Can I Request A Shy Reader And Spencer's Fic. When The Reader Works At A Flower Shop, Spencer Comes In

Can I request a shy reader and Spencer's fic. When the reader works at a flower shop, Spencer comes in there looking for flowers. And the reader goes on a little rant about what he should buy and what each flower means.

Hii lovely, ty for the request! Hope this is okay🙈warnings: use of y/n, fluff, a few swear words, (0.9k)

Spencer needs to buy some flowers for Emily. It's her birthday and he's always brought her flower before, so even if he's already running late to her birthday dinner, he can't not go buy her some flowers.

He goes into the first flower shop, he spots on the way to Emily's apartment and that's where he finds you.

It's almost the closing time, so you are just sitting behind the counter, reading some book. Spencer immediately thinks he's in love.

He swears, you are the prettiest girl, he's ever seen and the fact, that you are too absorbed in your book to even notice him, makes you even more attractive to Spencer.

You finally notice him as he's a few steps away from the counter. You quickly slam the book shut and try not to look too caught off guard.

You weren't expecting anybody to come to the shop anymore and you definitely weren't expecting it to be a very handsome guy.

His messy, curly hair, expensive-looking black suit and the small stubble have you buckling at your knees. You are sure, that if you weren't sitting on the chair, you would be on the ground.

"H-hi," you somewhat compose yourself, "w-what can I help you with?"

He shoots you a smile and you're pretty sure that your cheeks go very red," Hi, I was wondering if I could get some flowers?"

"D-do you have any specific in mind?" you ask, barely holding an eye contact with him. You are shy and he isn't helping your situation at all.

"Ye-...No, I don't. Can you recommend me some?" Spencer literally knows the meaning of every flower you have in this shop, but something about you makes him shut his mouth, so he can stay here longer.

"I can, yes," you smile sheepishly at him, "who are they supposed to be for?"

"My friend, it's her birthday today," you would be lying, if you said that your heart didn't skip a beat at hearing that it's for his friend and not a girlfriend. You thought, that he was getting flowers for his girlfriend.

"W-well, I'd suggest, that you should definitely get some yellow flowers for her. Yellow color represents friendship, would that be okay?" you hesitantly ask. Spencer just nods encouragingly.

"Okay, so we could do some mixed bouquet. Yellow roses are definitely a yes, you can't go wrong with that, they are beautiful and smell amazing. We should also add sunflowers, they represent loyalty and adoration of the friendship. Oh and mums are grest, too. They can really make the bouquet come alive, they are like the spirit of optimism. We could also-," you ramble about each flower, that you put in the bouquet for him.

Spencer listens to your every word with a happy smile, you remind him of himself with your rambling and to be honest, he finds it adorable.

You are done too quickly tho and Spencer finds himself wanting to hear you speak again.

But his phone rings and he doesn't even need to pick up to know, that the team is wondering, where he is.

"Here, i-is this okay?" you hand the insanely pretty bouquet to him. Spencer's grin basically answers your question.

"Thank you, thank you. It couldn't be more perfect. You're a total lifesaver..." he looks at your name tag, "y/n. Thank you, y/n."

You are certain, that your cheeks couldn't be more red as they are right now. Spencer's compliment makes you blush like a fool.

"Oh. I'm..I'm glad, that you like it." You stutter out your response, looking at the ground. You carefully wrap the bouquet in the flower wrapping paper and tell him the price of it.

He pays it and before you can say no, he puts a bigger tip than it's normal into the tip jar.

Spencer then slowly leaves thanking you as he goes. And right before the door closes, it looks like Spencer wants to tell you something else, but in the last second he shakes his head and dissappears.

You wave him a shy goodbye, you are a little disappointed even if you don't really know why. Well okay, maybe you do know why. But you shouldn't have put your hopes up, thinking the handsome stranger felt the spark like you did. And that maybe, only maybe, he'd ask you out.

You sigh and sluggishly start to clean up the counter to finally close the shop and go home. The door bell rings again and your head immediately shoots up.

