deer reader…

“you have to realize that life is coming from you and not at you”

[deerwriters]

welcome to my blog !!

my name is gracie, i write for characters like spencer reid and benoftheweek. you can also come chat whenever. more characters i write for! click here -`♡´-

this is my masterlist! click here . if you want to be tagged in my fics, comment here!

if you’d like to know a bit more about what i like, click here!

if you’d like to know a bit more before requesting, click here!

[deerwriters]

Hi! For anyone that requested recently, i promise im getting to them. Right now im writing the Cedric Diggory fic and then i’ll move onto the others. Just know that im not ignoring you all!!

[deerwriters]

“Who wants a longer fic?”

just posted!!! :)

[deerwriters]

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”- George Weasley x bsf!reader

The fireplace lit up the gryffindor common room dimly. You, George, Fred, and Lee were sprawled around the fire. You and George were sat comfortably on the sofa while both Lee and Fred were sitting in chairs, feet hanging over the armrest.

“Okay, seriously. If zombies were to come to Hogwarts and we had no wands, who’d kick the bucket first?” Fred barked as he shoved crisps into his mouth aggressively.

“Fred I reckon it would be you, mate” George chuckled, giving Fred a judging look while you and Lee erupted with laughter.

“Nah nah, it has to be y/n” Fred retorted, slightly wounded with George’s accusation.

You scoffed, hurling a pillow towards Fred.

“You wish” You stuck out your tongue to Fred, who in return gave you the middle finger.

After the laughter had died down, Lee and Fred decided to go to their rooms and continue the party over there. You and George however, stayed spread on the couch.

The sofa was warm from the fire and your head rested on George’s thigh as you held a book towards your face. George read a comic while his other hand rested on your head.

You dropped your book over your chest and huffed, clearly something was bugging you.

“what’s wrong?” George looked down at you confused, setting aside his comic as you sat up.

“it’s just-“ You fumbled with your hands nervously.

“what?” George scooted closer, desperate to hear what was on your mind.

“You know Michael Corner?” George looked confused.

“Yeah, ravenclaw isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is” You cleared your throat.

“He asked me out. Like, on a date” Your eyes met George’s. Your teeth caught your bottom lip and you shoved a strand of hair behind your ear as a few seconds of silence followed behind.

“Oh. Right. That’s good? Right?” Even if it was accidental, George’s expression wasn’t the happiest. His eyebrows furrowed and his shoulders seemed to drop slightly, slumping over.

“Yeah! I guess it’s good. It’s just, there’s something that’s been making me a bit anxious” George’s head perked up a bit. He breathed in and implored you to continue.

“I’m a bit scared. You see, he’s dated quite a few girls before me. He’s experienced. And I…” You sighed, defeated. A pink hue came across your cheeks as you lowered your head. You scratched your nail beds as you waited for a response of some sort from George.

“Y/N, have you ever kissed anyone before?” George’s voice lowered significantly, his head dipped as if to find yours. He nudged you softly on your leg.

“No…” You swallowed dryly as the word came out with a twinge of embarrassment. Feeling your skin heat up by the minute. You looked up and found him looking right back at you. Suddenly, there was a strange feeling pooling in your stomach. It felt like the drop at the end of a rollercoaster, painful but nice at the same time. You found it confusing. Even more confusing when you found your eyes drifting towards your friends lips, and him returning the same gesture. George rubbed the back of his neck, trying desperately to find the right thing to say.

“You know you don’t have to do anything you wouldn’t want to with Michael.” George muttered, trying to convey some sort of bravery.

“I know that, I do. But, when It happens- If it happens, I don’t know…I guess I’d like to be prepared.” You looked away, struggling to finish the sentence. Your thumb tapped nervously against your book.

George opened his mouth before closing it again. It was a terrible idea. A spectacularly terrible idea.

“Would you…Maybe like to…Like- practice trying it with- like, with me? You know, as friends? To help you- of course” He stuttered. George’s voice came out quieter than he’d intended. And way weaker than he’d hoped. You swore that if the fire died down and the crackle was muted, you could’ve heard both of your heartbeats stutter along with the rise and fall of your chests. Your mouth got dry. Your hands were surprising clammy, you gripped the edge of the sofa in an attempt to ground yourself and trying to muster up the courage to speak.

“Okay” Your breath faltered and left your speech full of cracks.

George nodded. The room felt much warmer than it did a few minutes ago.

George cautiously inched closer to you, your knees now touching.

“Are you sure?” He whispered. He wasn’t sure if he could breathe any longer with his tie so tight, maybe that was the reason he was feeling so light headed.

