brynnwrites - Tumblr blog

brynnwrites · 2 years

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thinking about soft!boyfriend steve. who grabs whatever inanimate object is closest to him and sings a silly little song into it whenever you’re sad just to see you break into a smile. who bundles you up in the coziest scarf he owns at the slightest inclination that you’re cold, he keeps it in the trunk of his car for you just in case. steve, who cuts off your self deprecating speech with a head spinning spearmint flavoured kiss because he adores you so incredibly much, and he knows that no words he could ever say would speak louder at that particular moment. steve, who reaches up wordlessly with a veiny hand to grab anything off the top shelf before you can even lean onto your tip toes. steve, who’s crafted from stardust, donning constellations made up of moles and freckles, scattered across his sun kissed complexion for you to trace, kiss, and memorize. steve is the act of selflessly switching ice creams or even sandwiches with you when you end up not liking yours. a rosy flush never fails to adorn his cheeks the day after, when you sweetly drop off coffee and baked goods at family video for him and robin to share as a thank you. steve is the colour of sunshine. paisley, warm and illuminating. steve is the epitome of lovesick when you laugh a bit too loud, knowing that you learned to shed your fear of doing so after you told him an ex of yours loathed it. he would give anything to hear you laugh like that every time. steve is the type of boyfriend who twirls you with his arms wrapped tightly around your waistline after spending fifteen minutes apart from you. who goes helplessly weak in the knees when you kiss him, because every time feels like the first time with you. who fiddles with the hem of your clothing, a lock of your hair, your dainty jewellery, anything to be closer to you while you speak to him. who reads with you from behind your shoulder, and quietly kisses the crook of your neck to let you know that you can turn the page. who promptly kneels onto the floor in front of you no matter where you are before fixing your shoelace or heel strap when he notices it’s come undone, much to your appreciative embarrassment. who lifts you up onto the nearest surface before he protectively bandages your wounds no matter how small, even if it was just a little scrape from when you clumsily banged into one of the cupboards, placing a tender kiss to the area after he ensures the edges of the plaster are smooth, wiping away your tears if any. steve, who feels the garden of his chest bloom with fresh wildflowers every time you say you love him, because he knows that you mean it, he can feel it, also because you’re so endearingly bad at telling even the whitest of lies. he drifts off to sleep whenever you play with his silky hair at the end of a long day, your manicured fingers gently scratching his scalp as he leans into the safety of being taken care of. steve is sticky lipgloss coated kisses on the cheek, intertwined fingers, dusky almond toned eyes brimmed with infatuation, fresh linen scented lullabies, bottled springtime, bouquets of your favourite flowers at any hour, stray flowers picked by you innocently placed behind his ears or braided through his hair. unbeknownst to the both of you, you’ve each started your own flower pressing journals, preserving every single petal that you’ve ever received from the other. steve is confidently mispronounced words that have you rolling in giggles and falling for him impossibly harder. he’s rose water scented love letters, time capsule polaroids of you in every nook of his burgundy bmw despite max saying that it looks like a shrine, slow dancing tipsily as dinner cooks on the stove, teary eyes at animal shelter commercials between bubblegum dramas, stolen kisses in broad daylight, absentmindedly humming along to the radio on the drive to lovers lake, fleeting confessions in the purple dawn. finally, steve is the schoolgirl type of love that has you twirling and daydreaming airily before opening your window for him when he sneaks into your childhood bedroom. lovestruck forever.

*soft!boyfriend stevie owns my ♡*

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brynnwrites · 2 years

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red tank top - emily prentiss

warnings: suggestive content, nothing explicit

You couldn't keep your eyes off her if you tried. And you were trying. Hard.

It's not like you could help it. The snug red tank top might as well have been the tempting fruit from the garden of Eden. Apple red and oh so sinful.

"Eyes up here," Emily's musical voice teased with a joking smile.

You jolted, your eyes jerking to meet hers. Your cheeks flamed, like a teenager who had been caught looking at a magazine they shouldn't have.

"I'm just teasing," she knocked your shoulder gently, prodding a stilted laugh from you. Her lips turned down into a frown. "You okay?"

"Huh, me?" You chirped, fiddling with the rings on your fingers. "Yeah. I-I'm fine."

"Okay," she chuckled lightly, wrapping an arm around you. "Why don't we head back to the hotel for a drink, yeah? Celebrate another success."

You just smiled and nodded, allowing her to toe you back to the SUVs. The other team members followed suit, murmuring in agreement about drinks. It had been a tough case—you all definitely deserved to celebrate the lives saved.

You were squished between Morgan and Emily in the backseat. Your face still felt hot, especially given the proximity to your very attractive best friend. You watched her delicate fingers tighten their grip on the handle above the window as the vehicle hit a bump, and you felt your whole body tense up.

"Right, Y/N?" Morgan asked, giving your shoulder a bump.

"Huh?" You definitely had not heard what he was talking about.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Emily chuckled, but she sounded worried. "You've been jumpy and spaced out since we caught the guy earlier. Is something bothering you?"

Her eyes were wide with concern and one of her hands moved to grip your knee. She thought you might have been upset from the case. She had no idea.

You gulped. "No, no, I'm fine, I promise. Just a little tired is all."

She nodded understandingly. "Maybe you should skip drinks and go to bed then. It's been a long week. I might join you myself."

The thought of heading up to bed with Emily while the rest of the team had drinks in the hotel bar made your heart quicken. "Oh, I wouldn't want to miss out on the party."

"I don't think there will be a party tonight," Morgan snorted. "Rossi's already asleep in the passenger seat. Go on and rest, I'm sure most of us will head that way sooner than later."

The SUV stopped in front of the hotel and Emily pulled you by the hand. "Come on, sleepy thing."

She didn't allow you to protest, on a mission to get you the rest you pretended to need. There was no way you could back out now and admit that you weren't that sleepy at all.

"If you're really intent on drinking tonight," Emily spoke as she opened the door to your shared hotel room, "we can order a bottle of wine up and watch a movie."

"Yeah, sure," you spoke absentmindedly, watching the material of her tank top shift as she reached up to take off her earrings.

You knew you had to get a grip on yourself. It was just a piece of clothing. On a person that you had immense feelings for.

She eyed you suspiciously as you marched over to your go bag, digging around for your pajamas. "Okay, seriously. What is up with you?"

You shrugged, not looking at her as you fished out the rest of your toiletries. "I'm fine, Em."

You could tell she didn't believe you for a second, being the damn good profiler that she was. You didn't give her time to push the subject, scampering toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna shower. Go ahead and order wine up and pick a movie."

You shut the door behind you and locked it, taking a deep breath. You muttered to yourself about pulling yourself together. Usually you were good about keeping your feelings for Emily hidden deep down but today—that God forsaken red tank top—had you struggling.

You showered off the grime of the day. It had been a hot one on the west coast of California, and the takedown was grueling. It felt like you were putting on new skin as you washed your body, melting into the warm shower spray.

You wrung your hair out as you stepped into fresh underwear and your silky pajamas. You gave yourself a silent pep talk in the mirror with a steeling deep breath before walking out into the room.

Your breathing stuttered, seeing Emily had kept the tank top on, opting only to change into a pair of sleep shorts. She was sat atop your bed, reclining against the headboard with her legs crossed, a red bottle and two glasses next to her.

"Come on," she patted the empty side of the bed, remote in hand. "I found your favorite—Mean Girls."

You snorted a laugh. She knew that even though the movie wasn't technically your favorite, it always cheered you up.

You eased onto the bed next to her, watching intently as she poured some wine into your glass and handed to you. She filled her own and she clinked it against yours.

"To another successful case," she toasted.

"Hear, hear!" You cheered, taking a sip at the same time.

You sat in comfortable silence as you watched the opening of the movie, when suddenly Emily cleared her throat.

"So," she spoke slowly, "are you ever gonna tell me what's going on with you today?"

You groaned, swallowing the mouthful of the drink you had and setting your glass on the nightstand. "Emily, I told you—"

"You're fine, I know. I call bullshit," she chuckled, nudging your leg with a painted toe. "I know it's not just because you're tired. You've barely been able to look at me or talk to me most of the day. Have I done something wrong?"

