#I was not prepared for love at first sight

[sincerelybubbles]

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

masterlist

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention. 

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you. 

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight. 

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind. 

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain. 

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door. 

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous. 

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee. 

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply. 

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over. 

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide. 

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge. 

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove. 

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh. 

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor. 

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book. 

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta. 

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart. 

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news. 

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting. 

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident. 

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet. 

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well. 

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face. 

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief. 

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest. 

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled. 

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression. 

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere. 

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile. 

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are. 

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted. 

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him. 

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space. 

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones. 

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically. 

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name. 

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone. 

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait. 

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in. 

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks. 

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack. 

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something. 

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder. 

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up. 

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains. 

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little. 

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one. 

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted. 

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread. 

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him. 

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it. 

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes. 

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him. 

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about. 

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere. 

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable. 

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away. 

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. 

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly. 

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something. 

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers. 

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging. 

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering. 

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct. 

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back. 

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly. 

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored. 

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory. 

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught. 

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street. 

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food. 

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street. 

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs. 

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks. 

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer. 

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house. 

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head. 

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window. 

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology. 

You wish he hadn’t. 

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle. 

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts. 

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway. 

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side. 

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun. 

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks. 

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low. 

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms. 

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid. 

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy. 

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head. 

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket. 

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team. 

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway. 

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you. 

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away. 

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile. 

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

#bubbs.writes #x reader #cm #fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #first meeting fic #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #elle greenaway #criminal minds x reader #bau team #bau #slow burn #strangers to friends #to lovers #hehehe #i rlly enjoyed writing this #sorry for any typos #i did not proof read after minor edits oopsies

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

31 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 8

...

Peering down into the building from the adjacent rooftop, Soap sees you--his soulmate--through his sniper's scope. You. Here. On the wrong goddamn team again.

He mutters a curse into his radio.

You’re standing guard at your client’s back—a man who coasts under the radar as far as his criminal reputation is concerned, but a smuggler effective and dangerous enough to put him on the CIA’s hitlist. He’s hidden from view. Probably been told to stay away from windows for the night. You're obviously working security, outfitted to the nines as you would be on any job, rifle in hands, scanning the foyer for threats. You're unaware of 141’s snipers setting up on the rooftops outside.

Soap’s eyes darken. He doesn’t deal with internal conflict when he’s working. When things get complicated, he uncomplicates them. Right now, there are three thoughts in his head: 

One--he misses you.

Two--you blew him off to work for this scum.

And three--he needs to get his feet on the ground right now. You'll be lucky if all you get is an earful once he gets his hands on you.

He switches on his radio. "Got eyes on the target. LT, you in position yet?"

"Affirmative. In position," Ghost says, his voice gravelly and cold over the radio from his position on a neighboring rooftop. "Waiting on the signal."

Soap stares you down through his scope. His leather gloves creak and tighten around the handle of his rifle. It pisses him off how easy it would be to take the shot. If he were anyone else, you would be dead in moments. 

On the other hand, he could kill your client--your protectee--here and now. To hell with the mission parameters. It would be easy.

He sighs, flipping on his radio again. "Permission to infiltrate, Captain? Spotted a friendly inside."

Gaz's voice crackles over the radio instead. "Friendly this time, is she?" His tone makes it clear he’s spotted you too.

"Don't be jealous, Garrick."

"Positively green with envy, mate," Gaz replies, dry and sarcastic. "Too bad she’s not friendlier. Be helpful if you could actually get her to talk this time. Not to mention the other stunt you pulled."

Soap smirks and adjusts his scope to keep you in his sights. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

Gaz scoffs. "Plausible deniability is for paperwork."

"Aye. Maybe I’ll mention in my next report who tipped me off about her bein' our hostage, too."

There's a beat of static. "Got nothing to say about that."

Then Laswell's voice cuts in. "Kyle has a point. The building is locked down tight and it’s gonna be hard to get a clean shot. If she's with our target's security detail, that’s our ticket inside."

"And if she's not willing to help us out?" Price asks.

"Depends on how persuasive Soap is willing to be."

"I might've picked up a technique or two last time,” Soap says.

The radio crackles as Price takes in a deep breath and sighs it out through his nose. Somehow, he makes it sound stern.

"Intel is intel," Ghost says.

“Failing that, bribery’s always a solid bet for a merc,” Gaz adds. “If they don’t shoot you on sight.”

"Right, then," Price says. "Soap, regroup with Ghost. Prepare to infiltrate. Gaz and I will take overwatch. Ghost, keep on comms. We'll find you the main breaker switch. Soap, I need you to keep things quiet, you hear me? Mission objective is priority. Do not, under any circumstances, be seen."

Soap's blood is already pumping hot. He’s never loved overwatch. He’d rather be close to the action--get his feet on the ground. Get his hands on you. "Copy, Captain. Ghost, I'm aimin' for the north corner. Meet me in five."

…

You mill about at your post, feeling twitchy and unsatisfied. This job is, on first glance, the same as any. Your PMC hired you and a few other mercs out to act as bodyguards for a man with more money than morals, if the size and clientele of this gathering is anything to go by. 

You shift your weight, scanning the overdressed crowd for threats. You wouldn’t hate it if this party were cancelled early.

"Stand up straight," your teammate snaps. "You're working. Act like it."

You scowl, but say nothing.

"Don't make that face at me," he says, bite in his tone. Horangi. Like he’s so patient. He's on just as short a leash as you, and it's pissing him off just as much. The difference is he has the seniority to take it out on you. 

"I don't know how you do this without feeling like a caged animal," you mutter.

His eyes follow a woman in a tight red dress as she passes by. Obviously, he knows what he'd rather be doing.

"A cage with a paycheck," he replies. "Some things you learn to tolerate."

You scan the room again. Your protectee is still here. That's good. You're hoping he takes his sweet time before he goes downstairs to start the so-called afterparty. 

You glance at Horangi again. "You know where the cargo is? Downstairs?"

"Last I heard. I got the east wing of this floor," he says. If the idea of that cargo is bothering him, he hides it well. He’s a good merc and he does what he’s told, like it or not.

You were a good merc, too, up until three weeks ago. Worrying about what rich idiots get up to isn't what you should be doing. You're supposed to keep the client happy. It's not your fault he can’t party without doing illegal shit.

You heave a sigh. "I'm going to check on it."

Horangi’s eyes narrow, flicking to you. "No, you’re not. Stay put."

"Fine. I'm going to the bathroom, then."

"Fine," Horangi snaps. "Go to the bathroom, and make sure you come right back. And don’t talk to anybody."

You walk away, rifle in hand, making your way into the back hall. You pass into the dim sconce light and swear you see something through the enormous glass windows as you walk by them. But there’s nothing there.

The lights flicker once. A beat. Just long enough for you to notice before they even out again. 

You pause at a flicker of movement near the side door up ahead. You have a split second to wonder why there’d be nobody securing the side door before the lights go out.

When you turn and head back for the foyer, you stop short. Down the hall, where you just came from, looms a familiar shape. The white skull on his mask pops out of the shadows. 

You don't make it back to the foyer.

Before you have a chance to react, your body armor is yanked hard from the back. You're pulled backward into an adjacent room and shoved hard against the wall. You expect the bite of steel against your neck or your temple, but it never comes. 

“Quiet, now."

You register Soap's familiar accent before your eyes adjust to the dark. "Johnny?"

"That’s right," he says. He's still got that way of speaking that's almost a purr when he's being quiet.

It suddenly feels like a long time since you’ve felt the heat of his body, pinned tight between him and the wall the way you are. He’s coiled tight, all lithe muscle and restrained strength. His eyes glitter with that wild, predatory look. It’s decidedly dangerous and tantalizing.

"I missed you, darlin'. You're gonna make this simple, aye? I know you can," he says.

You swallow the immediate urge to comply. Holy hell, you forgot what that feels like. "You need to stop greeting me like this," you hiss.

"I'd love nothin' more than to greet you in a different way, but you've got to start makin'  smarter decisions first." He leans all the way in and presses his nose into the crook between your neck and shoulder, nuzzling you in his full tactical gear. 

You muffle a sigh. He makes a quiet, content sound. 

"Besides, I kinda like this way of greetin’ ya. You make this little noise."

The radio on his neck echoes to life. You hear a tinny voice come through, saying something about an objective.

His eyes shut tight as he listens, one hand pressed firmly against the wall beside you. He doesn't back away yet. He's been dreaming of this for too long--laying his head on you and letting the sound of your heartbeat drown out everything else. It just can't fucking happen yet.

You feel, rather than hear, his low, annoyed grumble as he replies. "No, I copy. Just keep your bloody heads on."

You concentrate, trying to make out the voices of his teammates. It sounds like Ghost's voice.

Soap groans, his fingers flexing and gloves squeaking against the wallpaper. “I’ll be there in a minute, LT.”

You shift slightly. "Why are you here?"

A muscle twitches in Soap's jaw, and he pulls back so he can look you in the eye. "Should be askin' you the same thing. You’re on guard detail for a bloody criminal."

"It's a complicated situation."

"Then uncomplicate it."

You open your mouth to reply, but Soap's radio crackles back to life. This time, you can make out the words.

"Target located." Ghost's voice.

"Attaboy." Price. "Get him isolated. Third floor, east windows."

“Won’t be that easy,” Ghost replies. “He’s surrounded by civilians. Security’s thick.”

You tense even as Soap begins to relax. You fist your hand in the collar of his tactical vest, trying not to sound frantic. "Do not kill him. Johnny, listen to me."

Soap's expression turns grim, and he looks down at your fingers. Then he reaches up to cover your hand with his. "I know he's your client, but there's a reason we're here. He smuggles weapons. Big weapons, and not to anyone friendly. Just take it easy and let us clean up."

"No, listen," you snap, pulling him a millimeter closer. "He has the cargo here. It's not weapons. It's people."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / [part 8] / part 9 / part 10

more Soap / masterlist tag

#soulmate soap #mine #story #soulmate au #fem reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #x reader #soap x you #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader

[pinkflower2003]

Ferrari Family

Charles Leclerc x Reader

a/n - pure fluff, i am a pregnancy trope girly, it just makes me feel all warm inside!

send your submissions<3

Masterlist

It had been months since you’d attended one of Charles' races. Your absence didn't go unnoticed, especially by the media. Speculation ran rampant. Had you and Charles split up? Was there trouble in paradise? The constant barrage of questions and rumors filled the paddock, but Charles remained tight-lipped, a small smile playing on his lips whenever the topic arose.

