hufflepuff!reader please? Just something really fluffy, maybe with the reader helping some first years with something, and James being super happy? 😊 Thx!!!

(Also, sorry if it’s kinda off, this is my first time requesting something 😅)

thank you for your request—it means a lot! I hope you enjoy it!

୧ ‧₊˚ something different

₊⊹ summary: your quiet kindness catches james potter’s eye, leading to an unexpected conversation and an offer that might change everything.

₊⊹ pairing: james potter x hufflepuff!reader

₊⊹ warnings: maybe one...? use of y/n, besides that, nothing!

it was a lazy autumn morning, and the great hall was bathed in golden light streaming through the stained glass windows. you were sitting at the hufflepuff table, the smell of toast and coffee mingling with the cheerful chatter of students around you.

lily evans, as always, was beside you, gesturing animatedly as she talked about the upcoming arithmancy class, something that seemed to excite her more than anything else that week.

"I need to finish this reading before class, but the library is unbearably crowded." lily sighed, turning the page of her notebook impatiently.

"we could go earlier, if you want." you suggested, taking a bite of the apple on your plate.

before lily could respond, a noise from the gryffindor table caught her attention. it wasn't uncommon for the marauders to be the center of attention in the hall, but that particular morning, it seemed sirius black was exaggerating even more.

he was laughing loudly, gesturing as he told some absurd story to peter pettigrew, who could hardly contain his tears from laughing so much. remus lupin seemed bored, focused on his coffee, but james potter...

you knew james potter was always noticed. tall, with messy hair and that confident smile, he seemed to radiate energy.

but that morning, he wasn't looking at sirius or peter. he was looking at lily.

"you're aware that james has been staring at you for the past ten minutes, aren't you?" you said, trying to sound casual.

lily rolled her eyes, "he's always staring."

you chuckled softly, but couldn't help but glance at james. he quickly looked away, as if he didn't want to be caught. there was something about him you could never fully understand. james was a force of nature, but he also seemed to carry something more. something he rarely let show.

that afternoon, you and lily went to the library as planned. the place was quieter than usual, which was a pleasant surprise.

while lily got lost in books on ancient runes, you decided to explore the herbology section. you were so focused on a volume about magical plants that you didn't notice when remus lupin appeared beside you.

"this one's good, but the author exaggerates the properties of mistletoe." remus's voice was calm, almost musical.

you looked at him, surprised, "you've read this book?"

remus shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

"I read everything."

it was easy to talk to remus. he had a calm presence that made you feel at ease, and his observations were always interesting. you ended up spending more time talking than studying, exchanging comments about the professors and classes.

"you're different from the rest of them, you know?" you commented at one point, referring to the marauders.

remus laughed, but there was something melancholic in his gaze.

"they're not as bad as they seem once you get to know them, trust me."

before you could respond, sirius appeared.

"moony, are you stealing evans's friend?" he teased, leaning against the shelf beside you.

you felt your face heat up, but remus just rolled his eyes. "cease it, sirius. don’t bother her."

sirius smiled mischievously, but then his gaze fell on you.

"careful, darling. staying too close to us can be dangerous."

there was something in the way he said that that seemed half-serious, but before you could ask what he meant, sirius was already pulling remus away.

it was late afternoon, and the castle corridors were bathed in warm light filtering through the stained glass windows. james potter was alone, something rare. he had left the quidditch practice early, claiming he needed to fetch a book from the library.

as he walked down the corridor, something caught his attention. a first-year student was kneeling on the floor, desperately trying to gather a handful of scattered papers.

she seemed frustrated, almost crying, but no one around seemed to notice her struggle.

then he saw you.

you were coming down the stairs and stopped immediately upon seeing the scene. james stood where he was, curious, watching.

you approached the girl carefully, without haste, and knelt beside her.

"hey, need help?" you asked, your voice soft and gentle.

the girl looked up, hesitant, but eventually nodded.

as you gathered the papers, you organized them carefully, murmuring words of comfort.

"don't say that, everyone makes mistakes sometimes," you said when she apologized.

james stood still, his heart beating faster than he expected. there was something different about you. something he couldn't ignore.

and, for the first time in years, lily evans was not the only person on his mind.

in the days that followed, james couldn't get the scene out of his head—you helping that first-year student as if it were the most natural thing in the world. he didn't know why, but there was something about that gesture that seemed to encapsulate everything he had begun to notice about you.

in transfiguration class, he saw how you bit the tip of your quill while listening attentively to professor mcgonagall's explanations. during breaks, he noticed how you always made sure to divide your time equally among friends, ensuring no one felt left out.

james didn't know how he had never noticed these things before. or maybe he did. but had been so focused on lily for so long that he had never allowed himself to look around.

now, he was looking.

it was a particularly cold night, and you were leaving the library with lily. the hours had slipped by as you reviewed for the upcoming charms exam, and now the corridors were almost deserted.

"I thought my fingers would fall off after writing so much." you said, shrinking against the cold wind that passed through the slightly open windows.

lily smiled, adjusting her scarf around her neck. "don't complain, at least you know you'll ace the exam."

before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, and an unmistakable voice caught your attention.

"evans! thought I'd find you here."

it was james. he had that mischievous smile on his face but seemed less intense than usual. lily sighed, but he ignored her and looked at you.

"hey, hufflepuff," he said, his eyes shining for a moment before turning back to lily. "I need to talk to you about the prefect meeting."

lily hesitated but eventually nodded. "okay, but make it quick, potter."

as they moved away to talk, you leaned against the wall, watching the torches flicker in the darkness of the corridor. a few minutes later, james returned alone, his face slightly flushed from the cold.

"she's always like that with you?" you asked, without thinking.

james chuckled, a low and genuine sound. "always. but I guess I've gotten used to it."

"you're persistent, that's for sure."

he raised an eyebrow, surprised by the comment. "is that good or bad?"

you shrugged, a small smile on your lips. "depends on who's on the other side."

james fell silent for a moment, just watching you. it was as if he was trying to figure something out, as if, for the first time, he didn't quite know what to say.

"you know, you're different," he said finally, his tone softer than usual.

you frowned, confused. "different how?"

"I don't know. just... different. good different."

before you could say anything, lily called for you from the other end of the corridor. you gave james one last look before joining her, leaving him standing there, alone.

that night, as you tried to sleep, the conversation with james wouldn't leave your mind. there was something in the way he spoke to you, something that felt... different.

meanwhile, james was sitting in front of the fireplace in the gryffindor common room, lost in thought. sirius tossed a crumpled piece of parchment into the air, clearly bored.

"what's with you today?" sirius asked, tossing the parchment in james's direction.

"just thinking."

"about who?" remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

james hesitated for a moment before answering. "y/n."

the silence that followed was brief but loaded.

"y/n?" sirius repeated, surprised. "no offense, she's great, beautiful too, but... she's not evans."

james sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. and that's what's confusing me."

remus smiled but didn't say anything, leaving james lost in his own thoughts.

in the following week, james began to approach you more, subtly but noticeably. he asked questions about classes, helped you carry your books when he saw you were overloaded, and even started showing up in the library more often.

at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but soon you realized it wasn't. and, to your surprise, you didn't mind.

one afternoon, as you walked together through the gardens, james looked at you with a smile that seemed to carry more meaning than he was willing to admit.

"you know... these days, you’ve been the brightest moment for me without even realizing it." he said, straightforwardly, a faint flush of color warmed his cheeks.

you stopped, surprised, "what?"

"I'm serious. I... I don't know how to explain it, but... you make things seem easier."

there was something in his sincerity that made your heart beat faster.

"james... I..." you began, but he interrupted you, gently holding your hand.

"I know we have our differences, but... how about we go out tomorrow night? just the two of us. we can have dinner in hogsmeade, maybe. what do you think?"

you looked at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. you never imagined that james potter, the mischievous and sweet boy, would make such an intimate invitation, specially to you.

"I'd love to," you replied, smiling shyly.

he smiled back, squeezing your hand.

"then it's a date. tomorrow night, at seven o'clock, at the main entrance. don't be late."

you laughed, shaking your head.

"I'm not the one who's late here, potter."

"true," he agreed, "but I'll wait for you anyway. I always will."

and so, with a smile on your lips and your heart racing, you said goodbye to him, eager for what the next night would bring.

#james potter #james potter x reader #marauders #harry potter

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viceroywrites · 5 months ago

Text

deja vu - part four

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part three | part five (stan route) | part five (ford route)

Ford woke up the next morning with a slight pep in his step. Usually, he spent most evenings tossing and turning before finally being able to rest or waking up in the middle of the night unable to fall back asleep. However, last evening, he was able to sleep soundly.