Your eyes widened. "No!" It came out louder than you meant to and lowered your voice. "No, Em, you haven't done anything wrong. It's just...me?"

She looked even more confused. "What do you mean?"

You groaned, leaning your head back against the headboard with your eyes closed. "Forget it, really. It's nothing."

She huffed, turning to face you with her legs tucked up beneath her. "It's not nothing. Obviously something is bothering you and you're not telling me what it is. I'm your best friend, you can tell me anything."

"That's the problem!" You said, frustrated. Before you could think, words came tumbling out. "You're my best friend. I can't tell you what it is because..."

"Because what?" She asked, inching closer. She was like a dog with a bone now, not going to rest until she got the truth from you.

"Because I'm not supposed to feel like this about my best friend," you mumbled, eyes squeezed shut still, bringing a hand up to cover them for good measure. You didn't want to see her face at your admission.

Her words came out low and reverent. "Feel like what?"

You brought your other hand up to scrub down your face with a frustrated sound. "You know what I'm saying, Em. Don't make it more embarrassing than it is."

"No, I really don't know," she said, placing a hand on your knee. "I need you to say it."

The air in the room turned thick and electric in a matter of seconds. You inhale sharply, still not daring to look at her as you turn your gaze to the ceiling.

"That damn red tank top," you mumble, as both a curse and a prayer.

She laughs disbelievingly, looking down and pulling at the neckline. "This old thing? That's what's got you all worked up?"

You groan in both frustration and eternal embarrassment. "No—I mean, yeah—but like, it's just you all the time and..."

Your hands have come back up to cover your face amidst your rambling, wanting nothing more than to sink down into the mattress and let it swallow you whole.

Soft hands wrap around your wrists and gently tug at them. "Look at me, pretty girl."

Your entire body flushes at her raspy tone, not to mention the nickname. You'd heard her call Spencer "Pretty Boy" in jest but this—this was different.

You reluctantly let her drag your hands away from your face as you cracked an eye to look at her. Her loose curls framed her face so perfectly, her rosy red bottom lip tucked up between her teeth. Those dark eyes that could easily intimidate serial killers were soft and full of sweet emotion, bracketed by dark, thick lashes. Not to mention her strong jaw and perfectly pointed nose—if Emily Prentiss was anything, she was stunning.

"Hi," you whispered, because what else could you say? With her hands still gently circling your wrists and her eyes piercing your gaze, you had very little cognitive function left.

Her hands released your wrists to cup your cheeks. She smiled softly, "Hi. How long have you been feeling this way?"

You swallowed thickly. "Realized it a few months ago, but I think since I met you."

Her smile widens as she brushes her thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. "And to think I was the only one."

"Huh?" You were confused. There was no way she...

"I've wanted you since the moment you walked into the BAU," she admitted, leaning in closer, your foreheads almost touching. "I just never thought it would be mutual."

You let out a long breath, feeling as though you could finally breath easy knowing she felt the same way. Her eyes flickered between your stunned gaze and your parted lips.

Your voice came out high and strained. "Kiss me, Em?"

"With pleasure," she smirked, closing the minuscule gap between your lips.

Your body instantly lit up, like a million little lights on a Christmas tree. A knot formed in your stomach as she licked into your mouth tentatively, moving so she was nearly straddling you. Your hands nervously slid over her hips to clutch at her waist, pulling her in.

Your lips separated for a moment, and your eyes fluttered open to see hers shiny and red, yours no doubt the same. Her gaze was heavy, her chest heaving. It took every inch of willpower not to paw at the red material covering the slopes of her chest.

"Eyes up here," she teased with a smirk, echoing her words from earlier.

"Ha-ha-ha," you huffed out a sarcastic laugh, "so funny."

She moved so she was fully straddling your lap, one hand cupping the back of your neck and the other tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You sucked in a sharp breath.

"I don't think there's anything funny about what we're about to do, pretty girl."

Her smile was wicked and you knew you were done for.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #imagines #x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine

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brynnwrites · 2 years

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you’re telling me i just watched a scene where maya hawke quotes taylor swift AND kisses a girl while silk chiffon by MUNA and phoebe bridgers plays in the background? do revenge is the movie of the year now

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brynnwrites · 2 years

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Yes sir, I will literally do anything you ask me

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brynnwrites · 2 years

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#it’s a dad thing

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brynnwrites · 2 years

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Reblog if you are a fic writer who welcomes moodboards, playlists, remixes, art and any other type of gift based on your stories.

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brynnwrites · 2 years

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california winter - spencer reid

college!spencer x college roommate!reader

warnings: narrowly avoided assault situation

Spencer Reid, your fellow young prodigy, doubled as both your best friend and extremely annoying roommate. You were both only eighteen, exceptionally young for being college graduates. Spencer was working towards his doctorate in psychology while you were doing stem cell research in a lab near CalTech. You had a routine, and it was good.

Most of the time.

"Spencer, go to bed," you groaned, slumping through the kitchen to get a glass of water.

He was sat at the small dining room table, hunched over a stack of flash cards. "Studying," he mumbled, barely acknowledging your presence.

"Can you study without blasting Mozart?" You huffed, one hand on your hip as you sipped at your water. "I'm trying to get some beauty sleep before I have to stare at a microscope for twelve hours straight."

"Studies show that classical music increases productivity and enhances brain activity," he rattled off nonchalantly, always speaking as though he was Google incarnate.

"And studies show that a lack of sleep does the complete opposite." You pressed stop on his speaker.

He looked up at you finally, leaning over to turn it back on. "Classical music should help you fall asleep faster."

"Yeah, well, it's doing the opposite," you snipped, punching the stop button again. "Haven't you ever heard of headphones?"

Always stubborn, the soon-to-be young doctor pressed play again without missing a beat. "And damage my perfectly fine hearing? No, thank you.”

You groaned, stomping away to put your empty glass in the sink. "You can be an absolute prick sometimes."

When you turned to glare at him, he had the audacity to look amused. "Did you just call me a British slang term for a penis?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, I did. Prick, dick, twisted up ballsack. Take your pick, I've got plenty of options."

"You can be so childish," he scoffed, returning his gaze back down to the card in his hands.

Now that, that turned your blood hot. No one ever, ever called you childish. In fact, you spent your whole life proving to people you weren't childish, especially in college when you were at least four years younger than everyone else. It struck a nerve that you knew Spencer knew about.

You turned on your heel and strode over to the door, heaving on your jacket and slip on shoes.

"Where are you going? It's nearly one in the morning," he questioned, though he didn't bother to look at you.

You almost didn't dignify him with an answer, but decided it was ultimately safest to at least give him an idea of where you would be. "Taking a walk around the block. Hopefully by then you'll finish jacking off to Mozart and I can get some sleep."

He spun around to face you then, and you almost reconsidered the Mozart masturbation joke until he spoke, suddenly very serious. "Taking a walk? This late? In Pasadena?"

"That's what I said." You crossed your arms. "Keep up. I thought you were a genius."

He stood, lightning quick, shaking his head. "Uh-uh. You're not going out this late by yourself, especially not dressed like that."

That was it. Your vision turned nearly blurry with the force of annoyance and anger flooding through your veins.

"Who do you think you are?" You snapped. "You're not my dad. You can't tell me where I can't go and especially not what I can and can't wear."

He huffed out an incredulous laugh. "I'm not saying you shouldn't go out dressed like that because it's...provocative. I'm saying it's forty-five degrees outside and you'll freeze in tiny shorts and a tank top."

You snorted, tugging your jacket a little tighter as you zipped it up. "I have a jacket. I'll be fine. Have fun with your notecards."

Before he could get another word in, you flicked the lock on the door and slipped out. You heard him calling your name but ignored him. You just needed a simple walk around the block to clear your head and make Spencer see that he really got under your skin this time. By morning you would be back to being the best of friends.

You turned down the street once outside the apartment building, bristling in the chilly night air. It was pretty chilly even for winter in California, but you would never admit that Spencer was right.

You turned at the next road sign, continuing to walk until you could feel the pressure in your chest dissipating. You breathed out puffs of white vapor into the air, stuffing your hands in your pocket. It was then you realized you had left your phone in your room at the apartment.

