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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 10 months

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Heyo! ( not me having to look up eastern time cause I'm not in that ) (((if I sent this at the wrong time just ignore I'm so sorry)))

Okie (also sorry if I don't format this completely correctly) May I request Sebek with the prompt rainy night? (Romantic please, and for emojis maybe 🍁✨️, and if possible fluff) and for backup characters ummm Vil with prompt 1 and Epel with prompt 7.

Gosh I hope I did that right. Anyways thank you Dove! I hope that you have a great rest of your day. Also, make sure to be taking breaks and time for yourself! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Thank you! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Rainy Night; Sebek Zigvolt

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established relationship

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; No need to worry, everything looks great, Faye! I completely forgot about the emojis, but I tried my best to fit them in. Enjoy some Becky content! WOE, CROCODILE BE UPON THEE!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

So much for a perfect seaside getaway, but Sebek could not account for a freak storm, so the two of you were stuck inside for the night, and reservations at the restaurant were cancelled due to the downpour. So, he was in a bit of a sour mood, hanging above him much like the dark storm clouds in the sky. Yet you weren’t in such a dire mood, and that helped take his mind off of things… somewhat.

“Aren’t you upset that our reservation was cancelled,” he huffed, turning his glare to the storm outside which seemed to mock him, slapping large leaves against the glass, which was like the storm slapping him in the face. “You were looking forward to it more than me.”

You looked over your shoulder, taking in the rare sight of Sebek in comfy clothes. To be fair the only reason he was wearing the fluffy pyjama pants and a white tank top was because you had gifted them to him. Even though it was something as simple as sleep clothes, Sebek treasured them.

“We can always go another night, sweetie,” you hummed, “besides, I would rather eat your cooking any night.”

Sebek grumbled but didn’t argue with you, knowing full well that you would just shower him with sweet yet incredibly embarrassing praise for what he deemed as mediocre cooking at best. To be fair, you did call him your ‘pookie-bear’ in front of Malleus and Lilia — yeah, he nearly died that day, and Silver brings it up every now and then.

“Besides,” you blew off the dust from a book, “I would rather read with you!”

So that’s what you were searching for? A book? Sebek raised an eyebrow. You would rather read a book with him? And Sebek felt his face heating up. The two of you had been together for quite some time now, but Sebek always went warm when you did something simple, small, yet sweet. Those would leave him more pink and more warm than any grand gesture, because they weren’t planned. They were just something you naturally did, and that flustered him like nothing else.

Sebek cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “And what has caught your attention, love?” Even with his terms of endearment, he was formal, respectful.

You waddled over, and showed him the cover. “Crocodile Knight!”

“A children’s picture book?” Sebek hadn’t seen that book since he was a kid, and it did bring back some fond memories for him, but he still wondered why you looked so excited.

“Mhm!” You plopped next to Sebek on the couch, worming yourself next to his side until you were practically trying to merge with him. “Plus you’re my knight, and a crocodile, seems fitting! So, can you read it to me? Pretty pleaseeeeeee? My big, strong, scaly, knight?”

Sebek felt himself grow warm in the face and knew his ears must have been glowing from your giggling. He knew that he should have saved showing you the itty bitty scales that he had until later, but you had insisted on seeing them. “I-I guess I can read you a bit,” he surrendered, knowing that you would win this one.

He started reading, his voice steady and strong, only wavering when he felt you shift beside him. But he stopped reading when he felt your head rest against his shoulder. Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, he made direct eye contact with you; you were looking at him and not the book.

“I thought you wanted me to read this to you,” Sebek restrained himself from letting his loud nature win, making his voice crack a bit. “But you’re looking at me instead of the book?!”

You sighed, and placed a kiss to his jaw, which made him get quiet real fast. “Because you’re my crocodile knight, my beautiful crocodile knight,” you murmured.

Sebek closed the book, putting a bookmark in place so the two of you could revisit it at a later time. There was no chance that he could focus on reading when you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes.