Perhaps it was the prospect of getting to take you anomaly hunting, getting to reshow you all his findings and re-experience the wonder in your eyes as you took it all in.

Perhaps it was the fact that he got to say good night to you after all these years, a tired smile across your face that looked truly radiant to him.

Perhaps it was the polaroid that he clutched closed to his chest that evening, recounting the scent of your perfume that you wore that night as he buried himself into your neck, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

Whatever the reason, he felt well rested and raring to start the day. The scent of strongly brewed coffee wafted in the air as he made his way to the kitchen. He assumed Stanley must have gotten up before him and was excited to share how yesterday went with his brother.

As he got closer, he could hear his brother’s gravely voice speaking to someone. Ford was surprised by this considering the kids usually were asleep still, opting to sleep in during their summer break.

Maybe it was Soos or maybe his brother is just rambling to himself, Ford thinks as he finally rounds the corner.

The sight before him catches him off guard.

You and Stan sat close together at the kitchen table, shoulder to shoulder, two mugs filled with coffee already by your sides. Spread across the table was what looked like a map to a campground with red circles dotted across, the red marker laying at the edge of the table. You were dressed in pajamas but Ford immediately recognized Stan’s brown leather jacket on your shoulders that envelops your frame.

“You’re telling me I’ve lived here for 30-something years and there was gold right there!” Stan exclaims, his finger pressed against a spot on the map that you had marked with a star.

You chuckle against your mug as you take a sip of your coffee, “You could have been swimming in gold all these years. We’ll have to see if there’s any left at that lake in particular though.”

“Oh, there better be! I got 30 years of gold to catch up on!” Stan says, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Ford clears his throat, making his presence known as he stands with his hands behind his back.

You both look up to see Ford, and you immediately get up, excited to share your plans with him. “Morning, Ford, come join us. You’ll never guess what me and Stan planned for today!” You say, heading over to the coffee pot and pouring some into a mug, “But first, coffee, right?”

“That would be lovely, Y/N. Thank you.” Ford replies, pulling up a chair to your left. His tense expression softens at the sight of you so energized with a wide albeit tired smile across your face. You walk over to him with the mug, handing it off, your fingertips brushing against his before you pull away once it’s in his grasp.

“You take your coffee black, right? I think that’s what I remember but let me know if I got that completely wrong.” You admit with a sheepish grin to which Ford shakes his head. “No, you’re correct.”

“So I was a bit bummed out that my camping gear was going to go to waste last night so Stan suggested we all go on a quick camping trip.” You begin explaining, taking a seat, “There’s a campground about thirty minutes out that has a hiking trail, a lake, and it’s a great place for stargazing at night.” You push the map in front of Ford, pointing out each of the details. “Most importantly, there’s gold.” Stan interjects, pointing at the star.

Ford rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, still perplexed on why his jacket was on your shoulders. ”You know you have to pan for the gold, Stanley, it isn’t just laying there for you to take.” He says tersely, causing Stan to blink at the sudden edge in his brother’s voice.

“Yeah, I know, Poindexter. I know I’m not the brains of the two of us but I wasn’t born yesterday.” Stan says, wondering what had his brother so bothered. His eyes look over at you and immediately it hits him in the face.

Oh shit.

The jacket.

“So… what do you think? ” You ask, leaning forward expectantly. As Ford looks into your eyes, he sees the joy in them that he can’t bear to take away from you.

Maybe anomaly hunting and restoring your memories could wait a day.

“I think it’s an excellent plan, I’d love to go, I’m assuming the kids are coming along,” Ford says, looking over at Stan with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, they’re coming! They’ve been itching to get out of the Shack more often, especially Dipper since Mabel’s been hanging out with her friends this whole week.” Stan scoffs, getting up to pour himself more coffee.

“Yay!” You grin, enveloping Ford into a quick hug out of pure excitement before shrugging off the jacket as you get up from your chair, “I’m just going to double check we have all the camping gear we need, might need to stop by the store for smores and food obviously.” You exit the kitchen, grabbing your keys from the counter to take an inventory of the gear.

Ford’s cheeks are bright red at the sudden sign of affection to which Stan snickers at, “Your cheeks are matching your sweater, Ford.”

“Haha, very funny, Stanley. You’re not off the hook.” Ford says, attempting to calm the flush of his cheeks by pressing his normally cold hands against them, “Mind explaining to me why she was wearing your jacket?”

Stan’s posture straightens in response and he groans, “Jeez, I didn’t peg you to be the jealous type. Look, last night, she was up on the rooftop in just her pajamas. Said she had a bad dream. I felt bad because she was shivering, ma raised us to treat a lady with respect so I offered her my jacket. If anything, you should thank me - otherwise she would have gotten hypothermia.”

“That’s statistically impossible, Stanley, given the weather conditions in the summer.” Ford attempts to explain but drops it as he sees his brother’s “really?” look. Ford continues on with his question, “But what’s this about a bad dream? Did she give you any details? You know we discovered that her dreams may actually be her memories but with bits and pieces missing.”

“Nah, she didn’t say anything else.” Stan shrugged, “Didn’t wanna pry, though it was bad enough that she had to go up on the roof to get some fresh air.”

“I guess I’ll see if she’d be open to talking about it today,” Ford sighs, wondering if you’re starting to get your memories back of when Ford was deep into his research… and his involvement with Bill. He had to admit there was a selfish wish that he hoped those memories would not start resurfacing until you two had gotten closer.

Stan observes his twin’s brows furrow and sighs, nudging Ford on the side. “Hey, I know that look. You’re overthinking this… let’s just enjoy today alright? She’s here for the next week or so, the least you could do is make new memories with her.” This snaps Ford out of his ruminations and he sighs, his shoulders relaxing, “You’re right.”

“And hey, at least if you make new memories-” Stan cuts himself off, ready to counter Ford’s argument to defend his stance before grinning, “Wait, what did you say? Did you actually say I was right?”

“Yes, you’re right, Stan.” Ford groans, crossing his arms as he knows his brother is relishing in this moment.

“Give me one second.” Stan says, stepping out of the kitchen. Ford wonders where his brother is going before Stan comes back with an object in his hand, “Okay, say that one more time.”

“Stanley, I’m not going to say it again so you can record it on that voice recorder and play it back over and over again.”

“Aw, come on!”

After the kids wake up, you share the plans with them, beaming as they seem elated to get out of the house and go on an adventure with their Grunkles and you.

“It’s like the road trip we took last summer except we aren’t stopping at all those tourist attractions that Grunkle Stan tried to get revenge on.” Mabel comments in between bites of pancakes.

“Yeah, and he doesn’t get captured and almost eaten by that spider lady he was hitting on.” Dipper interjects.

You and Ford look at Stan with raised eyebrows.

“What? There's stiff competition in the tourist trap industry, so I had to show 'em who’s top dog! Also, she was a very pretty spider lady.” Stan defended himself.

Wrapping up breakfast, you all disperse to get ready - the kids head upstairs to pack their duffel bags for the overnight trip, and Stan heads outside to change out your car battery before swinging by the store to grab the remaining supplies. As you’re packing up your backpack, you hear a knock at the door and turn your head to see Ford, his own bag slung over his shoulder.

It was the first time you were seeing him in different attire since you arrived two days ago, wearing a yellow button-up with the sleeves rolled up, a white undershirt and a pair of dark jeans, forgoing his usual red turtleneck and black pants.

“Changing up the look for today?” You comment on the difference, your eyes roaming up and down to assess the outfit. You had to admit, he looked really handsome... not that he didn't usually.

“Well, it probably would be a bit impractical to wear a turtleneck on a hike considering we’re not hiking in the mountains.” Ford explained, tugging at his collar.

In reality, Mabel had stormed into his room whilst he was packing, insisting he had to wear something to impress you and this was their compromise.

“That’s fair, I’m sure you’d be sweating up a storm after the first mile.” You chuckle before shooting him a compliment with a sincere smile, “You look really nice, Ford.”

Ford stammers in response, his cheeks red, “Uh… why thank you.. You do too, though you always look nice..” He fumbles over his words. At 60 years of age, here he is, bumbling like a fool, feeling like a middle schooler trying to ask out his crush.

Your laughter sounds sweet to his ears as you can’t help but giggle at his awkward charm. “Thank you, Ford, that’s sweet of you. You ready to head out?” You swiftly change the topic in order to save him from further embarrassment.

“Y-Yes! Let’s get going, I think the kids are ready.” Ford says, following you out.

The five of you end up piling into your car, able to stuff all your bags into the trunk with the camping gear in the cargo box on your roof rack. The seating situation ended up being a bit of an issue, Mabel and Dipper piling into the back automatically but both Stan and Ford reach for the passenger door.

“I gotta sit in the front to navigate, Ford.” Stan explained, holding up the map to the campsite in his hand.

