#AND an opportunity for her to continue a bit and tease her friend

[g1rld1ary]

our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader

wc: 11,151

cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing

info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc

me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"

If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.

"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.

"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.

You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.

He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.

The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.

"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.

"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."

"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.

You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.

"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"

"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.

Both men laughed at your plight.

"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.

"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.

"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.

James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."

James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.

James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.

You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.

Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.

You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.

Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.

"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.

"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.

"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."

"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.

"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.

"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.

A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.

That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.

When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.

"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.

"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.

"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.

When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.

"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).

"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.

You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.

"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.

"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.

You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.

Of course, nothing good lasts.

"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.

"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.

"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.

Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.

On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.

You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.

"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.

"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.

You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.

James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.

"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.

"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."

"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.

"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.

"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."

"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."

"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."

You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.

"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.

"Then sleep with me."

"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.

"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.

You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?

He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.

"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.

"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.

The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.

The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.

You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.

Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.

That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.

"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.

"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.

As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.

You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.

You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.

"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.

THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT

And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.

You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.

"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.

"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"

"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.

The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.

"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."

Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.

You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.

"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.

"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.

"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."

"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"

"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.

He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.

At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.

"Thought you hated her, mate."

"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."

"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.

"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.

He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.

His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.

"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.

He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.

Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.

Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).

Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.

You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.

The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.

The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.

You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.

"Hello?"

"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.

"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.

"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."

"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."

"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."

"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.

"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.

"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.

"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.

"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.

"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."

"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.

"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.

"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."

"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."

"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.

You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.

You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.

The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.

It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.

Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.

Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.

The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.

You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.

"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.

"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"

"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.

"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.

He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.

"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

"As if you read my pieces."

"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."

"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.

This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.

"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.

"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."

And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.

James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.

It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.

The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.

"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.

"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.

"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"

"But--"

"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."

"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.

You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.

In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.

As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.

thinking of u :P <3

You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.

Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.

First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.

The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.

The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.

"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.

FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL

Fuck. That could not be worse.

The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.

You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.

"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.

"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.

"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."

How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.

The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.

You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.

You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.

"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.

"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.

"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.

"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.

You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.

Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.

Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.

You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.

Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.

It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.

You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.

The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.

You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.

"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.

"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."

"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.

A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:

How a woman always loses.

You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.

When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.

"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.

"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.

"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."

"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.

"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.

"What about him?"

"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"

"Yet," Marlene interrupted.

"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.

"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."

"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."

You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.

The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.

Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.

On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.

It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.

On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.

Instead, it was actually Remus.

"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.

"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.

"Just do it. Two o'clock."

"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"

"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.

"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.

"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.

Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.

The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.

James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.

"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.

"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.

"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.

"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."

What the hell was happening?

"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.

"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."

Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.

"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.

"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"

The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.

You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.

The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.

"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.

"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"

"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.

"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"

"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."

You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.

"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"

You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.

When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.

The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.

You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.

Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.

[kindredspiritsandgoodomens]

"Even memory is an act of imagination, you never tell the same story twice, not even to yourself" ~ Michael Burkard

This quote showed up on my dash and reminded me of The Rashomon Job and how interesting I find it that many people can watch the episode and walk away with the impression that we've been told the 'correct' or 'true' version of what happened that night, specifically by Nate.

And I get why. The team certainly lets him have the last word, and structurally we are used to the 'Nate's Eye View' dénouement being the point where we see a complex web of events finally make sense as a designed structure. But the multiple thefts of the dagger weren't part of a unified whole arranged by Nate, or by anyone - so maybe we should approach the usual conceit of revealing the scheme as seen through the eyes of the mastermind rather differently in this episode.

As an audience, we depend on Nate's ability to pull off the impossible just as much as the team do, and even though we (and the team) may roll our eyes at his god complex it's important for our continued investment that we (and they) manage to almost believe he's Just That Good. But the tell that his version of this particular story is not entirely without colour is that it's all just a little too neat.

When the storytelling starts, Nate's delighted. The minute he realises he can scoop them all, and even retroactively be the mastermind who puts it all together, he's just pleased as punch. "Why don't you all come over and I'll tell you what really happened." He says. You know, like a liar.