Not having any way of contact did make you a little uneasy, but you shrugged it off. You would be back in a few minutes, and hadn't seen a single soul out in the streets yet.

Until you looked up and realized you didn't recognize any of the buildings you were walking past. Well, you knew a few of them from briefly passing on the bus, but you had no idea where you were in reference to your apartment.

You decided to turn around, willing yourself not to panic. You would be fine. Worse comes to worse, you find a little 24 hour diner or something and ask to use their phone to call Spencer. You continued to walk with your head down, trying your best to remember which turns you had taken.

You felt pretty confident you were headed in the right direction, beginning to recognize a handful of businesses. You knew you were close, and you assumed that if you headed straight you would get back to the apartment building relatively soon. Until you began to feel someone watching you.

It was a niggling in the back of your mind that, at first, you shrugged off as being paranoid. Nonetheless, you picked up your pace a little, ignoring the slight burn of your thighs rubbing together from your short pajama shorts.

"Hey, sweetheart." It was a raspy voice that called out from behind you.

No. No, no, no. Your thoughts began to race and your pace faltered.

"Where you going this late at night?" Another voice asked.

Shit, he's not alone. Your heart began to gallop, your eyes searching for somewhere, anywhere with lights still on. Nothing on the strip where you were walking was open this late.

"It's not polite to ignore a couple of gentlemen, you know." The first voice spoke again. He sounded gruff. Slimy. Disgusting.

Without thinking for a moment longer, you broke into a sprint. You were prepared to jump out in the street and stop a car if you had to, all you knew was you had to get away from these men or you would be a victim like the ones in the true crime books Spencer was always reading.

Spencer.

Oh, he would have an absolute heart attack if he knew what was happening right now. Was he worried? Or did he just go back to studying? Had he tried to call you and realized your phone was still there?

Spencer, help! You screamed in your mind, knowing it was no use. You weren't delusional enough to think that you could reach him telepathically. Still, you repeated it in your mind like a mantra. Spencer! Spencer, please! Spencer, help me!

It was in that moment, your heart threatening to burst along with your heaving lungs that you realized Spencer was the one you thought about in a near death situation. Not just because he was your roommate or best friend or because he was the closest person geographically to you at the moment.

I love you, Spencer. The words came to you without you trying. You realized that if you had one thing left to say before you went, that would be it. You loved him. You were in love with him.

Clarity dawned on you as your mind flickered through memories. It had been in the background, like a soft hum, throughout your entire time with Spencer. Everything you did for him, you did with him, everything he meant to you. Love was there.

And you refused to be kidnapped, killed, or hurt in any way before he knew that.

You doubled forward with renewed speed, screaming when you felt a hand touch you shoulder. They were close, you knew they were. They must have been wearing boots, their footsteps heavy as your pounding heart.

That's when you collided with something.

Someone.

You dared to open your eyes, releasing a sob when familiar, amber colored eyes stared back at you, wide with fear.

"Y/N? Are you okay? Why are you-" he was out of breath, and you assumed he must have run towards you when he saw you sprinting. "Get the fuck away from her!"

"Oh, yeah? Who are you? Her boyfriend?" One of the men sneered.

"I am," he asserted, without missing a beat. "I swear if either of you so much as laid a finger on her, I'll make sure you never touch anything again."

He pushed you behind his slender frame and you clung to his shirt.

"She was just about to show us a good time," one of them chuckled.

"Yeah," the other snorted. "What are you gonna do about it? You're just a pipe cleaner with googly eyes."

You tugged on his faded CalTech tee shirt. "Spencer, let's go, come on."

Without hesitation, Spencer whipped out his phone and a can of pepper spray. "The cops are already on the way. I'd hate for them to have to drag you into the car because your eyes are burning."

"Aww, he has some pepper spray," the taller man teased mockingly. "How cute."

They stepped closer when a baring siren cut through the otherwise silent atmosphere.

"Shit," one of the men said and they mumbled between themselves before taking off in the opposite direction.

"You called the cops to come look for me?" You asked, breathless and shaking as he turned to face you.

His eyes were wide. "Well, I thought it was an overreaction, but when I found your phone still by your bed it scared me to death and I came out here and couldn't find you—”

You cut him off by leaning up and capturing his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He melted into your touch, eagerly reciprocating as he moved his lips against yours.

You both pulled back panting, your foreheads touching as you tried to calm your racing hearts.

"When I was running from them," you gulped, "all I could think about is you and how in love with you I am, Spencer. I was so scared that I wouldn't get to to tell you."

He chuckled, a smile on his face as he pulled you closer by the waist. "It's not funny, but it is kinda ironic that I was thinking the exact same thing the moment you stepped out the door. I'm such an idiot sometimes."

It was your turn to laugh. "You're an idiot? I think I'm the idiot for walking out like that in the dead of night."

"Well, yeah, that was a little stupid, I'll admit," he rubbed circles on the small of your back with his fingertips. "Good thing you had your knight in shining armor here to save you."

You thumped his chest lightly with a giggle. "I knew this would go straight to your ego."

The police arrived and Spencer assured them you were okay now. You have them a statement on the men who harassed you and they put in a report to be on the lookout for them. You and Spencer then returned to the apartment, your hands clutched around his arm.

When you arrived back, you were both shivering. You shed your jacket and Spencer toed off his slippers, instructing you to sit on the couch while he made some hot cocoa.

"I can't believe you, Spencer Reid, stood up to two men who probably had knives, with my hot pink pepper spray," you snickered as he handed you your mug.

His cheeks tinged light pink as he sat next to you, a comfortable space between you before he gave in and pulled you close to his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, stroking your shoulder with his arm around you. "And I'd do it over and over if it kept you safe. Just promise me you'll never scare me like that again?"

Your giggles faded as you were overwhelmed with the emotions rushing between you two. You were scared he had maybe been caught up in the adrenaline from earlier and didn't really feel the same for you. Those doubts were put to rest when he set both your mugs down on the end table and pulled you fully into his lap facing him.

"If you're worried about what I said down there, I meant it, Y/N," he said softly, running his fingers up and down your spine. "I think I've known since I was fourteen years old that it was always going to be me and you."

You tried to hold back the moisture pooling in the corners of your eyes. You carded your fingers through his sandy brown curls, taking in every feature of his casually stunning face. You loved every inch of him, mind, body, and soul.

"I'm yours, as long as you want me," you whispered.

He grinned, hugging you close to his chest. His lips were close to your ear, and you could feel the smile on them. "Looks like you're stuck with me forever then."

You leaned back, holding out your pinky finger like you used to make him promise back in freshman year. "Pinky on it?"

His smile widened impossibly more as he hooked his slender pinky around yours, drawing your hand up and kissing your intertwined fingers. "Pinky promise."

You spent the rest of the evening with lips, limbs, and sweet words tangled up in each other on the thrusted couch in your living room, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Even if it meant you were now definitely too tired for work the next day.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #imagines #fluff imagines #x reader #x reader imagines #spencer reid fluff #fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader

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brynnwrites · 2 years

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pasta night - spencer reid

spencer reid x reader

warnings: none, just fluffy goodness

Honestly, it's a miracle Spencer Reid did not die of heart failure before he met you.

Whenever he lived alone, his diet consisted primarily of microwaveable meals meant for children (you know, the ones with the sticky mac n cheese and oddly shaped chicken nuggets) and various forms of take out. When you asked when he last had eaten a fresh vegetable, he couldn't recall.

You couldn't blame him too much, though. These meals were a matter of convenience for him. With the BAU's scattered work schedule and the amount of time he spent on the road or in the air, home cooked meals weren't often feasible. And when he did have the time to cook, it wouldn't make that much of a difference; he didn't know how to, and he was terrified of burning down his apartment.

You made it a priority to cook a good meal for both you and Spencer every time you got the chance to be home. You also worked at the BAU, so you shared his odd work hours, but you didn't mind working around it. Thankfully, you knew your way around a kitchen, and were even able to teach Spencer a few things in case you weren't there to help on occasion.

