#i put entirely too much thought into this

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

[chainmail-butch]

i was talking to a friend who's a trans woman about this. she used to be really weird about butch trans women, but ended up being butch herself. she told me she was adverse to it because "it was like watching someone leave their house completely naked. you feel maybe a little embarrassed for them but you're mostly scared for how other people are going to treat them too. [she] thought "well, [she'd] be embarrassed doing the same and maybe they were having a hard time passing. but then finding out they're doing it on purpose, [she] thought that they were making a joke of being trans, like they were enforcing the stereotype of just saying you were a woman despite not making any effort to look like one. [she] was confused as to why anyone would do that, especially when she'd been having a hard time being treated well even though she did everything to make herself like a cis girl." she hated having to put in so much effort into looking feminine but did it because she was sure that's just what you had to do. obviously, probably regardless of how she looked, she was going to be treated like shit on the principal of being trans and after actually talking to butches and thinking about it more, she decided to just dress how she felt comfortable and still be proud of being a woman.

That's very interesting to hear. That is the consistent impression I've gotten from well meaning trans women.

I had to wrestle with the whole, "declaring myself a woman without making the effort," thing. When I first transitioned I put on dresses, tried on makeup, and got cute jackets. None of it felt right. I knew, entirely, that I was a woman. But doing all of the things women were supposed to be doing made me feel even worse than when I had lived as a man, which is saying something.

I eventually figured out that there is plenty of effort to being a butch woman. There are still styles, there are still pieces of gendered clothing, there are still gendered actions, they're just hidden in plain sight. They're all the things I wanted to do and all the ways that I wanted to be perceived that I couldn't understand until someone (Leslie Feinberg) held a mirror to my face (SBB) and said Butch. Then it all clicked.

I've been doing HRT for three full years now. I've been socially transitioned for three full years now. It is work. It is a challenge. It is walking out of the house with nothing but your soul and what you choose to armor it with. For some women the armor is a dress and a full face of makeup. For me its leather and boots.

I love my sisters deeply. I love women deeply. I love womanhood deeply. But my womanhood is also deliberately not womanhood. My selfish desire is a world where I can be exactly who I am without having to justify it to every woman, trans or cis, that crosses my path. But that's not gonna happen any time soon.

As so many butches, cis and trans, have said, It is a difficult road to walk and I have no choice but to walk it.

#asks answered #butch #transgender

[cerisereids]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀- 𝘀.𝗿. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟭]

pairing- spencer reid x fem!reader

wc- 3.5k

summary- you meet spencer reid while he's in your hometown on a case. you share one day before he has to leave. what happens when you can't stop thinking about each other?

warnings- sfw, reader is referenced as a woman, canon typical case discussion/emotions, fluff to angst, no happy ending (for now...) takes place in massachusetts for this first part, lmk if i missed any!

a/n- so. i ended up making this multiple parts. it's just too long. here is part 1 enjoy 😚

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

The soothing sun of an east coast spring morning bathes your skin in warmth, releasing some tension you have carried in your muscles since you first arrived at your desk this morning. The wind rustles through the trees, the idyllic scenery around you in motion with the breeze. The plants in the rose garden, the leaves and petals swirling around, they all follow the gusts in time, and you wish your morning was so easy. Your eyes fall shut, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks as you recall that initial feeling of dread, the way it seeped through your bones when you arrived to work, met with a ransom note left on your desk. One million dollars. That’s how much the sender was demanding. One million for the safe return of Charles Anderson, local politician, diplomat, and the man who owns and funds the very library you manage. 

At first, you were convinced it was a prank, refusing to let in the pure panic pounding at your heart until you were certain something was very wrong. Asking for $1,000,000 from a local library almost seemed like a joke to you at first, like a teenager made it up to spook you. It wouldn’t be the first time. You took the note to your boss’ office, eyes widening, panic in full force once you saw the state it was in. Papers everywhere, desk drawers flung open haphazardly, and an open window. Your heart nearly stopped as you raced back to your desk to dial 911. 

Your eyes flutter open, back to reality as the tires of a black SUV screech against the library’s parking lot, coming to a halt right before you. You instinctively back away as a group of polished professionals exit the car, guns and badges strapped to their clothes. Your fingers find the pendant of your necklace, nervously fiddling with the small pearl resting on your chest. You greet the man in the suit, who introduces himself as Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. You walk the group of concerned faces over to your desk, where the note was originally found. They bag all evidence, and soon you’re left with only two agents. One is a kind woman with black hair who introduces herself as Emily, and the other is, quite literally, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. His brows furrow and his big brown eyes bore widely into yours, checking for any and all signs of distress as he shakes your hand, introducing himself as Spencer. 

His hand lingers, his warm palm resting in yours for the briefest moment. A jolt of electricity shoots through your veins all the same. You yank your hand back, not out of disdain, but because of the unfamiliar comfort of his touch. You hardly know this man, only so much as his name, but the mere touch of his calloused palm floods you with warmth, with comfort, as if you’ve known him your whole life. It scared you, but the reassurance in his eyes now puts you at ease. He knows. He feels it, too, you can tell. 

Emily can tell, too, apparently. She clears her throat, effectively popping the golden, glittery bubble that surrounded you and Spencer in that moment. Her eyes flit between the two of you and your cheeks burn, you avert your eyes until the embarrassment passes. You suppose this is what it must be like being surrounded by profilers all day, your thoughts and feelings constantly on display. If it were a certain profiler, though, you’re not sure you’d mind so much. 

“Ooookay…” Emily trails off, accusation lacing her tone, “I’m going to take a look in Anderson’s office, there could be something there that'll help us find him. Reid, you’re gonna stay here with this lovely lady until we get the all clear,” she nods towards him. Spencer Reid. You replay his full name in your head on a loop, it’s pretty, like him. 

His head snaps up toward his coworker, brows furrowed as he stutters, “b-but I thought Hotch wanted me to-”

“Stay with her? While I go investigate? Yes, he did,” Emily finished for him, eyes boring into his in an attempt to send an unspoken message.

You’re no profiler, but now it’s your turn to flit your eyes between the two people before you, deciphering the unspoken words between them. From the blush creeping up the apples of Spencer’s cheeks and Emily’s knowing glare, it’s safe for you to assume she’s throwing him a bone here. Thank God for that.

As she turns to walk away, a lightbulb goes off over your head, “b-but-” you stop Emily as she walks away, and she whips around with an inquisitive look on her face, “is it safe to stay open? I mean, they broke in here and took Charlie-uhm-Mr. Anderson- and I don’t want our patrons to be in danger.”

“That’s an excellent question, Miss,” Emily responds, and the calming tone of her voice puts you at ease, “from what they’ve found at the station, the threat appears to be towards Anderson personally, not any of the institutions he owns. We’d like to keep it open so as to not cause public suspicion, the attention could make whoever’s taken him panic and kill. If anything happens, we’re here, and we have emergency teams on standby.” You nod, fingers once again anxiously fiddling with your pearl as Emily heads into Charlie’s office. 

The first few minutes after Emily leaves you two alone is painfully awkward. The two of you stand still at your desk for a beat, both sets of eyes avoiding the other as much as possible while a thick silence settles between you.

“Uhm-” Spencer’s voice cracks as he attempts to use it, he clears his throat before continuing, “you can-you can keep doing what you normally do. I’ll just be here to protect you.” 

Your eyes drift to his biceps, which are unfairly toned for such a lanky guy. You wonder how the cotton of his shirt would strain against them while he wrapped his arms around you, protecting you from whoever left the note on your desk this morning. The chaos of this morning would at least be worth something if it leads you there. 

“What, like a security guard? I thought you were supposed to be some FBI hotshot,” you flirtatiously test the waters, teasing him gently. Your sparkling eyes now scan back up his neck, to his lips, then back up to his own eyes, and the contact makes you nearly dizzy. 

“Oh! Well no-no not necessarily a security guard. Security guards became more popularized in the 1840s when a man named Allan Pinkerton founded the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, which is now one of the largest private security companies in this country, actually! Their primary focus is on protecting institutions and artifacts,” he fidgets with his fingers as he rambles, and your heart grows three sizes. 

“Bodyguards, on the other hand, originated over 2,000 years ago during the reign of the Roman Empire. They protected royalty and leaders, so a bodyguard would be a more accurate description.” He finished his thoughts by clasping his hands together, interlacing his fidgeting fingers, while a flat smile appeared on his mouth. He looks almost guilty, like he’s said too much and is afraid you’ll laugh or tell him to shut up. 

Luckily for him, though, he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, so you smile and say, “that's really interesting, Spencer, I had no idea," you see him relax a bit at your validation, so you keep going.

"You said bodyguards protect royalty?" it's nearly breathtaking how enthusiastically he nods, his soft hair moving with him, "so I can be, like, your queen for the day, hm?” you raise a brow at him as you fiddle with the end of his tie, and his face is nearly red as a tomato by this point. 

“Yes!” he nearly jumps out of his own skin at the contact, and you nearly melt from how endearing it all is, “well, your safety is incredibly important so maybe you can just pick up from where you left off before we got here,” his voice picks up in speed and your heart could burst at the fact that you’ve worked him up this much while doing so little, “you can pretend like I’m not even here, I’ll just be sure you’re safe, while the rest of my team works to safely return Mr. Anderson,” he slows down a bit towards the end, taking a breath and giving you a smile, a real one this time. 

You return it, “thank you, Dr. Reid. You being here has already helped more than you know,” he finally initiates eye contact himself this time, his head snapping up automatically, before he could decide not to.

“Go-good,” he clears his throat once more, “I’m glad to help. That’s my job.” You exchange another set of smiles and you wonder how long it will be before you just can’t take it anymore.

“Well, unfortunately, though, there is nowhere for me to pick up on, because the first thing I did when I got here was call you guys,” your smile only widens as he shakes his head, cheeks tinting once more, “oh-no-no of course, yeah that makes sense.”

“Lucky for you, though,” you poke at his chest gently, “it seems as if my first task of the day is restocking the nonfiction section, let’s go!” you chirp as you march along, rolling the cart full of returned books.

“Why is that lucky for me?” he trips over a cord in his attempt to catch up with you, and you giggle, reaching out a hand for him on instinct. To your surprise, he links his pinky with yours.

“For someone who knows as much about security guards as you do, I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you like nonfiction,” you say while you swing your arms back and forth, and he mumbles in agreement. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

“Wait a minute, so-let me get this straight,” you stop and turn away from the bookshelf to face the tall man behind you. Over the past hour, you’ve reshelved your way to the romance section, “so you have three Ph. D.s, two B.A.s, and you’re working on your third? While working for the FBI?” you push the cart further down the aisle as he walks beside you, leaning against the parallel bookshelf when you stop.

“Yep-yeah, that’s-that is correct, yes. I-uh- I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. You were accurate in your assumption about nonfiction,” he jokes, a sweet smile on his face. His smiles have grown more confident in the past hour, the more you two exchange niceties, anecdotes. You revel in those smiles, soaking in each one like a cat laying in the sun.

“I love that, education is so important,” you remark, and his blush deepens. Whether it’s because of your compliment or the shirtless man on the cover of the pirate romance you’re reshelving, you’re not sure. All you know is that this man before you makes your heart twinge with a longing you haven't felt in years. You want to see that blush on those cheeks everyday for the rest of forever. 

“Is that why you wanted to work at a library? Because education is important?” he questions. You can tell he's desperate to keep the attention off his reddening cheeks, the blush now making its way to his ears. You could die at the way the tips of them turn pink, but you choose to answer his question instead.

“My mom always told me that education sets you free. I think it’s so true, no matter how you go about seeking that education. When you know better, you do better, y’know?” you pause, and he nods like you’re the most important person in the world, “I wanted to be able to encourage that in our patrons. I think I’ve done a good job,” you smile as you think back to the successful programs you’ve run through this library: book clubs, after school science fairs, and more. 