Unable to argue with that logic, Ford begrudgingly gets in the back with Mabel and Dipper.

The next half an hour of the drive along the Redwood Highway is filled with Stan pointing out each of the other tourist traps, sharing stories of how they pranked the Mystery Shack, including a time where they taped Soos to the ceiling, and Mabel and Dipper teaching Ford the game Punch Buggy.

“Who invented this game? It’s pure torture!” Ford groans, his arm sore after Mabel and Dipper had socked him a few times in a row.

“Grunkle Ford, I think you just need to improve your reaction times.” Dipper chuckles.

Finally arriving at the campground, you are grateful to see that there were plenty of spots still open, opting for one with a firepit nearby the lake. The moment you parked, the kids ran out, taking in the sight of the crystal clear lake and roaming around to explore the campground.

“Let’s set up the tents before we head out for the hike to the stream. I know we’re gonna be tired after it and get lazy.” You explain to Stan and Ford who nod and follow your lead as you open up the cargo box, grabbing the tents and handing them both one to set up while you put up the hammock and canopy.

“Uhh, Y/N, are two tents going to be enough for all of us?” Stan asked as he began to hammer the spikes into the ground. You nod, “Yeah, one of them is pretty roomy so at least three people should be able to fit inside.”

Unfortunately, you had overestimated how much room was in the bigger tent as Ford and Stan tested it out themselves, only an inch of room left over.

“Well… I guess I’ll just sleep under the stars tonight, not a big deal.” You glance over at the hammock, grateful you brought it with.

“Are you sure? You’ll be eaten alive by mosquitos out here.” Ford says with concern.

“I have a mosquito net in the hammock, thankfully. I can also douse myself in bug spray before I sleep for extra precaution.” You explain, lifting the hammock to reveal a net that you could zip up to shield you from the bugs.

“It’s your tent, Y/N. I’ll just sleep in the hammock, you and Ford can take the tent.” Stan offers, “Besides, I snore… loud. I don’t think anyone wants to be stuck in a tent with me.”

You mull over the offer before smiling graciously, “Alright, thanks for offering, Stan. I’m gonna go find the kids and we’ll head out for the hike.” You walk away. Once your back is faced away from the twins, Stan grins mischievously at his brother, “You know it might get awfully cold at night.. Make sure to keep ‘em warm.” Ford’s face turns red, swiftly elbowing his brother in the ribs.

“Ow! Why’d you have to elbow my good rib?!”

After finding Dipper and Mabel, you all begin your hike to the stream where Stan wanted to pan for gold. The massive trees that towered above you provided much needed shade as you followed the trail. Along the way, Ford would make commentary on the various flora, listing off facts off the top of his head despite studying them years ago.

“How does he know all of this? I work in the Parks and I don’t even know this much.” You mutter out loud in awe. Stan chuckles, “Ford’s practically a walking encyclopedia. I’m sure he talked your ear off back in the day..” You recall the memory of your first time meeting Ford that had finally returned yesterday, sitting in front of him as he easily explained the theory surrounding seismic refractions with ease, like he had spent the last 20 years of his life studying it.

“Yeah… he kinda did. But I don’t think I minded, I get the sense that he gets passionate about the things he loves. There’s like a spark in his eyes when he gets to just share his knowledge to someone who’s willing to listen.” You admit with a smile. “Yeah, I never really understood what he was talking about half the time… but I get what you mean.” Stan comments fondly.

“Y/N, look at this cool rock I found! It’s kinda funny looking.” Mabel says, running up to you with a rock with several ridges and grooves. Stan looks at the rock himself, “Looks kinda like the mole I got on my back.” to which Mabel groans at the mental image.

You laugh softly at Mabel’s reaction, taking the rock from her as she hands it off to you to examine before you recognize it, “Well, actually, this funny looking rock actually has a gemstone inside of it - if you’d wanna see?” You explain with a grin.

Mabel’s eyes light up and she nods eagerly, “Can I crack it open?” You chuckle at her enthusiasm, handing her the rock, “Of course. Luckily, I brought some of my excavating tools with me.” You rummage through your backpack before pulling out a wooden hammer for her to use.

You had a pickaxe but you had the hindsight to not give a 13-year-old a metal tool that she could easily poke her eye out with.

“Go crazy, Mabel.” You encourage her and she takes your lead, placing it down on the ground and giving it a swift wack. This catches Dipper and Ford’s attention as Ford was in the middle of explaining to Dipper the various types of mushrooms that gnomes use for homes.

The rock split open, revealing the shiny interior. You reach down to pick it up, showing Mabel the different layers of quartz. “This gemstone is actually called a thunderegg. Funny name for a funny looking rock, I guess, but all of them have different patterns depending on how long they’ve been here.” You explain, handing it back to Mabel, “When we get back to the Mystery Shack, I can polish it for you so it shines a little bit better.”

She puts it up to the sun, watching it sparkle as the light refracts off the quartz. “It can get shinier than this?!” Mabel exclaims excitedly to which you chuckled, “It certainly can!” She glances between the gemstone and the sunstone that hangs on your neck, “Could you show me how to get it on a necklace like you have yours? I have a bunch of string and craft stuff at the Shack we can use!”

You clear your throat, “Actually Mabel, you might want to ask your Grunkle Ford. After all, he’s the one who made this for me.” You admit with a shy smile.

“Grunkle Ford, you old softie! I didn’t know you could make something like that!” Mabel says as she turns to Ford with a teasing grin, almost squealing in delight. Ford rubs the back of his neck bashfully, “Well, I do like to dabble in artistic endeavors every now and then. Though I’ve only ever done a project like this for Y/N.” He admitted.

You find your own cheeks getting warm, grabbing the necklace and glancing down at it with a sudden fondness. You look up to see Ford staring at you in a pining manner before quickly looking away, suddenly engrossed in the mushrooms at his feet.

“Alright, you two, let’s get moving! We’re burning daylight here and I need to get to this gold as soon as possible before these greedy suckers get to it first!” Stan’s voice cuts through the moment, though his expression was more amused than annoyed.

“R-Right!” Both you and Ford stutter, picking up the pace.

You finally make it to the stream, watching in amusement as Stan immediately begins to roll up his pants the moment it comes into view.

“Alright, pan me, Y/N!” Stan says, placing his hand out. You roll your eyes playfully, reaching into your backpack to grab some pans you had snagged from a gold panning site during one of your shifts at the Parks. You handed it over to Stan before holding up the two other ones you had, “You wanna help your Grunkle get some gold?” You ask Dipper and Mabel.

“Oh, I’ll help but this’ll be my stash, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel grins, taking a pan and kicking off her socks and shoes to join Stan in the stream. Dipper quickly follows behind Mabel and you get ready to join them in the water, kicking off your sandals before pausing as Ford takes a seat on a nearby log.

“You’re not gonna join us, Ford?” You ask, rolling up your pants up to your calves. Ford shakes his head, placing his bag next to him, “I’m going to catch up on some reading, go enjoy yourself, Y/N.”

“More gold for us then!” Stan says, shaking the pan in the water. You’re distracted by Dipper and Mabel’s laughter, coming behind the two of them. You crouch down, grabbing a clump full of mud and rocks beneath a larger boulder and placing it into the pans. You demonstrate how to properly pan for gold, letting the two of them shake the dirt loose. You feel a splash against your side and look over to see Stan shaking the pan a little too aggressively.

“Whoa, pump the breaks, you might be losing out on gold shaking it like that.” You say, walking over to Stan as the twins seem to have the hang of it. You lean over, pressing up against Stan’s side as your hands cup underneath his. “Once you have most of the dirt out, you want to be a little bit more gentle with your agitation or else the gold will come out.”

Your hands guide Stan’s, shaking the pan with a bit more delicacy, letting the water wash out the remaining dirt to reveal large flecks of gold. “Now we’re talking!” Stan says excitedly, accessing the gold. He looks back up at you with a sheepish smile, “Uh.. thanks for helping me out.” You shoot him a warm smile, “No problem, didn’t want your efforts to go to waste. Besides, it looks like you got some catching up to do!” You nod your head over to Dipper’s pan which sparkles with gold.

Stan wasn’t sure whether his heart beat racing was because of his excitement over the gold or from having you up so close to him.

He tries to push the thought, not wanting to dwell on the weird feeling as he takes the challenge, throwing more clumps of mud into his pan, “Oh it is on!”

Ford watches from afar, a journal precariously propped up on his leg as he sketches out the scene before him - you with your hair tied up, clutching your stomach as you laugh at the antics of his family. He smiles fondly as the real reason he wanted to watch was to be able to have the opportunity to sketch you.

When he started the journals, they were mostly dedicated to his research though he had a fleeting thought every now and then to sketch you into a few entries as you helped him with several of his discoveries.