You were in the middle of making pasta when you heard him stir from where he had passed out on the couch. It was almost nine o'clock pm when you both arrived home from closing a stabbing case in Seattle, leaving you to have dinner at an unconventional hour. You told Spencer to take a nap while you started it.

"Hey," he said hoarsely, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he entered the kitchen.

You put down your wooden spoon and turned to face him, "Hey, sleepyhead. I hope you're in the mood for pasta."

He smiled lazily, resting his endlessly fidgeting hands on your hips as he leaned down to kiss you. His face was stubbly from several days without his razor, and you scrunched your nose as it tickled your skin.

"You know I'm always in the mood for whatever you make," he said sweetly, before resting his forehead against your shoulder.

You hummed appreciatively at the affection, pulling him closer to you. His fingers rubbed the fabric of your shirt between his fingers absent mindedly, as he tended to do, and you lightly scratched your fingers over his back and up into his hair. He sighed into you touch, and you could feel him getting sleepier as he pressed further into your frame.

"Don't go falling asleep on me now, I don't know if I have the strength left in me to carry you to the bedroom," you teased, easing him off of you so you could return to stirring the noodles.

He whined at the loss of contact, choosing simply to readjust and wrap his arms around you from behind, his chin falling on your shoulder.

You leaned back slightly and reached your hand up, running it over his prickly facial hair covering his cheek, "You're just a cuddly bug tonight. Everything alright?"

"Mmhm," he hummed lowly, "just missed you."

"Missed me, huh?" You giggled, "Spence, I was on the case with you."

"But I barely got to see you," he huffed.

You rolled your eyes, "Not true. Hotch let us stay in the same hotel room this time, so you got to see me even more than usual."

"Mm-mm," he disagreed, shaking his head slightly, "you were always paired off with Emily during the day. I only got to see you at night."

You sighed, knowing the argument would just go around and around if you tried to push it any further. Then, a memory popped into your head and you smirked, "So I guess the extra little rendezvous in the jet bathroom didn't make up for it?"

You didn't have to look at his face to know the man was flushed from his cheeks all the way down his neck and chest.

"I-I didn't mean-I mean no it was-I'm not saying that-"

You dissolved into giggled, spinning around and looping your arms around his neck, tugging lightly on his curled up locks, "Spence, I'm just teasing. It's sweet that you missed me even though you were ten feet away from me most of the time."

He pouted his lips, letting out soft puff of air, "Was not."

You shook your head at him, trying very hard not to laugh. He was absolutely childish was he was sleepy or hungry, even worse when he was both.

"Pasta's almost done. Go wash your hands and change into something more comfy, you big baby," you grinned at him and pecked his cheek.

He stuck his tongue out at you in jest, but followed your orders anyways, dragging his feet slightly as he slumped over to the bedroom.

You tested the pasta and found it to be a "Rossi-Approved" texture, so you drained it and added it to the sauce. Once they were combined, you dished out two bowls and moved the pan to a cool eye on the stove, switching off the heated one.

You carried the bowls to the living room, meeting Spencer on the couch. You handed him his bowl and fork, which he took appreciatively, and plopped down next to him.

"What are we in the mood for?" You asked, picking up the remote, "Karate Kid, School of Rock, or Star Trek?"

"Well," Spencer thought for a moment, "we've watched Star Trek at least three times this week, and I know it's not your favorite. Karate Kid?"

"Sounds good to me," you agreed, pressing play.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, too tired to engage in meaningful conversation or even focus on the movie entirely. All that occupied your brains was the pleasure of a meal that consisted of fresh ingredients and the prospect of hopping into your soft bed as soon as you were finished.

Once your bowls were completely empty, you both let out a sigh of contentment.

"Thank you for cooking tonight, I know it's late and you're tired," Spencer said softly, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple.

You smiled up at him, "Of course. I don't think I could've eaten another meal out of a styrofoam container if you paid me."

He chuckled, "Me either. I never knew what it was like to crave homemade cooking before I met you. You know my mom was never much of a cook either growing up."

You nodded, "I'm glad I get to do it for you. And I bet your doctor is too. I'm surprised you didn't have a clogged artery from all the take out."

He rolled his eyes, taking your bowl from you and heading towards the kitchen to clean them off. While he wasn't entirely a neat freak, he hated leaving dirty dishes in the sink if he could avoid it.

"Catching the nation's worst murderers tends to make you forget about your heart health," he quipped as you dug around in the fridge for some juice.

"Oh, yeah, blame your health on the serial killers," you quipped back, both of you giggling at the banter, "Want some?"

You held up the large jug of Sunny D and he nodded approvingly. You poured two glasses and held yours up for a toast.

"What are we toasting to?" He asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Ummm," you thought for a moment, "to surviving another week?"

Spencer chuckled, his smile extending up to the crinkles by his eyes, "To surviving another week."

You clinked glasses and chugged the orange juice, high-fiving afterwards. Because what else are you supposed to do after successfully chugging juice?

You rinsed our your glasses and allowed Spencer to lead you by the hand back to the bedroom. You completed your nightly routine with droopy eyes, his hand never quite leaving yours unless you were washing your face and required both of your hands. If it were anyone else, you might find this level of clinginess annoying, but it was Spencer. Your sweet Spencer who only gave this level of continuous affection if he really needed to. So you welcomed it.

As soon as your routine was complete you both flopped back onto the bed and shimmied under the covers. Spencer pulled your back flush against his front, his large hand bunching up your shirt so it splayed out over the expanse of your exposed stomach.

You felt warm and soft and tired, relaxing back into him with a deep sigh. After a few moments you murmured, "Spence? Can we fight crime together forever?"

He hummed in thought for a second before answering, "Technically speaking, no. Our bodies will eventually reach the point where we no longer have the physical capabilities to effectively take down unsubs. But we could probably still do desk work, which counts as fighting crime in it's own way."

You smiled into the darkness, tilting your head back to kiss whatever patch of skin they landed on first, which happened to be the right side of his chin, "I was trying to be cute."

He breathed out deeply against you, squeezing your flesh in some sleepy attempt to get your body closer, "You're always cute. Now sleep."

You giggled softly before allowing your breathes to fall in line with his, deep and slow, until you were fast asleep against his snoring frame.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #imagines #fluff imagines #x reader #x reader imagines #spencer reid fluff #fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader

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brynnwrites · 2 years

Text

comfort in the dark - spencer reid

spencer reid x reader

warnings: none

Panic.

The others around you looked shocked and confused, but all you could feel was overwhelming panic.

Your heart was bound to leap out of your chest as the lights continued to flicker like a scene straight from a horror movie, people shouting directions and "what's going on"s to one another.

All you could hear was your heart pounding and a frenzied buzzing in your ears.

Then suddenly it all went dark.

You nearly fell down as you surged towards the closest body to you.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

Reid's voice felt like a comforting blanket being draped over you as you clung helplessly to his arm.

"Yeah," you squeaked timidly, equal parts terrified and embarrassed.

"Are you okay? You're shaking like a leaf," he said, his other hand reaching out to grab your other shoulder before slowly moving his fingers in. You sucked in a breath as he blindly found your racing pulse on the side of your neck, "Your heart is pounding. Are you having a panic attack?"

You nodded before realizing he couldn't see you, so you whispered a meek, "Uh-huh."

"Let's sit down, okay?" He said, slowly putting pressure on your shoulder as he guided you down onto the floor with him.

You sat as close to him as possible, ignoring the fact that this would be horrifically strange behavior if you were in the light. However, you were thankful Reid was the one you had grabbed onto because you somehow knew he would be the least likely to judge you for your fear.

"Can I try something?" He asked.

"S-sure," you stuttered, teeth chattering slightly from anxiety chills.

He slowly removed your grip on his arm before taking both your arms in his hands gently and scooting around so he was sitting behind you, "Lean back."

You hesitated for a moment, before deciding to trust that he knew what he was doing. You sank back slowly into his chest, feeling his heartbeat thumping against you lightly.

He wrapped his arms around your waist like a lap seatbelt, securing you against him, "Just feel my heart beat and breathing and try to match your breathing to mine."

You did as he said, feeling his chest rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, encouraging you to follow his lead. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the fact that you were in the middle of the pitch black bull pen.