“I’m sure you have, I can tell that there is immense love and care poured into this building on a daily basis. Your passion shines through you, y’know,” Spencer dotes, and you nearly forget how to breathe. His compliments seep through your skin, making its way into your bones. You shudder. This man is something else. 

“So, what made you decide that the FBI was where you wanted to use all this knowledge?” you ask as you ruffle his hair gently, eagerly drinking in yet another smile. This one’s shy, aimed at the ground. A blush he’s so desperately trying to hide creeps up to the high point of his cheekbones, despite his best efforts to conceal his flustered nature from you. 

“I had a mentor, he founded the unit back in the 70s. Hand picked me from the academy,” he lets out a nostalgic chuckle at the memory, and you wish you could bottle it up like a perfume, “we were really close, he’s the only person who could beat me at chess, actually," he's looking down when you turn to face him, his foot kicks around at a stray pebble that's made its way inside from the courtyard. You can tell he's not sure if he should say more. You hope he does. 

"He quit a few years back without warning, he lost someone he cared about and couldn’t take it anymore. It really wrecked me at the time, but people move on, I guess…” he trails off, sheepishly looking once again towards his Converse. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he's wearing that same guilty face from earlier, as if he’s afraid he’s said too much. It’s not possible, though. You want to know every detail, glimpse into every nook and cranny of this man’s peculiar life. 

“I know what you mean,” you start delicately, so he knows you mean it, “Charlie-uhm- Mr. Anderson-” you corrected, “he came to speak at one of my grad school lectures, what, probably five or six years ago now?" you chuckle at the memory, unbelieving that it was already so long ago, and Spencer smiles with you. It makes you feel like the queen of the world. 

"From the second he began speaking to us about this library, I fell in love with it. I spoke with him afterwards and it was an instant fit. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him,” the dread from this morning slowly creeps back into the pit of your stomach as you turn to Spencer with sad, wide eyes. 

“My team is some of the best in the world,” Spencer reassures you, a hand resting on your shoulder that eases the erratic beat of your heart, “they are doing everything they can to find him and return him safely.”

You greedily lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his forearm against your cheek, “‘m worried about him,” you croak, eyes glossing over, “he’s older than he used to be, y’know. He’s stubborn, but he’s not so spry, especially compared to when I first started working for him. I’m scared,” you confess, tears finally spilling over your lash line.

“Come here,” Spencer whispers mainly to himself, but you pick it up. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he envelops you in the sweetest hug known to man. 

His arms fit perfectly around you as you cuddle into him, utilizing him for every last bit of comfort he’ll allow. You turn your head so your temple rests on his chest, eyes scanning over his biceps, now flexing and straining against his printed button up. You allow yourself to indulge in the tautness for just a moment, before you wrap your arms around him in return. He takes this as a sign to pull you in deeper, tighter, a large hand soothing the expanse of your back in calming circles. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispers into your temple, and you shudder at the way his breath hits your skin. You want to feel it all the time. 

Once he releases you, you reluctantly return to your shelving. You thank your lucky stars that your back is facing towards him, lest you give up all your cards so quickly. Now that you’ve had that contact with him, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go without it. You can still feel the warmth of his skin as he wrapped himself around you, the softness of his forearms, the way your arms wrapped perfectly around his waist. A giddy weight sits heavy in your stomach, you’re breathless, like you’d been touched by an angel. Maybe you were. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

You thank your lucky stars that Spencer was right. Later in the afternoon, his team had found Charlie in an abandoned warehouse by the bay, the men who took him are in custody, and now you’re sitting in a plastic, sticky hospital chair as the steady beeps of an EGK machine torment you from across the hallway. You pick at your nails, desperate to pass time until Charlie’s family gets here. You promised you’d stay with him, why wouldn’t you after everything he’s done for you? What you don’t understand is why Spencer has stayed behind with you.

“You don’t have to be here, y’know?” you say, even though you desperately want him to stay. You nudge his knee gently when you see a small smile form on his lips, “wouldn’t you much rather be closing out this case with your team?”

“I’d rather be anywhere you are, making sure you’re okay,” he tells you matter of factly, eyes looking directly to yours. 

Those agonizing big brown eyes have plagued you all day. Every time you catch even the slightest glimpse, an overwhelming ache punctures through your heart, right in the middle. You imagine it’s what being shot with Cupid’s arrow is like. A heavy silence falls between you then. You both know what comes next. Spencer and his team close the case, and he goes home. You both turn your gazes forward, avoiding the other’s sad eyes, avoiding his departure. 

A sudden clapping noise jumpstarts you back to reality, and you reluctantly turn away from Spencer to find Charlie’s wife behind you. Her hands are clasped, eyes glassy and wide. You’re frozen at the sight of her, the true gravity of what you’ve experienced settling in fully. A pit sits in your stomach like a rock at the bottom of a lake. You know you must look foolish, but your body can't move, all your energy has been usurped by the otherworldly events of your day. Your red, dry eyes meet her glassy ones, and you wish so desperately you could be of some sort of use.

Spencer thankfully takes over, patting your knee like he can read your mind as he directs Charlie’s distressed wife to the room across the hall. You sit, now alone, with your back to the wall. You feel outside yourself, like you’re floating above the hospital, not actually in it. You’re not blinking, you’re pale as a ghost. 

You watch half heartedly through the glass as Spencer explains to her what’s happened. You know he’s told her he’s okay by the way she gasps, pulling him into her arms without a second chance. You feel ridiculously jealous at the sight of it.

When he exits the room to give her some privacy, that same, all knowing silence dawns upon you two again. He stops in front of you, crouching down to meet your level. You keep your gaze on your loafers tapping against the linoleum floor. Spencer takes your wrists in his hands and moves them apart, leaving you no choice but to accept your vulnerability. Your now glossy eyes reach his, and it’s like you can see the ache, the longing for what never was and never could be. 

“I-” Spencer starts, but his voice croaks, so he clears his throat and continues, “I had the best time keeping you safe today. I’m really happy we were able to find your boss, I know he means a lot to you,” his voice is gentle, kind, and you want to strangle him for it. Your life has been turned upside down, irrevocably changed, and this is all he’s leaving you with? You foolishly anticipated a grand confession, for him to sweep you off your feet and vow that 90 minutes isn’t that long of a flight, that you could make it work while he’s in Quantico and you’re here. That was your mind’s fairytale, though, and this is real life. 

“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whisper through an embarrassing onslaught of tears, “I hope you fly safe.”

You disassociate once more, only pulled back to reality by the feel of Spencer’s soft, chapped lips against your forehead. Then, he’s gone.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid cm #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

[allurilove]

Yandere Husband x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: possessive behavior, manipulation, pregnancy/ baby trapping, cunnilingus, fem reader, p in v sex, dry humping, stalking, he’s a very deceptive man

*Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last post of yan!husband 😭🩵 This is a continuation off of my last post, and he’s only referred to as “your husband.” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your husband is over the moon. He infiltrated your life, and he will make sure you never forget it. His obsession love for you is taken to new heights, a newest edition blessing your family.

You hated being pregnant as much as you hated being lied too. After learning he’s been stalking you, and purposefully feeding you lies about your whole interactions just being “fate,” he finds ways to make you forgive him.

What a fucking creep. Your husband thought as he watched the realtor get too handsy with you. Actually, everyone was trying to put their hands on you. You were carrying his baby, but others would put their hand on your stomach, acting as if it was theirs. He stiffened as the realtor tried to make a lame joke about the master bedroom.

He automatically appeared by your side, removing the realtors hands on your baby bump. He was in a bad mood the whole entire day. When you two go back home, he pulled you to the bedroom. He’s more careful with your body now, and he gently pushed you down onto the bed. He crawled next to you.

His arms wrapped around you possessively, his face digging into your neck, and you hear him whisper sweet things into your skin. He pressed kisses onto your shoulder, his hands wandering around your body before he groped at your chest.

You’ve gained weight, which was natural and just a part of the process. He loved to fondle your thighs, and his hands start to move upwards. Your husband slipped his hand underneath your dress, his hands touching your inner thigh and near your warmth. He was always the big spoon, loving how you feel in his arms.

“Oh dear…” Your husband whispered in delight, his eyes glancing down to see his hardened dick.

Your husband to always be erect around you, his hands revealing your plump ass to him and he gently smacked it. You scoff and push him away. You still haven’t forgotten…. you thought you found a friend, a guy to talk to about your stresses and worries in life. But he was the perpetrator.

“I said I was sorry…” Your husband frowned. “You sure know how to hold a grudge…”

When you shoot him a glare and make it clear you were still upset, he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright… let me make it up to you.”

Your husband pulled your legs apart, and his hands automatically went for your panties.

You remember a time when he first went down on you. You were in a vulnerable position at the time, as you ran and ran from your stalker, however you couldn’t help feel a bit of happiness. This was a confirmation that you weren’t hallucinating, and all of your friends that didn’t believe you, could suck it. But it also meant you weren’t just delusional, and someone was actually following you. Fatigue settled into your body, and you rested on the wall as you try to catch your breath.

Your husband, who was just a friend at the time, conveniently was walking past. He looked worried, and he feigned innocence when he pretended that he didn’t see a man following you. He walked you back home that night, and he got you so comfortable around him- that his fingers were easily slipping inside you. His tongue lapping up any juices that flowed out of you, and he pressed kisses on your folds.

He was a vessel of safety, and at the time you thought you would be fine for awhile. Completely unaware that your stalker was now sleeping in the same bed as you.

Your husband moaned as his mouth latched onto your cunt, his hands now trailing upwards to feel your stomach. His heart fluttered, and his mind was plagued of ways to keep you by his side forever. Spilling his seed inside you was one thing, and marrying you was another… but he needed something more binding.

He was a bit afraid of hurting the baby, and he always tried different ways of pleasing you than using his dick. He pulled down his pants and he lowered his hips, just enough to be rubbing against your wet core. You feel the soft fabric of his boxers touching your clit, and his lips connect with yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

You remember the time when you found out you were pregnant. You were suddenly sick, and your husband was by your side, just mindlessly playing with your tits. He did that often as he read his newspapers, his hand would crawl underneath your shirt, and his excuse was that he just needs something to fondle. That was when you found out he was not who he said he was. That the times he “bumped” into you, was him finding out your schedule, your routine, and months of stalking.

“What are you thinking about, hmm?” Your husband whispered in your ear, one of his hand grabbed onto your ass to help you follow his rhythm. He continues to grind himself onto you, his other hand playing with your hair.

“What will it take for you to forgive me?”

“Will it help if you hit me?” Your husband scoffed as you screamed at him for hours. You cried your heart out, and the person you loved at the time, was the reason for your paranoia. You can still feel his kisses on your neck, the way he pulled your clothes off, and when he bent you over on the dresser, you couldn’t move. His body was smushed right against yours, he humiliated you, made you feel desperate for release, and made your toes curl.

As he fucked you from behind, he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. The way drool dribbled down your mouth as you let out silent screams, your eyes rolling back as his thrusts were hard, and demanding submission. You despised him, the way he puts his hands on you, and the way he made you cum.

“…You’re crying..?” Your husband was stumped as tears welled up in your eyes and you started to sniffle. “Because of me?”

You’re tired of him trying to make it up to you. If he really wanted too, he would’ve came clean long time ago and go to jail for fucks sake. You feel his eyes zero in on your tears, watching it dribble down to your chin, and out of curiosity he licked them. He kisses your cheeks and he wraps his arms around you again. You feel suffocated having him on top of you, and you wish someone would take pity on you and take you away.

“I’m sorry.”

You’ve heard it countless of times, each meaningless and empty.

Allure: Sorry that this took awhile! I had to redo this a couple of times, and I wasn’t sure what to write really.