Today was different, though. Today, you were making your grand return to the circuit. And it wasn’t just any return—you were eight months pregnant. Charles had been supportive and loving throughout your pregnancy, but you had chosen to stay out of the public eye, relishing the peace and intimacy of your private life. However, with only a month to go before your baby was due, you felt ready to step back into the bustling world of Formula 1, hand-in-hand with Charles.

As you walked through the paddock, it was hard to ignore the stares and whispers. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and cameras quickly turned your way. You could hear the hushed excitement as fans and workers recognized you, your hand resting protectively over your baby bump. It wasn't long before a crowd began to gather, eager to catch a glimpse of the spectacle.

Charles, who had been busy with pre-race preparations, spotted you from across the paddock. His eyes lit up, and a broad smile spread across his face. He quickly excused himself from the conversation he was having with one of the engineers and made his way toward you.

"Amour!" he called out, his voice filled with pure joy. He closed the distance between you in a matter of seconds, his arms wrapping around you gently but firmly. His hand instinctively found its way to your belly, caressing the curve of your bump tenderly. "You look beautiful," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You smiled up at him, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence. "I missed you," you replied, resting your head against his chest. The chaos of the paddock faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

"I missed you too," Charles murmured. "And I can't wait for everyone to meet our little one."

As if on cue, a small group of journalists approached, cameras and microphones at the ready. They had been dying for an explanation, and now they had it—plus, they couldn't resist the sight of Charles Leclerc doting on his pregnant girlfriend.

"Charles, Y/N, can we get a word?" one of them called out.

Charles glanced at you, his eyes seeking permission. You nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. This was a big moment, not just for you and Charles, but for your unborn child as well.

"Sure," Charles said, still holding you close. "What do you want to know?"

The journalist smiled, clearly eager to get the scoop. "First of all, congratulations! How are you feeling, Y/N? And why the long absence?"

You took a deep breath, smiling warmly. "Thank you. I'm feeling great, just a bit tired. As for my absence, Charles and I wanted to keep this special time private for as long as possible. We wanted to focus on our family and enjoy these precious moments without the added pressure of the public eye."

Charles nodded in agreement. "It's been important for us to have this time together. But we're excited to share this news with all of you now."

The questions continued, but Charles made sure you weren't overwhelmed. He answered most of them, always deflecting the attention back to you and your well-being. It was clear to everyone just how much he adored you and your growing family.

After the impromptu press conference, you and Charles made your way to the Ferrari garage. The team had been eagerly awaiting your arrival, and as soon as you walked in, they erupted in cheers and applause.

"Welcome back, Y/N!" one of the mechanics called out.

"We've missed you!" another chimed in.

You felt a rush of warmth and gratitude. It was wonderful to be back among friends who felt like family. Charles led you to a spot where you could sit comfortably, making sure you had everything you needed.

"Charles, Y/N, we have a little surprise for you," Frédéric Vasseur, the team principal, announced with a grin.

One of the team members stepped forward, holding a tiny red shirt. It was a baby Ferrari onesie, complete with the team's logo and colors. The sight of it brought tears to your eyes.

"We wanted to make sure the newest member of the Ferrari family is ready for the races," Fred said, handing you the shirt.

You took it, your heart swelling with emotion. "Thank you so much. This means the world to us," you said, your voice choked with happiness.

Charles wrapped his arm around you, his eyes shining with pride. "This is perfect. Our little one will be the best-dressed fan in the paddock."

The rest of the day was filled with joy and celebration. Charles couldn’t stop doting on you and your bump, constantly checking to make sure you were comfortable and happy. He introduced you to everyone who hadn’t had the chance to meet you yet, proudly showing off his beautiful, pregnant girlfriend.

As the race approached, Charles had to shift his focus back to his car and the upcoming competition. He squeezed your hand and kissed you softly. "I'll be thinking about you the whole time," he said.

You smiled, feeling a mix of pride and nerves. "We'll be cheering for you," you promised, placing your hand on your belly. "Both of us."

Charles gave you one last lingering look before heading to his car. You settled into a comfortable seat in the team’s viewing area, surrounded by supportive friends and team members. The excitement was palpable, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline as the race began.

Watching Charles race was always a thrill, but today it felt even more special. Every turn, every overtake, every strategic move made your heart race. You knew how much he loved this sport, and seeing him excel made you feel incredibly proud.

When Charles crossed the finish line in first place, the roar of the crowd was deafening. You jumped up, cheering and clapping, your heart bursting with joy. Charles had done it—he had won, and you were here to witness it.

As soon as he stepped out of the car, Charles made a beeline for you. The cameras followed his every move, capturing the pure elation on his face. He scooped you into his arms, careful not to press too hard against your bump, and spun you around.

"We did it!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with happiness.

"You did it," you corrected, laughing through your tears. "I'm so proud of you."

Charles kissed you, his lips soft and tender against yours. "I couldn't have done it without you. Both of you."

The team joined in the celebration, surrounding you with cheers and applause. It was a moment of pure joy, a memory that would last a lifetime. Charles' victory was sweeter because you were there to share it with him.

Later, as the celebrations continued, Charles found a quiet moment to sit with you. He placed his hand on your belly, feeling the gentle movements of your baby.

"I can't wait to meet our little one," he said softly. "To hold them, to show them the world. To show them how much I love them."

Tears filled your eyes as you looked at him, your heart overflowing with love. "I can't wait either. They're going to have the best papa in the world."

Charles smiled, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. "And the best mama. We're in this together, Y/N. Always."

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #ferrari

[natashaslesbian]

For You

Summary: You’ve been going through a rough patch with your moms for a while, after a big argument you finally tell them how you feel.

Word Count: 1.2k

Parings: (Wandanat x Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: none I believe :)

————

The walls shook as you slammed your bedroom door shut, the tell tale sign of another fight with your moms. Most teenagers have arguments with their parents, who usually have high expectations of them. But being the daughter of the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch meant that your expectations were set much higher. Growing up your moms were your best friends, you spent every second with them, it was the three of you against the world. You had a magical childhood and all your school friends were jealous of your home life, however after your 13th birthday Natasha and Wanda decided that it was time for you to start training alongside Peter. It was nothing extreme, a few hours a week in the gym and some basic self defence. As Peter progressed you soon fell behind, not only disappointing your teammates but also your mothers.

You let out a sigh as you slumped down onto your bed, rolling over to face the wall incase of any unwelcome visitors. You replayed the row in your head, Natasha’s words loud and clear in your mind. “Why can’t you be more like Peter, he’s doing so well, he puts so much work into his training, he’s not lazy like you!” She had shouted across the room. That was your final straw. If only they knew the effort you held within you, they just didn’t care about it as it had nothing to do with being an avenger. As a kid you loved to draw and paint, and as you got older it became a favourite hobby. At first your moms would take your cute little drawings and put them around the compound to be admired but as they transitioned back into work and long missions they didn’t really have the time to appreciate your art anymore and very quickly they forgot about your favourite activity.

A knock at the door arrived as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Go away” you huffed. Shortly after came a gentle click of your door. “Who said you could come in?” You asked. Your mom didn’t say anything just yet, she simply walked over to your bed and took a seat next to you. “Y/n” Wanda said “I- I’m sorry. I hate when we fight kiddo” she said as she reached for your hair. “Mama started it” you replied as you pushed away her touch. “Baby mama didn’t mean what she said. We had words after you left and she knows she was wrong, she’s gone for a walk to calm down” your mom said as she shuffled closer. “And I know that I was wrong too” she said, causing you to look up at her. “I shouldn’t have shouted like I did” Wanda said with a hint of guilt in her eyes. Your mom never usually shouted at you, she was normally the calm one although still echoing everything your mama was saying.

Wanda’s vulnerability made you think for a moment. You had always hidden how you truly felt, putting on a tough act so you didn’t disappoint your moms even further. When Wanda had come to see you, you were prepared for round two with her. But the delicacy she had entered the room with caused something in you to shift. “Why am I not good enough for you and mama?” You cried out, the sight breaking Wanda’s heart. “Baby don’t say that!” Your mom cooed as she pulled you up into her embrace “you are good enough for us darling” she said. “You just want me to be like Peter” you sobbed “you’d rather him be your kid” you tried to push away from Wanda’s hold, but she tightened her grip around you, “we don’t think that y/n” she said. “I know I’m not as good as him at combat and weapons and stuff but I am good at other things! Why can’t you see that? I’m trying so hard to make you proud of me but nothing I ever do is good enough!” You cried.

Without realising, a second pair of arms had been wrapped around you, a steady hand was trailing through your hair. “Mama?” You mumbled as you looked up to see her green eyes. “I’m never gonna be good enough for you am I?” You said as you melted into her arms. Natasha had been stood outside your room for a few minuets listing to yours and Wanda’s conversation. She felt so guilty when she heard what you said and came running to your side, crying along with you. “Oh my little spider, look at me” Nat said as she cupped your cheeks, bringing your gaze towards her. “I promise you’re enough baby girl, I’m so sorry I made you feel like you weren’t. Your mom and I are so proud of you but we’ve been blinded by our own want for you to become an agent. But it’s not what you want is it?” She asked. You looked at her confused for a moment, finally starting to calm down again. “Your artwork” Natasha whispered.

“Mama you remembered?” You asked. “Of course we did sweetie” Natasha said “baby you’re a fantastic little artist we loved when you used to bring us all your drawings” Wanda said as she brushed your hair back from your face. “But I thought you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted me to focus on being an avenger” you cried “you never had any time for me” you mumbled as you laid in your moms arms. “You’re right baby girl and mama and I are so sorry” Wanda said as she kissed your forehead. “Y/n being an agent and an anger is all your mom and I have ever known” Natasha said “we’ve not put being mothers first and we know that now. We thought we were putting you first by pushing you into training but we weren’t and we are so sorry” she finished. You sat up so both your moms could see you, you took a deep breath as you prepared to tell them the truth “mom, mama” you whispered “I don’t wanna be an avenger” you cried out “I’m sorry” your moms both scooped you up immediately, both now crying with you.