You couldn't help but laugh internally at your situation: here you were, leaning back in the embrace of the man you had been pining for for nearly three years, yet the thing that made you most nervous in the moment was the lights going out.

Go figure.

You felt Spencer lean into you slightly and your heart jumped, as if you were finally realizing the gravity of being held by him. You almost short-circuited as he tucked his head into the curve of your neck, exhaling into your skin. Spencer never touched anyone like this, never this much.

That had to mean something right.

You desperately tried to return your focus to your breathing, but were failing miserably. So you allows yourself to indulge for a moment, figuring that if it kept your mind off of your fear for a while it was worth it.

You memorized the smell of his cologne, deep and woodsy with a hint of spice and something sweet. The feel of his warmth against you, his beating heart and steady rise and fall of his chest. His curls that brushed against the side of your face as he practically snuggled into you. The firm embrace of his arms as they buckled you in like a rollercoaster bar, and the slightly clammy feeling of his hands as they slowly tangled with yours, keeping you grounded.

You found an overwhelming sense of peace and thought If I could just stay like this with this man forever, I would never let him go. I just need a chance.

You stayed like that for a while before you heard a throat being cleared very close to you.

Your eyes shot open to see Kate squatting next to you with a candle, "Hey there, sleepy heads, Hotch wants us to meet in the round room until the lights come back on."

You nodded vigorously, gulping as she chuckled and handed you the candle.

You turned and gently nudged Reid, bringing him back to the real world, "H-hey, Hotch wants us upstairs."

"Oh, yeah, of course," he said, all semblance of his earlier confidence and smoothness evaporating as he stuttered and scrambled to his feet, helping you up as well.

"Thank you, Spence," you said, "I needed that. But, um, could we maybe keep my little fear of the dark between us?"

He nodded quickly, "Yes, yeah, no problem, I won't say a thing."

You offered him a smile before cautiously working your way up to the round room.

"She said his name is Mr. Scratch," Hotch said, "I think I have someone who could get me a name in connection based on a case I worked on years back. Garcia, do you think you could get enough signal up for me to make a call?"

"Yes, sir," Garcia nodded dutifully, clicking away at her laptop.

"Everyone else, keep working as much as possible until we get things up an running again. They're hoping it won't be more than an hour," he instructed.

You all murmured in agreement as he left the room to make a call.

"Hey, hey, there's our little nerdy lovebirds," Morgan said, gesturing to you and Reid with the candle he was holding.

Your face flushed with sudden heat and you giggled nervously, "Shut up, Morgan."

"Don't act like you didn't get all cozy in the dark with Pretty Boy over here, I saw you two," he teased, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

"I-it wasn't like that," Reid protested.

Your heart sank. Even though you knew technically it wasn't like that, part of you felt like it was. Hearing him openly debunk it made part of you deflate.

"Yeah," you said halfheartedly, "it wasn't."

“Sounds like both of you are just really bad at denying your feelings for each other," Morgan theorized, shaking his head.

"Morgan!" You whined, "Penny, get him to stop, please."

"Hey, I can't say I disagree with him," she said, holding her hands up in surrender, "You two are so clueless to each other, it's painful!"

"I'm not clueless!” Reid squeaked.

"Spencer, you may be a certified genius but you have to be pretty clueless to miss Y/N's heart eyes for you," Garcia said bluntly.

"Garcia!" You yelped, hopelessly embarrassed.

"Am I wrong?" She asked, her voice dropping with feigned innocence.

"I-uh, I don't, you're just," you sputtered, "Ugh, forget it."

"See!" She pointed triumphantly, "I am right! And as for you, dearest Dr. Reid, the yearning is as palpable as it is in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film adaptation."

"What does that even mean?" He huffed, frustrated.

"It means that you two like each other and are both too stubborn to admit it," she said finally, before turning back to her keyboard.

Even in the dim candlelight, you could tell Reid was as red as you were. Blushing aside, the lighting illuminated his face almost angelically.

In a spur of confidence, you made a decision that you knew could go really well or really badly.

"Hey, Reid, do you want to go with me to hunt down some more candles?" You said suddenly.

He shrugged, "Sure."

You led him out of the round room, ignoring Morgan's suggestive whoops and whistles, and down to the hallway where the bathrooms were. Thankfully, the space was empty.

"Why are we over here? The supply cabinets are that way...oh," he trailed off, "Is this about earlier? I'm sorry about them, I should've known they would make a big deal out of everything-"

"Spencer, they were right."

"Huh?" He looked very confused.

You sighed, trying to figure out how to word it, "They were right. At least about my part. The heart eyes and feelings for you and all that jazz."

Spencer's eyes widened and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, "Wait, what?"

You paused for a moment, gathering the courage to admit the secret you had kept for so long, "I love you."

"Y-you do?" He asked, disbelievingly.

"Yes," you confirmed, "And I totally understand if you don't feel the same, I just-"

"You're not just saying that because I helped you with your panic attack earlier?" He asked, as if he had barely heard you.

"Of course not," you giggled, "I've loved you for nearly three years now. When you brought me my favorite gummies that one day, I knew I was a goner.”

His nose twitched lightly and his eyes shined, lips quirking up into his signature half smile, "The blue ones shaped like sharks that you can only get at Cindy's Candy Shoppe in the mall downtown. You like them because they remind you of going to the aquarium with your family.”

You grinned, taking his hand in yours gently, "I'm still shocked that you remembered. I may have mentioned them once in passing, I never even knew you heard me say it until they were sitting on my desk with a little note that I could barely read.”

His hands trembled slightly in yours, and if you were to slip your fingers a few inches down to his wrist, you would feel his racing pulse.

"Hey," he frowned playfully, gulping as you took a small step closer to him while taking his other hand, "my handwriting isn't that bad. Plus, studies show that highly intelligent people have the worst handwriting because their brains work faster than their hands can write..."

He could have been talking about anything and you would have listened for an eternity. His words trailed off as he found it hard to focus on anything besides your increasing closeness.

"I need to hear you say it, Spence," you said softly, staring up at him, now merely inches away.

"S-say it-um, say what?" He sputtered, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

"If you feel the same for me. I need to hear your answer."

He was silent for a flickering moment, which made you hesitate. Did you read this all wrong?

But one look at his dazed, adoring eyes and parted pink lips and you knew better.

The words didn't leave his perfect mouth it was pressed against yours with so much passion it made you dizzy.

"I love you. Of course I love you," he murmured against your lips, the words sloppy and somewhat muffled yet urgent enough to understand clearly.

You met him with the same amount of passion, grasping at the hairs at the back of his head and pulling slightly as you moved against each other.

You broke apart for air, both gasping, each unable to create a coherent thought outside the other.

"Hey, have you seen Y/N and Reid?" You heard JJ ask from down the hall.

"They're probably somewhere getting their love on," Derek said suggestively, and you and Spencer had to stifle your giggles.

"It would be about time," JJ chuckled.

There was a moment of hesitation. Spencer looked at you with his eyebrows raised and you matched his expression before offering your hand to him.

"Do you want to do this?" You whispered.

His answer was written in his smile as he took your comparatively small hand in his.

You walked down the hall with glowing confidence, heart pounding as Derek and JJ turned to look at you.

"Hi, guys!"

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #imagines #fluff imagines #x reader #x reader imagines #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #fluff #spencer reid x reader

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brynnwrites · 2 years

Text

blood stains - spencer reid

spencer reid x afab!reader (or any reader who menstruates)

Nope.

This was not happening.

You were dreaming, the red stain on the crisp white sheets of your boyfriend's bed was a figment of your mind's horrific imagination.

You reached down and dabbed at the stain, red residue rubbing off onto the tips of your fingers. It was real alright.

You scrunched your face up, screaming internally while you tried to figure out what to do. First things first, you would have to run to the living room to get a pad out of your purse. Without waking Spencer up.

You had only been dating for about three months. Of course, Spencer knew you had a period, but this was territory you hoped to not have to cross until the six month mark at the earliest. Things were still new and the honeymoon phase was in full swing. It wasn't exactly "I'm ready for you to see all my bodily functions" time in the relationship yet.