#Allureilove yandere writing #YANDERE HUSBAND PART TWO #Allurilove— yandere husband x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere scenarios #male yandere #your yandere husband x you. #yandere husband #smut #smutty smut smut #smut writing #obsessive love #possessive husband #possesive love #fem reader

[star-suh]

Do Your (Blow)Job

Kim Mingyu x Male Reader

cw: office au, handjob, blowjob, assjob (i just made that up, don't know if that's how it's called 😭), teabagging, rimjob, facial, cum eating, just yn pleasing mingyu, creampie, there's no sex here btw, blackmailing, sort of exhibitionism, semi-public sex, spanking but just one time.

—

it's 4:00 am and the alarm is ringing and yn gets up to turn it off, "god, i hate my life," he exclaims, muffling his screams with his pillow. today his boss called him early because he had a very important meeting and yn was the perfect person to make sure everything was fine.

“he's such an asshole, making me go at five am when the meeting is at nine ugh!.. i hate his ass with passion” he was murmuring while walking quickly towards the building.

yn started to hate his boss, mingyu, when he unexpectedly began to overload him with work, yes, he is his secretary but that doesn't mean he has to do everything, now he did not have a moment of rest.

mingyu made him go to the other side of the city just to buy his favorite coffee and not to mention the times he had to clean his office after his "meetings" with daughters and sons of important industry people to “seal deals”.

like always, yn went to get his boss’ coffee, he came just in time, way before the meeting ended, "here's your stupid coffee” he murmurs as if mingyu were in front of him. “shit!! i need to go to the bathroom” he exclaimed going to his boss’ thinking that he wouldn't notice because he was busy.

the meeting was over, unfortunately for yn mingyu arrived at his office and locked the door. yn was too busy checking the elegant bathroom that he didn't hear his boss arrive "this looks much more luxurious than my entire house”.

mingyu unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick, he started stroking it while watching a video on his phone that one of his many hook ups sent. thick pre-cum drops rolling down his thick shaft “fuckk” he moans quietly.

suddenly the bathroom door opens and mingyu yelps in surprise, both stare at each other for seconds but it felt like hours, yn's eyes went down staring at the other’s hard dick, “oh my fucking god it's huge” he almosts yells that last word.

“shit yn what were you doing at my bathroom” mingyu questioned, turning around to hide his dick. then an idea came to yn's mind “damn boss you're such a pervert” he smirks “it would be a shame if someone finds out that such a respectable gentleman is a naughty man”.

“fuck off” he says angrily “what do you want?”; “an increase in my salary and to stop overloading me with unnecessary work" the other responds quickly. "mhmm… smart" mingyu praises "ok, deal".

yn was ready to leave when a pair of strong arms pushed him against the door, mingyu was behind him, his thick dick rubbing against yn's clothed ass "where are you going? as my secretary you should already know how i like to seal deals" his deep voice making yn's knees feel weak "but mingyu... boss.. i don't.."; "what happened with that confidence from before? i thought you were a tough one”

yn's hands were going up and down his boss’ dick while he squirted more lube on top of it “fuck your doing a good job” he said throwing his head back due to all the pleasure he's feeling. yn decides to speed up the pace, wanting to see his boss' dick squirting jets of white sticky cum, he feels the dickwa aas throbbing and getting ready to came but mingyu stopped him, “not yet, i want to use you properly”.

mingyu unzipped the other's pants and pulled them down along with his underwear “holy fuck look at this ass” he spanks it leaving his hand printed on it “if i had known that you have all that under your pants i would’ve made you my bitch a long time ago”. he puts his dick right in between both cheeks and starts to rub it, the friction producing a pleasurable warm sensation “if this is how it feels outside it must be way better inside, don't you think?”, yn was too flustered to speak “y-yes boss.. i’ll make sure to make you feel good” he bit his lip trying to contain his moans. “you better do, but that's for another day”.

“come in” mingyu said when someone knocked on the door, it was one of his employees. they started to talk about business and all that while yn was under the desk sucking his dick. he was being careful to not produce a moan or a wet sound, if someone finds out about what he is doing he would be doomed.

as if it was a tasty lollipop yn kept sucking and licking mingyu's salty pre-cum “mhmm” he let out a not so quiet whimper that mingyu has to disguise as if he was yawning “i'm kinda tired so can we talk about this tomorrow?” mingyu demanded and the employee just nodded and left the office.

the taller pulled yn out from under the desk and sat him on top of it, discarding his pants “it's my turn to make you feel good”, his face was now inches away from the other’s hole, his breath making yn’s hole to clench. “it looks so tasty” mingyu’s said in a low whisper as if he was hypnotized by that sexy ring of tight muscles. the boss keep teasing yn, kissing around and blowing air around that desperate hole “please, just do it already” yn cried, tears starting to form on his eyes, mingyu laughs “okay as you wish, sir”.

mingyu bury his face in between yn’s ass, his tongue reaching deep inside that hole. mingyu was trying so hard to reach yn’s prostate with his tongue that his grip was leaving marks on the other's ass, “fuck” yn bit his finger trying to contain his moans, he slowly pushed his hips back and forth trying to meet his boss’ tongue thrusts. after some minutes mingyu and yn were reaching their climax, mingyu’s dick smeared and dripping a mix of pre-cum and lube, his face smeared in thick saliva with some of it dripping down his chin. meanwhile yn kept stroking his dick “keep going i’m c-close” and as he said he came spurting white ropes of cum over the shiny glass of the desk.

mingyu stopped his rimjob, threads of saliva connecting his face with that ass, god he really loved eating it, “look at this sloppy mess” he says getting up and jerking his dick right above the puckered hole. with some final strokes he aims the tip to the hole so all the cum goes inside of him and to make sure that no drop is wasted he used his fingers to maintain the hole open.

yn with his face down against the desk rolled his eyes back when he felt the warm liquid going deep into his insides.

“come here” mingyu grabbed yn by the shoulders and make him kneel again “look at you, you're a hot mess… and that made me hornier” his dick got hard again and he started to stroke it his balls resting on above yn’s nose and mouth so he can play with them, the intoxicating smell of it making him feel dizzy “give me that load sir” yn begged while kissing the other's shaft, “that's the idea” mingyu says as he came again covering his secretary’s face with his cum then scooped it with his tip and put it all on the other’s mouth who licked clean the other’s dick, not leaving a single trace of sperm on it, “good job” the muscular man whispers and slaps gently yn's cheek who just smiles feeling proud of what he did.

people started to notice how mingyu's meetings with members of other companies lasted less time, many assumed that he had found a partner and that was why he stopped his habit of sleeping with them, but actually mingyu no longer sell deals with them he now prefers to celebrate the deals with his secretary.

#kim mingyu x male reader #mingyu x male reader #kim mingyu x male reader smut #mingyu x male reader smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #seventeen x male reader

[nar-nia]

♡ enhypen and things their s/o does to annoy them ♡

//slightly suggestive in some parts. please enjoy 🤭

heeseung - weird petnames

it started as a dumb joke at first

he was saying something and you grinned, replying with a "yes daddy"

AND THE LOOK ON HIS FACE

you never saw him this disgusted

so your plan was clear: use the nickname the entire night

maybe he wouldn't have minded so much if his friends weren't around while you did it... oh well 🤭

he didn't even know your voice could get so whiny

would have dragged you away right then if his friends didn't already have the most annoying grins on their faces

after a while he finally has enough since you just won't stop

so he decides to just play along with it

he goes all in: a hand on your thigh, a "thank you baby" whispered in your ear

he never saw you shutting up this quickly

and the blush on your face?

it was definitely worth it

jay - babying him

this man is so used to babying you

so when you suddenly baby him in return he doesn't know how to react

this just feels wrong to him

he decides to ignore it - maybe it was just an accident

but you just keep doing it, calling him baby and talking in your cute voice

and you're doing it in front of his friends too

so he gets fed UP

he tries being calm at first, he really does

calling you baby too, trying to put you back in your place

but you just won't stop

so finally he's had enough

as soon as you start babying him again he has you on his lap, your arms wrapped around your body to keep you in place

jay's holding onto you, head resting on yours to show you who's the baby

not that you mind though - cuddles are exactly what you wanted all along

jake - not letting him spoil you

jake loves spoiling people. especially you

and normally you don't complain, but you also don't want him to go broke for you

so this time you decided to not comply

"i can buy it myself, don't worry" "why would you do that?"

jake is genuinely confused, silence spreading around the store

he keeps trying it a few times after but you always refuse, telling him you can just buy it yourself

so the case is clear to him

you must not love him anymore

once that thought has come up he gets so pouty

on the one hand you find it funny that he gets sulky over something as simple as this

but on the other hand... he looks genuinely upset and insecure and you feel bad

so you decide to cheer him up and offer to buy him something

but that leaves jake conflicted

because yay, he gets spoiled by his favorite person, but also it should be him spoiling you

he does not know how to react

you eventually give in and let him buy you stuff

and he gets so happy and excited again

you just decide to spoil him with kisses in return

and the promise to never ever do that again

sunghoon - lots of aegyo

he doesn't even know how this started

he just wanted to go on a little weekend trip with you and the guys

but as soon as your plane landed you grabbed his arm, begging to do some sightseeing

but he was tired

instead of accepting his no though you decided you had to convince him

and to sunghoons horror it had to be with aegyo

you went all in: whiny baby voice, big eyes, finger hearts

he was mortified

even worse since you did this in public and in front of his friends

but oh. oh no. this wasn't even the worst part

you weren't the only one that wanted to do some sightseeing

and before sunghoon could react he was surrounded by you, sunoo and jungwon going all out with the aegyo

he just wanted to nap

but he knew this wouldn't stop unless he agreed

so he gives in, agreeing to go sightseeing straight away

best believe that you have to make it up to him after the trip though

sunoo - not babying him

sunoo is the opposite of jay

he is so used to you babying him and taking care of him that everything else feels wrong at this point

it's small things, like how you always buy a pack of mint choco ice cream every time you're shopping together

or how you always hold his hand and drag him around

so why were you not holding his hand right now?

you didn't even really cuddle him when you said hello

but even worse, passed right by the mint choco ice cream??

he is devastated

somehow he manages to make sure that you pass the ice cream section multiple times

he just keeps sighing and throwing glances at his favorite

but you dare to ignore him?? wow

he has the biggest pout on his face

and that won't disappear until you get back home and you drag him to the freezer

revealing multiple mint choco ice creams

sunoo can't help but smile - but he still requires multiple hours of cuddling and lots of kisses to make up for how you treated him today

and his ice cream of course

jungwon - spending too much time with jay

okay listen

jungwon loves you

he loves sharing everything with you

but not jay

those two are soulmates and nothing can come in between them - not even you

so when you suddenly start spending time with jay and not him??

no

he's not even jealous because he wants to spend more time with you

it's simply because he is not willing to let you be best friends with jay

he was there first

and now you two are doing things without him??

you can almost feel his glare whenever you're out

and as soon as you're home and try to talk about your day he just continues glaring at you

he's a bigger gatekeeper than most kpop stans

days like this usually end with you begging for forgiveness until he starts smiling again

you both know it will happen again but jungwon forgives you every time

especially if you promise that it will be the three of you next time

niki - babying him pt. 2

so we all know how he turns ducky plushies into pumas, right?

you had to listen to so many rants about this

he should have known not to trust you with this information

"how's my little ducky today?"

oh the GLARE you are getting as soon as he comes through the door

"what did you call me?"

"my cute little ducky. my ducky wucky. are you in a bad mood?"

oh he is.

"i'm not a duck."

you're just giggling, ignoring how annoyed he is

"ah, i forgot. puma, right?"

he just nods, still wary

"i'm so sorry. did i make my cutesy kitten angry?"

and oh you did

he looks genuinely mad

until you see a spark in his eyes

he knows you're not actually trying to make him angry

it's a sign of love or something

within seconds he has you trapped on the couch, aggressively pinching your cheeks

and wow - you didn't know this man knew so many stupid pet names

he's returning your energy, just 100 times stronger

in the end you're both just giggling and laughing in each other's arms

"i'm still a puma though. i'm cool."