He runs up to the counter, a little out of breath, "shit, I'm sorry to bother you again. I don't usually do this, like ever, it's just....Would you like to go out with me sometimes? Like for a-a coffee? You can say no of course, hell, I'd totally understand if you said no." Spencer's now the one to rumble.

"I-I'd love to," you, surprising even yourself, reply immediately. Cheeks, of course, burning red.

"It's okay- Wait, really?" Spencer was totally expecting you to reject him.

"Yes, really....." you want to say his name.

"Spencer, my name is Spencer," he quickly understands.

"Spencer, " you try out his name," I'd love to Spencer, here." You bravely scramble your phone number on a piece of paper and give it to him.

Spencer takes it with a huge smile, "I'll call you, " he looks like he wants to stay longer, but looks at his watch and curses under his breath," I'm so late. I gotta go, but I'll call you, I promise."

"Bye, Spencer," you say sweetly and Spencer already knows he's fucked. Not even one date and he knows, he's down bad.

MYSTICAL GOLDEN LUCK POTATO

This is definitely a miscolor by the colorist but why is Bruce buttass naked studying the xenomorphs

♥️♥️♥️

I remember you posted that you write alien vs predator now, so if possible could you write something about a yandere yautja x chubby!f!reader??? Like maybe she accidentally witnessed some them hunting on earth but as they were going to kill her another yautja grabbed her and ran or fought the others, he’s usually content just watching but she was threatened and he couldn’t stay away…. Or even just headcanons about them and what they’d be like as a partner

Sorry🫣

— Yandere Yautja with a female! chubby mate

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about chubby reader, and yautja stuff.

A/N: I changed it up a bit and decided to write headcanons about having a darling who is chubby. I hope that’s alright :)

In his planet, or rather culture, female Yautja have a naturally larger and masculine build: muscular thighs, fit hands that’ll be thrown at anybody, and a good athletic build. But, since the day he saw you and touched you? He died at the second, and swore to protect you to all the Gods. And ensuring, you’d be his by the end of the night. 

To get it easy — he sees no issue with your size. Generally sees you as a ‘plushy’ and more huggable, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

But if he senses you being sad over your weight, he clicks in annoyance. How dare you insult yourself like that? Within seconds, he hikes you up on his shoulders by one hand, showing you that weight doesn’t mean a thing to him, so nor should you care. 

It’s no surprise that Yautja’s love heat, and your beloved mate sees you as a heat source. He has to be touching you at every given moment, muzzling his face deeper into your belly rolls as you two sleep in. 

Finds your stretch marks remarkable. Scars are a symbol of strength, and are praised highly in the culture and with your lovely Yautja, he views them as a form of scars. 

Handsy to a capitalized H, and doesn’t know a thing of personal space. Your skin is so warm and soft, his paws squishing and handling you is his favorite hobby. Adores the scent you have, and uses your thighs as pillows. 

Generally would love for you to go naked in the house. Nudity isn’t a source of shame in yautja culture, so he’d be confused if he sees you embarrassed. In all, he admires and wishes for the day to come; imagining himself pulling your clothes off, chirping and clicking in excitement as his hand covers your hips and addicting curves. 

Very protective, and whilst that’s guaranteed with his aggressive stance, it’s mustered up a bit because of how gorgeous you are. He’s convinced that if any other ‘ooman, or yautja, sees you – they might get attracted and try to steal you away. He’s ready to fight and tear off limbs if must. Possessive to its finest. 

Treats you with the finest things he can find and cook. He cooks you amazing food, ones that leave your mouth salivating, and wakes you up with breakfast in bed; admiring your sleep figure and messy hair from awakening. 

Loves to dress you up in clothes, especially if it’s in pelts that he hunted for you. Admires looking at you from behind, smiling like he’s made the day, and stares you down like a mad-man. You’re just so cute, ‘ooman.

—

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© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

I swear I love that man to death

Can I request Nubbins x fem reader? She has friends who don't want Nubbins near her because they don't like the way he is. But when Nubbins is with the reader it is pleasant because she does not judge him or treat him badly. How would he manage to have her all to himself and not let anyone ruin it?

I don't know if Nubbins would be possessive and rude like Johnny or if he is more passive...