“We know that now sweetie” Wanda calmly said “you don’t have to be sorry” she said. “I don’t wanna disappoint you” you mumbled as you wiped your nose “dekta you could never disappoint us” Natasha said “this is your life and you’re old enough now to decide how you want to live it, all we want is for you to be happy” your mama said. It was like a breath of fresh air had hit your bedroom, everything you had wanted to say was finally out in the open. “I think I know what I wanna do” you said looking up at your moms “what is it darling?” Wanda asked “after I finish school, I wanna go to college, to study art. Is that ok?” You sheepishly asked. “Oh y/n of course it is” Natasha said “it might be expensive though” you frowned “well that’s what uncle Tony is for” Your mama giggled “and besides we’ve got some money put away from you, it’s plenty enough to get you where you need to be” Wanda said “really?” You asked, trying hard to hide your excitement. “Really baby” Natasha said “whatever you need, we’ll sort, we’re your moms and that’s our job” Wanda said as she ran her hand under your chin. “I love you mom” you said to Wanda “I love you mama” you said to Natasha.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

#marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x daughter!reader #wanda x y/n #wandanat #wanda x natasha #wanda x reader

[achelouise]

my love, my muse —kaveh

fandom: genshin

pairing: kaveh x reader!

a/n: i just realized i hadn’t written for kaveh, which is a crime against humanity. also kaveh x muse!reader brainrot sjzjjwjzjqjjajajajh (also switching formats, iiiiiii have no idea what im doing, can you tell)

— student!kaveh, who, even though loathed and respected his project partner to bits, would rather die than ever try to draw him for an assignment. “don’t even think about it,” he hisses, just as alhaitham quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. he understands that he has many friends and acquaintances that are willing to pose for him, but a small voice in the back of his head needles at him- telling him that no, we cannot create art with them as our muse. and to him, nothing is more important than making sure every single artwork he produces is with the utmost sincerity.

— student!kaveh, whose resolve crumbles bit after bit as the deadline creeps up, with no model to look for in sight, and is starting to think perhaps he should turn to his volunteering friends after all. he cannot compromise his diligence for his passion as a scholar, and so he heads to pupsa café, hoping to buy some coffee to prepare for his all-nighter that night.

—student!kaveh, who doesn’t even realize he’s pouting until he hears a cheery, unfamiliar voice bring it up- and he tilts his head up to find that he spilled all the coffee in his mouth onto his shirt (much to your alarm).

“you,” he gurgles, “you’re the muse i’ve been looking for!”

“excuse me?”

— perhaps he was a bit sleep-deprived, which explained his lack of inhibition, but student!kaveh latches onto you like a moth to a flame, stars swirling in his eyes. are you a student of the akademiya? which darshan are you from? which nation were you from to bless you with such beautiful eyes? could you be his muse? he asks them all, because he has to know.

— student!kaveh, who only later apologizes for his overbearing first-impression, while swearing up and down he wasn’t like that usually, and explaining his current predicament. perhaps you pitied him, or found him quite charming- whichever it was, you accepted his proposal to be his muse in exchange for some funds, much to his delight.

“thank you, thank you, oh, thank you! my assignment won’t be so lifeless after all!”

— student!kaveh, who arranges a time and place for you at his dorm with a sense of bravery he has absolutely no idea where he picked up from. when you come in with the most random set of outfit he’s ever seen, he chooses to hold back his tongue over your enthusiastic participation.

“sit tight!” he says, holding comically large canvas whose shadow swallowed up the whole room, “relax, and do whatever your heart tells you to do.”

— student!kaveh, who usually simply sketches things out of pure photographic memory, starts simple and structured for once. where would the chair go? where would you sit? would you look too stretched out if the table properties next to you weren’t matching? where should he exaggerate? how would the chandelier be hanging to get the perfect lighting? how would the painting behind you affect the composition?

— student!kaveh, who usually lets his hand dance on his canvas, plans everything out this time, and lets his mind flourish under the guidance of your radiant beauty. your soft smile, your relaxed posture, and your twinkling eyes lets him have fun- and he finds joy in drawing backgrounds, especially the furniture, for once- to emphasize the way you pose.

— student!kaveh, who drinks an ungodly amount of coffee every night and lets his sheer will do the rest, stops by in the kitchen to make you some snacks. he worries for you; “are you alright? is this posture tiring you? do you want water? i can get some for you. do you want some snacks, too? we can take a break. i don’t have much here, but i can always make a quick trip to the market.”

— student!kaveh, who finds joy in conversation with you while he works. you seem to harbor a decent amount of knowledge fitting for a scholar. if you talk about other subjects, kaveh’s more than willing to listen. if you enjoy studying architecture, that’s fine too! whatever the topic is, you both seem to have an endless stream of opinions and discussions to open up about, and watching your mouth run off on any particular topic brings him much satisfaction. it is always fascinating to understand another person deeply interested in a subject.

— student!kaveh, who starts to explore other color schemes in order to find the perfect one for you. your radiance is something that should be brought out and emphasized on his canvas, something future generations can look at and admire. maybe a bit of pink for the shadow? how about purple to shade your hair instead of gray? would yellow compliment your shoes? he thinks of them all, dabbling in this and that, until his palette blooms in different smears of colors.

— student!kaveh, who is willing to go on a rant to explain how you were the perfect muse, how your smile made his hand itch to draw it out, how your eyes crinkled and held the weight of your soul, how- oh. did he say muse? would you like to be? kaveh doesn’t mind in the slightest if you could continue to. in fact, how about he treats you to a nice meal tonight? the sun is setting, anyway, and it’ll be his way of saying thank you. (please say yes.)

— student!kaveh, who, after half an hour of deliberation on whether parting his bangs in a certain angle would make him look more presentable or not, shows up that night at the venue with a small sketchbook in his hands, telling you not to worry about it. every time your lips turn a certain way, or when the light hits your hand just right, he frantically sketches it down underneath the table, much to your confusion.

“did you enjoy the meal? hm? that? oh, it’s nothing. please, go on. you said something about how your friend could aether-edit?”

it was a pleasant time, despite him constantly dodging your questions on what in teyvat’s name he’s doing, and believing the constant rush he feels inside his head whenever you laugh is perfectly normal. you’re his muse, aren’t you? it’s only natural.

(and if the dinner spreads any rumors- well, kaveh thinks it’s normal to feel giddy, too.)

— student!kaveh, who, when looking at his graded paper days later, is pleased to know it is graded with high praise. the professor even commented on how he is finally starting to get a firm grasp on studying basic anatomy of architecture. (hmph. he thinks he was pretty good at anatomy up until then as well, but okay.) good- he’s put a lot of effort into that painting.

— student!kaveh, who insists on thanking you for the high grade again, the next time you run into each other- only this time with a bouquet of flowers, and a blush on his face.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin kaveh #genshin impact kaveh #kaveh x reader #kaveh #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin kaveh x reader

[baskinginthesunshine]

sungchan as your bf / headcanons

idol!sungchan x non!idol male reader reader prns: he/him word count: 2k words fluff

sungchan as your boyfriend

content warnings: mentions of shirtless sungchan, i think that’s it but lmk</3

unedited</3

(masterlist)

a/n: so i just came back to tumblr after like a month and im getting back into writing!! i recently read the first part of @luvkyu ‘s sungchan oneshot and i fear my sungchan obsession is coming back so HERE have a fun gift

ps: in the little scenarios it fluctuates between a weird 2nd person + 3rd person limited so i hope that’s not confusing</3

✦he’s sooooo soft

✦he puts acts really tough but whenever you come in the room…

✦there are stars in his eyes

✦he LOVES showing you affection in public

✦is not at all afraid to show his soft side when you’re around

“y/n!!” sungchan happily squealed, the sight of you making his heart run at 100 miles per hour. “hi chan.” y/n smiled softly, sungchan wrapping his arms around y/n’s shoulders, a bright and lovesick smile on his face.

“have i told you today how much i love you?” sungchan asked, y/n pondering about the inquiry. “i don’t think so.” he replied, a tiny grin appearing on his lips as sungchan left a small kiss on y/n’s nose. “i love you so much baby.” he whispered, y/n pulling his closer. “i love you too chan.”

“bleh.” seunghan said, passing the couple who were currently embracing, sungchan unraveling one of his arms from y/n’s to flip off the younger. he returned to y/n, soft laughter coming from the two’s mouths as seunghan grumbled while walking through the living room of the dorm.

✦loves kissing you

✦like if his lips are free they’re going to be somewhere on you, whether it’s your cheek or your neck

✦his favorite place to kiss though is the part right behind your ears

✦it feels super intimate for him

✦he can latch onto your body and bury his face in the crook of your neck and everything is okay

✦whenever he’s having a bad day, all of his worries fall away whenever he’s in your arms

“are you alright bubs?” y/n asked softly, sungchan wrapping his arms around m/n’s neck, placing his lips gently behind y/n’s left ear. sungchan felt y/n’s shoulder’s relax under his hands, detaching his soft lips from the delicate skin.

“better.” he whispered in reply, y/n smiling happily at the person in his arms. taking sungchan’s hands in his, y/n pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin, sungchan’s breath slowing into a rhythmic pattern of comfort. “i’ll run you a bath and then you can tell me about your day?” y/n asked, sungchan nodding as a sigh escaped his mouth. “yes please.”

y/n’s gentle laughter filled the room as he pressed a light kiss to sungchan’s forehead, who moved his head so y/n’s lips trailed down his nose to meet his own. soft noises of sungchan’s happiness vibrated from his vocal chords and filled the room as their lips separated and touched again. y/n ruffled his hair, walking away backwards, his eyes locked with sungchan’s. “your bath wil be ready in a few minutes love.”

sungchan smiled, following after y/n with a smile on his face, his lips warm and heart fluttering with satisfaction as he saw your figure disappear into your bathroom.

✦LOVES talking about his hobbies and job with you

✦he set a new personal record while doing his work out? expect to see a very happy (and sweaty) sungchan bursting through the door of your apartment speaking a mile a minute about the accomplishment while you simultaneously try your hardest to get him to go shower

✦did he finally ace a part of the choreography for riize’s new comeback? be prepared to see a very excited (but extremely sore and tired) sungchan coming home with a bright smile on his face, proceeding to spend the next 5 hours of your evening together showing you the now cleaned two 8-counts

✦after he would proceed to fall asleep, his face pressed against the couch cushions while you just stand their like 🧍

“babe! guess what i just did!” sungchan exclaimed, bursting through the front door of y/n’s apartment, a bright smile on his face, contrasting the sweat trickling down his forehead. “what did you do?” y/n smiled, looking up from his book to lock eyes with his boyfriend.