So, instead, the two of you got into a comfortable cuddling position, got cozy under some blankets, and fell asleep in each other’s arms with the sound of rain and thunder aiding you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

Tags; @xxoomiii @twistwonderlanddevotee @savanaclaw1996 @ryker-writes [come get ur mans]

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt x gn reader #i call sebek becky because i think it's 1) cute 2) funny & 3) would piss him off/embarrass him #also SEBEK WITH HIS HAIR DOWN SEBEK WITH HIS HAIR DOWN- i want to see him in some comfy clothes P L E A S E #reader; pookie-bear -#silver; pookie-bear? *on the brink of laughing* | malleus; i do not see the bear you speak of | lilia; *takes a photo*#sebek; *dies and everyone calls him pookie-bear from now on in diasomnia*#just imagine calling sebek the cheesiest pet names under the sun; it's free dopamine for me #pov: reader domesticates a crocodile #i technically finished this on august 21 at 10:30 PM EST but i'm forcing myself to 1 post per day; so this is scheduled

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daily-kinitopet · 2 months

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more kinito x y/n. NOW! ⛈️⛈️⛈️

Day 9

All aboard the Webworld tour!

#could’ve at least said please first damn /j #does this count? idk probably #not happy with this webword y/n design it’s very subject to change #so if you’re not a fan DW me neither #dailykinito #kinito pet #kinitopet #kinito fanart #kinito my beloved #kinito the axolotl #kinito x y/n #kinito x player #days 6-10 #also just to be clear this is the design for the stay/leave ending #and the solid black one is for the ‘real world’

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maxsix · 7 months

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#Happy (Nearly) 1 year Anniversary of this Day #Soobin #Yeonjun #AMA2022 #txt #tomorrow x together #txt yeonjun #txt soobin #they were both 100/10 on this day #like wth #its taken me 12 months to recover #i love this look on soobin in particular #he looks like a kdrama actor but i can't put my finger on who

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tofuingho · 1 year

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Wouldn't it be funny if Danny and/or Dani was/were children's TV show hosts?

Danny would have that pathetic meow meow energy that Steve from Blue's clues had, whereas Dani would have that chaotic and unsettling Peewee Herman energy.

Of course this is a DC x DP prompt, so somehow one of the heros or rogues ends up being a massive fan with a crush even though they're way too old to be watching it.

There's so many possibilities for pairings, but my favorites so far are:

1) Jason is babysitting Lian and it's her favorite show.

2) Conner comes across it one night when he's watching TV alone at Mount Justice. It becomes a favorite comfort show and he's not sure why.

3) Damian has secretly been a fan of the show since it started. One day, (insert character who is older than Damian) catches him watching it and immediately notices how cute the host is.

4) Klarion pulls a prank by summoning characters from the show to fight YJ. He ends up accidentally summoning the real Danny/Dani.

5) Much like me, the main character has anxiety and when the world gets too much, they turn to the bright, happy world of children's programming. Danny and/or Dani's show never fails to calm them down.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #dani phantom #all the ships #to this day #i still rewatch lazytown and the upside down show #nothing calms me down better when my stress and anxiety are at a 10

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bearhugsandshrugs · 5 months

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Can I request a fem!tav x Gortash drabble with orgasm denial? His, hers, or both, whatever scenario comes to mind!

Uhhh I wanted to write a short drabble and then it became a whole thing.

All in a day's work: Gortash/F!Tav – Orgasm denial, edging, machine fucking, DP in one hole

“Definitely not”, Gortash scolded as he leaned back in his chair, strategically placed so he could see the entire workshop. "You're not coming unless I allow you to."

Tav let out a sob in response, her naked body held in place by the Steel Watcher. She'd begged him for release, argued, yelled, and pleaded, but Gortash had denied her, with his rejection just now being only one of many that night.

Looking at his watch, Gortash stopped the time until her breathing steadied into a specific rhythm, then jotted that down into his notebook.

"One minute, seventeen seconds", he mumbled, "interesting."

Tav couldn't tell anymore what that meant, what he was doing, only that her cunt was on fire and her clit was pulsating with need. Inside of her was still the hard, metal cock of the Steel Watcher that was fucking her on Gortash's commands, unrelenting and bigger than was realistic (then again: nothing about this seemed real), and her walls clenched around it in desperation, aimlessly seeking friction where there was none to be found.

"Go on", Gortash said to the machine, not her, and it immediately resumed its pounding. "You look so pathetic, getting fucked by machine while moaning like a whore", he mocked her, and to Tav's shame, every word lit a new fire in her core. "And here I thought I'd need to provide lubricant."