The first thing of note about Nate's Version is that he never went into the party, but still takes it upon himself to give them an authoritative reconstructed version of what went down based entirely on his own sense of how it would have happened, based on his understanding of the team and his assumptions about their behaviour. Naturally in Nate's Version Eliot and Sophie don't flirt even a little. Naturally in Nate's version it's going to be Eliot who takes Sophie's adulterated champagne glass, intended for Hardison, from Parker's tray, despite nobody else having specified anything about this detail (Eliot - the gastronome - wouldn't remember spitting out foul tasting champagne? Sophie wouldn't have noticed a key part of her plan going awry?). But this way it fits it all together like one of his plans, so naturally it's all going to be nice and neat.

Not content with imagining the entirety of the party sequence, he also entirely constructs a conversation between Coswell and the securty guard locked in the store room. Based on Nate's own description of his movements there's simply no way for him to know what went down in that room. We know from Parker that Coswell made his way into the vents, and we know how he got the climbing equipment, but would the Coswell of Nate's Version really go climbing into ducts? It's neat, but it's thin.

Coswell is really where we have to question the neutrality and authority of Nate's version the most. Not only because - even if we allow that IYS jackass Nate Ford did in fact perceive this security guy (probably most security guys) as an ineffectual irritant - he's clearly reacting to Sophie's contemporary jibe about Coswell's potentially superior intelligence by making the man a buffoon in his retelling. But, also, because believing him about Coswell's buffoonery requires us to accept that Parker, Eliot, Hardison and Sophie all massively overestimated an opponent on a job. Is that really plausible? Even if we allow for a percentage of exaggeration because they're thieves swapping stories in a bar, it doesn't add up. Hardison and Parker, who were young and mostly there for clout, maybe. Eliot and Sophie? No.

When they describe Coswell as brusque, efficient, and suspicious - and they corroborate each other, we should be very wary of Nate's entirely re-written character sketch of the man. Especially the idea that his behaviour could all be explained because he had a crush on Sophie. Sophie Devereaux - who can pick a mark's weakness of a driving license photo - not notice when the head of museum security has a crush on her? Not bloody likely.

Everything Nate remembers Coswell as actually saying could just as easily have been said by the version of Coswell the others describe. For instance, "I don't know much about gold but I know it's not meant to do that." Could be silly - could be sardonic. Nate thinks he's an irritating pleb, so it's recounted as silly. But even in Nate's Version Coswell makes a good point about the dealer running. Again, it's neat, but it's thin.

As for the idea that the dagger fell from a vent directly into his hand? Well, as Hardison says, nobody's that lucky. Nate's showboating. He's embellishing and neatening his recounting of his own (biased) recollections just as much as the others, and he's doing it to reinforce his team's (and maybe his own) perception of him as slightly beyond the laws of chance, reason, and even physics. This episode is also one of the last times he denies that he's a thief - a tell if ever there was one.

Eliot and Sophie both express reservations, but they let him have it, because on some level they know that they need him to be that lucky. The whole house of cards only stays up if Nate really is That Good.

Plus, of course, none of the team's versions are without colour - and they all know it. Firstly, all perception is shaped by biases. So Sophie remembers different details than Eliot or Parker, because they look at the world differently and prioritise different kinds of contextual awareness, reasoning, and value judgements. Secondly, and more importantly, they're not just remembering and recounting what happened that night - they're all thieves telling stories to other thieves, to friends they want to wind up (the accents getting worse and worse, Sophie saying Coswell was maybe even smarter than Nate), impress (Hardison being the centre of female attention, Sophie getting a round of applause), or correct (Eliot and Sophie both claiming the other was the one doing all the flirting, when if we take Hardison's word...) But their descriptions of the sequence of events all line up reasonably well.

Ultimately they're all right about parts of it. Nate's probably right about Coswell being ineffectual by IYS standards. Sophie's probably right about his personality. Hardison's probably right about Eliot and Sophie flirting outrageously. Parker's probably right about her encounter with Coswell in the vents (she's not going to misremember vents). But we, the audience, don't see the One True Version of what happened that night.

That's why it's so nice when the episode ends with them all going to steal the dagger, properly, together. Because that's where the truth is. The truth that they're all thieves, telling stories in a bar. Even Nate. But when they're stealing things together they can defy the laws of chance, reason, and even physics. That's where they'll really see and understand each other, and that's what matters.