“i just finished cleaning that really stupid part in talk saxy! i’m free now!” he cheered, y/n standing up from the couch to envelop his boyfriend in a hug, attempting to avoid the sweat clinging to his body. “congrats bubs! i’m so happy for you.” he replied, sungchan’s triceps resting under his palms. “can i show you?” sungchan asked, y/n nodding happily. sungchan sprinted to move the table from the center of the living room, y/n sitting back down in his seat on the couch.

safe to say he spent the rest of the night showing you the same moves, only falling asleep curled up on the couch once y/n left to get a glass of water.

“let’s go to bed channie, you’re really tired.” y/n whispered, putting his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “no, i gotta show you it one more time! i reallyyyyyy got it.” he slurred, his head falling into y/n’s chest, soft breaths coming from his mouth.

“silly,” y/n muttered softly, struggling to get sungchan’s long limbs contained in his arms to take him to his bedroom, a bright, sleepy smile on sungchan’s face as y/n held him. “mmh, i love you.” sungchan mumbled, y/n pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “i love you too. but can you wake up enough so you can walk to the bedroom because i will die trying to carry you.”

sungchan chuckled softly, his half asleep voice music to y/n’s ears. “okay.” he groaned, pulling himself up before falling in y/n’s arms, feet shuffling along the floor with his partner until they made it to the bedroom, moving his hands along to the rhythm of talk saxy. “boom, did it again. babe, you’re so lucky to have such a talented boyfriend.”

y/n smiled, patting sungchan’s half asleep cheek as he laid the tall man across the comforter. “so lucky my love. now sleep.” “mmh, i love you.” sungchan replied, falling into slumber as y/n smiled at his hyper boyfriend.

✦he’s very open with his group about you!

✦like someone will say something and sungchan will suddenly just say “oh wait y/n did this cute thing” or “that reminds me, me and y/n-“ and the rest of riize just stare at him

✦on the other hand, you’re very open about your relationship with sungchan to your friends

✦it was one of sungchan’s priorities when you started dating that if you wanted to be able to gush about him you could<3 it means the most to him that you can express your happiness even if he is a public figure

✦he never wants you to feel like his little secret! you mean the world to him and while he might not be telling the fans for your safety (the world is still too homophobic), he still makes sure you’re satisfied and heard in your relationship and he isn’t ignoring how you feel

✦if the fans ever did find out, whether it was by accident or on purpose, sungchan’s main priority would be you

✦fans start following you? he tells them off and stays by your side until they stop

✦if you ever feel upset about what they say, sungchan will take the time to comfort you, helping you in self care for the next few days until the comments stopped living in your mind

the group was taking a break after the hours of practice, shotaro talking about the hellish time he had trying to buy grocerys that week. sungchan drank happily from his boba (courtesy of y/n) before a thought returned to his mind about his recent date with his boyfriend.

“oh my god! when me and y/n went to the grocery store this week it took us like half an hour to check out! he was literally dying waiting in line at checkout for it to be our turn.” sungchan giggled softly, thinking off his boyfriend’s face while the other 6 stared at him blankly, sohee sighing. “that had nothing to do with the conversation but thanks for the information!” shotaro exclaimed, sungchan snapping out of his daze to stick his tongue out at his friend, the thought of you still on his mind.

✦’i love you’s are very much an every single second of every single day thing for sungchan

✦he never worries about it losing it’s effect on you

✦if he loves you, you deserve to know it every minute you’re together!

✦it’s one of his core beliefs in your relationship and he sticks by it

✦whenever he has to leave for work before you wake up, he makes sure (or so you’ve heard) to press a soft kiss to your head before whispering how much he loves you and leaving the house

✦if he’s really rushing, he’ll leave a note on the nightstand for you to find when you wake up<33

channie<3

i love you<33

chan :(( i love you too!

okay bye bye i rllyyygotta go now but i justwanted to let you know :)

:((( CUTIEST

haha ty! :(

✦he loves taking you on dates!

✦whether it’s a day at the beach or running a quick errand to the grocery store that ends in a picnic, he loves to spend time with you

✦his favorite type of date to have with you though are the cozy rest days you’ll have together in the country side on his days off

✦spending all day latched at the hip as you relax in the sun, running into the cold ocean in your underwear, and taking late nights all to yourselves is sungchan’s favorite way to unwind

✦one of his secret dreams for when you’re older is to buy a house out in the countryside with you and build your family together!

✦he wants nothing more than to love you for the rest of your lives and it’s the sweetest thing ever!!

“y/n, watch this!” sungchan said, y/n looking up from his sand castle to see sungchan jump into the air, making a heart above his head before he fell into the waves. laughter escaped from y/n’s mouth as he saw sungchan emerge from the ocean, a disgusted look on his face as he coughed heavily, scrunching up his nose before covering the skin with his right palm.

“ah i got saltwater up my nose.” he complained, y/n staring at his tan chest gleaming in the sunlight, his swim trunk hanging lowly to wear the dips of sungchan’s hips peeked above the fabric. “chan!” y/n called, sungchan meeting y/n’s eyes with a newfound smile. “hmm?” he replied, y/n giving him a heart with his hands in return. sungchan stumbled backwards holding his hands over his heart, falling back into the water.

“ack, my boyfriend is so adorable!” he cried, y/n laughing as sungchan was hit with a wave, causing his feet to kick up as he tried to stand. “help me y/n!” he asked, y/n running into the surf, only for him to fall down when he and sungchan collided over the sand bar.

“you were supposed to help me.” sungchan pouted, y/n pecking his salty lips. “oops.” he giggled, sungchan wrapping his arms around y/n’s waist, moving his head to bite his boyfriend’s cheek. “ahh!” y/n cried, sungchan pulling them out of the cold water and into the warm sun, his boyfriend’s bright smile making his heart flutter.

✦in conclusion, one of sungchan’s most important thing in his personal life is you<3

✦he wants no one but you as his boyfriend, and would do anything to make sure you’re happy and satisfied with your relationship together

✦he’s so smitten for you and he wants the world to know! like yes, you are the light of his life! and you’re going to hear about it!

✦and at the end of the day, he knows you’re always there for him when he needs it

✦he’s so so so happy you found each other and is grateful everyday for your love<3

✦no one will EVER compare to you and he hopes you know that!

✦he’ll make sure you stay together forever at each other’s sides, living your life with eternal happiness and joy

there’s SO much more i could put in here but i’m stopping for my mental stability

#freckledsunshine! #sunnies #writing fs! #kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader #riize fanfic #riize x male reader #riize x reader #riize headcanons #sungchan x male reader #sungchan x reader #jung sungchan x male reader

[anxious-lee]

Nothing To Prove || Gravity Falls Tickle Fic ||

A/N: there's a lot of buildup at the start but THIS IS A TICKLE FIC I SWEAR! more than anything though, I'm writing this for the sake of developing characters. This is familial love so if I see any i*cest, I am blocking you on sight

Summary: When Ford comes to realize how much Dipper looks up to him, he seeks out a way to show his young nephew that there's no need to be intimidated by him.

Word count: 2,454

----

Dipper

Life just got a whole galaxy bigger.

Dipper thought he knew what his life would become when he found that old dusty book in the forest; he'd pursue adventure, get into danger, fight monsters.

But meeting his number one hero? And then finding out that he's related?

Not a chance.

It'd been a year since Dipper and his sister left Gravity Falls. They had lots of time that school year to ruminate on everything they had been through together. In the span of three months, their whole universe had turned inside out.

They had another uncle. Someone else to look out for and protect them. Mabel, as she is with all news of this sort, was over the moon. Dipper, however, wasn't as content. It wasn't that he didn't like Great Uncle Ford. Far from it. He loved him unconditionally. He worshipped the ground he walked on. He would fight a thousand beasts to earn his mentor's pride. And that was the problem.

Dipper had spent so long dreaming of the author as this distant hero; an intellectual mastermind that surpassed all around him. He dreamt of meeting him, yes. Bombarding him with questions, absolutely. But now the man was part of his family. The same family that he cracked stupid fart jokes and goofed around with.

Dipper wasn't prepared to have someone so important to him in his life on a permanent basis. He couldn't help but feel a little small around Ford, like every move he made was a chance to embarrass himself in front of his idol.

After his first summer in Gravity Falls ended, Dipper hoped that his overwhelming sense of awe would pass with the time, and he would grow more comfortable around this new addition to the family. But the moment he stepped off of that bus and saw his great-uncle there to greet him, he knew it wouldn't be quite that easy.

He volunteered for as many of Ford's experiments as he could. He offered as much help as he could provide. When faced with an obstacle, Dipper made sure to prove to his uncle that he was smart and tough beyond his years. This, as one might expect, is a difficult and exhausting image to maintain. Being "the perfect, mature man of science" was hard when you were a young, hormonal teenage boy. But that wasn't going to stop Dipper.

When Ford had asked if him if he wanted to help engineer a stronger form of glass that could withstand abnormally high temperatures, he nearly fell over with excitement. He was going to be the best lab assistant Ford could ask for.

It seemed, however, that he couldn't get that right after all, because when bringing over the regular glass jar for experimentation, it slipped through his fingers and shattered.

Dipper was mortified. Not only had he broken the constant variable in their experiment, but possibly also the trust Ford placed in him to be a responsible assistant. How could he have been so careless? Was their experiment ruined now? Did Ford think he wasn't taking this seriously?

"Oh my gosh! Oh my- I- I'm so sorry, Great Uncle Ford! I don't know what happened. I thought I had it" Dipper rambled, throat tightening.

"Aw shoot," Ford cursed under his breath, "It's okay, Dipper, it happens. Here, why don't you go fetch me a new jar from the back shelves while I sweep up this mess?"

"Act- Actually you know what, I think you might actually have an easier time doing this if I wasn't here. I- I don't want to get in your way. " Dipper shuffled back towards the door.

"But I thought you wanted to-" Ford turned to his nephew only to find that he was already gone.

---

Ford

It was unusual, and not the kind that Ford enjoyed. The puzzling kind of unusual.

The conclusion did not follow the variables. Variable one: Ford was conducting an experiment. Variable two: Ford asked Dipper for assistance. Variable three: Dipper was eager to help. Conclusion: Dipper had panicked and ran off. It just wasn't right. Something was off balance.

Now, in a technical situation, Ford could figure out the root cause himself. He had well over thirty years of practice doing so. But this was a human being. Moreso, this was his great nephew, and he wasn't so skilled in the people area. He needed to outsource this predicament with someone who knew Dipper longer than he had. Someone he could trust to tell him what he was doing wrong.