He hadn't. Needed to. He'd led her to his workshop, for help with a "special project", and she'd followed him, intrigued. He'd kissed her, fondled her; teasing her just right until she whined under his touch, and it had been then that a Steel Watcher had made its presence known, holding her down while Gortash undressed her, getting her ready for his "project".

Tav whimpered as the metal cock pushed in and out of her, wet noises revealing her need, all while Gortash watched on intently. She could see the bulge in his pants, his erection straining against the fabric, waiting to be touched, waiting to be handled, and she bit her lip imagining it was his cock fucking her, not his machine's.

It had been the entire reason why she'd followed him here. She had thought "special project" was a convoluted way of saying they'd fuck. And well, she was getting fucked. Just not by him.

Not that she didn't enjoy it. Well. Except for the fact that he hadn't let her come in the last hour.

Her legs started to tremble again, uselessly swinging in the air while the machine bounced her body up and down on its cock, her back pouncing against the Steel Watcher's chest. There was no feedback from it, of course, just mechanical effort: clean, detached, precise; without care about her arousal or release, without affection or lust, and that thought alone made her skin tingle.

"Close again already?", Gortash chuckled, and when Tav opened her eyes briefly to glance over to him, she saw he'd taken himself out of his pants, his hand wrapped around his cock.

"N-no", she tried to lie, hoping that if he didn't know how close to the edge she was, she might tip over it accidentally, finally finding that high she'd been seeking.

"Stop", he hissed, and the machine halted promptly and dutifully. Tav wailed against her restraints, tried bucking her hips against the Steel Watcher, but instead the machine tightened its grip and changed their position, rendering her efforts useless. Again.

"Not only a whore, but also a liar", Gortash scoffed, and when she looked at him this time, he'd sunken down in the chair, legs spread wide as he stroked himself in languid motions. "And you think I'd let you get off? Please."

Everything was blurry and pained, her heart beating so frantically she wasn't sure how much more she could take. Tav whimpered in the Steel Watchers' arms, and it was then that she noticed she had started to cry.

"One minute and thirty five seconds", Gortash mumbled after another moment had passed, but his voice was straining against the back of his throat, the continuous sounds of his self-pleasuring echoing through the workshop.

"I'll do anything", Tav sobbed, "please. Please whatever it is, please please–"

His sigh let her stop her begging, and when he stood up to walk over to her, she moaned from the anticipation, finally expecting the release she'd been craving. But before he reached her, he stopped at a side table, rummaging in a drawer before focusing his attention back on her.

"The Drow matriarchs use this to let several of their men serve them at once", he smirked, nodding towards a small jar full with a thick liquid in his hand. "They get fucked by two, sometimes three at the same time if they want to be with child, and will spare only the man whose seed was stronger than its competition."

Tav's eyes darted across the room, trying to figure out if he had invited someone else, but it was just them.

"Not that I would ever share you, of course", Gortash said flatly. "Except with my own creation."

He opened the jar, throwing the lid to the side, then commanded the Steel Watcher to pull out of her with only a word, before smearing the thick liquid on her folds and inside her cunt. His fingers were warm, and so soft compared to the machine, and Tav's throat spit out moan after moan with every new touch.

“Gods”, she cried out when he curled his fingers inside her, smirking so cruelly she wanted to tear his face off. But not before fucking it.

But then she felt it: The salve, or whatever it was, felt comforting and warm. Relaxing.

“Enter”, Gortash commanded, and the Steel Watcher pushed its way back into her, all while Gortash held eye contact with Tav, whose head fell back against the machine’s chest.

“Hold”, he added, quieter, and she heard the soft quiver in his voice.

Stepping up to her he gave his cock a few pumps before he lined himself up against her entrance, and only then did Tav understand. Oh.

Gortash took his time, working himself into her wetness along with the machine’s metal cock, the salve easing the stretch as her walls strained to accommodate him. Them. Tav felt like she was about to lose her mind: She felt so full, so obscene, with the Steel Watcher holding her tightly in place while Gortash pushed into her.

“Begin”, he croaked out, and his movements matched the machine’s pace immediately as both of their cocks slid in and out of her. Gortash’s hot girth contrasted starkly against the cold metal of his machine, luring out moan after moan as Tav’s body bounced between them, the Archduke’s nails digging deeply into her waist, more to support himself than anything else.