“Yeah.” You didn’t sound very sure. But it was honest enough for George to not question it.

Neither of them moved. Time had been paused. You tried to convince yourself the reason you’re doing this has nothing do to with the radiating heat you feel when you’re imagining how George’s lips will feel against yours, what touching his hair will feel like while doing it, if he’ll touch you in any way. While George tries to convince himself he’s doing you a solid. That he certainly isn’t doing this for his own enjoyment. That he undoubtedly isn’t struggling to wonder how soft your lips would feel, if maybe you feel as nervous as he is, or if you could feel his trembling pulse as he reached for you.

You both swallow at the same time. George chuckles nervously.

“We’re both pretty shit at this aren’t we?” This makes you smile, earning a true laugh out of you.

Your hand reached to grasp the edge of his jeans. He smiled softly, crookedly, like himself.

His fingertips hovered over his thigh for a beat before edging towards your cheek hesitantly, brushing against the side of your face as you pulled yourself in. There was a pause as you found yourselves mere inches away from each others lips. You closed your eyes harshly, holding onto George’s ankle. George closed the distance. The moment your lips met, you felt a wave of relief settle over you as your shoulders dropped. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm. It was gentler than you could’ve imagined.

George pulled back. He scanned your face for any spark of hesitation you had. Instead, he found your eyes wide and your pupils occupying most of your iris, your lips slightly agape. George always had something funny to say. Somehow, you had him at a loss of words. The only logical thing he found himself doing was pulling you back in and locking your lips with his once again. Now, neither of you felt like holding back. Not anymore. Your hand slid into his hair, fingers tugging softly at the ginger locks of hair. His other hand dropped from your cheek to your waist absentmindedly pulling you flush against him without even realizing it. Small gasps for air could be heard as the kiss turned messy, teeth clashing against one another. Suddenly this didn’t feel like a lesson. And, to be honest, it hadn’t felt like what it was supposed to be for a while. Years of borrowed glances and brushes of skin boiled down to these few minutes.

You were snapped out of the immersion as you heard loud steps from behind you. You and George swiftly separated yourselves, trying to keep your composure as well as you were able to. Instead, Fred walked into a very interesting scene: Your legs locked someway with George’s, both your faces impossibly flushed with color, George’s hair sticking up in all directions, and both of you heaving as if you just ran up a flight of stairs.

“Whatever this is, I am going to walk away, and use this against you tomorrow” Fred put his hands up and comedically stepped away slowly.

Your hand covered your mouth as you and George shared a very disturbed and shocked look.

“We’re never going to recover from this are we?”

[deerwriters]

Can we get a follow up with the George Weasley x reader blurb? Pretty please with cherries on top? I love the way you write him!

hi hi! i’m not sure if you wanted it in the same style so i just continued it more in depth. let me know if anyone wants an actual longer fic style of this! thank you for requesting 💛

George Weasley x bsf!reader

Slowburn friends to lovers trope thought part 2

It was never easy for George to be close to you. Despite you being in his life in such an exhilarating and occupying manner, he found himself dreading every interaction since the day he found out what the growing twang and heartburn he felt when he looked at you for too long was. He ultimately hated himself for being such a greedy person. You were his best friend since he had any recollection of it. You relied on him for everything. But for some reason, when Fred made you laugh a little bit harder than him, he would’ve liked to leave the room immediately, and to forget that had happened at all.

It was easy for George to love you. He had never believed in such romantic and silly things he’d seen in muggle movies. He liked joking around, being focused on his business, things that distracted himself from the so-called “yearning” people were so fussy about. Regardless, you had made a believer out of him. And that freaked him out way more than any death eater ever could.

He tried to fight against this feeling, but someone in his life made it practically impossible to do so.

“Hey George, d’ya see how that ravenclaw boy was making googly eyes at y/n at breakfast”

“What? When?”

“Just messing with you”

“She’s our mate, George, she won’t hate you for telling her, especially not you.”

“Bugger off Fred.”

Eventually he came to the realization that there could never be space in his heart for anyone that wasn’t you. That no matter what, he couldn’t not miss you. And the thought alone of you drifting away to someone else drove him crazy. He had two options: He could either tell you, —not knowing if you’d be horrified or hit him—,or remain longing until something else occurred and admire you from afar until something hard would hit him in the head and erase his memory. Though, he reckons the last thing he could ever wish for is for you to not exist in his conscious and subconscious mind in any sort of capacity.

[deerwriters]

if anyone has any requests on what they’d like to read revolving around george weasley x bestfriend!reader my inbox is open!!! there’s something in the works right now hehe

[meisparkles]

people need to stop posting fred fanfics with george weasley as a hashtag it's genuinely so annoying when im looking for a george fic and i can't find any cus there's only fred in there.