That someone in particular was tucking away a large medieval flail in the cupboards of the sitting room when Ford found him. What it was for, Ford thought it better not to ask.

"Stanley, can I talk to you about something?" He said.

"I didn't know it was a bear, honest!" Stan yelled.

"What?"

"Uhh, nothing. What's on your mind?"

"I have the strangest feeling that Dipper is more anxious than normal. He ran out of my lab this morning looking like he'd seen a ghost, which I have ruled out as a possibility because the air did not smell at all of sulfur. Anyway, the point is, I think something's wrong with him. You've known him far longer than I have. I thought maybe you would have better insight into these things" Ford explained.

Stan stood silently for a moment.

"Stan?"

"Oh sorry I was just enjoying the moment you finally came to me for advice"

"Stanley."

His brother quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't gotta be a genius to figure this one out, Poindexter. The kid's afraid of looking bad in front of ya."

Ford was stunned into silence. This was a new feeling. An new, terribly odd feeling.

"What?"

"Come on, you've got to have noticed by now. He looks to you like you're a god. He practically worships the ground you walk on. You were like his hero before you'd even met him. You think he's not gonna feel some pressure to live up to your standard? He just wants you to be proud of him."

"I love him! He's my brother's grandson! And of course I'm proud of him. He's very remarkable for his age" Ford said.

"Then why don't you tell him that once in a while."

Ford lost himself in thought.

"Well, time to get back to restocking my weapons. Good luck with your family tension. I'll call you for dinner," Stan sauntered away, seemingly unbothered by the problem, "Prepping for battle, do do do..."

Once again, Ford was left alone to think.

---

This wasn't the first time that Ford had heard someone tell him that he had a standoff-ish impression on people, but he never thought it would impact his kin. Someone he treasured so greatly. Now that he knew how Dipper was feeling, he couldn't waltz around and act like he didn't know. Something had to be done. The only issue was, he didn't know what.

Ford waited a couple days before asking Dipper to rejoin his experiments, knowing that the boy probably wouldn't be willing to assist him just yet after what happened. To his relief, Dipper agreed.

It was still painful to know that his nephew was intimidated by him, but it felt nice just to have him by his side again being his seemingly normal self.

The day went without a hitch this time. In fact, things went quicker than expected and they finished early. It was as they were readying themselves to leave when Ford spoke.

"Thank you for your help today, Dipper. I've been having trouble operating all of this machinery by myself lately. Must have thrown out my back or something."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Dipper replied, "Muscles get tighter with age, so I'm sure it's normal."

Ford turned to look down at his nephew. "Are you calling me old?"

The boy paled. "Wh- I- Uh- I- I wasn't-"

"I'm afraid I have no choice but to punish you for your disrespect" the scientist said darkly.

Before Dipper could have time to overthink that threat, Ford pulled the boy into his arms, sat himself on the ground and started tickling his belly.

The first few seconds were filled with frantic babbling; jumbled syllables trying to make themselves into a coherent sentence. Ford wasn't hearing a "stop", so he didn't.

Dipper giggled hysterically. His face had instantly screwed itself up tight and was looking for a way to bury itself into some hiding place. "GREATUNCLEFORHOHORD! WHAT ARE YOU DOHOHOHOING?!"

"Tickling you, of course! I thought that was obvious," Ford answered with cheer, all pretend-seriousness gone. He chuckled. "I guess you inherited more from me than I thought."

Dipper couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his hands, until he settled on hiding his face with them.

"Aw, don't be shy, son. I'm not the author today. Today, I'm just your uncle," Ford then added with a growl, "Your uncle: the tickle monster!"

The boy's arms fell from his face, settling down on his lap like little t-rex arms. He seemed to have surrendered to the silliness of it and didn't bother to fight.

Wonderful, Ford thought, that means he trusts me!

As Ford moved from belly to sides to ribs, Dipper's laughter went up and down like a rollercoaster, his child-like smile never leaving his face. "IHIHIHI'M SORRYHIHIHI!"

"Nuh uh, kid. "Sorry"'s not gonna cut it," Ford said playfully. He was surprised how good he was at this. He didn't have much experience with playing with children, and he had thought his decades of interdimensional travel would've hardened him to such silliness. Thank the gods that it hadn't.

As Ford's hand started to travel up to the boy's underarm, the boy shrieked and suddenly found the will to fight.

"EHEHEHEK! NONONONONO!"

Ford couldn't help himself laughing at his adorable little ward. "Ticklish there, huh?"

"YEHEHES" Dipper cried.

"Okay, okay, I'll make you a deal. You take back what you said about me being old, and I'll stop tickling you."

Ford had expected the kid to be worn out by now. He thought it was only fair to offer him an out. To his surprise, he didn't take it.

Dipper seemed to think it over for a second, then shook his head with an extra giggle, one that was not from the tickling.

This kid is going to be the death of me, Ford thought, not a hint of regret in his mind.

"Okay, if you say so," the man said playfully, and dug all six fingers into the boy's hollows.

A shriek, and then more rambling, and then loud laughter.

Dipper, despite being tickled within an inch of his life, looked happier than Ford had ever seen him. If this was a dream, Ford did not want to wake up.

"I've got some questions for you, Dipper. Smile for yes and laugh for no, ya got it?"

All he could do was laugh.

"Okay, are you smart?"

Dipper sunk his chin in to his chest.

"Dipper, this won't work if you say yes and no" Ford remarked with fake incredulousness, "Okay, hmmmm... are you brave?"

The teen began to snicker.

"I don't think you understand the rules of this game," Ford said, which only made Dipper laugh harder.

"Alright, alright, last one. Are you ticklish?"

Dipper let out a snort at that infernal question.

"I'll take that as a yes," Ford smiled smugly.

After several more minutes of goofing around, Dipper finally had enough.

"OKAYHYHYHY OKAYHYHY! I TAKE IT BAHAHACK!"

"Good lad." And with that, Ford released his victim.

Dipper wrapped his arms around himself and giggled till there were no more laughs left in him.

"You okay, son? I didn't go too crazy, did I?"

"No no, I'm fihihine. Mabel's put me through much worhorse."

"I can believe that. She got that from your uncle Stanley, you know."

After having regained his breath, Dipper got up from his uncle's lap. "So... are you really not mad about the jar I broke the other day?"

"Oh, Dipper, of course I'm not. You should see the things I've broken down here. You'd be shocked."

"But when you make a mistake, it's different." Dipper recoiled. Apparently, he didn't mean to let that slip.

"What do you mean?"

Dipper's timidness was returning, and Ford almost regretted even asking.

"It's just... you've done so many great things and are so perfect the rest of the time that the mistakes you make don't count as much."

That was some seriously flawed logic, but Ford chose not to point it out.

Dipper continued. "I make too many mistakes."

"Dipper, you're supposed to make mistakes. You're twelve. Do you think I was able to do all the things I do now at your age? Not even remotely.

"And more to the point, you don't have to embarrassed about those mistakes. Especially not with me."

"But you're different! You're the author! The author I'd been searching for all summer. You're a dimension-hopping scientist! And surprise, surprise, you're even cooler in person! And I'm just... so... small.

"I keep trying to make myself useful, to be someone you can be proud of, but-"

Ford kneeled down and placed both hands on the kid's shoulders. "Dipper, listen very close to me. I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to really hear me, understand?"

Dipper hesitantly nodded.

"I am so proud of you. You're my great nephew. I'm proud of you every minute of every day. That's not something that can change. You've got nothing to prove to me. You make me proud simply by being who you are. Never question that. Can you do that for me, son?"

The boy looked near to tears.

Oh gods, Ford thought, did he say something wrong? He thought this would make him feel better, not worse! Should he-

Little arms suddenly hugged his neck tight. "Yeah... yeah I can."

Ford could not get his arms around him fast enough.

"Now, don't you ever go comparing yourself to me. What a disservice to your incredible self."

Dipper hugged tighter.

Ford himself could feel little pin pricks in his own eyes. He released his hug and cleared his throat.

"Well, I think we've had enough excitement down here for one day. What do you say we head back upstairs for dinner."

Dipper wiped his eyes with a happy smile. "Sounds good to me."

The two walked back towards the door, a new kind of bond formed between them. It felt like something had been accomplished today, and that was all either of them could ask for.

"You are old, though."

"Oh, I'll show you old. Get back here!"

----

This has been an idea of mine for quite some time. Rewatching the show was just the straw that broke this writer's back apparently. So happy to have finally written this ❤️

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #tickle fic #gravity falls tickles #lee!dipper #ler!ford

[wintfleur]

If you feel comfortable, what was juraj and Gwen’s first time together like?

a/n ﹒ofc I’m comfortable , tysm for asking nonnie !! I’m not going to go into full detail about the actual act . . . simply because I want to write a full on fic about this later on !!

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #📷 ͡ ꒱ GwenCaufield

When Gwen had told Juraj that she was a virgin , Juraj felt a lot of things stir in his chest. A strong feeling of possessiveness at the fact that she wanted to give it to him, not take but give. But he also felt a lot of nervousness because he wanted it to be perfect , romantic and loving just like she deserves , a night she wouldn't regret.

Juraj knew that Valentine's day was coming up , and it would be their first time celebrating it as a couple , and he wanted it to be special. He was planning it for weeks , with the permission of Cole and the help of arber he planned the perfect little getaway for the two of them.

He had rented a cabin in the snowy woods for the two of them for the weekend , and God gwen was so surprised and happy. The second day was valentine's day and they spent the day with breakfast in bed , they went out to tour the town a little and then when they got back to the cabin , Juraj made dinner for them. And they spent some time in the Hot tub.

Gwen was a little confused when Juraj pulled away from their heated makeout in the hot tub , whispering breathlessly against her lips to stay there. Gwen waited there patiently in the hot water until Juraj called for her. Gwen quickly dried off and wrapped herself up in a towel as she walked into the master bedroom.

She looked around the room in awe at the sight , there were lit candles all over the room and Juraj stood there with a bouquet of her favorite flowers , tulips. But what made it special was the music playing in the background , all songs from her playlists.

Gwen had imagined her first time many times before , but no imagination could have prepared her for the love , passion and care Juraj showed her that night. He was sweet and loving , talking her through it all. It was perfect and everything she imagined and more.