“Fuck”, Gortash groaned after mere moments, “You’re so fucking tight–”

Tav couldn’t reply in comprehensible words anymore. Everything was pleasure and sensations and need and stretch–

His own moans mixed with hers and the steady, mechanical whirring of the Steel Watcher pounding into her. Her heart was about to beat out of her chest when another “Please” wailed its way out of her mouth, earning her a slap to the face and a growled “Shut up” from her lover.

“Not yet”, he added, but he sounded almost as pained as her. “Faster”, he commanded, and the Steel Watcher picked up the pace, matching the frantic rhythm that Gortash had settled into. Tav felt her body climb and climb, felt like she was about to fall–

“Say please”, Gortash groaned, and when she opened her eyes to look at him, making sure she understood him correctly, his mouth was hanging open with lust, eyelids half-closed, his face barely in control at all.

“Please”, Tav whimpered one last time as one of his hands shot up to her throat, while the other found her clit. His thumb had barely brushed against it when she already came undone, and her cries were choked down to whimpers as she bucked against the machine’s restraints again and again and again, pleasure rolling through her in waves.

Gortash moaned her name as he followed her over the edge, hands cupping her face as he spent himself in her. His voice was hoarse when he commanded the machine to halt.

“Fuck”, he sighed when they eventually all stood still, chests rising and falling with both of them gasping for air. “I didn’t account for the time”, he added, and while Tav definitely heard regret, there was more playfulness laced into his tone than anything else.

“No”, she immediately replied, “I need a break. Really.”

Chuckling, Gortash pulled out of her before ordering his machine to do the same, and after another command, his Steel Watcher finally set her down on shaky legs.

“You have earned yourself some recovery. No more work today.” He seemed intrigued and proud, and the way he licked his lips when he looked at her made her nervous all over again. “But I must insist on your help again soon.”

Tav would later ask herself if she’d been out of her mind, but the words found her so easily, so quickly, that she couldn’t really argue with herself: “It would be my pleasure.”

#enver gortash #tavtash #gortash x tav #bg3 smut #take me out back and shoot me #every day i stray further from the gods #but i don't care #tell me why i searched 10 minutes for a gif of a steel watcher lol

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ilkkawhat · 2 months

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#alan wake #alan wake 2 #awan #alanwakeedit #ilkka villi #alan x alice #mk.op #mk.edit #mk.gifs #have i mentioned how much i can't wait for tomorrow's work day to be over #and spend most of the weekend giffing #(i'm not happy unless i do 10 gifsets a day lmao jk)#(i am having fun making these gifsets that have been taking me hours)

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zukosdualdao · 24 days

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give your all to me / i'll give my all to you

zutara month, day 10: secret, @zutaramonth

summary: the night before they're set to leave to face ozai, katara can't sleep. neither can zuko. "tell me a secret," she asks of him.

warnings: references to ozai's abuse of zuko, kya's murder and katara's discovery, and ursa's disappearance.

other notes: title is a lyric from all of me by john legend. yes this is the second fic i've written about zutara the night before they're supposed to leave for the final battle. no i will not change <3

Though there are several rooms in the Ember Island house, on the first day everyone was here, they’d dragged all the blankets and pillows from them and instead set up in the open room at the front of the house, and that’s how they usually all fall asleep, near to each other—a holdover from Katara and Sokka’s days growing up in the Southern Water Tribe.

Aang is somewhere else, though. She doesn’t know what he’s doing, what he’s thinking.

She doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow.

Toph is snoring lightly, on her back and feet planted firmly on the ground, but Katara’s gotten used to that. That's not why she can't sleep. Sokka sometimes snores, too, but tonight, she can hear his easy, even breathing. Suki is silent in a way she wouldn’t be if she was awake, and Katara knows she’s pulled Sokka up to her side as she always does in sleep.

Zuko is awake. She doesn’t have to look at him or hear anything to know that.

“Tell me a secret,” she says quietly to the ceiling and to him.

“Like what?” Zuko asks, matching her volume, not bothering to pretend he doesn’t know who she’s asking. Even in the darkness, they have come to understand each other.

“I don’t know. Anything.”