"sure, little ducky."

co-written by the amazing and lovely @ateez-main-yapper ! yes, this started over a discussion about men calling themselves daddy. we do not support this behavior.

if you read it this far please don't hesitate to reblog or send me an ask with your feedback 🩷 i am always happy and excited to hear your opinions. this is also the first time i tried writing in this style so please let me know what you think, that would be very appreciated.

permanent taglist: @suneonu @soobin-chois @sjyuniverse @taekbokki

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen drabble #enhypen imagine #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki

[werecreature-addicted]

Could you write a little more about the farmer and the minotaur? 🥺

one two three four I will make a Sam master list soon so I can link that and not the individual parts every time.

"you could kiss me if you wanted to." those words hang thick in the air, sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

"What?" Sam asks his voice choked, it's all he can manage. He must have heard you wrong.

"I said, that if you wanted to, I'd let you kiss me," you repeat, calm as ever. you squeeze his big hands before letting go entirely, "We've been dancing around each other for a while and I just think it's fair to let you know where I stand, I like you and I think you like me too, we can keep things professional we can stay friends but if you want more, that's on the table too."

He wonders for how long you've had this little speech prepared, how long have you known that he liked you? and for how long have those feelings been returned. You're staring at him, and he blinks and realizes you're waiting for him to respond, or god- kiss you.

"I want to," he admits, before bowing his head, avoiding your gaze "but I don't think I can it doesn't feel...safe," he glances up quickly at your face and feels his blood chill, one look and he can tell he said the wrong thing. you look hurt, before quickly trying to mask the emotion and put on a neutral expression.

"fuck- no not you you feel safe you are so good and kind to me you," he tries to explain. "Just- like relationships, love-" he cringes, it's too soon to say love but he's already said it no matter how much he wanted to take it back. "that part doesn't feel safe," he mumbles pressing his face into his hands.

"I don't know how to do this," Sam admits. "I do care about you which makes me want what's best for you and I'm not what's best for you." If he didn't love you so much it would be easier to have a relationship with you, but you deserve so much better than what he can give you. At best he's an anti-social mess with a hair-trigger temper, at worse- Sam shudders and pulls away from the thought of the worst possible outcome.

"I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions when it comes to who I date, and besides that, you're not a bad person," you state firmly.

"I've done bad things," he says gravely,

"against your will, that's not your fault," you whisper softly, you touch him softly, pulling down one of his hands from his face and holding it in both of yours. "I still want you, past and all Sam," you say softly.

Sam looks at you and almost bursts out laughing, you look so determined and firey, it's a serious expression that becomes cute on you. you're cute when you're this serious. and he remembers your previous words, he has your permission to kiss you whenever he wants it seems.

"Just go slow with me? I don't think I'll be any good at this," he says, shifting his hand to move up and cup your cheek, your skin is soft and warm against his callus palm.

"I can put up with that," you breathe softly before he kisses you softly.

#minotaur x reader #minotaur boyfriend #monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #imagine minotaur

[partycatty]

how many donuts can you stack on it

i feel like ive got this down to a science.

warnings: describing fictional characters' peanits in length.

notes: this is what i come back with to post (1 donut = 1 inch)

[ masterlist ]

liu kang > he's got a bioweapon in motion and form, truly. it's so big and thick you might actually die if you try to take it all. 9 donuts. he'll let you do anything to it, silly or not, if it makes you crack a hungry grin like you did when you counted.

bi-han > idk i feel like its not that big, but it's got good thickness.... 4 and a half donuts. finds it stupid, won't agree to putting donuts on it at first, but gives in just so you'll stop. he's embarrassed.

kuai liang > husband length. humble but knows he can get the job done... thinks he could be bigger but you dont complain. 6 donuts. he's too kind and sweet to really have a problem with it.

johnny cage > he thought he'd be able to fit more donuts... not that the current amount is small. 7 and a half donuts. he might try and cram that second half in, but it falls off and splats on the ground.

kenshi takahashi > confident but quiet about it, the donuts don't stop stacking even when you think you couldn't fit another. 9 donuts. expected it, not surprised, but chuckles dryly at your little gasp.

kung lao > tried it on himself before you even got the chance to ask. 7 donuts after trying multiple times at home. lies and says it was nine donuts when he tried it at home...

raiden > nobody expects it from him, since it's not on the forefront of his mind like his bestie... 9 donuts. just thought everyone could fit that many no problem. you had to explain that he's massive.

rain > doesn't talk about it because there isn't really much to say... 5 donuts. (why doesn't he have a personality ever)

tomas vrbada > you just... kept going.... and before you knew it, 8 and a half donuts sat pretty hugging him as he smiles in delight. at first he didn't get your vision, but seeing the shock on your face was more than enough.

baraka > afraid of showing it, tarkat enhanced... all of his features. nearly a baker's dozen, 10 donuts fit with no problem. he growls to himself, adjusting his hips. maybe his condition had a perk.

geras > won't really get why you want donuts on it... but will entertain your ridiculousness. he stands stock still and firm when you put a whopping ten and a half donuts on him. he raises a brow, wondering what the point was.

syzoth > his tongue flicks in curiosity as you try to balance the donuts on both, squeezing a whopping 14 donuts combined! he grins in satisfaction, wondering how many donuts his true form could hold.

havik > it fell off. 0 donut.

shao > shitting your pants when you put the entire dozen onto it, and still have some wiggle room. shao remains unimpressed but silently pleased with his thickness and length as it balances the treats.

shang tsung > it's cute. 5 donuts was his max, but he seems smug about it. he knows you'll take him either way, and the thought makes him smirk.

reiko > 7 and a half donuts stops him short but he just laughs loudly with his hands on his hips. asks if you're impressed, and then offers for you to eat the donuts right off of him.

ermac > ....would ermac have millions of dicks? or just one in his physical manifestation? how many donuts is that...? you'll be there for a while.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #liu kang x reader #liu kang #liu kang smut #bi han smut #bi han x reader #bi han #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang #kuai liang smut #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #kenshi takahashi smut #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi #kung lao x reader #kung lao #kung lao smut #raiden x reader #raiden mk1 #raiden smut #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada smut #baraka x reader #baraka #geras x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: like Staind said in that one song, it's been a while.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Lloyd brings you down the flight of stairs, his arm through yours as you teeter in the heels. You’ve never been one for anything besides flats or sneakers. You’re getting acquainted to the painful arch of your feet and it’s doing little for your agitation. 

While this man might be entirely too direct at times, he can be just as vague. You still have no idea why you’re dressed like some dainty rose. Whatever delusion he’s living in, it’s not the fairytale he believes it is. 

Savoury aromas waft in the air and draw your nose towards the kitchen. You glance at Lloyd curiously. He puts his hand over yours and winks. You quickly turn your head straight. 

“Don’t worry, jelly bean, I got everything sorted. Can’t have you sweating up a storm in the kitchen. Private chef,” he clicks his tongue, “besides, our guests won’t settle for anything less.” 

You arch a brow but don’t ask. As much as you want to know who he’s expecting, you dread finding out. You highly doubt it’s good company. 

He takes you into the living room. A large chandelier dangles from the high ceiling, the long crystals casting marbled pale light around the space. The tall windows peer out onto the green lawn, dim in the rising evening hue. The ornaments are just as sleek and precise as every other room. Polished marble and spotless porcelain. 

As you take in the curved couch and round ottoman, Lloyd shifts your hand from the crook of his arm and tugs you to face him. He raises your knuckles high and kisses them. You blanch and resist the urge to pull away. His mustache tickles your skin. 

“Baby, you look spectacular,” he purrs, “did I mention that dress hugs your ass in all the right ways.” 

You bite down and nearly snatch your arm away. No. Don’t rile him. Tolerance will keep you safe.  

“You didn’t,” you murmur as he clings to your hand and places it against the chest of his jacket. He wraps you up in his arms as if he means to dance with you. 

“Well, shit, it really does,” his hands crawl down your sides and he scoops your ass up in his large hands, forcing a squeak from you as you press against his chest. “How about an extra dessert tonight?” He winks. “I bet it’s sweet, huh?” 

He leans in, nuzzling your forehead as he growls. You shudder, but he might mistake it for excitement. His nose brushes yours but his lips stop short of yours as a chime interrupts him. He freezes and reluctantly draws away. 

“Wait here,” he smirks and flutters his fingers longingly as he struts away. 

You blow out through your lips and swivel to glance around. It’s a nice place but you miss your apartment. You miss being alone. You miss when you didn’t know this man. 

You mash your hands together and wring them. You hear voices. A man and a woman. Great. This is really strange. You don’t understand what exactly he’s up to. Is he not afraid you’ll start begging for help? Somehow you don’t think that would do you much good. 

“She’s in here,” Lloyd’s voice carries through ahead of him, “mom, dad, my lady,” he waves towards you. 

You stand frozen to the floor. Uh. Mom? Dad? Oh gosh, it’s a family dinner. You blink and slowly step forward as Lloyd waves you closer. 

“My mother, Delores, and father, Lawrence,” he introduces the two other figures. 

The woman is tall and blond and statuesque. You feel even smaller in her presence. She looks down her long nose, her irises blue as ice, and her lips a soft shade of rose. Her hair is so icy, you can’t tell if it’s blonde or silver. 

The man is as tall as Lloyd, a little broader, and wears a cerulean jacket over black. His hair is streaked with the same sandy shade as his son, mingled with shocks of white. He tilts his head as he measures you, his eyes narrowing. 

“Hm,” that’s all you get. You feel much the same. 

“We’ve come all this way, tell me supper is ready,” the woman, Delores, tuts. “Crab cakes, right, honey?” 

She looks at her son and he frowns. His mustache makes the expression even more theatrical. You hate to disappoint but what did he expect? I mean, look at you. 

“And I appreciate you coming,” Lloyd says, sounding unlike you’ve ever heard him in your short acquaintance. Something about it is disingenuous, for as honest as that man can be. “We’re super excited to have you.” 

“Have you had those windows looked at?” The man stops to scope the ceiling to floor panes, “impractical things.” 

Lloyd’s shoulders square. You can’t see his face but you’re certain he’s not happy. You don’t see anything wrong with the place. It’s a bit over the top, too sleek, too shiny, but it’s not horrid. Most people can’t afford anything like it. People like you in your boxy apartment. 

“This way,” Lloyd says and waves them towards another doorway.  

He takes them across the entryway and you follow behind. The dining room has high ceilings and an overly long table. You can’t imagine anyone would ever need that many seats. 

Lawrence sneers with disapproval as Lloyd pulls out a chair for his mother. Delores primps herself as she sits, popping a compact out of her purse to touch up her lipstick. You stare from the doorway, drawn forward as your host clears his throat and eases another chair away from the table. 

You near and sit. His parents have even you on eggshells. You can tell they won’t be much help to you. You’ve got more than enough with their son. 

“I’ll just go check on dinner and you can get to know each other,” Lloyd declares as he claps his hands. 

You wince as his mother snaps the mirror shut and puts it away. She looks you up and down as you keep a dull stare. His father examines the butter knife as if searching for any speck of filth. 

“So, dear,” Delores begins. “Aren’t you a quaint one?” 

You scrunch your nose up. Quaint? You’re not a house. 

“Quiet, aren’t you?” She chuckles, “well, what do you do then? How’d he find you?” 

“Probably one of those websites again,” Lawrence grumbles and curls his lips. “Women these days, they’ll jump at a dollar sign.” 

You shake your head and tilt it. You’re not a mean person. You wouldn’t consider yourself malicious at all but he annoys you. And her. Their judgement reminds you of your schoolyard bullies. 

“I do data entry,” you answer, ignoring the snipe. “We met... uh...” you frown and look at the table.  