[anniebeemine]

Vanilla- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: big ego AND jealous spencer, spanking, unprotected sex, oral (femrecieving), cumplay

It started out as just another gathering with the team—a casual night out after a long case, everyone laughing and unwinding at a local bar. You sat beside Spencer, enjoying the rare opportunity to relax with him and his colleagues. The conversation was light and fun, bouncing from one topic to another, until it inevitably drifted into teasing against you and Spencer. It started out like usual, some quips about when he'd pop the question or when you'll pop out a few mini geniuses. Then it shifted into a few weeks ago when you came into work with a top that was lower cut than usual, shifting to show a deep purple love bite sometime during lunch with the girls.

Spencer flushed a deep red, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the table burst into laughter. "Uh, well," he stammered, "that was… an unfortunate coincidence."

You shot him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Unfortunate? That was all you, Doctor Reid." You leaned into him playfully.

Penelope gasped in exaggerated shock, placing a hand over her heart. "Spencer Reid, you little devil! I never would have guessed you had it in you!"

Derek clapped Spencer on the back, nearly knocking him forward with the force of it. "Man, you’re full of surprises! Didn’t think you had it in you to leave a trail. Reid, you’re probably the most wholesome guy I know."

Emily, never one to pass up on a good-natured ribbing, smirked. “Yeah, I bet your idea of a wild night is reading a book until midnight.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Spencer, always a good sport, chuckled along. But you could see a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made your heart twist a little. You reached under the table, squeezing his hand gently, offering silent reassurance. He glanced at you, and the warmth of your touch seemed to ease some of the discomfort, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“You know, Reid’s probably the kind of guy who apologizes during sex,” Morgan added, his tone playful but with a teasing edge. “Always so polite, probably says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ the whole time.”

Your cheeks flushed, and though you managed to keep your expression neutral, you felt a surge of protectiveness for Spencer. The image they were painting of him was so far from the truth that it almost made you want to correct them right then and there, tell them the truth of his tendencies. But you stayed quiet, your bedroom life with Spencer was private, something just for the two of you, and you had no desire to share those intimate details with anyone else—not even his closest friends.

Spencer laughed it off, making a self-deprecating joke to deflect the attention, but you could tell the teasing had gotten to him. He stayed quiet for the rest of the night, offering only the occasional smile or nod as the conversation continued around him.

When you finally got home, the silence between you was thick with unspoken tension. Spencer had been quiet the whole ride back, and as soon as you closed the front door behind you, you knew it was time to address it.

“Spencer,” you began softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet since we left."

He turned to you, his expression conflicted, a mix of frustration and hurt. “It’s just… is that how they see me? As this meek, vanilla guy who can’t… who can’t be anything else?”

Your heart ached for him. “They don’t know you like I do, Spencer. They were just teasing. They don’t realize how far off they are.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling away slightly. “But you didn’t say anything. You just sat there and let them think… let them think I’m some kind of pushover.”

You sighed, understanding now where this was coming from. “Spencer, I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s anyone else’s business what happens between us. We agreed not to share that part of our relationship with them.”

“I know that,” he replied, his voice strained. “But it felt like you were agreeing with them by staying silent. Like you were okay with them seeing me that way.”

You stepped closer to him, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. “Spencer, listen to me. I don’t care what they think. I know who you are. I know how you make me feel, how you take care of me, how passionate and intense you can be. None of that needs to be proven to anyone else.” You caressed his cheekbones with your thumbs. “Besides, do you think you really want them to know how you have me bent over the back of the couch more often than not? How you have me counting out my punishments?”

His eyes softened, but there was still a lingering doubt. “But it just… it made me feel like they think I’m less of a man or something. Like I’m not enough.”

You shook your head firmly. “You are more than enough, Spencer. You’re everything I could ever want. What we have is special, and I don’t need to justify it to anyone else. They can think whatever they want, but at the end of the day, they don’t know the real you. I do.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and you could see the tension slowly start to leave his body. He let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It just… got under my skin.”

You hugged him tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “I understand, Spencer. But remember, you’re incredible just the way you are. And I love you for it. All of it.”

Spencer nodded, the last of his frustration melting away as he held you. “Thank you. I love you too. And I’m sorry for doubting that.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently. “You don’t ever have to apologize for how you feel. But just know, I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”

With that, the tension between you finally broke, and the two of you spent the rest of the night curled up together, letting the world outside fade away as you focused on each other, knowing that what you shared was something far deeper and more meaningful than anyone else could ever understand.

+++

Spencer had never really been the jealous type, but he was angry. Since the night of teasing at the bar, he'd been on edge.