It takes a long moment, but then Zuko says, “Okay.” Another pause, and then: “I use my bending to get the temperature right for the tea. Sometimes.” He says it almost a little guiltily.

Katara snorts and then looks over to make sure she hasn’t woken the others. Toph shifts in her sleep but otherwise only snores again. When she turns, resting her chin on her hand, Zuko is already staring back at her in a mirror image. His amber eyes are two bright points in the dark.

“That is not a secret. You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

“Oh.” She can just make out the way his frown shifts into a slight smile.

“Try again,” Katara says again. “Something I don’t know. Something real.”

He takes a moment to think it over. “The day of the eclipse,” he says finally.

“Yes?”

“My father… he said something.”

“Was this before or after he shot you with lightning?” she asks. It’s rude, abrasive, but—she can’t help it. He’d said that almost casually today while training Aang, and for a moment, that uneasy anger she’d felt when he first came to them resurfaced. Only now, it was for him as well.

How could he ever choose to go back to that? she’d thought. To someone who would do that to him?

“Before,” Zuko says, matter-of-fact, not seeming bothered by her intrusive question. Katara blinks, brought back to the moment. “He said… he implied… I don’t know. He said she might be alive. My mother. I don’t know if it’s true, or if he just…”

Katara’s heart stutters. Knowing something like that was awful. Knowing that no matter how she wished for it, her mother would never return this earth was an awful burden to bear. Remembering what it felt like to run with everything she had, only to find…

But not knowing? Being made to wonder? There’s a different kind of cruelty to that.

“If we win,” Katara starts, then pauses, shaking her head. “When we win—you should look for her. And I'll be there with you,” she promises.

There’s a long, silent moment in the aftermath of that.

“You will?” Zuko asks, sounding sort of choked. Katara smiles softly at him.

“Yeah,” she insists. “You helped me. Remember?”

The journey to find Yon Rha… it hadn’t been easy, or particularly pleasant. But it was what she needed. And Zuko helped her get there. Told her what she needed to know. Guarded her. Respected her choice to walk away without a word one way or the other, no approval and no dissent.

Zuko stares at her for a moment, discerning. “You don’t owe me anything, you know. It—it wasn’t about that.”

“I know. But I still want to help you.”

“...Okay,” he replies in a soft voice. Then: “Now it’s your turn.”

“Hm?” Katara asks, her eyes starting to feel heavy with sleep.

“To tell me a secret.”

Katara winks an eye open again. Mulling it over, she leans just a touch closer and reaches over to smooth his wild hair out of his eyes and touch a gentle hand against his face, against his scar.

Zuko leans into her hand.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

#zutaramonth2024 #zutara month #zutaramonth #zutara #zuko x katara #give your all to me / i'll give my all to you #my fic #the intimate hand sweeping hair out of someone's eyes gestures my beloved <3 #day 10: secret.#trigger: abuse.#trigger: murder.#ask to tag //

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leighsartworks216 · 8 months

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God yes, it makes me SO uncomfortable when I see posts like „he wants to be a dad so bad“ / „he’d be such a good father“ / „imagine Astarion as a dad“ / „imagine Tav x Astarion as parents“ / … like no. Plus it’s rare for vampires to be able to impregnate someone, they’re like birth control on two legs.

Especially because -spoiler for act 3 incoming-

he approves of me telling the red haired child to basically fuck off and is like „ugh kids these days“

- spoiler end -

I, personally, think of Astarion as someone who definitely doesn’t want kids. Marriage yeah, but that’s it. And I love him for that bc I don’t want kids either.

Sorry for the rant, I could go on and on about the obsession many people have with children lmao

No dude same!! I don't think he'd be a complete dick to kids. Like, I see him as the guy who is very closed off and like "grumpy" when kids are around, but the kids who aren't put off by it stick around and he's subtly nice to them. Saw a post around here somewhere that had like a kid falling asleep in his lap and Tav came over to take the kid away and he was like eh best not wake them or they'll be annoying again, or something to that effect

I do think kids just are not in his plans for a future with Tav (taken with a grain of salt as someone who doesnt want kids). He wants to be with Tav for as long as they can put up with him (even when they assure him it's not as much of a burden as he thinks it is), have someone who is There with him, but kids? Nah. All the trauma built up, I just don't think he'd know how to handle or raise a kid healthily

Anyway smth funny i just thought about:

Astarion: "Darling, have you... considered having kids?"