We met when your son stalked me and starved me out of my apartment. Yeah, you don’t think that’s going to get more than another condescending trill from her and indifferent grunt from him. You pick at your nail, the movement catching her eye, and you pull your hands apart and hide them behind the table. 

“We met...” 

“At the cafe,” Lloyd strides in and approaches the chair next to you, standing behind it, “supper will be out shortly.” He sits and grabs your hand, bringing it onto the tabletop, “you know, I saw her from across the coffee shop. Just waiting. I was just taken by her. Her effortless beauty--” 

“Effortless indeed,” Delores comments. 

You flick your lashes and glance over at your abductor. How is he preferable in this moment? You blink and turn your dull gaze ahead, staring through the blonde. You don't do well with confrontation, you're more the type for avoidance.

Lloyd quiets and brings his other hand up, chewing his fingertips before ripping them away from his mouth. He keeps his grip on you with his other and sighs. He looks up and shrugs. 

The silence doesn’t last long as several bodies enter and lay out plates in front of each seat. A man in a black jacket and chef’s cap emerges and announces the appetizer; crab cakes with black truffle crostini. You stare at the food. It doesn’t look very tasty; it’s too curated. 

“Mm, crab,” Delores sings as she picks up her cutlery, “how delightful.” 

“Yes, see, I remembered,” Lloyd utters. 

“All this flash,” Lawrence clucks as he lifts his fork, “you know, there’s more too life than show. Your fancy car, the house, your women...” 

“Dad,” Lloyd goes rigid, “she’s not just another woman. I wouldn’t bring you here if--” 

“Oh, no? The last one, I recall, was wearing a bright red thong. How do you think I know that?” The older man snips. 

“She’s not like that,” Lloyd rebuffs. “I told you, she’s different. She’s the one.” 

“Well, she definitely doesn’t talk as much as the last one,” Delores remarks tritely. “And Lawr,” she nudges her husband with her elbow, “she does have a certain allure. She definitely is... different.” 

Your brows nearly meet in the middle. You close your eyes to hide the roll. You exhale through your nose. You don’t care about these people. You don’t even want to be here. So, why try? 

That's it. Don't try. You don't need to impress any of them. You're not going to dance for them like they want you to. They aren't your parents and your own parents don't earn enough of your concern. You don't care about them and you definitely don't care about the man beside you.

Defence is the best offence, right? You're not going for an outright attack, that won't work. It's about repulsion.

You wiggle free of Lloyd’s grasp and surpass the cutlery to pick up the crostini with your fingers. You shove the whole cracker in your mouth and chew without caution. You hum and nod as you swallow it down. Maybe if you can disgust his parents enough, they’ll make him get rid of you. It’s not much of plan but more than you had before. 

“Oh my,” Delores hovers her cutlery over the crab cake and gapes at you. 

“Mm, oh my, good,” you speak through a full mouth. 

“Uh, right, mom,” Lloyd raises his voice, “did you try the wine?” 

“The wine,” you say through another mouthful, “mmm.” 

You slurp messily. Your heart is racing and your skin is tingly. You don’t talk in front of strangers often. Always mindful of every single action. You never want to draw attention. Never step out of line but now, you’re toeing every one. It’s embarrassing. 

“Lloyd,” Delores breathes. 

“Honey,” Lloyd touches your shoulder, “let’s slow down.” 

“I’m starving,” you argue and nearly choke, coughing into your hand. 

“We still have several courses,” he lowers his voice, “please, jelly bean, don’t do that.” 

“Do we have any more of this stuff,” you hold up the second crostini. 

“Please,” he begs and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing. 

You smile, food in your teeth, and show it to the table. You’re going to barf, not just from the soft cheese but your humiliation. Hold it together, just a little longer. 

“She definitely is... something,” Lawrence says and sends his wife a look of disgust. 

You clear your plate as quickly as you can. The food is like rocks in your stomach. You’re not used to eating that much, not to mention, that sort of fare. It’s rich to the point of too much. 

You wiggle your nail between your teeth and pick at them until Lloyd grabs your hand. You flutter your lashes in his direction. You really think you might throw up. Not only because of the fishy taste in your mouth. 

Before you can think of your next move, the plates are cleared away and replaced with the next course. An entree of filet mignon and seasonal vegetables, as announced by the chef. You imagine it’s similar to what they serve in those fine restaurants you could never afford. 

“Fine cut,” Lawrence offers as he turns over the steak with his knife and fork. 

You saw through your own and look at the middle, “ew, is it supposed to be this colour?” 

The table is quiet as you poke at the steak with your knife. You push it to the edge of the plate and make a face. You poke at the roasted potatoes instead.  

“Rare,” Lawrence sniffs, “I’ll take the chef’s name.” 

“Can he make cheeseburgers?” You ask. 

“Jelly bean,” Lloyd hisses, “what’s going on? What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you shrug and look at your plate and huff, “fine.” 

Like a bratty kid you pout. You pick up the steak with your hand and gnaw on it, making it into an effort. Lloyd reaches over and takes it from you, putting it back on your plate. 

“Stop, please,” he begs. 

You shrug and wipe your hands on your dress. He latches onto your hand, gripping it tight until your joints hurt. You wince as he stands, still clinging to you. 

“I was meaning to wait until dessert but... she’s had a long day. She’s not feeling herself,” he reaches into his jacket with his other hand and turns. He looks down at you and clears his throat, lowering himself to his knee. His blue eyes meet your grimace. Oh, god. “Jelly bean, sweetheart,” he pulls out the velvet box and your stomach lurches, “will you--” 

You bend over your lap as you lose all control. You spew onto the floor, the sick splashing onto your feet and Lloyd’s pants. You cup your mouth as you puff, bile staining your tongue. You groan and stay folded over your knees. 

“Oh, Lloyd, you can’t mean to marry that?” Delores sneers. 

���Truly, son, you brought us here for... her? Really?” 

Lloyd looks at you and his forehead lines. He shakes his head and opens the ring box, picking the ring from the cushion, and grabs your hand. He shoves the row of large diamonds onto your finger. You stare at the sparkle in horror as you slowly sit up and he stands. 

“We are getting married,” he insists, “and I didn’t bring you here for your blessing. I only brought you to let you know.” 

“Married?” You and Delores echo in fraught unison. 

“Yes!” Lloyd stomps his foot, nearly stepping in the puke. “You can’t stop me, she can’t stop me,” he jabs his finger in the air, “no one can stop me!” 

“Settle down, boy,” Lawrence says. 

“Come on, baby,” Lloyd snatches your wrist and pulls you to your feet, “let me get you cleaned up.” He winks and wiggles his tongue out at you and his parents groan.  He curls his arm around you and lowers his voice to a whisper, "I got something else for you to choke on."

Well, that didn’t work. 

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the quiet ones #series #the gray man

[winwintea]

dreamies as your flight seatmate + ratings

PAIRING ▸ boyfriend!dreamies x reader 

TAGS ▸ none, crack, established relationship, haechans is the worst someone drop him out of the plane please

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸inspired by an insta post i saw for 127 and thought the dreamies deserved their own version.

Mark Lee

mark and you have 3 hours on this flight, so get ready for 3 hours of straight yapping from mark lee himself. he’s gonna show you pictures he has saved on his phone and goes into every single detail about the photo. you honestly just want to chill and listen to music, but if it seems like he’s given up, 5 minutes later he’ll bring up another subject. even if you’re gonna try to fall asleep he’ll wake you up, “yo, did you hear what i just said?” and you can’t get mad at him, who wants to see him sad? (4/10 seatmate, sometimes cooks, most of the time idk what he’s talking about)

Huang Renjun

renjun is probably one of those insane people on planes. he can get through the whole flight not talking to a single person, not listening to any music at all, not even looking out the window, just staring straight forward, lost in his own thoughts. if the flight map is available he’ll watch it for fun, otherwise he can pretty much entertain himself for however long the flight is. renjun would even read the safety manual for fun??? however if you needed him for anything, or if you wanted to watch a movie he’d be down you just need to ask, otherwise he’s gonna be in his own zone. (6/10 seatmate since he’s insane, but points only bc he’ll do anything if you ask him too)

Lee Jeno

jeno would be in your personal space, BUT IT’S NOT HIS FAULT DON’T BLAME HIM. he’d take up the armrests too but that’s because his arms are so big… and you wouldn’t want him to be uncomfortable. and lowkey you’re fine with the personal space invasion thing too cause he smells good. (you’re coping) and maybe during the middle of the flight he’ll put the armrest up and hold you in a big hug, just so you can feel more comfortable cause he feels bad for taking up so much room. “i hope this is comfortable enough for you, it’s just a few more hours, you can take a nap on my shoulder or legs if you want” (7/10 seatmate, he feels bad and i would feel guilty if i gave him anything under a 6)

Lee Donghyuck

haechan is an armrest hogger… and he doesn’t even need to. instead of talking to you though, he’ll be on his phone the whole entire trip, watching tiktoks OUT LOUD on his phone. you honestly wanted to watch a movie with him, but you aren't even going to consider it now. and when you catch him peeking over your shoulder trying to watch whatever tv show you’re watching, you give him an annoyed look, and turn the device so you can’t see him. (-127/10 seatmate, just wait until he takes off his shoes cause then you’re both getting kicked off by the stewardess)

Na Jaemin

jaemin is the embodiment of the BEST seatmate ever. he’s always checking in on you, making sure you have ample leg room, let’s you use the armrests even if you don’t want to. he brought a whole bunch of snacks to for you two to share and snack on. downloaded a bunch of movies and tv shows for the ride, but if you don’t want to watch a movie, that’s fine. want to sleep? he brought a neck pillow. want to just talk? he can do that. (10/10 seatmate this is why i have high standards in men)

Zhong Chenle

chenle’s company could either go one or two ways. one, he could spend the whole entire flight watching the basketball game with the third person in your row that somehow was also a golden state warriors fan? to which… fuck him cause how tf did you become a third wheel? or two, he and you spend the whole entire flight just shit talking the other passengers on the plane with each other. chenle and you would probably be whispering to each other and giggling away. (3/10 cause the first outcome is more likely. we know even if there’s no other person to watch it with, as long as there’s a game on he’s watching.)

Park Jisung

jisung… it’s a little too quiet… and a little too tense. the mood is almost way too awkward? “jisung… you can talk to me you know?” you turn towards him, and his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “oh i wasn’t sure if you… wanted to talk or… maybe you were gonna sleep-“ you shush him with your finger, and lay your head upon his shoulder. His whole body begins to relax and he no longer feels cooped up in the seat like he was at first, “Whatever we do, let’s do it together alright?” (8/10 seatmate, very awkward, originally it’s way too close for his comfort but he gets into it and will do anything you want <3)

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct #nct dream imagine #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct jaemin #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung #mark lee #lee donghyuck #lee jeno #park jisung #na jaemin #huang renjun #zhong chenle #chenle #renjun #jisung #jeno #haechan #jaemin #nct hard hours #nct dream imagines

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for sitting down to pee??????

CW// several mentions of pee i guess?

🚽🚻to find later

I don't know if this actually matters, but I (16, mtf, this might be relevant?), made a habit out of sitting down to pee for multiple reasons.

1. Is because of the guest/hallway bathroom. Whenever we (me and/or my brother) have to clean the bathroom, there is ALWAYS a fit made about how there's dried pee on the rim and base of the toilet.

One week, I got chewed out about it by my brother, and because I was so tired of hearing about it, I decided that I'd just start sitting down to pee. My sort of abstract thought process was, "if I start doing this, and there's still pee ending up around the toilet, then clearly it's either my brother or my dad".

2. I just prefer it personally now.

I've already figured that logically, there are other points to better prove my innocence (my brother likes to play games alot, and his room is a straight shot across from the bathroom, so he'd be in a rush and not be careful). But, I've already made those arguments and it's always ended up being this really dissatisfying, "Well whoever's doing it needs to stop".