It gnawed at him in a way he hadn't expected, chipping away at his usual calm demeanor. Since that night, there had been a subtle shift in his behavior—small things that you noticed but didn’t immediately address, hoping it would pass. But now, standing in the bar waiting for your drink, it was clear that something had snapped.

You had been leaning against the counter, waiting patiently for your order, when a stranger approached. He was confident, with a cocky smile, and placed his hand lightly on the small of your back. “Hey there,” he said smoothly, “let me get that for you.” He motioned to the bartender, offering to pay for your drink.

Before you could politely decline, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Spencer’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, and before you could even process what was happening, he was pulling you away from the bar. His grip was gentle but insistent, his usual reserved demeanor replaced by something far more intense.

The stranger barely had time to react as Spencer led you out of the bar and into a dimly lit alley beside the building. The air was cooler outside, and the sudden change in environment only heightened the tension. Spencer didn’t say a word as he pressed you against the brick wall, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that took your breath away. There was no hesitation in his movements—his hands were everywhere, roaming over your body, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any distance between you.

His kisses were fierce, demanding, and you responded in kind, matching his intensity with your own. It was as if all the unspoken emotions from the past few days had finally found an outlet, and Spencer was pouring everything into this moment. His usual restraint was gone, replaced by a raw, desperate need to claim you, to reassure himself of your connection.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel him, to ground yourself in the whirlwind of his sudden possessiveness. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body anchoring you in place.

“Spencer,” you whispered between kisses, your voice breathless. “Take me home."

His breath hitched at your words, a spark of something dangerous flaring in his eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled back slightly, his hand still firmly on your hip as he nodded, his voice low and filled with unspoken promise. "Let's go."

The walk back to your car was charged with anticipation, the quiet intensity between you almost palpable. Spencer’s hand remained on the small of your back, guiding you with a sense of urgency that sent shivers down your spine. The drive home was a blur, the silence between you thick with the weight of what was about to happen. Every glance he shot your way was laced with desire, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel as if he could barely contain himself.

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment, Spencer was on you, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole your breath. He kicked the door shut behind you, his hands roaming your body, mapping out every inch of you as if he couldn’t get enough. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the raw need that had been building inside him finally finding release.

You barely made it to the bedroom, clothes discarded in a trail behind you, the air around you electric with anticipation. By the time you reached the bed, Spencer was a man possessed, his usual gentle touch replaced by something much more primal. He pushed you onto the bed, his body covering yours in an instant, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his need for you almost overwhelming.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, your waist, your arms—as he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you moan into his mouth. He was relentless, his touch both commanding and desperate, as if he needed to prove to himself, and to you, that you were his.

“God please touch me, Spence. You’re the only person who could ever make me cum. I need your mouth on me baby, please.” He looks up at you through his lashes while he bites into your thigh, sucking so hard you know there’ll be a purple bruise tomorrow.  

Before you’ve prepared, he latches his mouth onto your pussy, laying his tongue flat against you and shaking his head back and forth. You scream out, taking a fistful of his curly hair into your hand and holding on for dear life as he licks and sucks feverishly. His saliva mixed with your arousal makes an absolute mess, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. He pulls back for a moment and puts two fingers up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders and you oblige, opening and wrapping your tongue around his digits, moaning as you do. He watches you intensely and bites his lip as he imagines how you’d work him if you were sucking him off.

Once his fingers are wet, he pulls them out of your mouth and down to your core, circling a few times on your clit before pushing them into you completely. You let out a string of curse words as he curls them inside you, hitting your G-spot over and over again. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any more intense, he reattaches his mouth to your hood, using his tongue to trace figure-eights. Your toes begin to curl as you feel the familiar knot in the pit of your stomach.

You shakily cry out his name, tugging his hair harder. The vibration from his moan brings you closer, a cry spilling from your lips. He doesn't stop, continuing his attack on your clit, his fingers picking up speed.

You wriggle and writhe beneath him, holding back cries. A second orgasm washes over you, voice taken as he finally sits back, hands running over your thighs soothingly.

"You know what I was thinking about the entire night?" He asked, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Tell me," you said through pants. "What were you thinking of?"

"How good your ass looked today."

You chuckled. "Really?"

Spencer's lips curled into a smirk as he nodded, his eyes darkening with that familiar hunger. "Really," he confirmed, his voice low and husky as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the toned chest beneath. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time you walked by, every time you leaned over, it drove me crazy."