[deerwriters]

thinking about George Weasley and friends to lovers trope...

When you and George Weasley are “just friends” but it’s difficult for people to accept that because George will talk about you to any living thing that would listen:

“I'm telling you, Lee! She’s extraordinary. I don’t know how she hasn’t got a date for the Yule Ball yet, seriously. Someone just has to man up and ask her already. She said that she wants to wear yellow but she can’t decide what hair to wear. I told her that it really doesn't matter as long as it doesn't cover her face…” “That’s great, George.”

And he’ll go on and on if someone doesn’t stop him. God forbid you’re in need of something and he can fix it, because he will:

“I’m really regretting not grabbing that cardigan now-” Before you can finish the sentence, George is effortlessly draping his jacket over your shoulders, shrugging it off like it’s nothing. “Do you want me to go grab it or are you okay?” He dips his head to whisper to you as you walk into Hogsmeade, simultaneously guiding you carefully with his hand gently on the dip of your lower back. When you get to the table nobody bats an eye, it’s been years like this with no sign of stopping or going further…

[deerwriters]

i kinda want to start writing for characters in Harry Potter. the idea is to focus mainly on:

The Weasley twins (George and Fred)

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Ron Weasley

…you can request anyone and i’ll take a look!

[deerwriters]

could anyone help please? what person do i write in! i always have this problem when writing fics.

what perspective!!

first person (i went…)

second person (you went…)

third person (he/she/they went..)

Voting ended onJul 10

[deerwriters]

mike wheeler please please pleaseeeeeeeee or ill dox you

you literally don’t know how to request well what’s wrong with you

[deerwriters]

me waiting for mike wheeler to be added to the writing list specifically for me like other characters who are on there thank you i love you best friend thank you 🥹💘🤞🙈🫀

i literally state that i’ll write for other character if they’re requested

[deerwriters]

Hihi! I’m hoping I’m phrasing this correctly but can you maybe write a hurt/comfort Spencer x Reader who struggles with NPD?

To be more specific (ignore this if you prefer broader asks ❤️‍🩹), reader becoming very harsh and insecure about being “outdone” by the rest of the team— even if she wasn’t ‘outdone’ at all? Mostly just reassurance and reality-grounding, yk?

i let you in

in which…after solving a case, you’re not as confident as you’d thought you’d be. Spencer knows.

a/n: hi!! thank you so much for requesting. i’ve never written about reader with NPD, i didn’t want to make it the main thing and for it to be riddled with stereotypes, i hope you like it at least.

The tension in the bullpen was already slight. the case was a particularly hard one, touchy. everyone was less than excited and ultimately worn out after the clock hit midnight. Your brows pinched together.

“maybe we’re thinking of the unsub in the wrong way, maybe we’ve got it upside down-“

Spencer didn’t let you finish. He didn’t mean to, his excitement got ahead of him.

“what if the unsub is a woman? then, everything would make sense: the intimacy in the murder, the time in between victims…” Everyone’s expressions relaxed as they realized and they continued Spencer’s train of thought.

“Great job guys” Hotch let the file drop on the table as he hurried out the door, giving a gratifying smile to everyone.

Everything continued. You felt like you missed a beat. Your sentence remained in the back of your throat, uncomfortable. Hotch’s congratulations landed untruthful, uncredited, too broad for your taste. If Spencer had just waited for 5 more seconds, you could’ve said the same thing. Maybe not as epiphany-like as him, but still.

The team dispersed. You don’t let go of it. In fact, it pulsates as you close your fist and your skin becomes embedded with crescent moon shapes.

It was difficult for Spencer not to pay attention to you. You were a force, he was drawn in with extreme ease. Even when he didn’t want to, and trust me, he wanted to most of the time, he noticed your uneasiness in you more than he noticed it in himself.

As you were leaving, Spencer walked beside you, his hand caressing your shoulder slightly.

“Hey…are you okay?” His eyes felt like x-ray vision. It was extremely vulnerable of you to answer with sincerity. And of course, you weren’t about to rip your emotional clothes off and stand naked in the office. Your teeth pressed together with force. The words were jammed in your jugular. If you spoke, the blood would make a scene. Your bottom lip trembled as the corners of your mouth formed into an uneasy smile.

“yeah, great” You tried to make that sound as non sarcastic as possible. Spencer’s hands hesitated as he let go of your shoulder. He wasn’t fond of you being deceitful. Not because you were keeping something from him, you are far too sweet for that. But because you’d be thinking of the wedged words in your brain until they became stuck. And that was what he feared the most.