The aftercare was even sweeter , Juraj carried her into the warm bath where he gently washed her body and hair. They cuddled in the hot bath just enjoying each other's presence before getting out and changing into some comfy clothes , cuddling on the couch in front of the lit fireplace as they ate the delicious desert. They then talked all night until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

°. — taglist ( @toasttt11 @cixrosie @prettyboywoll @petite-potato4 @winterbarnesblog )

#📷 ͡ ꒱ GwenCaufield #💌gwencaufield #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨📸୧˚ smutty gwen & juraj #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🖤୧˚ Gwen & Juraj #juraj slafkovsky smut #juraj slafkovsky imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky #juraj slafkovský #nhl smut #nhl x oc

[tabr1-s]

sunday rant and personal frustrations with him that i begun to write at 6am running on an entire 3 and a half hours of sleep (my cats woke me up.....)

(tldr at the end. i might be as bad as Sunday in terms of yap mileage (yappage) but i'll do one better than him and provide you with the concise version if you scroll all the way down.)

i have never felt such intense emotions about a character's moral viewpoint... Ever. and i've liked characters that were mass murderers before. morals (or lack thereof) usually never played a significant role in whether i liked a character or not (unless they did something i considered worse than plain ol murder, then i wouldn't associate with them), and 99% of the time i could find the character's motivations understandable under the circumstances that they were in.

and, technically, i can understand where Sunday is coming from too.

but that doesn't stop me from being Absolutely pissed at him.

(sunday-esque yap about myself incoming, i will eventually get to the point (which i will highlight))

as someone who has been told that i have "ocd features" Multiple times by my psychiatrist (practically each session) i understand the need for control. my obsessiveness manifests in the form of feeling the need to control practically everything - my current obsession for control being my own emotions, which extends to needing to control entire situations, and in turn makes me severely overthink all the possible outcomes to those given situations. i've also been guilty of controlling others before, and having the mentality of "i know what's best for you". hell, i still feel like that a lot, but i really try to push it back.

and this need for "control" is mainly the reason why i even find comfort in fiction. because it's oftentimes very predictable to me (it also made me think of how i do not find any interest in reading books, but i love writing stories of my own. particularly fan-fiction. and the only time i can feel comfortable enough to feel romance is towards fictional characters - because i control the narrative! it's something to think about.). if i like a character or a narrative, it's easy for me to pick apart where the writers will go with that story. and, even if the story turns out to disappoint me/be different than what i hoped for, i would still be Prepared for that possibility.

i somehow... failed to prepare for what would happen with Sunday.

i had set my sights on the wrong thing for 2.2. i invested my whole energy on trying to comfort myself that hoyo wouldn't take the ipc colonialism route (basically turning out to be capitalist/colonialist apologists) with penacony (which i Guess will be explored in 2.3? but now that i have some more context on the story and how it's unraveling i'm not as anxious about it anymore), that i overlooked a lot of other things that could've gone wrong.

namely, my favourite hsr character to be... Like that. (i'm not even being intentionally vague. i'm just dumbfounded)

i had Heard of the theory that Sunday is possessed by Ena (which didn't particularly make sense to me, and i refused to look at leaks concerning Sunday lest they upset me. either way i Really hated that theory. plus, Sunday being said to have ocd would've been an incredibly cheap way to foreshadow that he's "possessed" by the Order. you can't just create your first(?) important/playable character that has a confirmed mental illness and then go "it's okay actually he's Normal! he was just possessed". i took this very personally. and still am.), and saw a lot of theories concerning his involvement with the Order as well. i shut it all out, because i didn't like the implications of that.

which in turn made me Not think/comfort myself regarding the possibilities that he truly Was connected to the Order.

...

well, rest in pieces, me - it's always the things i don't pay much attention to/ignore/fail to think about. which is actually a bit strange because i was not expecting him to be an entirely sane person from the start - he was a politician type, a leader, and a manipulator, to name a few things. that much was obvious. in 2.0-2.1 i wouldn't have been surprised if it turned out that he was the one that "killed" Robin. again, nothing was out of the question. but, 2.1 showed a different side of him. one that cared for his sister and (seemingly) listened to her and cared about what she thought. so they became quite a comforting little sibling duo to me. tragic, yet you could depend on their mutual trust in eachother... or so i thought.

and then he... went and did all That. which just showed me how, despite him caring for his sister, he was still putting other things above her.

to conclude with my yap: in a sense, he is just my "grim reflection of the self". and although i feel sympathetic towards my past self and how naive and selfish i used to be, there are some flaws of mine i will never forgive myself for. and, Sunday, in a way, reminded me of... Everything. it was almost triggering.

(hey, writing this all down in one place helped me calm down! (it's a neverending cycle that will continue tomorrow. all it will take is seeing a post concerning him and his sister and i'll get pissed anew) yay!)

the point(s) (aka my qualms):

- how sunday manipulated robin + was planning to use her in the charmony festival to complete his plan. she was going to be an unwilling participant in creating a "utopia" that she would've been absolutely against, but he didn't stop to fucking. fill her in, maybe? talk it out? the sheer disrespect on the concept of free will and on the fact that your own sister is a human being of her own sickens me

- he should've cherished the relationship he had with her (x1000 because that's the ONE FAMILY MEMBER YOU HAD LEFT AND THAT IS SUCH A PRIVILEGE!!! IMAGINE HAVING SOMEONE CARE ABOUT YOU WHOLEHEARTEDLY AND THEN YOU GO AND THROW IT AWAY!!! YEAH I'VE ALMOST DONE THE SAME EXACT THING MULTIPLE TIMES (AND STILL WOULD) BUT THAT'S WHY I ALSO KNOW HOW MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE MOVE IT IS!!!)

- he forsook his own self and shoved down his own biases and interests (fucking rat. you can't change the fact you're human and i'm very much saying that from experience) to become something Grander than life itself and in fucking turn isolated himself and shut out the one person who actually cared and then had the Gall to complain about being misunderstood/alone. (when you're finally sitting in your unreachable throne in this "dream" that you've created, who will you blame for being lonely? who will you blame when you have no one to fall back into? no one to support you? when everybody you did this for forsakes You?)

- HE DIDN'T EVEN HUG ROBIN BACK AT THE LAST SCENE. LIKE SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR FAILED PLANS AND COME DOWN FROM THE CLOUDS A LITTLE - THE JOY YOU SEEK FOR IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!

- all i hoped for was that sunday and robin would reunite and get the chance to be happy together, and the only true reason i'm mad is because i'm guilty of a lot of the same self sacrificial behaviours as him and very much understand the sentiment of "my loved ones would be better off without my negative presence and influence". but instead of empathizing with him, i feel betrayed. i thought he was better than me. i thought he was someone worthy of admiration, and that doesn't come easily from me. despite all the warning signs i fell for his obvious facade, and i Very rarely get taken by surprise - especially in a way like this.

- if it wasn't for the fact that Robin would feel sad if Sunday died i would personally go and strangle him myself

tldr; i'm just a big baby that placed a lot of faith on Sunday and his relationship with Robin post 2.1 and my ego took a Huge hit once he turned out to be just some immature emo idealist type. (come on, man - i genuinely thought you were better than me! someone worthy of respect! and i usually have a feeling of superiority over others! this was the biggest compliment/act of faith i could give! (talking to a wall (fictional character (I'M FUCKING UPSET))))

#despite all this i do not hate him. i'm just really disappointed at how he acted with robin #i will still be pulling for him; at least that way i'll be able to have both the siblings on the same team #^(haha it's like they never got separated! i'm completely fine and not delusional) #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr 2.2 #hsr 2.2 spoilers #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #robin hsr #hsr robin #ramblings #1442 words and i could've written waaay more if i didn't get tired/bored of this

[lookingfts]

You are amazing!

All these bonus snippets have been such a treat

Have we heard anything from Like I see you Kanthony? They're one of my favs and I need to know how many times they've had sex at Kate's office

Thank you!

Also please know that I’m still working through my asks. I have at least two dozen unanswered ones, and every time I answer one, I get three more lol. So if I haven���t responded to yours yet, I will get to it when I have a chance!

*sexy snippet below*

Come let me in.

It takes a second for Kate to process his text. She checks her watch – it’s a little after seven, and there are still a handful of people in the office, preparing for a big corporate case.

She grabs her badge and heads downstairs, swiping him in. The tension seeps out of her body at the sight of her boyfriend, holding a bag of takeout from the sushi place she loves.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kate sighs, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a sweet, lingering kiss. “But thank you.”

He cracks a crooked grin. “I had fully selfish motives. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she admits, scrunching up her face at how utterly sappy she’s gotten since they started dating. They both have demanding jobs, and some weeks their schedules don’t align all that well, though they try their best to make time for each other. “Do you want to eat in my office?”

“Yeah.” Kate takes him to her floor, and he says hi to several of her coworkers on the way, asking them about their families or their hobbies. He really can charm anyone and everyone.

They eat at her desk, chatting about their days and her case, and it’s exactly what she needed. For the first time all day, she feels relaxed and happy. Somewhere along the line, Anthony has become her favorite person.

He earns that designation even more when he cleans up the remnants of the food and comes up behind her chair, rubbing his hands over her shoulders. Kate practically melts into the touch, a soft sigh falling from her lips. “You’re so tense, honey.”

“I’ve just been sitting for too long,” she says, rubbing her hand over his muscular forearm. “God, that feels good.”

Anthony digs his thumbs into her shoulders, loosening the tightness there, and the sigh turns into more of a moan. He’s so talented with his hands.

He works her over like that for a while, until her body starts to unwind and release. Gently brushing her hair aside, he presses a kiss to her neck, then another, and she shivers. “Anthony…”

“I can help you,” he whispers in her ear, nipping at the lobe, and Kate realizes that he remembers her fantasy of getting fucked at work. Offering to make it a reality.

“I don’t-,” Kate pants as he sucks a bruise into her neck. “There are other people here.”

Anthony’s hand wanders lower, cupping her breast as he teases a hard nipple between his fingers. “Your door is locked. No one can see. You just need to try really hard to be quiet.”

That condescending motherfucker. It shouldn’t turn her on as much as it does, it really shouldn’t.

She wants it. Wants him so badly she can’t breathe. But Kate knows she can’t let go on her own. “I need…” she breathes as he pinches her nipple. “I need…”

“You need me to make you?” he growls, low and filthy.

Kate shudders. “Yes.”

Suddenly, his hands leave her, and Kate nearly whimpers at the loss. He spins her chair to the side, getting on his knees, his eyes pitch black as he looks up at her. “Cover your mouth, baby. You don’t need your coworkers to know what a little slut you are when I’m fucking you.”