You felt a flush of heat spread through your body at his words, a mixture of surprise and excitement. "And what did you want to do about it?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He shrugged off his shirt, tossing it aside before leaning back over you, his hands once again finding their place on your hips, gripping them possessively. "How badly I want to make them sting." His lips run over your collarbone, voice dropping. "I know you like it."

You whimper, nodding. "Then do it."

As you turn over, your breath catches in anticipation, your skin tingling with the promise of what’s to come. Spencer’s hands trail down your back, gentle at first, as if savoring the moment, before they grip your hips with that familiar possessiveness.

His voice is low, almost a growl, as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know I’m going to make you beg for it, don’t you?"

You shiver at his words, your body reacting instinctively to the mix of dominance and tenderness in his tone. "Please, Spencer," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want it… I need it."

He lets out a low, satisfied hum, his hands sliding down to your ass, kneading the flesh before his fingers curl, and with a swift, calculated motion, he brings his hand down in a firm slap. The sharp sting spreads through you, igniting your nerves and drawing a gasp from your lips.

"How does that feel?" he asks, his voice dripping with control.

"Perfect," you manage to gasp out, the sting from his hand already sending ripples of pleasure through you.

His hand comes down again, harder this time, and you arch your back in response, biting your lip to hold back a cry. Each slap is deliberate, perfectly timed, and as the sensation builds, so does your desire. The pain is just enough to make you ache for more, to make you want to give in to everything he’s offering. Spencer’s hand continues its work, each strike sending a wave of heat and electricity through your body. Your breaths come out in ragged pants, and you can feel your entire being focused on the sensations he’s creating, on the way he’s drawing out your pleasure.

"Do you like it when I make you feel like this?" he asks, his voice husky and rough as his hand moves rhythmically against you.

"Yes," you breathe out, your voice almost desperate. "I love it… I love how you make me feel, Spencer."

"Good," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck before his hand delivers another firm slap, making your skin burn in the best possible way. "Because I love making you feel this way."

The stinging pleasure only heightens your need for him, and as his hand continues to bring you to the edge of what you can take, you know you’re utterly and completely his. The mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, and you’re lost in the sensation, in the way he’s controlling your body with such expert precision. When he finally stops, his hand soothing over your stinging skin, you can’t help but whimper at the loss, your body still thrumming with need. Spencer leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he murmurs against your skin, "You’re so beautiful like this. Do you want more?"

"Please," you gasp, barely able to form the words through the haze of desire that’s clouding your mind. "Please, Spencer… I need more."

His voice is a dark promise as he whispers in your ear, "Then let’s see just how much you can take."

Spencer's hands glide up your sides, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Stay still for me.”

You nod, your breath catching as you feel him shift behind you. His fingers trace the curve of your back before gripping your hips again, positioning you just how he wants. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, your body thrumming with a mix of pleasure and need as you wait for his next move.

He takes his time, savoring the way you’re laid out before him. His hands run over your reddened skin, soothing the sting he’d so carefully crafted moments before. “You’re so perfect like this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?”

You can only whimper in response, your voice lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. You feel his fingers slide between your thighs, teasing you just enough to make you arch into his touch, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you need,” he commands, his voice deep and authoritative.

“You,” you gasp, barely able to form the words. “I need you, Spencer. Please.”

He chuckles softly, clearly satisfied with your response. “Good girl,” he praises, his fingers dipping inside you briefly, just enough to make you moan in frustration when he pulls back. “But I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” you whimper, your body trembling with need. “Please, Spencer, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Spencer’s breath hitches at your words, his resolve almost breaking. He leans over you, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he aligns himself with you. “You’re going to feel every inch of me,” he promises, his voice low and rough. “And I’m not going to stop until you’re completely spent.”

You turn over again, letting your thighs fall open, giving him a full view of your soaked cunt. "Please, Spencer."

With that, he pushes into you slowly, savoring the way you gasp and arch beneath him. The sensation of him filling you is overwhelming, the mix of pleasure and the remnants of the stinging pain creating an intoxicating blend that has you crying out in pure bliss.

Spencer sets a rhythm that’s both torturous and perfect, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips with enough force to leave marks, pulling you back to meet him with every movement. The sounds of skin against skin fill the room, the only other noise your combined moans and gasps of pleasure.

“Do you like this?” he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Do you like how I’m making you feel?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the intensity of it all. “I love it, Spencer, I love you.”