Tav: "Nooo.... Why?"

Astarion: "Well, if you did consider them... Would you... want any?"

Tav: "Absolutely not."

Astarion, sighing with utter relief: "Oh thank gods! Gale would not shut up to me about it and I was worried I was holding you back."

Tav: "I'm glad he's settling down to start a family, but kids are not in either of our wheelhouses, love. We could get a dog?"

Astarion: "Ugh, I'd prefer a cat."

Tav: "Okay. So we get a cat. There, problem solved. No damn kids."

Astarion: "Agreed. Now, are we going to knick a stray off the streets or find a shop or something?"

*staring in silence at each other*

Both: "Stray."

#idk smth cute #i just got done with my french hw so this is me celebrating #bc now i have so much other work to do #someone pls pause time for like 10 days maybe #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3

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alovesongtheywrote · 7 months

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Nightmare Academia | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary: Have you ever seen the tiktok where that guy brings a typewriter to his class because his prof doesn't allow laptops? Yeah, it's that, but you are the source of the typewriters. In other words, you're Reid's worst nightmare. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: Descriptions of emotional vulnerability from a student to a professor, reminders that the world sucks and Gen-Z is fucked when it comes to housing. The reader is. Kind of Mean to Spencer, but I won't say he doesn't deserve it. Enemies to Lovers, but they're just Enemies right now.

♥ A/N: a couple things about this fic. 1) i have no clue when this takes place in the criminal minds timeline???? i just know reid took a some kind of leave from the bau, and this is what he's doing with it 2) reid isn't actually in this one that much. my bad. 3) i've got no clue what university these two teach at. i researched typewriters extensively for this, but i didn't bother googling universities.

♥ Word count: 2371

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

“Alright, my little chilli babies, that’s about it for today. If you have any questions, office hours start now, and please remember there’s an exam next week. It makes me sad when you forget. Got it? Got it. Cool.”

Your students immediately began to stand and file out of the room. They left in groups. Some of them chatted amongst themselves softly, and some called out a farewell to you, but most of them were silent. One or two lingered behind to ask about the administration process of the PCL-R, but that was about it.

Except for this one girl.

You were pretty sure her name was Opal. She sat near the back of the room in the second to last row. She got good grades and performed well on tests and projects- although she was a touch shy during the one presentation project you assigned during the semester.

Usually, Opal was one of the first to leave, practically running from the room, but today she just sat there, staring straight ahead. You watched her for a second, vaguely assuming that she had a question or something. She didn’t get up to ask, though. She just sat still, staring at her laptop. You paid her no mind. Sometimes your students just needed a second, and that was usually nothing to worry about.

You were just about to pack up your own things and head for your office when you heard a sob. You looked up again to see Opal just sobbing into her computer. You winced. A pang of sympathy hit you dead in the chest. University was just like that sometimes- and she wasn’t the first or last student to cry on campus.

Shit, you cried on campus. Like, all the time. As a professor. The previous Tuesday you thought about the two-headed calf poem too hard and you ended up sobbing in your office.

You headed for the back of the room, leaning a hip against the back of the seat beside her. She didn’t seem to notice your presence. Her laptop screen was covered with detailed notes- it was honestly an impressive collection.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow, “Everything okay over here?”

Opal gasped, looking up at you with wide eyes, “I-I’m- I-” she sobbed again, “I’m so sorrrrrry.”

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m crying in your classroom, and I’m so overwhelmed, and my next assignment is going to be late, and I’m so sorrrrry.”

The poor thing put her face in her hands and hunched over in her seat. You pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. University is stressful. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and crying can provide a cathartic release from that.”

“I- I know. It’s just so- so embarrassing.”

“Again, don’t worry about it. I literally cried in here last week.”

“R-really?”

“Mhmm. Now, if it helps, I can provide an extension on that assignment. Your feedback might be a little less in-depth, but that’s really nothing to worry about. Your work has always met a high standard.”

Her eyes somehow got even wider, “Are you- are you sure, professor?”

“Absolutely. It’s not a big deal- it might not fix your whole problem though,” you pulled your legs up onto the chair, sitting criss-cross facing your student, “If you’re feeling overwhelmed, the school provides free counselling services. They can help you feel less… whelmed.”