There was also a part of him wanting to relish in this and have his own memories to look back on, knowing how fleeting this moment was and how uncertain the road ahead of getting your memories back was.

“Grunkle Ford, look at all the gold Dipper and I got!” Mabel ran up to him, holding her pan with a decent amount of gold. Dipper follows behind her, noticing that his great uncle was sketching something in a journal. His eyes lit up in curiosity, “Did you see an anomaly out here, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford looked up from his sketch, taken aback by Dipper’s question, “No, I was just sketching some of the scenery!” Mabel’s eyes narrow and she looks over at Dipper with a skeptical look that he returns. The two of them rush to Ford’s side, Mabel’s hand slamming on the sketchbook to keep Ford from shutting it. They both look down to see the detailed drawing of you and Mabel squeals loudly, causing you and Stan to look over.

“Everything ok over there?” You ask, pulling out the bits of gold from Stan’s pan and collecting them in a pail you had brought with you. “Y-yes, everything’s fine over here!” Ford stammers. You look over at Stan who simply shrugs, “I stopped asking a long time ago.”

When you turn your attention back to Stan, Ford lets out a sigh of relief before starting back at Mabel’s wide grin and Dipper’s amused smile. “So that’s why you didn’t wanna join us in the water.” Dipper pointed out. “Grunkle Ford, you should totally show her! She would love this!!” Mabel suggests excitedly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that would be the best idea, Mabel.” Ford explains with a sad smile, patting Mabel’s head as she deflates in disappointment, “I fear that it might scare her away if I’m too forward with my feelings. I caused her a lot of pain before and I wouldn’t want to put her in an even more uncomfortable situation when she regains all her memories… but maybe if she gives me a second chance, I’ll show it to her.” Mabel slightly brightens up with a smile, nodding.

The twins head back into the water, depositing their gold into the pail before starting back up. Somehow, panning for gold had turned into a splashing contest after Mabel accidentally sloshed her pan too aggressively, causing it to hit Dipper in the back. Splashes were exchanged back and forth in a playful manner with Stan and you managing to get caught in the crossfire.

“Oh you two are going to get it!” Stan says in a menacing tone, using his pan to splash them back in retaliation. Laughter filled the stream, and you glance over your shoulder to see Ford completely dry with his nose in the journal. You walk up, wringing out the water from your top. “Looks like you’re doing more writing than reading.” You point out with a grin.

Ford shuts his journal immediately at the sound of your voice, placing it back into his bag swiftly, “S-Sorry, I tend to get engrossed in whatever I’m doing.” He looks up finally to see your clothes completely wet and blinks, “You’re soaking wet, Y/N.” You chuckle, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the water, “Yeah, and you’re completely dry so let’s change that.”

“Y-Y/N, wait a second, I-!” Ford’s protest is cut off the moment you tug him forward a bit too forcefully. He loses balance on his feet, causing him to fall forward… with you tumbling down with him. Your back hits the water, causing a huge splash to which Stan and the twins turn around to look at. You look up to see Ford on top of you, his arms on either side of your head with a look of concern etched across his features.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Ford frets over you, not realizing the compromising position you’re both in. Heat blooms into your cheeks at the sight, the fabric of Ford’s shirt now damp and clinging to his shoulders and chest. You begin to sit up, causing Ford to back away. “I-I’m alright, sorry for tugging you so hard.” You mutter, eyes widening as Ford cradles the back of your head, his own eyes assessing your face carefully. “Um, Ford, what are you doing?”

“Well, I have to check for bruises or lacerations. Traumatic head injuries are no joke, Y/N. Now follow my finger with your eyes.” Ford instructs, placing his index finger in front of your eyes and moving it up and down and side to side. You follow his instructions but get distracted by a flash in your peripheral vision.

Ford and you look over to see Mabel with a camera in her hand, a wide grin spread across her cheeks, “That’s definitely going in the scrapbook!”

After making your way back to the campsite, Stan got started on a fire to help everyone warm up while your wet clothes hung on the tree nearby. Thankfully, you all brought a change of clothes, slipping on a sweater over your shirt as you step out of you and Ford’s tent.

You blinked, seeing Stan sitting alone on a log next to the fire, stoking the flames with a large stick.

“Where’s Ford and the kids?” You ask, looking around as Ford and the twins were nowhere to be found. You approach the fire, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as the flame warms your hands as you extend them outward.

“Apparently what I thought was a mosquito was actually a fairy. Almost swatted it before Ford stopped me.” Stan said, swinging around the bug zapper he brought. “Ford went to go see with the kids if there were more nearby.”

“A fairy? I know Ford mentioned there were anomalies out here but I didn’t expect them to be straight out of a fantasy novel..” You said in surprise, taking a seat next to Stan and grabbing a Pitt Cola out of the cooler near his feet.

“Oh you think that’s bad? There’s tons more apparently.. My memories of all of ‘em haven’t quite come back but I found a gnome in our backyard just this past week if that tells ya anything.” Stan chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to see what else is out there. Ford mentioned wanting to bring me anomaly hunting one day while I’m here.” You comment, curious if there were more threatening anomalies out there considering Ford had mentioned wanting to take you on a safer one.

“Of course Poindexter suggested anomaly hunting as a date.” Stan snickers.

“I wouldn’t call it a date, I’m sure he’ll want to bring Dipper and Mabel along like he did tonight.” You say.

“I doubt it, he’s been wanting to get one-on-one time with you any chance he gets. Thought he was ready to fight me earlier when I rode in the front with you.” Stan scoffed, tossing another piece of dry wood into the fire.

You watch as the flames grow before your eyes, the smoke pluming into the sky. Bringing your knees up to your chest as you hug them, you ask Stan about his brother, “What was Ford like… before you guys reconnected? Did he do something that caused your guys’ relationship to be rocky?”

Stan’s body stills at your question, placing his Pitt Cola down and leaning back with his hands holding him up. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just…” You take a breath, your brows knitting together to find the right words, “Even though our first impression… I guess second impression since obviously we knew each other.. Either way, it was pretty bad. But he’s shown me that he can be kind and thoughtful. I just can’t wrap my head around how he could be capable of hurting me in the way that he describes.”

Stan stares back at you, a conflicted look in his eyes, and you stare down at the ground, embarrassment running over you, “Sorry, I shouldn’t be bringing this up.. He’s your brother for god’s sake and I’m asking you these probing questions about him behind his back.”

“No… I get why you’re asking them.” Stan finally responds, causing you to look up. His hand rests on his neck, rubbing it in thought, “From what I remember, Ford and I growing up were like two peas in a pod. Inseparable. I did something stupid when I was a teenager that pretty much sabotaged Ford’s chance into his dream school.”

“Guess some good came out of that… obviously he met you.” Stan says, staring back at you finally. “We didn’t talk... for ten years after that. Honestly, those years in between when we didn’t talk are still pretty blurry but I can tell you that when he finally reached back out, it wasn’t for the reasons I had hoped.”

“Were they selfish reasons?” You ask, trying to understand how they just recently made up if they reunited over thirty years ago.

Stan explains, “In a way. You see, Ford got in his head way too much. He still kinda does but back then, we got into a huge fight after he pretty much pushed me away again. Told me to take his research and go as far away from him as possible. It felt like he cared more about his research more than anything else. More than himself. More than me.”

“He did tell me he pushed away the people who cared about him the most in his pursuit to prove his worth. I guess we were those people, including Fiddleford.” You reflect before asking the main question on your mind, “I still don’t get what happened between you guys reuniting back then and then just making up this past summer.”

Stan pauses before sighing as he pinches the bridge of the nose, “I was hoping Poindexter was going to be the one to explain all this portal nonsense to you but I guess I’ll try my best.”

Stan proceeds to explain in the most condensed and simplistic way he can the background behind Ford’s research, building the portal and how his brother got sucked into the portal after Stan pushed him into it by accident during their fight and was stuck in another dimension until last summer.

You stare back at Stan like he has two heads, wondering if Ford bribed him with a couple bucks to prank you with this elaborate tale straight out of a sci-fi movie.

“Yeah, that’s the exact same look I had on my face when Ford told me about the portal.” Stan chuckles, watching as you digest the information.

“So Ford’s been literally trapped in another dimension for the past 30 years?” You finally speak, your brain moving on from denial to confusion.

“Yup. You ever notice he speaks kinda prim and proper all the time, it’s by choice but also because he’s thirty years behind on any slang or pop culture reference.” Stan shares before staring at you intensely, “Don’t get me started about his reaction when Dipper told him Pluto wasn’t a planet anymore.”