Now today, my brother was telling my dad that he thought that I could've made a mess around the toilet. I was just walking by, and couldn't actually see anything, but in order to curb stomp the debate entirely I just told my brother and dad that I sit down to pee, so it couldn't have been me.

For some reason this really upset my dad? He's always had this thing since I was young about men having to stand up to pee, and "only women sit down", and other old-fashioned conservative stuff. I don't know if this made him so upset because he doesn't like me having "queer" habits (I don't know a better way to put it), or if it was just too much information.

It only really occurred to me now that maybe I shouldn't have just straight up said that, since its not really great to talk about bathroom habits regardless of what they are, but another part of me feels like me doing that isn't really that egregious of an act? Especially considering my brother and dad will talk about other way grosser stuff.

AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

[anothermansjeans]

never give you peace

s.r x youtuber!reader

summary: during their first date, youtuber!reader feels the sudden anxiety that they can never give spencer peace

cw: little angst; hurt/comfort?? mentions of going to a restaurant, strangers coming up to reader, reader is in their head :( the smallest mention of the foyet/haley plot

wc: 855

a/n: hi!!!!!! i would LOVE to take requests for youtuber!reader and spencer!! PLEASE send them in! i love these two sm. inspired by peace by taylor swift!

++

You didn't know when it started happening– the random people walking up to you asking for photos– you just gradually started to get used to it after twenty or so times. Normally, it wouldn't bother you. The people who support you and the reason you make YouTube videos deserve the world in your eyes, but now that you're here, walking down the streets of D.C with Spencer on your first date… it was bothering you… just the tiniest bit!

It took a while for you and Spencer to get to this point. A lot of phone tag (you were both very busy people), you being out of town, and Spencer being out of town really put the two of you through the ringer. To say you deserved this moment of having a proper first date would be an understatement, which is why these two sweet girls walking up to you with shy smiles put you on edge.

“Hi! You're Y/N, right?”

You and Spencer were supposed to be at the small bistro not even a hundred feet away at this point. If you were by yourself, you would be ecstatic to talk to them. Maybe you're a shitty person (you're not. Spencer would later make sure to explain that you're allowed to have boundaries and that talking to strangers normally puts people on edge). Maybe for once, you wanted to not talk to the people who made your career possible. Maybe you feel too bad even thinking this way that the people pleaser is screaming to come out. “Uh… hi.”

“Do you mind taking a picture with us? We’re obsessed with your videos.”

You've been hyper aware of Spencer by your side the entire time. He’s never seen you in your element with followers. You have no clue if he's ever been through something like this with anyone he’s previously dated, but you want to assume this is all new to him and you're probably scaring him away as the seconds tick by.

You're only brought out of your thoughts when you hear Spencer speak up next to you. “Go ahead.”

“Okay…” The process was relatively quick. Spencer offered to take the photo, the girls thanked him profusely, and about five photos total were taken. When Spencer returns the phone the two turn back towards you with wide smiles plastered on their faces.

“Thank you so much! Have a nice night!”

And that was that. Except, it didn't feel like it was done. There was an awkward feeling settling over the two of you, but nothing was said as Spencer linked your arms back together and continued to walk to the bistro.

It was eating at you the entire time you've been in the restaurant. He never brought it up though, always steering the conversation to your shared interests and throwing in a fun fact now and then. It was right before the check came that you finally had enough with the all-consuming thoughts and blurted out the only thing you could truly focus on.

“I could never give you peace.”

“What…?” His wrinkled eyebrows did all of the talking.

“My… job. More people have been doing what those two girls did– asking for pictures. And I know how serious your job is, if people start asking for pictures of you too… I don't want to put you in that position.”

It was quiet for a moment. Although he was a genius, Spencer needed a moment to take in what you said. “Ditto.”

What? “What?” You slapped your hand over your mouth. You did not mean to say that out loud.

He didn't flinch, going straight into explanation. “My job is serious. Serial killer serious. My boss lost his wife because of this job. If you're worried about me in regards to your job, I’m worried out of my wits for you.”

“So… if we both can't provide peace?”

“It's a good thing I enjoy a little chaos.”

A small smile was shared between the two of you, and after the waiter dropped off the bill, you took another look at him. “Well, Dr. Reid, you really are a genius. You solved a majority of my fears with one small conversation.”

“It doesn't take a genius to see what he has in front of him has great

potential to be one of the best things in his life.”

A smirk appeared on your face when he shyly looked at you. “That good, huh? Does that mean I scored a second date?”

“Of course!” Spencer perked up, eyes immediately widening. “Did you know that the typical success rate for getting a second date is 13.7%, which gives a match an opportune time to learn the real chemistry between them and their match, including their values, passions, and family? First dates are actually–”

Sitting there, listening to him changed the smirk to a genuine smile. Maybe the two of you couldn't provide peace on the outside, but as he continues to speak passionately, you feel nothing warmth spread throughout you. The same type of warmth you feel at home; the same type of peace.

#SEND ME REQUESTS FOR MY LOVES!! #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #youtuber!reader #anne marie shut up pls :) #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic

[apalapucian]

pureblood parties are always so unnecessarily dim. like vampire dens. or how james imagines them to be, at least. cascading velvet. candlelight. it’s especially pretentious now, he thinks, with the theme being masquerade, the elaborate masks making everyone look the same. not human. an entirely new species between veelas and peacocks, all jewels and feathers.

he doesn't feel like himself without his glasses as well. and he just — doesn't feel real in general, stirred in here among them. like he's an oil painting of himself. he glides through the crowd and feels colors drip in his wake.

he finds lily by the punch table, nursing a crystal goblet, drinking molten gold.

his gait falters. his heart does also.

(lily always looks clear to him. real and human. all her colors entirely to herself.)

"any sign of him?" he asks when he reaches her. he’s been scouring the ballroom for their target tonight — a ministry official the order suspects has been imperiused — to no luck.

"no," she says, gaze sweeping the crowd. "and god, this dress is so itchy."

"shame. you look like a million galleons in it."

she turns to him, million-galleon smile on. "i’m surprised you can put a definite price on it."

"aw, don’t feel bad. it’s just an expression. you know i think you’re priceless."

"yeah?"

he grins. in answer, he asks, "wanna dance?"

and so they dance.

the song is a slow waltz, grand orchestra. it sounds like one of his mum's favorites. he can't name it though. there's just that vague, soft-lit memory: his mum's smile, his dad's wrinkled hands.

his dance partner's attention is still on the crowd.

"maybe he’s not here," he says. his attention is entirely on her. 

"maybe," she says. "i just don't want to... waste the night."

"well, if we have fun while we're at it, it won't be a waste at all."

she smiles. with him now, fully. "and do you mean dancing like this, or — ?"

"or," he answers. "decidedly or."

she laughs. "really? here?"

"why not?"

"uh, because? we're surrounded by enemies?"

"the risk — ah, how do i put it — elevates the experience, won't you say? and it's not like we haven't done it before."

she stops waltzing. "you're serious."

"it's james, actually. sirius is at home."

she laughs again. then, chin up and smirking, his hand in hers, she leads him out of the dance floor.

—

the wall is cold against his back, and, even worse, it's uneven; one of those stupid pureblood family trees carved on marble. once by themselves she starts kissing him like she's in a great hurry, hands all over. james lets her.

the floors here are so black and so shiny it looks like they're floating on a lake. the one at hogwarts, specifically. he kissed lily there for the first time. by it. the trunk of the beech tree he was pressed against at the time was uneven too, but lily was warm on him. and soft. and perfect.

(god, you're too much, she told him that day, coming up for air, lips almost as red as her hair. a fucking goddess. 

you're alright, i guess, he replied, just some regular mortal. it made her laugh so much though. and james reckons making her laugh feels close enough to playing god.)

the light is sparse here, now; just whatever filters in through the giant windows and the cracks between doors. the crescent moon is somehow reflected by james's feet. a ridiculous thought, stepping on the moon. he thinks of remus.

she sucks on his pulse point just then, sighing something against his skin, and james seizes that moment of distraction — tightens his grip on her waist and turns them in one swift movement so she's against the wall. she gasps, back hitting the grooves and ridges with a thud.

he looks down at her. although still wide-eyed, she's looking at him an entirely different way now. he takes her mask off. his hands are shaking. he hopes she doesn't notice. she probably doesn't; the mask's barely left her face and she's reaching up to unbutton his shirt further, nip on his collarbone, too preoccupied to notice much else. it's so hard to catch her eyes here, so frantic and so dark. her reds are all bruise-purple. her green all wrong.

he takes her cold, roaming hands, puts them together, then singlehandedly pins her wrists above her head. she likes that, watched him do it throughout, breath hitching.

then she feels the cold sharp blade against her neck.

she doesn't like that. quite expectedly.

"what the fuck?" she snaps, trying to break free at once. "what are you doing?"

"nothing yet," says james, holding on, ironclad. "but scream and you'll find out."

she keeps quiet, makes a show of pressing her lips together. she glares but doesn't dare move, the glinting end of the dagger too close to skin.

"first," james says, voice low, "you're going to drop your wand."

she complies. the wand clatters on the floor, the sound echoing in the empty hall.

"and then my wand."

her eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. slowly, defeatedly, she does as she's told.

"good. now you're going to tell me where the fuck my wife is."

"i — but james — "

the tip of the dagger stains red. just the tip of it. barely there. shift and you miss it. except her. or him. whoever the fuck this is doesn't miss it. they press themselves best they can against the wall, but the sting's already started, and there's nowhere to go.

james tilts his head and looks them dead in the eye. "do i seriously look like i'll buy it right now?"

he watches them consider, feels their heart thunder under his weapon hand. the consideration turns to doubt. then it turns to fear. "i'll tell you," they say. it's lily's voice, frenzied and scared, and james wants to scream. wants to sink the blade lower. "i'll tell you," they insist. it's not her, james begs himself to remember. lily is always clear. with her, wherever, the colors are never wrong. "just — please. i'll tell you everything i know, please don't hurt me — "

"oh, if lily is hurt in any way at all," james interrupts, his own heart raging in his chest. "rest assured that people will get hurt." the blade drags, thin red line appearing. he stares at it. he didn't mean to do that. it takes all of his remaining self-control to draw his eyes back up and still his hand.

not her. not her.

not lily.

" — and you're first on my list."

#jily #jily* #james potter #lily evans #marauders era #apalapucian* #ugh good night this one came out of nowhere and wouldnt let me sleep until i'd posted it and IM SO TIREDDD. sorry if it's a bit clunky #i'll edit tomorrow maybe #heres a thing! byeee

[gyuvxx]

First date ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩彡

Sungchan x fem!reader

Pure fluff., cute stuff because I love cute stuff

Wc: 3k

In which YN and Sungchan go on their first official date

Pt 1 here!

It had been a few weeks since the party YN and Sungchan Met at, and the two had spent their time having casual hang outs, and planning their first official date. At least, sungchan was busy planning it, not letting YN in on anything he was planning. As excited as she was, YN felt her nerves growing day by day, as their first official date approached.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” YN said, looking at herself in the mirror. She felt like she spent entirely too long getting ready, that she was putting in too much thought into her appearance.

“Why would it be a mistake?” yunjin asked from the phone. She had been on a call with her friend for two and a half hours, trying to calm her down about the date.

“Because he’s being super secretive about it, and I barely know him,” She sighed, brushing through her hair for the third time. “What if he’s like… a really bad driver!”

“Is that really the biggest red flag you can think of for a guy?” Yunjin laughed at her friend's nerves. “Besides, it’s a first date, if you don’t vibe with it, then don’t go on another. But, you’ll never know unless you try,”

YN sighed. Why did Yunjin have to be right? Why was she so scared of the guy who’s been nothing but nice to her when she’s seen him?

“I can’t do it, I'm gonna fake being sick,” YN declared, walking over to her bed and picking up her phone. When she opened her messages, a new notification popped up.