Opal nodded, wiping her eyes, “It’s really just- just this one class I’m in. Our professor doesn’t allow laptops so I have to take notes by hand. But my- my writing is really messy, so then I have to figure out what I wrote, and-”

She was working herself back into a frenzy. You had to intervene.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Which prof is it, maybe we can ask about getting an accommodation made?”

“It’s-” she sobbed, “It’s Professor Reid.”

You froze. Opal continued to sob as a dark, heavy storm cloud rolled into your brain.

“That fucking bastard,” you hissed, effectively shocking Opal out of her stupor.

“Wh-what?”

“This isn’t the first time he’s- okay, come on, follow me, we’re going to my office.”

Wordlessly, Opal put her things in her bag. You ran to your desk to do the same, snatching your keys and water bottle before heading out into the hallway. Opal followed diligently, but she struggled to keep up with your purposeful strides. Her face was still tear-stained, but now, instead of sorrow, her expression was the ultimate picture of confusion. When you reached your office, you swung the door open wide and ushered the girl inside.

In all honesty, you were quite proud of the space you had created. It was warmly lit, a necessary contrast from the harsh white lights of the hallway (you fucking hated those lights). The walls were decorated with your doctorates and neat little art pieces you found in various places. It was colourful and pleasant, and now was not the time to focus on your choice of decor because you were on a mission.

Opal remained near the door, watching as you rounded your desk and reached for something below it. With a slight groan of effort, you quickly emerged with your prize.

A vintage typewriter.

A heavy vintage typewriter.

You placed the thing down on your desk as delicately as you could. Opal stared at you in confusion as you beamed at the fine piece of machinery.

“Which room is his class in, I’ll have someone bring this to you.”

“Professor-?”

“You use it for one class, just one, and I guarantee he’ll let you use your laptop. Damn, technophobe.”

“I don’t know how to use a typewriter.”

You placed your hands on the desk, leaning forward on it, “Okay, come here then, I’ll show you.”

Opal timidly made her way towards you. You made sure to leave her lots of space as you ran through the tech tutorial. She picked up on it quickly, being the good student that she was. When you were done, you collapsed back in your chair, another bright smile on your face. Opal looked significantly less distraught, but still vaguely confused.

“Can I ask why you’re doing this for me? You- you didn’t even have to give me an extension. Why are you-?”

“Because you aren’t the first student to have this problem.”

It was true. This was the seventh sobbing-student-style complaint you’d had about him in as many months- and Reid had only been there for seven months. You’d received emails, phone calls, and office hour meetings where desperate and devastated students would explain to you that they were falling behind. It broke your heart a little bit- and it pissed you right off.

It was ironic that Doctor Reid had come straight here from the FBI- his technophobic nature was slowly but surely murdering your students, and now, you were going to murder him.

“Now about that extension, does five days sound good?”

Opal handed in the assignment two days into her extension. You smiled as you looked over her incredible paper. Your little scheme had worked. You hoped that Reid was pissed.

–

He was! Kind of. Not really. It was a bit of a disappointment to be honest.

You had only known Doctor Spencer Reid for the seven months he’d been teaching alongside you, and boy howdy were you starting to hate his fucking guts. At first, everything was fine. He’d seemed sweet, and polite, and you were willing to overlook the whole FBI profiler thing to maintain the peace.

Then one of your students passed out during class.

Thanks to his high expectations and fear of computers, there was a lot of shit for his students to cope with. The worst part was, you agreed with some of his policies- of course, you didn’t agree with the tech thing, that was stupid- but there was other stuff that you liked. He taught your students things that could help them improve- but at what cost.

Your formerly dim-eyed and sleepy students (let’s be real, they were never going to be bright-eyed nor bushy-tailed, they’re fucking college students) were now going through life in a state of anxiety that was not good for their long-term health. That was enough to make you hate Spencer Reid.

And then one night, over a very full glass of wine you looked up his FBI career. You learned that the BAU used a private jet.

A private. Fucking. Jet.