Nubbins x Reader

The Only One that Counts

Contains; fluff, derogatory names

"Guys, cut it out," you say, shooting a glare at your two best friends.

"Seriously though, what do you see in him? Everything about him is weird, even his name. Who names their kid Nubbins?" Emily says, snickering.

"Maybe I like weird," you interject.

"For your birthday, he got you a dead possum with a lightbulb in its mouth. He's twisted," Joey adds, looking more concerned than anything.

You cross your arms. "That was cute! Pulling the tail turned it on. I named him Henry."

"You have a dead giant trash rat named Henry by your bed," Joey says flatly. "See why we're concerned?"

You shrug. "Not every girl wants chocolate and makeup. I like his little crafts. He's really creative."

"He's gonna turn you into a lamp next if you're not careful," Emily says. "I heard he cuts himself for fun."

"Guys, just stop. I'm happy with him, okay? Isn't that enough?"

Both Emily and Joey look incredulous, shaking their heads.

"Don't you see we're trying to protect you? That guy's whole family is messed up. Have you seen his giant brother? What if being a giant retarded freak runs in the family? Do you want giant retard freak kids running around the house?" Joey says, as if he could think of nothing worse.

"I'm tired of listening to this," you say, fuming. You stand up from the bench and glare at your friends before turning your back, a tear streaking down your cheek.

–

"Y-your friends want you to leave me?" Nubbins asks, cocking his head. The two of you are sitting in the sunflower fields as the sun rises, painting the sky pink. He doesn't seem upset, just curious.

"They think you're dangerous," you say, looking down at your joined hands and running your thumb over his. You can't bring yourself to tell him what they've said about his brother.

"W-well," Nubbins laughs, smiling. "I mean, I am. Grandpa wouldn't think I'm the best if I w-wasn't!" He pauses, then squeezes your hand. "But, 'course I'd never hurt you!"

"I know, Nubs, I'm just sad my friends are so judgmental," you say, sighing and leaning against his shoulder.

He uses his pocket knife to etch into the dirt between his feet, drawing your initials beside his. "Why does it matter w-what they think?" He pauses, looking up at you worriedly. "Y-you aren't gonna listen to them, are ya?" He asks, as if the notion hadn't occurred to him.

"No, of course not!" you soothe, instantly erasing the worried expression off his face. "I just don't like hearing them talk bad about you and your family."

"I could cut out their tongues!" he offers cheerily. "You ever had tongue pudding? It's real good!"

"No no, please don't," you giggle, and he laughs wildly, his whole body shaking beside yours.

Nubbins, still in a giggle fit, nuzzles at your ear before nipping it, making you laugh and shove him away. He lunges after you, tackling you to the dirt and touching your nose to his with a loud "boop!" A wild grin lights up his face, and you pull him down for a kiss, surprising the man into a fleeting moment of stillness.

When you break the kiss, he stares at you in a stupor before sense returns to his brain, and he blinks rapidly, his earlier grin returning. "Wow… sometimes I forget we can do that. Talk about crazy; your friends musta never had a kiss like that. Well, probably 'cause they never kissed you," he peters off, pure adoration in his eyes as he holds himself over you.

"You're so sweet, Nubbins," you say, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you."

His face flushes pink, and he traces your lip with his thumb, cradling your face in his hand. "I l-love you too."

Nubbins doesn't care what anyone thinks but you. As long as he knows you love him, he will never get jealous.

In love rn

Making A Deal (Part 1)

Summary: House doesn't take the news of you wanting to quit your job at the hospital well, and he definitely doesn't take it well when you decide not to tell him why you're leaving.

You don't think it's any of his business, he thinks it is—the argument leads to you making a deal.

Warning(s): use of y/n & l/n (your name & last name), closeted reader, reader presenting as female throughout the fic & being referred to as a woman, House being House & making some comments that may come off as transphobic

Pairing(s): Greg House x ftm! Reader

Something felt off when you were growing up—you don’t remember exactly when you became aware of it. Over time, the feeling grew and grew, but you ignored it, and pushed it away.