“Wait a second, this portal…” You get up from your seat on the log, heading back into you and Ford’s tent before coming back with your small black journal. Stan stares at the journal and shakes his head in disbelief, “No wonder you and my brother dated.”

You roll your eyes, choosing to ignore the comment before flipping to a specific page and opening it up to Stan, “Did the portal look like this?”

Stan stares at the paper, squinting his eyes as he looks at your rough drawing of the portal before nodding, “Yeah, that’s the portal, alright.”

“So that’s what Ford was working on in my dreams… it was the portal that he thought was going to be the answer to his research.” You say, the realization hitting you as you stare down at the drawing, “Maybe this portal is the reason we parted ways.“ You were beginning to put pieces of you and Ford’s history together, it was becoming more and more clear

Stan wonders if he might have shared too much with you, seeing the gears turning in your head. Maybe he should have held his tongue, waited for Ford to explain all this stuff to you since he usually had the answers.

You place a hand on his broad shoulder, interrupting his thoughts, “Hey Stan… sorry for putting you on the spot but I really appreciate it. I feel like I understand what’s happening in my dreams way more.” You pause before saying, “It also helps to know that Ford didn’t just push me away but other people during that time.”

Stan’s shoulders visibly relax and he feels a sense of comfort in your touch. “No problem, glad I could explain it in a non-sciencey way. Trust me, when Ford explained it to me, half the stuff he said flew right over my head.”

You both hear footsteps approaching and turn around to see Ford carrying a mason jar that contained a pink fairy that fluttered around in confusion with Mabel and Dipper trailing by his side.

“Y/N, look at this fairy!” Mabel says excitedly, running up to you.

You approach Ford, crouching down to observe the fairy. Your eyes widen in intrigue, watching as there is a distinct trail of glitter that follows it as it flutters about. You glance up at Ford, “Is the fairy gonna be okay in there?”

Ford rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’ll release it, Mabel insisted we catch one to bring back to show you.”

“This is your first time seeing an anomaly, right, Y/N?” Dipper asks, curious if you remember any of the anomalies you saw with his great uncle when he first started his research.

“Well, first time that I can remember at least. Your Grunkle Stan was telling me there are apparently gnomes that live near the Mystery Shack.” You chuckle, placing your hands on the jar.

“Those gnomes kinda still creep me out to this day..” Mabel commented, now sitting next to Stan with a skewer stacked with marshmallows to put over the fire.

You look over at Ford for an explanation who simply shrugs and Dipper chimes in, “They.. uh tried to marry Mabel and make her their gnome queen.”

First, the fairy, then Ford getting trapped in an interdimensional portal, and now, this.

You wonder how many more crazy reveals your brain could take in a single day.

“Wanna do the honors and release it?” Ford asks, handing the jar off to you. You take it cautiously, slowly opening the lid and wincing as you pull back the lid. The fairy immediately bursts out, leaving a trail of pink dust behind as it flies into the night sky.

You glance back at Stan and raise an eyebrow, “How did you think that was a mosquito?”

Ford chuckled at your question, “I was thinking the same thing when he almost fried it with his bug zapper.”

“My vision isn't the greatest, okay? I got cataracts!”

You, Ford and the kids laugh, coming together in front of the fire. You were shoulder to shoulder with Stan and Ford, Mabel sitting on the ground in front of you while you braided her hair and Dipper being in charge of roasting both him and Mabel’s marshmallows after she lit hers on fire.

You come to find out that Stan’s talent to spin an elaborate tale translates well into telling spooky ghost stories by the fire, wriggling his fingers and using his hands to help emphasize his points. Surprisingly, he ends up having a captivated audience, even Ford listening in amusement with his arms crossed.

Seeing the kids starting to yawn and their eyes getting heavier after a few hours, you all decide to call it for the evening. Stan and Ford work on stamping out the flames as you walk over to Dipper and Mabel’s tent, making sure they have their flashlights on them in case of a late night bathroom run before zipping up their tent.

Out in the woods, the dark sky above is littered with stars. With the light source of the flames gone, the constellations in the sky are even more clear. Ford watches you staring up at the night sky in awe. He recalls the nights where the two of you would sit on the roof where you most likely sat with his brother the other evening, noting all the various constellations.

He wonders if you remember his favorite ones or if just by association to the memory of him, they’ve been wiped clean from your brain.

Ford approaches you, his eyes glancing up at the wondrous view above the both of you, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It really is…” You reply with a smile, “I haven’t seen them this clearly in years. Usually light pollution ends up making it hard to them at all.”

“Do you have a favorite constellation?” Ford asks though he already knows the answer.

Perseus.

“Perseus is my favorite.” You answer, extending your arm outward to point it out to Ford. His eyes follow your finger to the constellation, staring up at it. Not that he needed you to point it out for him, he often would look up the stars during his travels with Stanley and find it.

Wondering if you were out there somewhere staring at it as well.

“The Hero Constellation… a great choice.” Ford hums before letting out a yawn.

“Getting past your bedtime?” You tease, causing Ford to laugh softly.

“You know I’m not that much older than you, Y/N. You’re making me feel like an old geezer.” Ford banters back.

Stan pats you both on the shoulder, “Well, this old geezer is gonna hit the hay. I didn’t get any sleep last night since we spent the whole night planning this.” He starts approaching the hammock before staring at it with his hands on his hips before looking back at you.

“Hey, uh, how do I get in this thing?” He asks.

Ford slaps his forehead and you roll your eyes mirthfully, walking over to show Stan how to get into the hammock.

“You can head to bed, Ford. This might.. take a while.” You tell Ford, trailing off as you watch Stan attempt to put his foot in and almost flip the hammock over.

Ford nods, despite wanting to wait up for you, he knew it would be infinitely more awkward trying to fall asleep with you laying right there in front of him. “I’ll sleep on the further side so you don’t have to step over me on your way into the tent. Good night, Y/N.” He says.

“Good night, Ford.” You reply with a wave as you try to hold the fabric of the hammock taut to give Stan enough stability to slip inside.

“Yeah, good night to you too, Ford.” Stan calls out wryly to which Ford proceeds to flick off his brother playfully before slipping into the tent.

After assisting Stan into the hammock and helping put the mosquito net over him, you slip into you and Ford’s tent. You try to move as carefully as possible, not wanting to disturb Ford who laid inside a sleeping bag on the other side of the tent. You glance over, seeing Ford sleeping peacefully next to you.

You notice he still has his glasses on and you reach over carefully, slipping them off gingerly. Ford slightly stirs which causes you to halt your movements before his breath evens out again, showing that he was still deep in sleep. You place his glasses off to the side and finally slip into your sleeping bag.

Your eyelids grow heavy the moment your head rests on the pillow, the lack of sleep from the night before catching up to you. You drift to sleep, not thinking about what dream might await you this evening.

The sensation of the metal desk presses against the small of your back. You feel like a mouse cornered by a cat, Ford’s frame towering over you as your hands are pinned down. A lump forms in your throat as you stare back at the man you love, his eyes bright yellow and his pupils narrow.

“So you’re Bill?” You say cautiously.

You had seen Bill briefly move into Ford’s mind to help him solve an equation that had stumped him or share a finding to help with his research but never fully taking control of his body.

“That’s me, I’m sure Ford’s told you all about me..” Bill grins, “After all, I am his muse.”

You bristle at the term, the exact reaction Bill had hoped for to get under your skin.

You listened to Ford go on and on about how amazing his muse was, how he helped ease his mind, how he understood him like no one else did.

All while you stood there, feeling insignificant as each day went on.

A shudder ran down your spine as a cold hand reached up to cup your chin, tilting your head side to side while Bill’s eyes assessed you like a specimen in a lab, “Listen, Y/N, you’re becoming a bit of a distraction to old Fordsy.”

“Distraction? What do you mean?” You say defensively.

“Every time you try to get him to go to bed, every time you and that hillbilly try to goof around and pull him away from his work, it delays him finishing this portal.” Bill points out.

“He’s a human being, not a robot. He can’t just keep working himself into exhaustion.” You protest.

Bill’s eyes narrow.

He doesn’t like that response.

“Listen, Gemstone, you really want to get in the way of Ford’s dreams? I thought you loved him,” Bill cackles, his hand sliding down to press tightly against your throat. The pressure pushes the gem on your necklace further into your skin, causing you to wince.

“I-I do.” You wheeze out, your airway feeling restricted but not being choked quite yet.

“Then if you do, take my advice. The sooner you leave him alone to work on and finish this portal, the sooner he can rest. Don’t you want him to be able to show this to his old man and finally hear that he’s proud of him?” Bill says with a maniacal grin.

He knows he got you with his last question, your face morphing into guilt.

You knew how important this was to Ford, how he needed this portal to work so he could make something out of all his research and hard work. You knew how desperately Ford wanted that validation from his family, from his dad.