Channie <3: I’m in the parking lot. Should I come up?

“Fuck,” YN groaned.

“What happened?” Yunjin asked.

“He’s already here, I’m so screwed,” YN stared at the messages.

“If you really don’t want to go, then just tell him that. He’d get the memo.” Yunjin sighed from the other side of the line.

“No, fuck you,” YN said before hanging up the call. She knew she couldn’t back out, she knew she’d have a good time with sungchan, and that she’d regret not going. She grabbed her bag, and texted him back.

YN: I’ll come down

Channie <3: Too late, I'm already in the elevator.

YN brushed through her hair one more time, checked her makeup and heard a knock at the door. She almost ran to the door to open it up, tripping a little on the corner of her bed before regaining her footing and walking to answer the door. When she opened the door, she saw sungchan standing there, dressed up a little more than usual, in a way that makes YN feel less embarrassed that she spent so much time getting ready.

“Hey,” He greeted with a familiar, soft smile.

“Hi,” She gave him a smile back. “You didn’t have to come up, you know. I was gonna be right down,”

“I wasn’t really asking, I was already in the building when I sent the text,” Sungchan smiled.

“Oh, okay,” She smiled, and looked down.

“You ready to go?” Sungchan asked,checking his watch.

“Yeah, sorry,” She nodded and stepped out into the hall, locking her door behind her. “Do I get to know where we’re going?”

“Nope, it’s a surprise,” Sungchan told her, walking by her side as they went to the elevator. “You’ll like it though, I promise,” They stood next to each other on the way down to the main lobby, the silence a bit awkward as they both wanted to say something to the other.

It wasn’t like Sungchan had never been on a date before- hell, it wasn’t like he’d never spent time with YN before. This time, it just felt different. He wanted everything to be perfect.

They walked out to Sungchan’s car, he opened the door to the passengers side for her, and circled around to his seat. He offered her his phone so she could pick the music, and began driving. The awkward silence continued. Both of them wanted to say something, but stopped out of fear that it would make things more awkward than they already were.

Sungchan Kept taking glances at her, looking at her outfit, her hair, the rings on her fingers, anything he could sneak peeks at. He turned his gaze to the road once more, pushing his hair out of his face with the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel.

“It’s a bit of a drive,” He broke the silence. “So get comfortable,” He turned to her with a playful smile that made YN laugh a bit.

“Kinda shady, you know, taking a girl on a ‘first date’ out of town, not telling her where she’s going?” YN poked fun at him, sungchan just laughed and shook his head.

“You just want to make me look like a creep, don’t you?” He smiled, eyes on the road, enjoying the banter. “Our other is McDonalds, make your choice,”

YN rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, but I better not end up on the news,” The two of them laughed lightly, the silence that followed became comfortable as they fell into rhythm with each other.

Sungchan returned to sneaking glances at her when she wasn’t looking, a small smile on his face as he took her in. He put more effort into this date than he would want her to know- he wanted her to think he was some spontaneous, cool guy. Not a guy who was so hellbent on impressing her that he planned the best route to get there, reserved the nicest spot at the place they were going. He didn’t want her to know how nervous he really was, how nervous she really made him.

YN caught him sneaking a glance at her, both looking at each other for a beat too long before YN turned away. Sungchan focused back on the road, and she could see the little smirk on his face.

“What now?” YN asked, resting her head against the window.

“Nothing, nothing,” He smiled, eyes still on the road. There was a beat of silence before he looked towards her again, finding her already looking at him. “You look really pretty, by the way,” He told her. “I meant to tell you earlier,”

YN tried to hide the blush that crept on her cheeks. “I was starting to wonder when you’d say it,”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” He flashed his grin before turning to the road once more.

YN looked down at her lap, trying to figure out what to say back. Should she say he looked good? Handsome? Dashing?

“You look pretty too,” She said, wondering if that was the right word. She heard sungchan’s laugh before she turned to look at him. “What?”

“You could’ve just said I look nice,” He told her.

She frowned. “Well sorry-”

“No, don't apologize! It was cute, you did that at the party too,” He told her, reminding her of how she called him cute when they first met. “Besides, I've never had a girl call me ‘pretty’ before.”

“What do they usually call you?” She asked, tilting her head a bit.

“Usually hot,” He shrugged. “But I like Pretty more,”

They smiled at each other.

Silence didn’t resume, the two of them found things to talk about, the awkward tension they arrived with had soon faded away. They found comfort in their conversations, cracking jokes, telling stories, and asking questions until Sungchan parked his car.

He got out first, walking around and opening the door for YN. He offered his hand when she got out, relieved when she took it. They began walking, the area wasn’t familiar to YN, she looked around, taking in her surroundings.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going now?” She asked.

“Nope,” He swung their arms, dragging her along. “Just be patient,”

They walked close to each other, Sungchan didn’t stop swinging their arms like a child, as YN laughed at his antics. She kept asking where they were going, to which Sungchan never really answered.

He suddenly stopped them in front of a building, a big glass window adorned with lace curtains, and pretty tables inside. It wasn’t very crowded, and the sound of calm jazz music came from the inside of the restaurant. He gestured to the door.

“Here we are,” He smiled, opening the door for her.

When she walked in she was greeted with the smell of baked goods and freshly cooked food. The restaurant was clean, potted flowers scattered about, local pottery on display, a fresh feeling emanating from the environment. She looked to Sungchan who just smiled, and walked to the hostess.

“I have a reservation for Jung Sungchan,” He said, and YN looked up at him. He flashed her a grin and the hostess looked at her tablet.

“Right this way,”

The two of them followed her through the restaurant. When YN saw a pretty green table with cushioned seats and a small vase holding some tulips, she assumed that was the table he reserved. But when they walked past it, she assumed it must be a larger white table by the wall, soft lights hanging over it. To her surprise, they passed by it too.

When they did stop, they were outside on a beautiful patio, A smooth wooden table with two cushioned seats on either side. The view was of a lush garden, tall trees came up around them to shield them from the sun, a small pond in their sight.

“Your server will be with you in a moment,” The hostess said before leaving the two.

YN was in awe of the scenery, looking around, not noticing when Sungchan circled behind her and pulled out her chair for her. He offered a gentle smile when she noticed him, and sat down. He sat across from her, putting his phone in his back pocket.

“I take it you like it?” he asked.

“It’s…. It’s too much,” she smiled in disbelief, and Sungchan frowned slightly.

“Too much good, or too much bad?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Good! Oh my god, it’s amazing… It's beautiful! I just wasn’t expecting it… like at all.” She could see the relief on his face when she said she liked it. “I really love it, Sungchan,”

“Good,” He smiled, looking at the menu.

“How much did this cost you though? I don’t want you spending all your money on me,” She asked, hoping it wasn’t an exorbitant cost.

Sungchan didn’t want to tell her the cost of their reservation. It wasn’t anything that he couldn’t earn back from work with a few shifts. “Don’t worry about it. It’s money well spent if it’s with you,” He smiled, watching her blush and try to avoid his gaze.

She looked around once more. “How’d you find this place?”

“Do you remember last week when we hung out? You mentioned how Yunjin went out with some of her friends for a day, to this cozy little town that was a bit away, and Yunjin told you about this little restaurant she went to?” He asked.

The week before they had been sitting on YN’s couch, leaned up against each other, Sungchan’s arm draped around her, hand resting on her hip. They had been watching some baking show, which sent YN on a rant about how much Yunjin had bragged about this restaurant she went to with her friends. She was upset she wasn’t able to go because Yunjin showed her a picture of the tiramisu she had, and YN really wanted some.

Sungchan had taken note of the story. The next day he DMed Yunjin asking about the restaurant she had gone to. Yunjin told him she didn’t remember the name, but told him the town they went to.

After getting that, he searched up the town, and spent a good two hours looking through the shops, the restaurants, everything until he found where they sat today. He made his reservation the moment he made sure it was the place, asking for the nicest area they had, and requested extra decoration for a subtle flare.

“You mean the place Yunjin kept bragging about?” YN asked.

“Well I did some digging, and here we are now,” Sungchan told her.

“What kind of digging?” SHe asked suspiciously.

“Months of stalking,” He joked, to which YN rolled her eyes. Their server came in with a basket of fresh bread and butter, filling up their waters and taking their orders. YN ordered a chicken caesar salad with extra croutons and a lemonade, while Sungchan ordered a bowl of Chicken pesto pasta to share, and an iced tea.

YN looked at the flowers, daisies sitting in a painted white vase. She didn’t know Sungchan spent a good while scrolling through her instagram until he found any sign of what flowers she may like.

While they waited for their food, the two of them found themselves in an unintentional game of twenty questions.

“Favorite movie?” Sungchan asked.

“Ten things I hate about you,” She answered.

“Ratatouille,” Sungchan answers.

“Funniest first date experience?” YN asked him.

“It was in like high school, I think. I had a date with this girl, and we were out eating, and then her friends showed up and saw us. They start texting her or some shit, and she ‘goes to the bathroom’ and never comes back. I venmoed her for the money she owed me.” He told her.

“Damn, that’s brutal,”

“Tell me about it,” He sipped his drink. “Your turn,”

“A guy shows up in his work uniform. I don’t think much of it until he checks his phone and says, ‘sorry to cut this short, but my shift is about to start’ and i’m like why would you leave just now? And then when I’m walking out, I see he’s the host of the restaurant. He says bye, and tries to give me a kiss on the cheek,” She told him. “I left a one star review,”

Sungchan burst out laughing. “I thought mine was bad, but damn!” She joined in the laughter.

Soon enough their food arrived, and sungchan scooped out some of his pasta for her, and YN shared some of her salad with him. The two ate, marveling at how good the food really was. YN understood why Yunjin had bragged about it so much. They ate until there was nothing left on their plates except their silverware.

The server came back, and YN expected the check, but instead, two servings of tiramisu were placed in front of them.

“Since you wanted some, I went ahead and ordered it,” Sungchan shrugged, and YN smiled, a genuine grin at the effort he made.

The two ate the tiramisu, YN was in awe of its deliciousness, while Sungchan was just happy YN liked the food so much. When the bill came, Sungchan took it without hesitation, not letting YN have the chance to take it. YN insisted she pay for half, but Sungchan told her he would handle it since he planned it all out. After some protest, the bill was taken back and processed.

When they left the restaurant, they went to an antique store, and YN bought a cute necklace. They shopped around more, there were little boutiques, music stores, produce markets, whatever a person could desire.

They decided to head back when it was around six thirty, arms carrying bags of little goodies they bought, clothes, treats and other baked goods. Sungchan once again opened her door for her, getting into his seat and starting the car. He absentmindedly handed her his phone to pick the music like she did on the way there.

When they started driving, Sungchan let his hand fall to her knee, not really realizing what he was doing, brushing his thumb against her. YN’s eyes widened a bit, glancing over at sungchan as he tried to sneak a peek at her. When he took in her widened expression, he realized where his hand was.

“Is that okay?” he asked, voice quiet, eyes a bit concerned.

YN just nodded, “Yeah, yeah it’s okay,” she gave him a smile.

“You can tell me if-”

“No, dude, really it’s okay, i was just a little… shocked?” She laughed at herself a bit, her hand coming over to rest on his. They gave each other a slightly embarrassed grin, both blushing like idiots.

The drive back to YN’s place was peaceful, but YN couldn’t deny how badly she didn’t want their time together to end. She thought back to the morning, when she was so stressed about how the date would go, not liking it as much as she hoped she would. She was glad she talked herself into going, because if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to go on what had been one of the most successful first dates she’d had.

Sungchan was smiling to himself, his hand had moved to hold hers as he rested it on her thigh. He was glad his hard work paid off, and was happier that YN seemed to have fun while they were out.

The two of them sang along to the songs that played, rolled down their windows to feel the cool breeze against them, smiling ear to ear as they drove. Sungchan wasn’t trying to hide his looked at her, wanting her to know how much she liked looking at her.