You knew in the back of your mind that he would have to see it. It wasn't like you could rip the sheets off without him knowing, seeing as he was dead asleep right next to you. Whether you wanted to or not, you were going to have to face this conversation.

You slipped out of the covers, the bed mercifully not squeaking as you stood. You made it to your purse without a sound, mentally high-fiving yourself. You were in the clear, for now.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Spencer's panicked voice jerked your spine straight. "Y/N, oh my god. No, no, no-"

He slid into the room, literally slid with his socks on the hardwood, his face looking downright petrified until he saw you standing in the moonlit living room.

"Hey, Spence," you squeaked. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

He was breathing hard as he brought a large hand up to rub at his chest. "I-uh, I rolled over and you weren't there. I opened my eyes and saw blood and I—what happened? Are you hurt?"

Your eyes widened as he rushed towards you, hands on your hips as he checked you over for injuries. It hadn't occurred to you that the bed looked like a murder scene—much like the ones that you and your boyfriend encountered on a weekly basis.

"Shit, Spencer, I'm so sorry," you groaned. "I'm fine, I just got my...period."

You winced, and his face turned from one of complete alarm to one of sympathy.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you wake me?" He rubbed a hand over the small of your back soothingly, bringing the other one to smooth your hair.

"I was embarrassed," you whined. "This thing between us is new and fun and I didn't want to gross you out right out of the gate like this."

Spencer laughed and you frowned.

"No, I'm not laughing at you," he reassured you, his hands running up and down your arms. "I just think it's silly that you thought I would be grossed out by something normal and healthy when we see mutilated bodies on a near daily basis."

When you thought about it like that, you couldn't help but laugh too.

"Listen," he was suddenly serious, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I know things are technically new between us. But remember what I told you that night I finally confessed that I'm hopelessly in love with you?"

You grinned, biting your lip. You remembered a lot of things about that night. The way you and Spencer had spent two years pining after one another until it finally came to a head in a cozy inn in Alaska on the last night of a case. How you danced in the snow and made bold confessions before warming up in the sweetest way in your room, trying not to wake Emily up next door.

"Which part are you specifically referring to?" You asked with a smirk.

He flushed pink, dropping his head for a second before bringing his eyes back to yours. "When I said I'm all in? That you're it for me? I meant it. No menstrual cycle or anything else could ever scare me away."

"Is it possible for me to love you even more?" You smiled, lovesick eyes gazing up at him before reality set in once more. "But your bed, it's covered in blood and so are my shorts and-"

"Come with me," he smiled, taking your hand and leading you back towards the bedroom.

Confused, you followed, until he stopped in front of his chest of drawers. He opened the top one on the right side and your jaw dropped. "What is this?"

"It's your drawer," he said proudly, gesturing to the contents. "I was going to show you today, actually, but we got back so late that it slipped my mind. I went and got you a toothbrush, toothpaste, pads, tampons, underwear, and some extra pajama pants and shorts. I would've gotten you shirts too but you usually steal mine anyways—"

You couldn't help but cut him off with a kiss. "Spencer. You're perfect."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, I'm not. I just wanted to make you feel at home here."

Your heart tugged in your chest. Was he real?

He picked up a pair of plain black panties and some new blue sleep shorts with little white clouds on them. He placed a pad on top and then pushed the pile into your hands, ushering you to the bathroom.

"Hand me your stained shorts and underwear when you're done. I'm going to throw the sheets in the washer," he said, moving back to the bed.

You couldn't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Once you were situated with fresh clothes and a pad secured in place, you returned to the bedroom. He already had fresh sheets on the mattress and a small heating pad plugged in on your side with a glass of water and some painkillers.

You fought the tears welling up in your eyes. You had never felt so absolutely loved and cared for in your life.

"I'll take those," he appeared next to you, gently taking the blood soaked clothes from your hands.

You felt a little awkward giving him your period blood-stained clothes like that, but he didn't even flinch. You thanked him, taking a few sips of water with the pills. You found him at the utility sink in the laundry room, rinsing your clothes in cold water to get the blood stains out before washing them.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head against the lean muscles of his back. "You're an angel, Spence."

He hummed contentedly. "Just doing my job, honey. Go lay down with the heating pad, I'll be there in a minute."

He turned to give you a sweet forehead kiss before wringing out your clothes in the sink. You reluctantly padded back to the bedroom as the cramps set in. You curled up in a ball on your side, the heating pad situated snugly against your pelvis.

Warm arms wrapped around you before you felt Spencer's entire body heat surround you, tugging the covers up over you snugly.

"Where did you learn to do all this?" You asked softly.

"I'm a doctor, remember?" He teased, tickling your side lightly.

You giggled and squirmed. "You're not a medical doctor, genius. Seriously, where did you learn all about periods?"

He exhaled slowly. "My mom's memory issues started pretty early when I was graduating high school. Whenever I would come home from college, there would be little things she'd forget. Sometimes she would forget when she had gotten her period, and I would help her clean up her bed and get her set up on the couch. Besides, it was just me and her growing up. I was a naturally curious child so she had to teach me about feminine menstruation pretty early when I found her pads in the trash can."

You snuggled deeper into his embrace. "You're such a good man, Spence. You're an amazing son, an amazing FBI agent, and an even more amazing boyfriend. I honestly don't know how I deserve you."

He kissed your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He always said he loved the coconut scent on you. "I'm the lucky one. I kind always figured I would die alone."

You snorted. "You might wish you could die alone after a few years of me. I can be a mess sometimes."

He shook his head against you. "Everyone's a mess. But you're my mess."

You smiled, reaching back to scratch at his scalp like he loved so much. He hummed, leaning into your hand.

"Want me to massage your stomach?" He murmured against your ear.

"Please," you sighed.

He wasted no time in moving his large, warm hands to your lower stomach, right above where your uterus was currently throwing a tantrum. He massaged light circles and tested different patterns, asking you every few minutes if the pressure and motion was okay.

Soothing relief gradually took over and you felt yourself on the brink of blissful sleep. "I love you, Spencer," you whispered in the dark.

"I love you too, Y/N. Get some rest." Spencer kissed the side of your head, never stopping his soothing movements against your stomach until you were fast asleep.

You woke the next morning to the loss of Spencer's body warmth and frowned until you smelled pancakes. He was soon in the doorway, carrying two plates of chocolate chip pancakes, cups of orange juice gripped precariously in the crooks of his elbows.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?" He asked, placing the plate of hot pancakes down on your lap. He set the orange juice glass down on the nightstand before circling to the other side to climb in next to you.

"Much better. What's all this?" You asked, a grin spreading over your lips.

"I read that chocolate, in small doses, can actually help ease period cramps," he said with a bashful smile, gesturing to the pancakes. "Many medical professionals believe that's why most women, even ones who don't particularly like chocolate, crave it on their period."

You took a big bite, moaning at the warm sweetness. "It's delicious. Thank you. And it's really sweet that you did all that research."

"There's no need to thank me, honey," he said, smoothing your hair. "I like to think I'm good at taking care of people."

"You are," you agree. "I hope I can take care of you the same way."

"Well," Spencer chuckled, "I don't get periods, but you take care of me all the time, even when you don't think about it. Like when you bring me food when you know I haven't eaten on cases. Or when you give me scalp massages when you can tell I've had a stressful week. Or when you take my dry cleaning with yours because you know I'll forget. You do so much for me and I don't tell you thank you often enough."

You shrugged. "That's no big deal."

"It is," he insisted. "You do it not because you have to but because you want to. That's what makes it meaningful."

"You're the first man I've ever really felt that kind of thing for. The want to care for them. You mean the world to me and I want to help make you happy," you smiled.

He took your hand, kissing your palm with chocolate pancake lips before clutching it to his chest. "You do make me happy. Always."

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #imagines #fluff imagines #x reader imagines #x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #fluff

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brynnwrites · 2 years

Text

screaming crying squealing balling my eyes out

David Harbour’s interview with Playboy on Sex Appeal, Artists and Culture, and Toxic Masculinity. See the behind the scenes Rocketship provided HERE.

#stranger things #david harbour #jim hopper #holy hell

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brynnwrites · 2 years

Text

just bucky - bucky barnes

summary: sam convinced bucky it’s time to get back in the dating game, and he meets reader

warnings: none

"Hi, are you James?" You ask sheepishly, tapping on the shoulder of the man sitting at the bar clad in a leather jacket.