They didn’t need to use the private jet. They could’ve used trains and it would’ve done the same thing. Shit, they didn’t even have to leave Quantico. They could’ve done their job from their main office. Most profilers do their job from their main office. Instead, Reid’s team had dumped fucking jet fuel into the damn atmosphere because they fucking felt like it. Not to mention just. FBI. Ew.

So, yeah. Fuck Reid’s three PhD’s, and fuck his ability to teach. You didn’t give a shit about any of that. You hated the man. You wanted to eat his heart in the main atrium, and given your way, you would.

Taking all that into consideration, it was only natural for the expression on your face to morph into one of absolute joy when Reid came to your office with the typewriter in his arms, and his tail between his legs.

“Doctor Reid,” your smile was a plastic thing, a false beauty with venom hiding beneath it, “What can I help you with.”

“Please stop sending that typewriter to my class.”

You opened your eyes a little wider, playing dumb just to fuck with him, “Typewriter? Whatever do you mean? I can’t imagine anyone in this century would even own a little antique typewriter like that thing there.”

“Little? That thing has to be over a hundred pounds- and it’s not antique, it’s-”

“It is literally thirty-three pounds.”

“Oh, okay,” he nodded. It was very clearly a ruse, “But how would you know that unless you own the typewriter?”

“I do a lot of research. That’s a 1960s Vintage Royal Empress Typewriter measuring about twelve inches in width and weighing thirty-three pounds and eight ounces. Y’know, now that you mention it, I’ve actually been in the market for a vintage typewriter.”

You put your elbows together on the desk and placed your face in your hands, “You wouldn’t know where I could get one would you?”

“Dr. (L/N), this is your typewriter. Please stop sending it to my classes.”

“Hm, I guess it doesn’t pay tuition, that’s not fair to the other students,” you opened your laptop, “What class do you teach again? I’ll sign it up and pay the price in full.”

Doctor Reid let out the most exasperated sigh you had ever heard in your life- and that was impressive. You taught college kids.

“Why are you like this?” he mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“I said-” he at least had the decency to look embarrassed, “I said, ‘Why are you like this?’”

Your smile split your face from ear to ear. You emerged from behind your desk slowly, carefully, like a predator eyeing up its prey.

“Why am I like this, Dr. Reid? I’m like this because in the past seven months, I have had to deal with seven emotionally wrecked students, and what did they all have in common? Was it personal tragedies? The pure state of the world and everything in it? The knowledge that very few of the students at this school will be able to afford houses once they enter the working world? No, Dr. Reid. The thing they had in common was you.”

“What are you implying?”

“Implying- what are you implying, he asks me,” you muttered, “I’m saying that your fear of computers is fucking over your students.”

“Studies have shown that handwritten notes-”

“No, no, stop. You don’t get to talk. I’m talking now. Handwritten notes might be better for long-term memory retention, but not everyone writes as fast as you talk. Most of these kids don’t have time to switch their notes to a digital format! And that doesn’t account for shit getting lost, or students who get sick and miss class. Look, I get that computers might be scary for you, but in a climate where most of your students are full-time students, who take a mind-numbing amount of courses that cover incredibly difficult material, go home and struggle with the steaming pile of shit that is reality, and then head out for their part-time jobs- or, in some cases, their full-time jobs- you might want to have a degree of sympathy.”

Reid stared at you. He seemed unaffected. You wondered if that was because you were like, an entire foot shorter than him. You pulled up a chair and stood on it.

“Let your students use their laptops, or I swear to god, I will never stop sending the typewriter to class. You will hear the incessant sound of keys clicking in your nightmares, got it?”

He paused, his eyes darting across your face from your lips to your eyes and back.

“How old are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re standing on a chair like a child. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. Now get out of my office.”

He did as you asked. You could see a small smirk on his lips as he shut the door behind him. The sight of it made your blood boil, and there and then, you decided you were gonna keep sending the typewriter anyway because fuck that guy.

Still, over the next few months, you never heard another complaint about Spencer Reid and his technophobic habits. Your students went from extreme emotional agony to regular, day-to-day emotional agony. He’d stopped making them take notes by hand.

You were still gonna kill him just… maybe a little bit less.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #holy shit two fics in two days that's fucking crazy #btw if you have an idea of when this should take place #let me know #im thinking it's around or just after season 9 #i might be biased since im like. halfway through season 10 #but if you've got ideas PLEASE SHARE THEM #anyway

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