“We have a deal?” Bill asks.

“Alright… I’ll leave him alone.” You cave, gasping for air as Bill removes his hand.

“Good, glad we were able to come to an understanding. I’ll make sure Ford gets all the knowledge I can offer and you two can finally start the life you always wanted together, right?” Bill says with a grin before crouching down to be eye level with you.

“Now don’t tell, Ford, about our little meeting, okay? We wouldn’t want him to worry and get distracted, now would we?”

You shoot up in a panic, a sense of dread filling your body. Your eyes dart to see Ford lying there and you immediately back away, the memory of his hand on your neck fresh in your subconscious. Your legs kick the sleeping bag away, not caring what noise you make. Your hands tremble, fumbling with the zipper of the tent before finally getting it unzipped enough to slip out of the tent.

The air hits your cheeks but it’s not enough to stop your racing heart.

Your feet carry you over to the lake, crouching to the ground as your hands cup together to splash the water onto your face. The cool liquid pricks at your skin but the sensation is enough to shock you out of your fevered state.

Your fast breaths slow down in pace and after a few splashes of cold water, your breath has begun to even out.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump.

“Are you okay?”

#gravity falls #gravity falls x you #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanfiction #ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines x you #stanley pines #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x you #stan pines x reader #stan pines #stanford pines #stanford x reader #deja vu

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quintessenceofdust88 · 3 months ago

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Here's some fluff with pregnant uncle Buck and the biggest baby Buckley-Kinard cheerleader, a.k.a Jee-Yun Buckley-Han:

“Uncle Buck?” Jee's soft voice cuts through the quiet of the evening, and Buck smiles down at her.

The two of them are lying on his and Tommy’s bed, already in their PJ’s - well, Jee’s in her unicorn themed PJ’s anyway. Buck’s wearing a pair of Tommy’s sweatpants and also one of his husband’s T-shirts which are slightly bigger than his and fit more comfortably over the sixteen-week bump that’s his constant companion. Jee-Yun has her tiny hands pressed against said bump, looking in awe at the swollen curve of Buck’s stomach.

Ever since finding out her uncle’s pregnant, Jee-Yun has been his biggest supporter. The first thing she does whenever she sees Buck these days is rush into his direction for a hug, placing her hands on his growing bump, happily saying “Hi, babies! Remember me? It’s your big cousin Jee-Yun!”. Buck’s heart fills with joy every time that happens, and he’s ridiculously happy that his niece is so excited about the prospect of being a big cousin.

“Yeah, Jee-bug?” Buck answers softly, running a hand on her soft hair, thinking he should probably get her settled for bed soon. Actually, he knows for a fact it’s a little past her bedtime, but what’s an uncle for if not bending the rules a little bit?

Especially considering that sleepovers are a rare treat for Jee. Tonight, Maddie had a shift and little Kevin has the flu, so Buck immediately offered to take her for the night so Chimney could focus on their youngest. His brother-in-law had tried to protest at first, but Buck insisted, claiming Jee’d keep him company since Tommy’s on a shift.

They’ve had the sweetest time, baking a cake and watching a movie. The whole time, Jee-Yun has been babbling about things she learned at kindergarten (and Buck can’t believe she’s going to elementary school next year; when has time gotten away from him like that?), but Buck thinks she might be about to return to her favorite subject of the moment: her little cousins.

And sure enough…

“Do the babies like chocolate ice-cream? Mama says Kevin wanted lots of chocolate ice-cream when he was in her tummy!” She asks, and Buck chuckles; she’s been doing that a lot, comparing Maddie’s pregnancy to his, trying to figure out the rhyme or reason of babies growing inside someone.

“Not chocolate ice-cream, but you know what they made me want the other day?” Buck asks conspirationally, leaning closer to her, and Jee-Yun’s eyes widen in curiosity.

“What?!’

“Oreos dipped in orange juice” He says, and her instant reaction is a delighted giggle followed by a grimace.

“Oreos with orange juice?! Gross, uncle Buck!” Jee decides, and Buck boops her nose playfully.

“I know it sounds super gross, but you know what? I kinda liked it; or, the babies liked it anyway” He answers with a chuckle, remembering the horrified face Tommy pulled at him when he caught Buck dumping the Oreos in his glass of orange juice, and how he wisely decided not to comment on it.

“Can I try it? Maybe I’ll like it too!” Jee says eagerly, and Buck has no doubt she’s about to bolt from the bed to try it. But he has no desire to be thoroughly chewed out by Maddie in the morning.

“Maybe tomorrow, okay, munchkin? It’s bed time for little girls now” He tells her, and Jee pouts, but only a little. She’s smart enough to realize it’d be pushing her luck to try and delay her bedtime even more.

“Is it bed time for the babies too?” She asks innocently, and Buck laughs in delight.

Come to think of it, he could go to sleep already. He’s thankfully past the point of his pregnancy where he felt sleepy all the god damn time, but still. It’s no piece of cake, growing two babies, and Buck is enjoying all the rest he can get.

“Yeah, I guess the babies could go to sleep too” He told her, and Jee smiled.

“Then can I sleep here with you? I promised uncle Tommy I'd take care of you and the babies!” She pleaded, and Buck isn't able to say no, not when she looks at him with those expectant eyes. God, he hopes he grows a spine by the time the twins are her age, or they'll get away with murder if it depends on him.

“Oh, well, if you promised uncle Tommy…” He teases her, already lifting up the covers so she can get under them, and she does so with a happy squeal that just about melts Buck’s heart.

Jee settles herself on Tommy’s side of the bed, a content sigh leaving her lips as she snuggles against him, and Buck puts his arm around her, pulling his niece closer to him and opening up the story book he’d left on the nightstand earlier.

“Tell me a story, uncle Buck?” She asks sleepily, and Buck places a small kiss on her forehead before starting to read ‘The Ugly Duckling’ (a story that always spoke to him as a kid who wished to belong, and he’s so glad that for his niece it’s really just a story).

His voice is the only sound in the house, and Buck can feel as Jee’s head gets heavier against his shoulder, indicating she’s more asleep than awake by this point. He’s about two pages away from finishing it when he feels it; a tiny kick from inside, pressing lightly but surely against his stomach. Before he knows it, Buck’s sitting up in bed, cradling his bump.

“Uncle Buck?! Something happened to the babies?!” Jee asks, more excited than worried when she sees the wide smile on her uncle’s face.

“Y-yeah, Jee” Buck answers, still in awe, still delighted, as he feels another kick a little more to the right than the first one; probably the other baby, he realizes. “C’mon, put your hand in here”

Jee doesn’t need to be told twice; her tiny hand rests beside his in his belly, and she stares at it intently, holding her breath. She’s rewarded by her patience in less than two minutes, when Buck feels another flutter of movement (and, wow. It’s weird, to feel them moving inside him like that. The best kind of weird, but weird nonetheless). Jee clearly feels it too, because she lets out a delighted gasp.

“The babies! They’re moving, uncle Buck!” She tells him, as if he wasn’t aware, and Buck chuckles. “I think they like your story”

“Nah, munchkin” He says, his heart feeling impossibly full as his two tiny blobs (he wanted to murder Tommy the first time he referred to them like this after the ultrasound, but the nickname has grown on him) kick and move around, giving clear signs of life inside him. He hugs Jee tight, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “I think they want to say good night to their big cousin”

“Oh!” She answers, as if that indeed explains everything, and squirms away from his arms so she can scoot down on the bed and press a tiny kiss against his T-shirt. “Good night, babies. I love you so much. I can’t wait to meet you!”

“Me neither, Jee-bug” Buck whispers to her as if it’s a big secret. “Me neither”

[Now on AO3!]

(@parrishjeanna tagging as requested! I hope you enjoy! <3 <3 <3)

And if anyone else would like to get tagged in other works for this verse (which I'll temporarily name 'Little Blobs verse'), please let me know! It's meant to be a very fluffy verse, at least at first hehe <3

#bucktommy #jee yun buckley han #uncle buck #evan buckley #tommy kinard #1200 words #ficlet #fluff #mpreg #mpreg evan buck #gabby writes #little blobs verse

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solifloris · 3 months ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎

╰┈➤ ❝ luke x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 (backlog)

tags : pwp (without plot), cuddle fucking, grinding, morning sex, vaginal sex, slight tickling, teasing, clit play, a liiittle bit of feelings addressed but it's mostly ambiguous, praise, mostly really just soft giggly sex, use of pet names "baby" "pretty girl" "pretty baby". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.5k

an : I ACTUALLY DID MAKE IT TO TWO FICS TODAY and it's like. i know that it's About Time that i've finally written a solo fic for luke (sorry baby i know i've been neglecting you a lil 😭).... and this actually kind of made me love him extra :(

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

Morning-afters with him aren't so bad.