He turns to look at you, his baby blues lighting up at the sight. "Hey, yes, you must be Y/N." He stands, offering you a hug which you accept with a slight giggle, before a bouquet of flowers is placed in your hands.

"Flowers on a first date?" You can't help but grin.

"I'm sorry, I'm kinda new to this kind of dating. Well, what I mean is it's just been a while." He winces.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that as a bad thing. It's refreshing." You reassure him, taking a moment to appreciate the delicate mixture of fresh pastel flowers wrapped in classic brown paper. "Most of the guys I've been out with barely even took the time to brush their teeth for a first date."

Bucky frowned, resisting the urge to check his breath to make sure his mouth wash had been strong enough. "Sounds like you've been seein' the wrong kind of guys."

You nodded. "Yeah, well, if only I knew where they've been hiding guys like you."

He quirked a half smile. "They've been keeping a bunch of us frozen, waiting for the right girl." He was worried for a second that you might be confused but to his relief you just laughed.

"You know, you look really intimidating to be the sweet and funny type." You said, gesturing to his mostly black outfit, specifically the jacket and leather gloves.

He chuckled, hand raising to rub the back of his neck bashfully. "I get that a lot. Well, not exactly the 'sweet and funny' part, just that I'm more bark than bite."

You smiled. "Tough guy with a soft side and a gentleman? I almost think you're too good to be true."

"I could say the same for you." He gave you a subtle once over, causing your heart to flutter in your chest.

You bit your lip, trying not to let your smile grow too wide. "So, should we go ahead and order drinks?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could go to this little restaurant down the block?" He suggested.

"They have this homemade pasta that is absolutely heavenly."

"You had me at pasta." You nodded, pulling your purse up onto your shoulder as he led the way out of the bar.

"I have to say, I was a little skeptical when Sharon told me she could set me up with a friend of hers." Bucky chuckled as you walked beside one another down the busy street. "I didn't even know she had friends."

You couldn't help but giggle. "Yeah, me and Shar used to work at S.H.I.E.L.D. together before, well, you know.”

Bucky nodded. "It's not weird for you at all, knowing who I am? Who I was?"

You gave him a confused look. "Not at all. As far as I'm concerned, you're just Bucky. Or James. Whichever you prefer."

Bucky felt his carefully built walls start to crumble at the sound of his name falling from your lips. "I typically go by James now. But I kinda like the way you say Bucky."

"Wait, is Bucky not right? I could've sworn that's what Sharon said when she told me about you." You asked, a little worried that maybe you had gotten the nickname wrong.

"No, no, you got it right, doll." He assured you, stopping to open the door to the quaint Italian restaurant on your right. The pet name 'doll' made you shiver slightly. "It sounds familiar when you say it, like you've known me your whole life."

You felt your face heat as you made eye contact with him, passing through the doorway. "Bucky it is, then."

He told the hostess you needed a table for two and placed a gentle hand on your back as you followed her through the small dining room. The restaurant was cozy with soft lighting and candles on each table. You passed several other couples and a few families as you were escorted to a private corner.

"Your server will be right with you." The girl smiled as she placed your menus down. You thanked her, almost missing Bucky pulling out your chair for you.

"Your jacket?" He asked, and you felt almost dizzy with the chivalry that you could tell came naturally to him. You shrugged out of your jacket as he took it from you and draped it over the back of your chair.

You sat down as he did the same with his own leather jacket, leaning him in his black jeans and a long sleeve grey Henley. You noticed his gloves stayed on even after he settled in to his own seat.

You didn't want to pry, but you had to admit you were dying of curiosity. "The gloves, are they because of your...?" You swept a hand over your own arm.

Your worries of offending him were quelled as he simply smiled shyly. "She told you about that?"

"It was a selling point, actually." You teased. "I have a thing for men with vibranium prosthetics."

He laughed, a genuine laugh, and you swore you would say anything to hear the sound again. It was a smooth sound, deep and raspy and came from him easily, though you could tell it was something he didn't do often enough.

"It's not exactly something I flaunt." He chuckled. "I don't typically get noticed in public if I keep it covered."

You nodded, pursing your lips. "I take it some people aren't as excited for a Bucky meet and greet as they would be for the other guys."

Bucky sucked in a breath. "Yeah, not really. I doubt anyone will ever see me the same as them.”

You frowned, reaching out to take one of his gloved hands in yours. It was his flesh one, you could feel the warmth radiating from his palm. "For whatever it's worth, I do. Your past happened but it's not who you are.”

Stunned by your deeply honest words, Bucky felt a million emotions at once. For the first time in a while, the first time since Steve was here, he felt seen for who he really was. To you he wasn't The Winter Solider but he wasn't some scary, tortured victim of HYDRA either. He wasn't a war criminal or even an Avenger. As simply as you had put it earlier, he was just Bucky. He also felt the overwhelming urge to kiss you or marry you, he wasn't sure yet, but he held off on both. For now at least.

"Thank you." Was all he could manage to say, but he said it with so much urgency and meaning that you knew just how much your words meant to him.

"Good evening, can I start you off with one of our signature wines?" The waiter cut your moment short, causing you to draw your hand back as you picked up your menu.

"A bottle of Valpolicella and two glasses, please." Bucky requested, the Italian name rolling off his tongue easily.

"Yes, sir." The waiter nodded once, writing it down on his notepad before walking away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even ask you if you like red wine." Bucky scrunched up his nose in an endearing way as he winced.

You sighed out a laugh. "It's fine, I love a good red wine. And you seem to know your way around it better than I do, so I trust your choice."

Bucky smirked. "One thing I was known for back in the day. Like way back in the day. My buddies made fun of me for being a wine snob."

You snickered, shaking your head as you imagined Sergeant Barnes in the 40s being picky about his wine. The image you conjured up suited him well.

After a beat of silence, he coughed covering his mouth with his left fist. "Do you, uh, want to see it?"

You blinked back at him. "See what?"

He held his gloved left hand out to you, resting it on the table. "You can take it off."

"Oh." You murmured. The gesture meant so much to you that you almost didn't respond as you melted internally. "Uh, are you sure you're okay with that? We're in public, I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"S'okay, doll. Go ahead." He turned his hand so it was palm up, an invitation.

You took a deep breath, not sure what to anticipate as you gently gripped his middle finger through the leather. You gave it a slow tug, moving to wiggle it off the other fingers before pulling it all the way off.

It was mostly a glossy deep steely gray—almost black color with stripes of yellowy gold forming little rings around his fingers and some branching shapes around the back of his palm. You were instantly struck with how lifelike it was, mimicking flesh in a way that you had never seen a robotic come close to before.

You delicately traced a finger over his palm, eyebrows lifting as you felt how cold it was compared to your own warm hand. The same finger traced down his each of his fingers to their tips. The hand flexed then, turning so he was holding yours in it. You watched with wide, wondrous eyes as it moved with exact precision, the movement comparable to his flesh hand though it was far from flesh.

"Wow." You felt as if you'd been holding your breath, and maybe you had.

"Still better than your other first dates?" He teased, afraid that if he said what he was really thinking he would scare you off.

He knew you were it for him.

"So much better." You said incredulously, nodding as your eyes never once left his hand.

In an instant, his hand dropped yours and his glove was shoved back on. Before you could even think to ask why, the waiter arrived with your drinks. You smiled to yourself, a warmth settling in your stomach knowing he trusted you to see him. Only you. You had to suppress the side of your brain that was absolutely reeling with the desire to see the rest of him.

"Best wine in the house for the beautiful couple." The waiter announced, his Italian accent prominent as he presented the bottle and two glasses to you.

The food was every bit as delicious as Bucky described. As you ducked out into the chilly Brooklyn air, you thanked him for the meal.

"I'll have to thank Shar for convincing you to go out with me." You smiled as you faced him, rubbing your hands together in the cold.

"I have a lot of things to thank her for after tonight." Bucky chuckled. "Here."