Clasping a hand over her lips, she moans at the degradation. Kate lifts her hips as he tugs her damp knickers down her legs, immediately stuffing them into the pocket of his trousers. She won’t be getting those back, she already knows.

Spreading her thighs apart, Anthony gazes at her bare cunt under her skirt, shaking his head. “You’re so wet, Kate. You’re lucky I showed up. You’ve just been sitting here trying to work when what you really needed was to come home and let me take care of this needy little cunt.”

She gets impossibly wetter at that, and Anthony clearly notices, licking his lips. “Please,” Kate whispers, laying back in the chair. “Please, your mouth.”

“What about my mouth?”

Fuck, he’s going to make her say it. Anthony has always demanded her desires in explicit detail, but it feels especially wanton here, in the place where she has worked so hard to be taken seriously.

“Suck on my clit,” she says, her voice breathy but firm. “And put three fingers inside me.”

Anthony grins wickedly, swinging her right leg over his shoulder to hold her open and lowering his head. The first swipe of his tongue feels like lightning, searing through her body, and she puts her hand back in place to muffle her shaky cry.

He does exactly as she asks, laving her clit with his velvet soft mouth as he stretches her open on two fingers, slowly working in a third. Kate feels equal parts vulnerable and powerful, all soft and sloppy around his fingers, but with the most beautiful man in the world on his knees for her.

She’s so fucking full like this, his thick fingers claiming every empty space inside her, crooking to rub the spot that makes her leak arousal all over his hand. Anthony sucks her clit forcefully, keeping his eyes locked on hers, never breaking the contact. Kate thinks she’ll pass out at the sight of his perfect face buried in her cunt, at the clear pleasure he gets from worshipping her like this.

Kate has no choice but to come, hard, wetness slicking his chin as he greedily laps her up. Her walls squeeze Anthony’s fingers tight, and they both moan at the sensation.

Delicately, he pulls out of her as she slumps against the chair, gasping for breath. His hands run over her thighs, smearing arousal on her skin until she’s painted in it. “What the fuck,” she pants, at a loss for any other words.

“You needed that so bad,” Anthony murmurs, digging his nails into her thighs. “That’s my fault. I knew you were stressed at work. Needed me to fix it for you.”

He’s hard in his trousers, tenting rather obviously, and Kate aches for him. She’s as greedy as he is, wants to be filled up, consumed, controlled. Wants her pleasure forced out of her.

“Fuck me,” she begs, running her hand through his disheveled hair. “Bend me over my desk and make me take it.”

Anthony groans loudly against her thigh, sinking his teeth into the fragile flesh there. He’s utterly gorgeous like this, all blown pupils and swollen lips, staring at her like he wants to destroy her.

“Get on the fucking desk,” he orders, voice hoarse from the effort of staying quiet. Kate stands on shaky legs, carefully moving her laptop and her papers to the side. She rucks her skirt up around her waist as she leans over the desk, all open and exposed to him, her head resting against her arm.

His fingers dance along the swell of her arse, a pleased noise coming from his throat as he strokes her soft skin. Then they dip lower, teasing her wet folds, and Kate whines into her arm.

“So pretty,” Anthony praises, teasing her clit. “You’ve never done this with anyone else, have you? But you can’t help spreading your legs. Your little cunt knows it was made for me.”

Tears prick her eyes at the force of her need. He’s right. It’s only ever been him that can make her body respond like this, break down all her walls and drive her out of her mind. “Please,” she whimpers. “I love you, please.”

That’s the key; it always has been, ever since the first time she whispered it against his skin while he was fucking her slowly and tenderly in his bed. More than her submission, more than her screams of pleasure, he wants her confessions of love.

“I love you too,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Stay quiet, honey.”

He fucks right into her, trusting that she’s wet and relaxed enough to take him all the way. And she does, easily, her body rocking forward with the motion as she muffles her moans.

He fucks her, and she takes it. Willingly, eagerly, pushing back against him as much as he’ll let her. Anthony lays one hand on her upper back to keep her down, the other in a harsh grip on her hip, and Kate thinks she could happily die like this.

“Pull my hair,” she moans, and Anthony immediately gathers up her loose curls in his fist and tugs. The pain-pleasure at her scalp makes her feel delirious, and her orgasm is so close she can taste it on her tongue.

Distantly, she realizes that the desk is scraping against the floor, and she hopes to god that everyone else has already left. Though it’s an open secret that several of her coworkers are hooking up, and likely doing so in the office, so she doesn’t think they would rat her out even if they could hear.

She grips the edge as Anthony pounds her into the desk and then she’s shattering again, gushing onto him, keening his name. Anthony makes a rough noise and comes inside her, a welcome warmth between her thighs as her body fully relaxes.

Anthony sits in her chair, pulling her into his lap. Kate curls up against his chest, face tucked into his neck, finding a warmth and security in his arms that she doesn’t think she’s ever felt anywhere else.

“Better?” he asks, sliding his arms around her waist and holding her tight.

“So much better,” Kate sighs, nuzzling his neck. “Let’s just stay here for a while, and then you can take me home.”

#like i see you #bridgerton #kanthony #asks and answers #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic #missing scene

[thyandrawrites]

It's all about Nagi living alone in a tiny one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with zero personality and Reo having a whole floor for himself but still living surrounded by tacky-expensive home decor with no apparent traces of his actual personality, either. It's all about how Nagi's parents haven't visited him in 2 years nor taken an interest in his life since, while Reo's are content to live floors apart from their teenage son, only taking an interest in what value he can bring to Mikage Corp but being otherwise uninvolved in / dismissive of his actual life. It's all about them being surrounded by people and still not knowing how to form a meaningful connection with another person before meeting each other. It's all about them being so starved for genuine human warmth to combat their bone-deep loneliness that they both treasure memories of tiny, inconsequential moments where they were spending time with their parents. Something something it's this line,

and how it describes them both despite being said about Reo. It's them being awkward 17-year-olds who had never before had an equal who would just respect them as they are and unconditionally look their way. In this essay I will-

#Blue lock #Blue lock spoilers #Mikage reo #Nagi seishirou #Bllk thoughts #This chapter was sooooo good #Gosh. Just as I was grumpy about epinagi getting boring without all the emotional deep dives that made it so interesting in the first place #They go and give us this bonus chapter. What a feast #I wish every month could be like this #This gave so much perspective to why they are the way they are #Most of it is not new information but I really loved all the foiling in this omake #Truly drives it home how both get their drive from their partnership bc they crave meaningful connections #Like. I had a whole post about how they're both each other first friend #And even then it couldn't have prepared me to the reveal of reo living in a whole ass empty skyscraper by himself #Did you also notice the distinct lack of soccer paraphernalia in his house or was that just me #Heck there isn't even a single soccer ball in sight... #And he calls Nagi's room void #Gosh they're both so fascinating #Of course they're bored out of their mind before meeting each other. Imagine being that understimulated and that lonely #I'm surprised they're this functional tbh. If anything they should be More mentally ill #I sure would lose it after a week at Reo's place #At least nagi owns mangas come on

[trasho-pando2011]

I've been listening to will wood's cover of prince ali on loop.... /pos

#HEY CLEAR THE WAY IN THE OLD BAZAAR #HEY YOU LET US THROUGH IT'S A BRAND NEW STAR #OH COME BE THE FIRST ON YOUR BLOCK TO MEET HIS EYYYE #MAKE WAY HERE HE COMES RING BELLS BANG THE DRUMS #OH YOU'RE GONNA LOVE THIS GUY #PRINCE ALI FABULOUS HE ALI ABABWA #GENUFLECT SHOW SOME RESPECT DOWN ON ONE KNEEEE #YES TRY YOUR BEST TO STAY COME #BRUSH UP YOUR SUNDAY SALAAM #AND COME AND MEET HIS SPECTACULAR COTERIIIIIIIE!!! #PRINCE ALI MIGHTY IS HE ALI ABABWA #STRONG AS 10 REGULAR MEN DEFINITELY #HE BEAT THE GALLOPING HOARDS #100 BAD GUYS WITH SWORDS #WHO SENT THOSE GOONS TO THEIR LORDS? WHY PRINCE ALI!! #HE'S GOT 75 GOLDEN CAAMEEEELS #PURPLE PEACOCKS HE'S GOT 53 #WHEN IT COMES TO EXOTIC THPE MAMMAAAALLS #HE'S GOT A ZOO I'M TELLING YOU IT'S A WORLD-CLASS MENAGERIE #PRINCE ALI HANDSOME IS HE ALI ABABWA #THAT PHYSIQUE! HOW CAN I SPEAK? WEAK IN THE KNEEEES #GET ON OUT IN THAT SQUARE #ADJUST YOUR VEIL AND PREPARE #TO GAWK AND GROVEL AND STARE AT PRINCE ALIIII #HE'S GOT 95 WHITE PERSIAN MONKEYYYYS #AND TO VIEW THEM HE CHARGES NO FEEEE #HE'S GOT SLAVES HE'S GOT SERVANTS AND FLUNKIIIIEES #THEY BOW TO HIS WHIM LOVE SERVING HIM THEY'RE JUST LOUSY WITH LOYALTY #TO ALI. PRINCE ALI AMOROUS HE ALI ABABWA. HEARD YOUR PRINCESS WAS A SIGHT LOVELY TO SEE. AND THAT GOOD PPL IS WHY- #fuck i don't have enough tags for the rest of the lyrics

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your older boyfriend, satoru, shows you just how much he adores you in his private office <3

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x virgin!female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). smut, pwp. fīngering. multiple ōrgàsms; overstimulation. mention of corruption kink. dry hūmping. nicknames ‘princess, baby, beautiful’. pls ignore any grammar errors xx

“heh, don’t look at me. look at yourself, princess,” satoru chuckles, easily noticing how your head is tilted in attempt to watch him as he gets you off. you’re sitting on his thighs with your legs spread, shamelessly allowing him to finger you in his office.

your shaky eyes dart down to your dripping cunt—clearly seeing how it’s got a mind of its own. it’s squeezing satoru’s long fingers as he moves them in the speed of light. your limbs are shaking by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving.