You felt wicked as the guilt corroded your skin. You knew you were smart. You are smart. You are good. You internalized these thoughts until you found yourself in the middle of the parking lot breathing heavily. You were confused as your skin contrasted between hot and cold. The car keys jingled in a mocking way as you struggled to make a conscious connection between your brain and your hands. You wouldn’t have realized you were nearly weeping if Spencer Reid wouldn’t have tapped on your shoulder.

Spencer couldn’t bear to stare at your tear-lined eyes. Not when he could do something about it.

Your mouth opened but the words timidly stayed behind. You shook your head in a ferocious attempt to save yourself from the situation. Spencer leapt his body to yours, letting you close the space as he wrapped his lanky arms around you. You couldn’t let defeat beat you. But it felt really good to just feel warm.

As Spencer’s fingers raked through your hair, he spoke quietly.

“You were right first. It was uncalled for me to interrupt you. You’re so smart, you know?”

His voice was all sweet candy. Your eyes closed so shut you weren’t sure you could ever open them again. It felt like pain. You quickly realized not everything that’s supposed to feel like pain is pain. Slowly, surely, your body gave in and melted into his.

“thank you” was all you could croak. All your weight was on him. You exhaled out your nose and your shoulders dropped. Everything was okay, as okay as they could be. And you were in love with Spencer Reid.

[deerwriters]

you are tired (i think) - steve harrington

in which…in the aftermath of it all, the night is loud and you and steve find slumber in each others arms.

The night was gentle. You aren’t used to gentle —at least you weren’t, not for a long time. The coffee was sweet but cold and so was Steve Harrington, who lay in between your sheets. His hand rested on your hip.

“do you think it’s over?” He tried to whisper, but his voice came out as more of a cracked whimper, afraid.

Your chest rose, then fell. You could only cover his cheek with the warmth of your hand and exhale.

“does it really matter if it’s over?” You shuffled closer to him. Sleep weighed heavy on his shoulders. He needed reassurance from you. Reassurance that you were there, that he didn’t have to touch you to know that you’re real. That today, everything tragic was behind. He still didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean.

His head shook. He wanted to get closer, to feel warm, to know that he wasn’t cold even after everything that happened.

He only knew you, he only wanted you. Your fingers rested on his head, surrounded by his brown locks. He breathed through his nose. That’s all he needed, to close his eyes and know that you were still there because your perfume still sent shocks to his heart.

“when i wake up, will you still be here?” His breathing was barely steady. His stillness was kind, but his hands weren’t still. Right now, in this moment, he was weak and you knew that.

“of course, always” You closed the lingering space between you., feathering his face with small kisses. As your hands cradled his head, everything faded as quiet as the night. Regardless of everything broken and everything sinister, he gives into your touch. It burns but in the greatest way possible. He thinks that you are what makes his chest rise and fall. And as his eyes slowly tire, he knows he’s alive because you’re beside him and you are beautiful.

[deerwriters]

the heart is weak - spencer reid blurb

Spencer doesn’t often indulge in any sort of worship. you break his “often’s”. For you, spencer is on his knees praying for a blessing. You give it to him, of course you do. His faith resides in you. How could you deprive him of your pleasure.

He begs, he shivers, he’s weak. His fingers twitch and the floor seems to be made putty underneath his legs. Unrelenting, he crumbles over you. The bed becomes a haven. You hips become an altar. All around, he’s surrounded by your heat. He knows better than to be greedy, but you allow him to engrave his name into your chest. You allow him to indulge. There are no lines he won’t cross for you. Forever bound, you are everything all at once. He knows he will replay the moment your eyes roll to the back of your skull until the light is shed upon him again.

[deerwriters]

spencer reid drabble…

You’ve always liked wonder. Spencer filled your life with wonder. He did so in the way he picked small flowers and placed them on your bedside table, for no reason but wonder. You noticed in the way every time he read a book, he made sure to annotate it as he did so. Even if he’s able to read an entire book in half an hour, he always takes time on every page to circle and underline what he deems important, leaving small messages for you in the margin. He fills your life with wonder. He makes your cheeks pink, your knees buckle, your face flush. He sees you, sees through you, in the most non-threatening way. In the most magical way. He notices how you rub your brows every time you’re slightly stressed. How you crack your knuckles when you don’t know what to do with your hands. How he bought you a foam pencil grip after seeing how you get callouses because of the way you use your pen. In every way possible, he’s wonder-ful. In every way possible, he loves you.

[deerwriters]

hi!!! my requests are open again, i’m currently writing for spencer reid :) im low on inspo for fics so id appreciate your requests!