When they pulled into the parking lot of YN’s building, they both were hit with the reality that their date had to come to an end. Sungchan held her hand as they walked towards the lobby. They chose to take the stairs this time, trying to squeeze in more time with each other as they made their way to her flat. No amount of stairs could stop them from reaching her floor, and they soon found themselves having to say goodbye.

Sungchan walked her to her door, still holding her hand.

“I had a lot of fun, Sungchan,” She said, a bashful tone to her voice.

“I’m glad, I wanted it to go well for us,” He told her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thank you, really.” She told him, smiling. “It was perfect… kinda too perfect,”

“Better it be too perfect than sucking, you know?” He said, brushing his thumb against the skin of her hand.

“Yeah, you’re right,”

The silence between them was awkward, looking at each other, unspoken words hanging between them as the tension grew. There was something Sungchan wanted to do.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

YN blushed, coughing a little and looking away in an attempt to hide how flustered just the question made her.

“After the first date? Don’t you think that’s a little fast?” She joked, moving her hand to rest on his chest.

Sungchan got the memo, wrapping his arms around her waist, brushing his lips against her neck. “You made out with me at a Frat-Halloween party, and almost had sex with me on a couch,” he reminded her, pulling back to look at her pointedly.

YN just rolled her eyes. “Just kiss me, idiot,”

“Yes ma’am,” Sungchan mumbled before leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. It wasn’t the same, lust filled kiss they shared at the party, but it was just as intoxicating. It was a sweet, soft kiss, one that would mean more to them than a sloppy makeout session.

When they pulled away, they smiled at each other. Sungchan loosened his grip around her and took a step back.

“Does this mean I get a second date?” He asked hopefully.

“Well you gotta ask me first,” YN told him. “And I get to plan it this time,”

“Shouldn’t you ask me, then?” Sungchan teased.

“Fine, fine, sungchan,” She looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “WIll you pretty please go on another date with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” He kissed her cheek. “I should probably go now, it’s kind of late.”

YN nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, probably.” She looked up at him with a disappointed look. “Get home safe, okay?”

“I will,” He gave her hand a squeeze before he began walking towards the elevator.

YN went back into her apartment. She had too much fun on her date, and she realized she just might like Sungchan a little too much to let him just leave again. She poked her head out the door and into the hallway, but didn’t see Sungchan.

Sungchan was reluctant to leave, but didn’t want to push his luck after a successful date. He was just glad for the time they got together, even if he was sad he couldn’t get more time with her.

When his phone went off, he didn’t exactly expect the message he received.

YN: come back up here

Sungchan: you miss me already

YN: yes.

YN: come back pls <3

It was a matter of minutes before YN heard three louder than average knocks at her door. She opened the door to see Sungchan slightly out of breath in front of her. She laughed a bit at his wide eyes appearance.

“Did you run up here?” She asked.

“Yeah, why?” He said, taking a step into her flat, wrapping his arms around her again.

YN just laughed at him. “You’re crazy, dude,” She mumbled against him.

“Only for you,” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Now what did you want? Other than to see my handsome face again?”

“Do you want to get some takeout?” she offered. “Keep our date going a little more?”

“Say less,” Sungchan smiled as YN dragged him inside further, as they decided what food they should order.

PT 2!!!! I’m glad yall enjoyed part one, so here’s part 2. More coming soon 😚

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh, @skzhoe4life, @cheederzchez , @so-lychee , @leehanascent

#riize sungchan #sungchan x reader #jung sungchan x reader #sungchan oneshot #sungchan fluff #jung sungchan #sungchan #sungchan angst #riize x reader #riize fluff #my love {sungchan} ☆.ᐟ #gyuvxx ᯓ★ #⋆｡°✩riize #٠ ࣪⭑ oneshots #⋆.˚ series

[castiwls]

false god - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt;'They all warned us about times like this. They say the road gets hard and you get lost'

Requested; @andicedeo

Notes;sorry its taken so long a-levels are kicking my ass rn

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Ever since Dean had been pulled down to hell your life had been a whirlwind. You’d been under the impression that your boyfriend’s demon blood issue was a thing of the past just to come to the realisation that maybe it wasn’t as far gone as he’d made you believe.

Sam had been instant that after Azazel’s death, that part of his life was over. That while it would never go away he would never let it cause issues again. Yet that had all come tumbling down when a new demon had made its way into your lives.

During the year Dean had been in hell you’d been hopeless to do anything but watch as Sam crumbled before your eyes. He pulled away and began spending more and more time alone something which never sat right with you.

Your eyes glanced at the clock hanging off the motel wall and a sigh left your lips. 3 hours. Sam had been gone for 3 hours. You’d given up on trying to call him about five calls ago and instead had taken to watching whatever crappy movie cable was currently showing.

The door opening pulled your attention from the movie. A frown was etched onto your face as Sam caught your gaze. He stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights before moving to shut the door. 

“Hey. Sorry…I…I uh didn’t mean to be gone for that long.” His shoulders were hunched slightly as he spoke and he refused to meet your gaze. He was feeling guilty and you knew it. “Where were you.” You turned your attention to him fully letting the movie blend into the background.

He faltered for a moment before moving to stand in front of you. From your spot on the bed, you could make out the dark bags under his eyes and the worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin. “Sam. Please tell me what’s going on.” You reached out to rub his arm. “I know something up.”

You already knew what was up. The last time Sam had looked this bad was just before Azazel had kidnapped him and taken him and the others to the ranch. You knew it had something to do with the demon blood (the thought alone sent a shiver down your spine)

He stared down at you for a moment. A sigh left his lips before he all but collapsed down to the floor. His hand landed on one of your legs and a small groan left his lips. A look of concern flashed across your face as he readjusted himself to lean against your leg.

Your hand fell into his hair, slowly rubbing against his scalp as you both sat for a moment. “It’s her, isn’t it? Ruby.” The name alone left a bad taste in your mouth and him tense. “You don’t have to say anything.” You continued. “I know it’s her.”

He moved his head to rest on your knee. “I need her help. I need to get Dean back.” He stared up at you, his gaze softening. “You have to understand.” 

“Sam.” The word fell from your lips as a sigh. You knew he was struggling and you expected nothing less. You’d been patient as he grieved. As you both grieved, but this was taking it a step far.

You could feel him slipping through your fingers but you were determined to not let him fall through entirely. You knew the demon blood would cause issues, you weren't stupid. But you were prepared to do whatever you had to. 

Your relationship meant too much and you refused to let him pull away. You’d been through this once and you’d do it again.

“There are other ways to do this. You were so glad when Azazel was gone and you could put the whole demon blood behind you, why bring it back now.” You moved to cup his face with your hands, rubbing a thumb over his cheek.

“Think about this. Please.” You trailed off for a moment. “I can’t lose you as well.” 

At your words, realisation seemed to spark in his eyes as he pushed himself up to his knees. “You're not gonna lose me. I promise.” He reached out to cup the back of your head. “I…I’m willing to look at other things if that’s what you want.” You could feel the worry in his tone as he spoke and it pulled on your chest. 

The thought of losing you sent a spike of fear through him as his actions dawned on him. He’d spent so much time obsessing over the idea of getting stronger and being able to live without Dean that he’d completely forgotten in his haste how his actions would affect you.

“I’m not gonna leave Sam.” You smiled reassuring him as he pulled you into his chest, his head finding the crook of your neck.

You’d never leave him. Not while he was so vulnerable. You knew there was a chance along the way he could be swayed onto the wrong path, having demon blood in you was something which you could never imagine. But with Azazel gone, you knew nothing was going to come of this blood. 

As long as you were here you would do everything in your power to keep him on the right track. 

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester angst #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural drabble #supernatural headcanon #spn fanfic #spn x you #spn x reader #spn imagine #supernatural fanfiction #jared padalecki #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry doesn’t handle it very well, the first day he and Voldemort spend apart.

When he wakes that morning, Voldemort is up and putting on robes much more elegant than any he’s worn since their capture. He’s going to meet with his Death Eaters – he says as much, but Harry had already guessed. No need to dress up and stand on ceremony with someone who’s seen you piss in a bucket.

Harry follows him silently to the library Floo. Voldemort grabs a handful of powder and looks as though he will leave just like that, but at the last minute he goes still.

Facing away from Harry, voice neutral and even, he says, “I will return.”

Harry nods, then makes some vague sound of assent when he realises Voldemort can’t see him. And then the Dark Lord is gone.

He should do one of the many things he’d thought of doing while they were in that cell. Write to Ron and Hermione or other friends and Order members. Go outside and enjoy the sunshine (well, what sunshine there is on a grey autumn day) and fresh air. Eat and drink whatever and as much as he likes.

He drops into a nearby chair and stares at the empty fireplace, hugging his legs to his chest.

*

It’s fine, he’s fine, Voldemort’s probably fine.

Probably.

Harry tries to remind himself that he’d known whenever Voldemort was being tortured – he could feel echoes through their connection. He would know if something was wrong. The only things he can feel through the bond are mild irritation (which Harry, having dealt with the Death Eaters before, can fully understand) and satisfaction (Nagini, his mind whispers).

Nothing to worry about there.

Harry starts plucking at the chair’s upholstery.

*

When Voldemort returns later that afternoon, he nearly trips over Harry as he exits the fireplace. 

To save the chair from his anxious destruction, Harry had eventually trekked to the kitchen and baked enough bread to feed an army. Channelling his stress into the dough had helped keep him somewhat calm, but he’s pretty sure he overworked a few loaves. That had occupied a few hours, but he’d been too wound up to eat anything, so he’d returned empty-stomached to the library to wait. 

And that’s where Voldemort finds him, seated on the hearth, dusted with flour and soot, halfheartedly pretending to read a book and about ready to storm Malfoy Manor or wherever the Death Eaters gather to make sure the Dark Lord is all right. 

Which – Harry squints up at him consideringly – he is. 

The look on Voldemort’s face is… actually quite funny, were Harry not as strung out as an addict kept from their substance of choice. He’d be more upset about that if Voldemort didn’t look as though their separation had strained him, too. 

“Welcome back,” Harry says as he dusts himself off. Might as well sweep the past few hours of losing his mind under the rug and ignore their many, many issues – they’ll be there whenever he’s forced to confront them.

Voldemort is on board for pretending they’re functioning human beings, thankfully. “I’ve brought Nagini.”

And so he has. The four-metre long snake, wrapped around the older man’s torso, peeks her head up from his shoulder at her name.

Harry only hopes his words come out in Parseltongue. “Hello there.”

She rears back slightly, apparently not expecting him to speak her language. “Hatchling. Master says I’m not to eat you anymore.”

“How kind of him,” he says dryly. She hisses in agreement, not catching the sarcasm. 

Voldemort unwinds her and sets her on the floor next to Harry. “I’ll leave you two to become acquainted,” he says as he heads towards the library door. “No biting.”

“You would bite Nagini?” she asks warily, coiling away from him. Dammit, Voldemort.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he attempts to reassure. “Your scales are, uh, much too beautiful for me to want to damage them.”

Appeased, she wriggles proudly. “Aren’t they?”

She shifts closer to him, butting her head into his hand. “You should express more appreciation for Nagini’s beautiful scales.”

He’s not entirely sure, but he thinks the giant murder snake is telling him to pet her. He rubs gently along Nagini’s chin and body, drawing contented noises from her. He murmurs some nonsense about how lovely her colouring is and she somehow manoeuvres the majority of her body into his lap and around him, praising him for his warmth. It’s, unexpectedly, really nice.

“Why,” Voldemort calls from the doorway, sounding just the tiniest bit perplexed. “Are there two dozen loaves of bread?”

Whoops.

(A long, hard road)

#codependent trauma buddies #harry potter #voldemort #harrymort #nagini #fic snippet #ALHR #post-VII