“the-the door,” you hiccup. you hadn’t locked the door behind you when you walked into satoru’s office. you definitely wouldn’t want any of his colleagues to walk in on you. though, that didn’t seem to worry your boyfriend. all he’s focusing on at the moment is your perfect pussy taking in his middle and ring finger.

satoru’s glossy lips are parted and covered in spit. he has to lick up the drool from the corner of his mouth so it wouldn’t dirty your opened blouse. he’s quite literally salivating at the sight and feeling of your warm cunt. . .

“the others ‘re busy, they won’t come in as long as you keep your pretty voice down,” satoru promises you in a smooth tone, blue eyes wide with fascination as he stares down at your pussy.

he’s always imagined what it’d be like to be inside of you. what it would feel like to hold you in his arms and make love to you without holding himself back— to show you a world you have yet to discover.

satoru wants to be the first one to do that, though he’ll wait until you’re ready. for now, he’s completely satisfied with just a taste of heaven.

“fuck, baby, she’s beautiful,” satoru praises your delicate pussy. your wet folds continue to make way for more of his fingers, spreading as he tries to enter a third digit into your poor, clingy hole. you whine as you feel satoru prepare you by rubbing your clit repeatedly with his thumb—trying to make you as wet for him as you possibly could be.

you shake your head, “can’t take more, ‘toru.” it genuinely feels like you’re being stretched out. three fingers are going to take you out. “nuh-uh,” satoru mocks you before telling you to look at him. the moment you do, his lips envelop yours in a lustful yet comforting kiss. you moan into his mouth and he does the same back, eyebrows furrowing because of how good it feels to suck on your tongue.

his fingers don’t stop. the third slides in and you jolt back against satoru’s chest. “shh, shh, i got you,” the older man attempts to calm you down. he stops fingering you for a second so you could adjust to the stretch. you’re tight—he can feel his erect cock twitching in his pants, begging to replace his fingers. he can’t, not yet.

satoru cusses under his breath once he feels your ass rub against the bulge in his uniform’s pants. you’re killing him and you don’t even realise it because you’re too focused on his fingers fucking your cunt. shlick shlick shlick — you’re dripping wet.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper through a soft gasp. it would be your third orgasm. you’re sensitive and your pussy feels like it’s on fire. your lower abdomen is tingling and aching. you’re going to inevitably squirt all over his chair, again.

satoru bites his lip as he hears you announce how close you are. his long fingers are already soaked with your juices, coating them with a sticky layer that he cannot wait to taste. “do it, baby. wanna see you cum,” your boyfriend coos.

satoru loves the way your hips circle back to him, rubbing against his groin. you’re driving him insane without even knowing it. he curls his fingers inside you, thumb still circling your clit for extra stimulation. you’re being driven to the edge of insanity.

he bucks his hips a little each time you involuntarily move in his lap. “toruuu, fnnh, so close,” you’re not only moaning because of the fingers inside of you, but also because of the hard bulge rubbing against and between your ass cheeks.

satoru knows your voice can easily carry over to the next room. you’re usually loud when you finish on his fingers. he takes his free hand and pushes your head back against his shoulder, his index and middle finger sliding into your mouth to silence you.

your whimpers are muffled as you automatically start sucking on his digits. satoru kisses your ear and jawline, whispering small words of praise against your skin because of your obedience. “keep it down for me, beautiful. y’re already doing so well.”

your eyes roll back as your saliva dribbles down his left hand. the wet trail runs down his veiny arm that’s exposed to your view. you love it when satoru pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows—it reminds you of why everyone fawns over him. it’s hot.

you’re trying to hold out, not wanting to cum. you wish to stay like this, with satoru’s fingers deep in your cunt and mouth, his bulge grinding against the fat of your ass.

the white-haired man instantly notices this and chuckles to himself; you’re fighting a losing battle. he increases the pace, his wrist working over time so his fingers could reach those sweet spots in your velvety walls. he decides to rile you up some more;

“shiit, just imagine that ‘ts my cock stretching your pretty cunt out,” satoru grins against your ear. he knows you’re weak for dirty talk. you have never felt what it’s like to be stuffed full of a dick, and thus the imagination adds to the raunchiness of it all.

you shiver and let out a small moan escape your mouth before you continue to suck on satoru’s fingers. all this time you’ve settled for make out sessions, grinding and oral pleasure. you’re needy for more than that.

satoru knows what buttons to push. he knows how to make you melt and give in to him and his words. he bites your earlobe after letting his tongue lick the skin, “all filled up to the brim. you’d like that, huh?”

you barely managed to stifle a loud whine at that. your eyes widen and your pussy spasms around his fingers. you know it’s not long before you’re going to cream all over satoru’s hand.

sweat trickles down your forehead.

“yes, yes, yes!” you moan repeatedly, voice muffled by the fingers in your mouth. you can hear your boyfriend grunt into your ear after seeing how enthusiastically you’re responding. he’s totally getting off to you’re desperation.

satoru wants to cum so bad. he wants to shoot ropes of his cum in the pussy he’s prepping to one day take his dick.

you see black spots in your vision because of how hard the climax hits you. your breath hitches and you grip onto the armrests of the chair for support. a spray of clear and watery juices covers satoru’s entire hand and bits of his arm—evidence of just how much you enjoyed your little session with him.

the older man pats your tummy and rubs it, comforting you as the aftershocks of your climax hit. he pulls his fingers out of your messy cunt and brings them up to his glossy lips, thoroughly licking every drop off. his dick pulses in his pants at the delicious taste.

you’re panting as you try to get your thighs to stop shaking. you’re out of energy, drained. all that you hear replaying in your mind is satoru’s dirty talk. you don’t know if you can handle his dick if you’re already overwhelmed by the way he skilfully uses his fingers.

as if sensing your thoughts, your boyfriend smirks and hugs your body tightly to his chest.

“can’t give it t’ ya now,” satoru whispers and pouts, teasing you as if to turn you on again. he takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and presses his lips against yours as a promise, “but one day i will, yeah? one day i’ll fuck ya so good you’ll only know my name.”

#sttoru writes. #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

[haresvoid]

Me: omg I'm totally gonna rp The Emperor Omeluum: You thought

#ooc. tbt #( i was whiplashed. i was jumpscared. i was not prepared for them #i took the high road originally and not the underdark and finally started that with my friend and #love at first sight #i love researchers and scientists and sorcerers so much..... )

[neo-nomatrix]

Sunshine and Midnight Rain

Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!Reader

word count: 851

summary: Luke castellan and the daughter of apollos love story

a/n: “remember who the enemy is” IM TRYING

Luke Castellan held your heart since the day you met, and you held his.

You arrived at camp a few months after Luke. You were one of the lucky ones, claimed within an hour of being there. Your godly father is Apollo, god of poetry, the sun, music, narcissism, idiocy, stupidity, all that. You had assumed the gods would act superior to all, no matter if they were or weren’t. But Apollo was on a completely different level. You didn’t know why he had taken such a liking to you.

“You remind him of himself,” Your half sister, Kayla, had told you, “an archer who never misses, healer who fixes every wound, gifted singer, and somehow picked up the lyre in a day. And yet, you still ask why Apollo loves you the most?”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you twirl the golden arrow he gifted you.

“y’know, that hermes boy has been staring since the moment you stepped foot here,” she smiles, nodding to the tan boy sitting on a picnic table.

“Great, more attention,” you keep your sights on the boy, lucas? Luca, maybe?

“His name’s luke castellan,” kayla says, ah luke, that’s it.

“He’s handsome,” you say matter of factly.

“Don’t trust those Hermes boys, all they do is lie,” Kayla leans back and rolls her eyes.

“It’s a good thing I play the lyre.”

——————

“You’ve got a great shot,” a deep voice says from behind you.

You’ve been at the range for around an hour, it’s 4:30, you always practice when no one else is around.

“The whole reason why I come out here this early is so i can be alone,” sure, it sounds mean but you swear you’re not trying to be.

“Sorry, once I see you it’s hard to look away,” you’re not looking at him but you can tell me has the biggest smirk on his face.

“Funny,” you tell him bluntly.

You set down your bow, keeping the arrow in your hand, and sit on the nearby grass. He lays down beside you, you follow his lead and put your hands behind your head.

“That arrow, it’s like it’s made of the sun,” He says amazed.

“A gift from dear old dad. No matter how far I shoot it’ll always come back. Supposed to be a sign of his love or something. But I think he just constantly wants me to be annoyed by him,” you inform him possibly too much.

“Most people would be grateful if their godly parent cares that much,” he says.

“It’s different with Apollo, there is no such thing as true altruism with him,” you bite your inner lip.

“I get that, I’m just tryna say- Hermes never showed up for me, and I'd kill to just have him tell me he cares,” His eyes furrow.

“Guess we both have different priorities,” you smile.

“Opposites work best don’t they?” He smiles back.

“Isn’t it opposites attract?” You wonder.

“Hey, your words, not mine,” he laughs.

“That one’s Orion,” You point up at the constellation.

“He was always my favorite,” he adds.

“Mine has always been Cassiopeia, but you can never see her over here,” You look back up at the sky.

“That one’s Taurus, and then Sirius below, and Gemini above,” you point each of them out.

Even though he hums in acknowledgment his eyes are locked on you.

“You’re staring, again” You mention.

“I told you I can’t help it, especially when you glow like that,” he reaches out and touches your face.

You reach out and grab his hand, running your fingers against his slender digits.

“I’d like to be a constellation when I die, maybe my father will fulfill that wish,” you say to him.

“That’ll be my last wish too, we can lay in the stars together.”

——————

It’s been a day since Percy Jackson came to Camp Half-blood. It just so happens to be your favorite day of the year, capture the flag. You have led the archers on the blue team for years, you’d say you’re doing well for what you’re given. Besides your siblings in Apollo the rest of the kids weren’t as gifted in archery.

As the first conch shell blew you were preparing for your mock-battle. Annabeth in charge of the plan and Percy, Luke with company, and you with the archers. You knew you could, no- would win. The archers took the trees, helping stray company from the skies.

“Today feels like a winning kind of day?” Annabeth asks luke.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” He smiles.

“Luke!” You pull him aside for a moment.

You cup his face the best you can through his armor. “You don’t get hurt okay? I don’t feel like healing anymore wounds from you. Understand?”

“Oh but I love to see you healing” he holds your hand and smirks

“Archers! Move out!” You call your team, eyes still locked with his, smiling.

“so… you and her?” Percy asks the taller boy.

“how could I not? She's perfect. I mean, I genuinely believe I could live without the sun if I just had her.”

And maybe, just maybe, he could.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #pjo x reader #pjo x you

[ladysharmaa]

My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #collin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x wife reader