"Mmm… Morning, baby~"

Arms snaked over your side, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he pulled you in closer. His breath was hot against your skin, head resting lazily into the crook of your neck. And though his voice was still rough, very obviously still fighting off the remnants of his sleepiness, he seemed to have enough energy to give you a squeeze.

It did well to wake you up.

With a quiet laugh, you tilted your head. "G'morning, Luke." Your eyes closed as you nuzzled against his nose, feeling his own quiet chuckle tickling against your lips. "Sleep well?" you murmured.

"Mm."

His only reply.

It was almost odd to have him so quiet; now and again he'd be chattering along and filling your ears with only his voice. There was rarely ever a minute you'd go without hearing it; you'd become used to it by now.

Yet this time, he could only pepper your face with little kisses, almost as if still trying to process the fact that you were, in fact, right here in his arms.

"I'm real, you know," you rolled your eyes playfully. "What's gotten into you?"

"Mmh, c'monnnn. What, I can't kiss the pretty girl in my arms?"

Butterfly kisses continued, light and fluttering as they would be. Over your eyes, your nose, your cheek, your chin, your lips—they barely lasted a second before they moved elsewhere, and your quiet laughs soon turned into a little fit of giggles.

"Hey! Not when it tickles!"

You'd both opened your eyes to lock onto each other's, and somehow, immediately you felt yourself regretting that statement.

"Ooh, it tickles?"

He was smirking.

"…Nope! Not at all! I don't know what you're—"

He cut you off this time by brushing his fingers over the bare skin of your stomach, and you squeaked.

The smirk on his face had since grown into a satisfied grin.

"Luukeee!" you whined, to no avail—

"Nuh-uh! No take-backsies!"

Another squeal fell from your lips as his hands roamed your body, poking at your sides and purely enjoying the way you erupted in laughter. "Luke!" you cried out, thrashing in his arms. "Hey! Hey, sto—ahahahaha! Stop it!! You goon, you—!"

He had the audacity to shut you up with a kiss, sacrificing the tickling in favor of tilting your head back to lock his lips with yours. And, ironically enough—in a manner so typical of Luke—it felt as if such tender kisses were a stark contrast from what he'd just been doing.

When he pulled back, he snuggled into the crook of your neck, and you panted for air.

"Idiot…" you huffed.

"Aww, you love it!" He laughed into your skin, drawing you as close to him as possible. There was a beat; a pause, and then he spoke again. "Mmh, hey, baby… Confession?"

You felt your eyebrows shoot up. It wasn't necessarily that his tone had turned serious, but moments like these were quite rare from him.

"What's there to confess?" you reached over to lace your hands together.

Another quiet laugh.

"Ah, well… Kinda maybe had a dream of you…"

A smile poked at your lips.

"Of me?"

"Mhm, of us."

This time, his hand moved to your hip as he pulled you flush against him, grinding into you just enough to slip between your thighs. "…Of last night."

You could tell that he was sincere, if his hard length rubbing against your thighs wasn't enough proof for you. He was warm, and throbbing—you couldn't help but turn to flash him a grin, tapping the tip of his nose. "Awww, Luke. You missed me in your sleep?"

He huffed.

"Pretty girl, after last night? Ha, I think I'd miss you all the time."

Whether it was to pay back the tease in your voice or as a means to get you just as riled up as he was, you felt his fingers trail down to circle around your clit, and your laughter easily turned into another squeal.

With your hips jolting at the contact, you lightly smack on his arm. "Luke!"

"Whaaatt?"

It was his turn to grin, and you felt it in the way he kissed you. Still light, still tender—but the corners of his lips lifted up, and you nearly gasped into him as he finally grazed over your silky wet cunt. Soft, gentle strokes worked to gather up your wetness, easily turning you into a sticky mess for him.

He was so good at making you need him.

Your hips bucked into his hand, thighs sliding over his length to give him equal stimulation. He groaned into the kiss—you affected him just as much as he did you—but it was obvious that he was still fighting down a laugh.

A laugh.

"Acting like you're all that, but look at you being so needy f'me~" he taunted. His petting through your folds continued, free hand raking up your sides again to tickle you—because for him having started this by being the needy one, he was certainly having his fun playing.

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he played with your clit, laughter tinged with delirium. His fingers slid the moisture up to your bud, tracing tiny circles around the bead that had you fisting your hands into the covers, and taking tiny, gasping breaths.

"Hnng—Luke, baby, come on—" you moan helplessly beneath his touch, trying to find the balance between the giggles that tried to surface, and the sounds of pleasure you couldn't stop. "Ugh, it's your fault! When you touch me this good, what else do you think would happen?!"

"Hmm? I dunnooo, but I was counting on this for sure…"

He laughed at your expense—as he often did—before leaning in to kiss lightly at your jaw. "C'mon, baby. You're pretty... So so pretty. Help me out? Pleaseeee?"

His words of resignation did not match the snicker that fell out as the tip of his finger dipped teasingly into your hole… before pulling out.

"Luke!"

"Whaatt~? What do you want me to do, then?"

Another light smack at his arm, and his shoulders shook from laughter as he brought his hand away from you and up to his lips. Quick licks brought the taste of you on his tongue, and he let out a satisfied smile. "Mmm, the best ever."

You rolled your eyes.

"Luke. If you don't fuck me right this seco—"

Your body jolted.

Strategically, or not quite strategically, he'd thrust himself from between your legs and grazed the tip at your clit.

A groan resounded in your ear as he repeated the motions, getting your wetness to coat his dick, leaning down to take in the scent of your skin. "M'gonna, just, wait a sec…"

Despite yourself, you laughed, pushing against him. Your breathing shallowed as the pleasure only worked to make you wetter, but the ridiculousness of this situation meant you couldn't help it. And laughter would be as contagious as it ever was—despite his movements not particularly stopping, you felt him start laughing with you.

"You, pffft— You wanted to get me in the mood, and now you're telling me to wait?! Be so for real, Luke."

"Wh—as if it's entirely my fault! Pretty baby, I could be between your legs for hours—"

"Shut! C'mon, just put it in!"

You almost had half a mind to straddle him yourself and take matters into your own hands, but in the state you were in—shaking with laughter, almost numb from shortness of breath—there was no way you could overpower him enough to do so.

Thankfully, with a roll of his eyes, he reached down to position himself properly before he finally thrust inside of you.

Immediately your giggles shifted into a moan, and you gasped when his hand moved up to toy with your breasts.

"There we go… attagirl…" he mumbled, already panting as much as you were.

Yet he stayed soft, and slow.

Unlike last night, his thrusts this time were a little lazy; rhythmic in a way that was almost relaxing to you.

As the laughter died down, you leaned back into his chest, tilting your head back so you could see him.

He smiled.

"Sheesh… you're so fucking pretty."

"Mhm? Your pretty girl?" you grinned, and he moaned, thrusting particularly deep to have you gasp in return.

"Hell yeah. My pretty baby."

And then his lips were on yours, hips still gently fucking into you, fingers intertwined as he insisted to feel connected to you as much as he possibly could.

He was so silly, Luke. A menace, whether you liked it or not (though you did). But when it came to things like this… he was always the sweetest, most loving person that you've ever seen.

Praises whispered against your lips as he refused to part, and you thought to yourself… If you could wake up next to him like this every day, things really wouldn't be too bad at all.

"Mm… You just got so tight around me, baby. Relax, what're you thinking?"

You huffed in response. "Not of your concern."

"No?"

"No."

"But you feel so good, pretty girl… Is that it? Do you like that?" He grinned in your ear as he angled his hips, thrusting up to graze against your g-spot.

"Fuck—"

"Yeah, exactly what I'm trying to do here."

"Luke!"

You hit his arm for the nth time that morning, but you didn't stop the smile from forming on your face.

Yep. Not bad at all.

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @love-and-deepstrays @theanbitchless @m2ichaelis @keioxo

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azrielsdove · 11 months ago

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Best Friend’s Brother: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Kinda Mean Az?

***

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Cassian teased you, peering over his glass as he drank. You rolled your eyes, throwing back the rest of your own drink.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied, adding more liquor to your cup. Cassian laughed, shaking his head at you.

“You’re blind if you don’t notice the way he looks at you, anyway.” You stilled at his words, eyes glaring daggers into him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” You wouldn’t allow yourself the naivety to imagine Azriel felt the same way you did. You had only become a part of the Inner Circle a few years ago, after you accidentally took Rhys down thinking he was a danger. He had been so impressed with you that he immediately offered you a security position and set you up to train under his General and Spymaster. Cassian and you were fast friends, but Azriel left you confused. He rarely spoke to you and passed most of the training off to Cass. Everything he did screamed that he couldn’t care less about you.