Instead of the feeling, you focused all your time and energy on other things—grades, homework, friends, and your future.

It grew and grew, almost as if it were inside you. You went to school, and sometimes it got increasingly difficult to get up and put on a fake smile, but it all felt worth it because you were going to help people. And sometimes you grimaced when professors referred to you as “miss l/n”, but it all felt worth it because eventually, they would have to refer to you as “doctor”. And it felt jarring and uncomfortable to wear the blouses, and the heels, and the skirts, but you knew that one day you would be wearing a white coat and scrubs, and you wouldn’t be required to dress like that every day.

You mistook the feeling for a lot of things—being misunderstood, lonely, ambitious, depressed. Perhaps those came with the feeling, but you thought at one point it would stop. You thought that at one point: it’s got to stop.

And even when you realized what it truly was—your discomfort with living and presenting as female—you were damn good at hiding it, and you were a damn good doctor.

You were always able to spot what was wrong with a patient, but more importantly, you could tell when they were lying, or not telling you everything about a situation. You knew how to approach patients to make them more comfortable about sharing information with you—or at least you did most of the time.

This is what allowed you to succeed when you started working with House—you went from being bossed around because he thought you couldn’t do anything, to being bossed around because he thought you could get the patient to open up to you more than him.

You knew you would miss it, but you also knew you had to make a better life for yourself—which is why you decided to quit.

Today marked the start of your last week—you had exactly 7 more days to go. That didn’t mean you didn’t have any paperwork, though, and that’s exactly what you were working on when you heard what sounded like someone was hitting your office door with a stick.

Without waiting for a reply, House walked in, explaining why it sounded like something was hitting the door. He was probably lucky it was wood.

“Why is Cuddy under the impression that you are leaving?”

“Probably because I am.” You said, looking back at your work.

“And you weren’t planning on telling me?”

“Why would I?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because we work together, so you should tell me things.”

You glanced up at him, your brow raised.

“Why are you leaving?”

“Did Cuddy not tell you?”

“She told me you had ‘other life opportunities’.”

“You say that like you don’t believe it.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’s because it’s a lie and not a very good one either.”

You tilted your head. “You think it’s a lie?”

“Please, I know it’s a lie. You wouldn’t just quit for some impromptu opportunity, something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“So you’re leaving me to deal with Foreman, Chase, and Wilson alone over nothing?”

“Sure.” You said, looking back at your laptop.

House walked over to you and slammed your computer shut.

“What are you doing?” You shouted.

He picked up the laptop and hobbled to the other side of the room where he set it down.

“Give it back.” You ordered, getting up, and walking after him. He turned around quickly and blocked you with his cane.

“You’re not quitting.” He said.

“Why do you care?”

“Who said I care? I’m just trying to keep one good doctor in the ring.”

“Well, clearly you talked to Cuddy, so you know the notice is already in, and this is my last week.”

“Redact it.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m going to find out anyway.”

Your heart pounded at the idea of him ever finding out, but you simply shook your head.

“You think I won’t?”

You thought about it, before answering “Not any time soon.”

“That sounded like a challenge.”

“It wasn’t.” You stated.

“Let’s make a deal.”

You raised your brow. “A deal.”

“Yes, a deal. If I find out why you’re leaving before the end of the week, you have to stay. If I don’t, then you can leave.”

You thought about it for a moment. “If you can’t figure it out, you don’t get to bother me about it again.”

He paused for a moment. “If I can, you have to do what I say for a day.”

You held back a scoff—it felt like you did that anyway—if he did figure it out, it wouldn’t be any different from the previous times. “Deal.” You said, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He briefly took your hand, and said “deal,” before leaving the room.

As the week went on, House had several theories written on the whiteboard and didn't take any cases—meaning you ended up doing them for him and took Wilson, Foreman, and Chase with you. Sometimes one of them would go in, and report that he was snappy (as usual) and that he insisted you were hiding something.

By your last day, House hadn’t come to you with any accusations, so you weren’t surprised when you heard a similar thwack against wood before your door was opened.

“I figured it out,” House said gruffly, closing the door behind him.

“Did you?”