You hadn't even noticed that he had shucked his leather gloves off until his warm, bare flesh hand grasped one of your wrists, causing you to gasp lightly. His equally bare vibranium hand pressed the gloves into your palm.

"I'm fine, you don't have to—"

"I know." His lips quirked into the half smile that you had come to love over the past few hours. "I want to. Besides, if you take them then you'll have to see me again to return them."

You rolled your eyes, feigning reluctance to hide how pleased you were at the idea of seeing him again, sliding your hands into the soothingly warm and definitely too big gloves.

"Better?" He asked glancing down at smirking at how they absolutely engulfed your smaller hands.

"Much." You agreed, trying in vain to hide the grin spreading across your lips. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder, a bit awkward with the flower bouquet sticking out of it, and looked up at him. Suddenly, a boldness took over that you hadn't expected from yourself. "So, I assume it's not in your old fashioned ways to kiss on the first date?"

His breath hitched at your words, his face shifting from shock to smugness in an instant. You felt his vibranium arm snake around your waist, pulling you closer.

"I wouldn't start makin' assumptions about me, doll. I'm full of surprises."

His warm, pillowy soft lips on yours stole the air from your lungs as you leaned further into his touch.

Yes, you would soon find out, your Bucky was full of surprises.

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #mcu bucky barnes #mcu x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel cinematic universe

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brynnwrites · 2 years

Text

late morning - loki

summary: AU where loki and reader live in stark tower with the other avengers

warnings: none

"Good morning, petal."

The smooth accent of your Asgardian prince slowly pulled you from the depths of sleep. You nuzzled deeper into the warm comforter.

"Too early," you mumbled.

"It is half past nine, we have a meeting at ten," he informed you as he smoothed a hand over the crown of your head.

"Fifteen more minutes," you huffed, "The meeting room is just downstairs."

"Yes, but you still need to get dressed and eat, darling." Loki slowly began to pull the covers away from you.

Your body, covered only by one of his shirts and some underwear, shivered at the intrusion of cool air. Eyes still shut, you blindly snatched at the covers in attempt to pull them back to you. Loki wasn't about to let that happen.

Moments later your body was lifted from the bed, steady arms holding you close to a warm body. You snuggled deeper into his chest, searching for protection from the cold air of the bedroom.

Loki set you down next to your dresser, chuckling as you pouted your lips and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You opened them finally, adjusting to the warm lighting coming from the sun through the sheer window curtains.

You stood there sleepily, admiring the man in front of you, dressed in simple black pants and a black tee shirt. The only accessory he cared to adorn himself with, his rings, glittered on his hands. Most were simple gold bands with some kind of small design or jewel, the most significant one being his signet ring with a large emerald. He always placed it on your thumb if he had to go on a mission without you.

You gasped softly as your few garments were stripped away by Loki's magic, only to appear in the laundry hamper behind you. Instead of using his magic to redress you, he took the task on himself. In your sleepy haze you hadn't noticed the neat stack of the outfit he had picked out from you sitting atop the dresser.

He slid a pair of black lace underwear up your legs, shooting you a cheeky grin as your face flushed hot. Next he looped the straps of the matching bralette over your shoulders, stepping around you to skillfully connect the clasp at the back.

Once your undergarments were on, he placed his hands softly on either side of your head, leaning in to kiss your forehead. Your heart swelled at the intimacy of the moment, not necessarily sexual but a domestic sweetness that made you feel warm and fuzzy.

If he had it his way, he would hold time still in that moment forever. No world to save, no danger to fight. Just him and his love.

"So infinitely beautiful," he murmured against your skin before reluctantly pulling away to retrieve your blouse.

It was your favorite one, simple in style and emerald green. He would have every article of your clothing be his signature color if he could. It made his chest fill with pride when he saw you adorned in it. With the top he helped you step into a pair of black shorts. No need to go dress up for meeting days.

You never wore shoes around yours and Loki's apartment in the tower, and it felt kind of silly to put them on just to take an elevator down to a different room in the same building. However, Stark teased you the last time you showed up in just socked feet, so you picked out a pair of nude sandals.

Your outfit complete, Loki smiled at you warmly and pressed an all-too-quick kiss to your lips. "Go finish getting ready, I'll have breakfast waiting in the kitchen."

You dragged yourself to the bathroom, assessing your hair and face in the mirror. You washed your skin, feeling much more fresh, and applied your morning skincare items. They were all luscious beauty products in little intricately decorated in tinctures and vials, straight from the Asgardian palace. Though you tried to dissuade Loki from giving you such expensive gifts, he wouldn't hear it.

"My mother swore by them," he said proudly the day he placed the bag containing a plethora of beauty items in your hands, "And only the best for my princess."

His pride could not hide the sad smile beneath at the thought of his deceased mother, and you cared far too much for him to refuse the offer.

In truth, it had saved your skin. Whatever miracle ingredients were infused made your skin as healthy and glowing as can be, and practically ageless. Your favorite were the gold face masks, which were always your contribution to girls nights with Wanda and Natasha.

Your skincare finished, you forwent the makeup and fixed your hair the way you liked it. Feeling much more awake now, you wandered out through the living area to the kitchen.

You found Loki behind the counter, cutting up an apple with the kind of precision chefs could only dream of. Each slice, exactly equal in size, we're placed perfectly along the edge of a serving platter, which also held orange slices, grapes, and at the center—cereal. Along side it was a glass of orange juice.

Loki could do many things as a god and a powerful sorcerer, but cooking was not one of them.

You gave him a toothy grin as you took a seat at the counter across from where he stood. His seafoam colored eyes sparkled, mischievously as always, as he smiled back just as eager.

He placed the final apple slice on the platter and pushed it towards you, "There you are, my dove."

"All of this for me? You shouldn't have," you teased, popping a grape into your mouth.

"Well, it would be awful rude of you not to share, would it not?" He mused, leaning across the counter.

You picked up a grape and plopped it into his waiting mouth and he looked ever so pleased as he chewed it up.

"Seriously, take some of this, I can't eat it all," you chuckled through a mouth full of apple.

"I already made myself breakfast," he shrugged dismissively, as content to watch you eat spoonfuls of cereal as he would be to watch Stark and Rogers argue.

One of your several Avenger strengths happened to be sensing people's auras, almost akin to reading thoughts. You knew he was lying.

"Loki Laufeyson," you scolded, "you know better than to use your silver tongue on your hypersensitive girlfriend."

"Hey," he pouted his lower lip out at the accusation, "I wasn't entirely lying. I ate breakfast, but I definitely did not make it myself."

Your jaw dropped and you let your spoon clatter in the bowl, "Did Wanda make breakfast again? And you didn't wake me for it?"

Loki looked at you like he was trying to placate a child, "You just looked so peaceful, darling. And you were already mad at me earlier for waking you at nine-thirty, imagine me waking you at seven."

It was your turn to jut out your bottom lip, "I would've done it for her pancakes. Here I was eating Coco Pebbles and fruit."

Loki laugh was rich and rumbly as he rounded the counter, spinning you around on the stool so you were facing him.

"How may I ever make up for ruining such a lovely morning for you?" He asked, his eyes showing only amusement and no true remorse.

But you knew he would wake you the next time if you wanted. He would move the entire Stark Tower to Hawaii with his bare hands if you asked him too.

"Hmm," you tapped your chin as you faked a thinking face, a sly smile creeping onto your features as you waggled your eyebrows suggestively, "You could skip the meeting with me."

"Ah, ah, ah," he shook his head, a few raven strands falling in his face, "No skipping meetings. Not after last time."

You huffed. The last time the two of you skipped a meeting in favor of other activities, Stark came looking for you, and thanks to FRIDAY unlocking the door, he found the two of you in an unholy manner. You had to promise him you would never skip again to buy his silence. In return, Loki made him promise never to unlock the apartment door using his special gadgets again.

"Brother!"

You jumped at Thor's thundering voice as his fist rapped on the door.

Loki groaned, "What do you want?"

"Tony sent me to collect you for the meeting that started ten minutes ago!" He called, "And I'm preserving my innocence by staying on this side of the door!"

You both burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Oops."

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel au #mcu loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki god of mischief #fluff imagines #x reader #imagines #x reader imagines #fluff #loki x reader

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