Unfortunately, you were enthralled by him.

The few times he did train you were treasured memories, the feel of his hands on your waist as he corrected your position, the way his eyes looked over your body to ensure proper hold. At one of your recent sessions he had tackled you to the ground, hips pinning yours to the sand underneath you. You had allowed him to think your lack of speech was due to shock that he had taken you down so easily, and not because you were going delirious with desire. You had taken a rather long bath after that morning.

“Oh sure, yea, why would I know the male i’ve spent 500 years with? You’re right, you must know him better than I. I apologize, O Great One, for daring to assume.” Cassian mock bowed to you, smirking at your glare. “I know a way to prove it to you.” You hated how he piqued your interest.

“Pray tell, dear friend,” you said, carefully filling your rapidly emptying glass again. You enjoyed the way the drink made your mind fuzzy, the endless thoughts of why Azriel could barely stand you numbed. Cassian leaned closer towards you, a wicked smile on his face.

“Come to training extra early tomorrow. Wear your tightest leathers, the ones from when you first got here.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Those stick to my body like a second skin. I’ll look like a pleasure hall whore wearing them.” You didn’t appreciate the way Cassian looked at you, eyes shining proudly.

“That’s what I intend. I’d never lead you astray, would I?” He raised his hand in surrender immediately after he spoke, shaking his head. “Not about anything like this, I promise.” You knew it was a bad idea to agree to whatever plan he was making, but you found yourself nodding and hoping you weren’t going to regret this in the morning.

***

A low whistle met you as you walked into the training ring early the next morning. “Damn, you look even better than I imagined. If this weren’t to get the attention of my brother i’d try to convince you down to my room.” Cassian looked approvingly over you as you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“If your plan fails, I may as well take you up on that. Gods know it’s been too long.” You often played into Cassian’s endless flirting, a key reason as to why your friendship developed so fast. He was right, the leathers were tighter than you had expected as well. You weren’t as toned when you began training. They are already made to fight directly to your body, so pulling on ones from a size ago was almost impossible. Still, you managed to buckle them around you, admiring yourself in the mirror. The leather truly hugged your skin, enhancing your strong thighs and body. “What is your plan, by the way?” You asked, looking suspiciously at Cassian.

“I’m gonna kiss you.” Your jaw dropped at his statement as his laughter floated over the training ring. “Don’t look at me like that! Imagine it, Az comes up here and sees you like that, with me? He’s going to be so jealous I won’t be surprised if he has his way with you right here.” You felt your face heat at his vulgarity, shaking your head quickly.

“No way. No way. What if he instead thinks, oh I dunno, that we are together?” You point out, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Trust me when I tell you that he won’t.” Cassian took a step closer to you, holding out his hand. “I am not as dumb as you may think.” You sighed, reluctantly placing your hand in his and letting him lead you over to the side of the ring. You may as well attempt his plan, however ridiculous you think it is. He places a hand on your waist as he pulls you close to him, the other coming up to cup your face. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

You shook your head, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. “What do I have to lose? If it doesn’t work, at least I got to spend my morning with a handsome male,” you quipped, winking dramatically at him. You felt his laugh under your hands, the nerves of what you were about to do calming down. This was Cassian, your best friend. You could trust him.

He dipped his head down towards you, eyes locking onto yours once more to ensure you were okay with this. You pushed up on your toes and connected your lips, using the last little bit of confidence you had. Cassian’s hand slid to the back of your head, tangling itself in your hair as he angled you up into him. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, enjoying how he so clearly knew what he was doing. You moved your arms up to lock around his neck, arching your body into his touch. He nipped at your bottom lip and you gladly opened your mouth to him, almost forgetting why you were doing this.

Almost.

Anticipation slithered up your spine and you forced your eyes to stay shut, even though you wanted to peek and see if Azriel had arrived yet. Cassian’s hand flattened across your back, pulling you tighter against him. You lost yourself in his kiss, allowing your body to relax into his hold.

Something cold and weightless tightened around your calf, pulling your attention away from Cassian as you looked down. Your heart was racing as you took in one of Azriel’s shadows, swirling anxiously around your ankles. Cass didn’t allow the little thing to distract from your plan, bringing his lips up and down the side of your neck. You tilted your head back to allow him more access, an embarrassingly needy noise slipping from your mouth when he nipped at your skin. The shadow spun faster around you, another one coming to wrap around your waist and tug you from Cassian’s grip. You stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over more shadows behind you. “Wha-“ you began, cut off by a shadow wrapping around your throat. Cassian’s eyes widened and he glanced behind you, true fear on his face. That was certainly not comforting.

An arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your back flush against a strong chest. You forced your breathing to stay steady, realizing it was Azriel behind you. “Cassian,” he said slowly, “what do you think you’re doing?” His voice was quiet, but threat laced his words. Cassian paled, raising his hands in surrender.

“Now Az, let me just explain-“ You shook your head as best you could against the shadows hold, not wanting Cassian to embarrass you further. As if this could get any worse. You were going to murder him for this.

“Leave us. Now,” Azriel commanded Cassian, voice still dangerously calm. You couldn’t help but be a little worried as you watched your friend practically run out of the training area. If Cassian didn’t think he could deal with Azriel right now, what chance did you have?

The shadows disappeared from your body, but the arm around your waist only tightened. You repressed a shudder as you felt Azriel’s lips brush the tip of your ear, leaning down to whisper to you. “What kind of game do you think you’re playing?” You sucked in a breath, all confidence gone now that you were alone.

“I-I’m not playing a game,” you stuttered out, cursing Cassian in your head.

“Mhm,” Azriel said, his other hand coming to trace up and down your thigh. “You just happen to be dressed in these delightful things,” his hand slid between your legs, squeezing your inner thigh. “You show up extra early to practice, and I find you with my brother’s lips on your pretty little neck?” He ghosted his own over the same stretch of skin Cassian had kissed, a shiver running down your spine. “And to make it worse, I have to listen as you make that delicious noise for him?” He nipped your neck in the same spot as Cassian, causing you to gasp in surprise. “Hm, not quite.” His hand between your legs moved up, fingers finding you easily over the tight fabric. You bit your lip and tipped your head back as he circled your clit, the teasing pressure not nearly enough with your leathers in the way. “Look at you, already so reactive for me.” He pressed slow, hot kisses along your throat, his fingers continuing their almost perfect teasing.

“Az-“ You breathed out, arching into his touch. “It wasn’t, ah, it wasn’t real.” He chuckled darkly against your skin, his fingers pressing harder onto you.

“Oh, I know. I don’t take Cassian’s sloppy seconds.” His words were punctuated with a sharp bite under your ear, his teeth sucking in the skin there. You knew he was undoubtedly leaving a bruise, marking you as his. A rather embarrassing whimper left your lips, his fingers still punishing you over your leathers. “That’s more like it,” he groaned, biting a second spot on your neck. You have another helpless noise, enjoying the way it clearly affected him. “I’m going to make you cum, just like this. Do you understand?” He moved his fingers tight against you, playing you like an instrument he had trained for. His lips brushed against your ear again, sucking the lobe of it into his mouth. “I’m going to make you cry out my name, without ever truly touching you.” Heat rose in your cheeks at the humiliation of it. He was going to ruin you without any effort.

And you were going to let him.

You moaned his name as you felt the pleasure build in your core, pushing yourself harder against his hand. “I always knew you’d be so good for me,” he growled, a shadow angling your face towards him. You almost finished at the look in his eyes, his pupils blown wide as he worked you. “I want to look at you when you come undone for me.” You moaned again, trying desperately to lift your head up to kiss him. The shadow kept you in place, a slow smile spreading over Azriel’s face. “Not yet.” He leaned down enough that your lips were a breath away from his, but not any closer. You shook in his hold as the pleasure his fingers were bringing intensified, the teasing too much to bear.

“Azriel, please,” you gasped out, fighting against the shadow. You could feel yourself about to snap, legs quivering as you climbed that peak. He said nothing, only watching you with those stunning eyes of his as his fingers pushed you over the edge. You went rigid against him, mouth open in a silent scream as your orgasm took over. He kept working you through it, prolonging your pleasure as long as he could. He stopped when you collapsed in his arms, chest heaving as you sucked in air, trying desperately to come back down. He released you then, watching as you stumbled before turning to face him. His eyes drifted down your body, stopping on the wet spot he had made between your legs.

“I’d say you’re ready for training now.”

***

Here is a short little smutty piece for Azriel Baby <3. I might make this into a mini series 👀. I am still working on Pt.2 of Longing, I just hit a bit of a block and needed to get something else out!! I hope you enjoyed 🩷

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel smut #azriel x reader smut #acotar smut #best friends brother

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