“You’re trans.”

Your heart raced. “What?”

“Your chest is flat. I thought I was just seeing things, but then I saw a picture of you from last year. Your chest is flat now, you didn’t think anyone would care or notice, because you put in your two weeks' notice, and you thought ‘What the hell, I’m leaving in a few days, no point in wearing a stuffed bra to work every day’.

“Your closet contains mostly feminine clothing—overly feminine, in fact—I’m guessing because your parents never let you wear girly clothes as a child. I noticed your bathroom doesn’t have any hygienic products because you don’t need them, and you don’t use the washrooms here because you’re afraid of someone figuring out you were born a man.”

You looked at him, shocked. You could feel his air of pride, but you could also feel your heartbeat starting to slow.

He thinks you’re a transwoman…not a transman…

“No.”

“What?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“I’m not wrong, drop the gig, l/n.”

“I didn’t have menstrual products because I ran out and hadn’t got any left. We barely get breaks long enough to use the washroom. You’ve never seen me in anything except for my work clothes and a dress a few times, so how do you know how I usually dress? As for my chest…”

He looked at you expectantly, despite you shooting daggers.

“No one asked you to look.”

“I’m just being observant.”

You rolled your eyes. You had only recently started binding—and while it felt so much better, you assumed no one noticed. He started reaching for your chest, but you swatted his hand away.

“You only did that because you knew it would prove my point.” He growled.

“You’re wrong, House. I was born female.”

“Well it isn’t a chronic or terminal illness, not mental illness, your family doesn’t require your immediate attention, you have no friends or boyfriends trying to get you to move away with them, you don’t have any stalkers, and no one here has been harassing you.”

“You’re harassing me right now.”

“But you’re not leaving because of me.”

“Right.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you hiding?”

You looked up at the clock, it was nearing the end of your shift, anyway, and you were already done with everything.

“You’re not completely wrong.”

“What does that mean? Either I’m wrong or I’m right, and I’ll give you a hint—I am rarely wrong.”

You picked up the box. “Fine. You’re right, I was born a woman, and I hate it.” You said, quickly walking out.

Whatever comment he had for you, you didn’t want to hear it—people like him were exactly why you were leaving. Nevertheless, you heard his footsteps, and cane tapping after you. From the sound of it, you could tell he was struggling to keep up with you in a way that did not elicit pain.

Previously heading towards the elevator, you changed your route towards the stairs, and quickly made your way down. You practically flew down the last flight of stairs, causing you to nearly run into House who was standing in the doorway right at the bottom.

You sighed. “What do you want?”

“You didn’t honestly think it would be that easy, did you?” He asked, limping towards you. You backed up—back onto the stairs. House leaned up against one of the rails with a grunt, taking pressure off his leg.

You rolled your eyes and started walking back out, but he held out his cane to keep you from leaving.

“Why don’t you just let me go?”

“Because that doesn’t sound like a very good reason to leave.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Being transgender. Besides, I was right—so you aren’t allowed to leave.”

“You weren’t right, you thought I was a transwoman.”

He made a face. “I’m sorry, what’s the difference again.” You could tell he wasn’t being genuine, or probably wasn’t, but you answered anyway.

“Hmm. But I did say you were trans, right.”

“Right, but—”

“And you are, yes? Or did I misunderstand?”

“I am, but—”

“Then I was right. Now you have to go back upstairs, put your dinky decorations back on your desk, and be here early tomorrow morning with my coffee.” He said, directing his cane so that you would be forced to back up even more.

Thinking fast, you decided to come up with another compromise.

“No.”

“No? Did we not make a deal?”

“We did, but you were only partially right, therefore you were partially wrong, so we should split the deal.”

“Split the deal?” He scoffed like it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

“Yes, split the deal. I'm leaving, but I’ll do whatever you say for a night.”

“Any night?”

“Saturday.”

He feigned surprise, “are you asking me on a date?”

“I—” you paused when you realized what he had done.

“I am flattered. I don’t usually date men, but if you insist, I will—it’s not like I’m doing anything better on Saturday night anyway. I’ll pick you up at 8.” He said, walking away.