He growls in response, his pace quickening as he drives you closer to the brink. The tension in your body coils tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap, and then, with one final, deep thrust, you’re thrown over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure so intense that you can’t help but scream his name.

“Who’s fucking you this good?” Spencer grunted, his hips slamming relentlessly against yours.

You replied with a noise just short of a scream, clinging to his biceps. He has you pretzeled underneath him, one leg slung around his hip, the other over his shoulder. The raw spots of your ass brush against his thighs with each thrust, each one a rush of excitement

He brought a hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him through hooded eyes. “What’s my name, darling?” He asked, huffing as he kept his pace up.

“Spencer!” You whined, clawing at his shoulders. Your voice gave out soon after, little squeaks escaping as you chase your high.

He pulled away, panting. “Over. All fours.”

You obliged, turning and arching your back as he propped your hips up. He slid a pillow beneath you, gripping the corners to hold your hips up. You gripped the sheets, wailing as he pushed into you again. He pumps a few times before pulling your wrists to the small of your back, pulling you so you’re back to front with him.

“Spence,” you whined, eyes screwed shut.

He laughs, actually laughs. “What are you crying for, princess?” He says, his lips grazing against your ear. “I’m giving you what you want.”

Your head falls back and you sigh as his kisses begin to get heavier, teeth involved now. You hear his wet kissing noises grow until you feel his teeth sink into your skin. You yelp, hands begging to be freed but his grip tightens.

“Don’t make me get the tie,” he threatened lowly. “I don’t want to leave your pretty little cunt empty.”

You whimpered at his words. “Don't,” you begged quietly, feeling tears roll and drop onto your chest. “I can’t-“

Spencer stopped, bottomed out. “Or maybe I should.” He began to slide out of you, leaving just the tip inside. “Good girls deserve to get fucked, but you haven’t been a good girl, have you?”

“No, Spence. I haven’t.” The gravel in your tone makes your voice unfamiliar. “But please, I’ll do whatever you want me to- anything. Just please let me cum again.” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes. “Please.”

His eyes softened. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered back.

He watches your face scrunch up then relax in pleasure as you gasp when he fully enters inside you. His palms go to the part of your thighs below your knees. He forces them to open wider, rocking gently at first.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said softly.

You nod and take a deep breath. Another orgasm begins, your body going rigid as your breath catches in your throat. This time he lets you finish, letting your hands go. You catch yourself on the mattress, whining as you fuck yourself back onto him. He’s stopped moving, letting you use him as his hands roam over your back as he coats the inside of your walls with his own arousal. When you’re finished, you fall forward, his cock slipping out of you in the process.

You lay like that for a few seconds, ass in the air, catching your breath. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you beg him not to touch you for a moment. Your hand is in the air, palm flat. He respects your space, showering you in compliments and thank you's. You stop him when an apology leaves his lips.

“Don’t be,” you said, eyes still closed but your voice is firm.

You can hear him smile. “Can I touch you again?”

You nodded.

Without wasting another moment, Spencer propped you up by your hips again, spreading you with both hands. Spencer sighed at the sight of your cunt, his cum slowly dripping out of you. You flinched as he ran his thumb through your folds, swiping your clit in an up and down motion. You moaned at the feeling. The coil in your abdomen tightened and released in record time, your hands twisting in the sheets as you wailed out his name again.

You flipped over, legs on either side of him. He pulled you up against him, your ass again this chest.

He let go of your clit with a pop sound just to go back and suck it even harder. Your back arching as your mouth and throat were dry from all the moaning and crying, your grip on his hair becoming tighter. You let out one loud moan, your legs shaking and squeezing Spencer’s head between them. You feel a warm gush as he pulls away, marveling at the mess he’s made. His eyes are sparkling, jaw slack as he studied how your body reacted. He licked a swipe up your folds, catching everything he could on his tongue. He leans over you, opening your mouth. You let him, nodding as you placed your hand on the back of his neck. 

He spits the mixture of his and your cum into your mouth. You swallow it down, opening your mouth to prove that it’s gone. You collapse into the bed, sticky and fucked out. Spencer stands up, picking up his boxers from the floor before going to the bathroom. He returns a few minutes later with a warmed washcloth. He drapes it over your warm cunt before using it to wipe away any of tonight’s mess. A water bottle is pressed into your hand and you let it roll out of your palm. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, one hand cradling your head. 

You nod, finally opening your eyes. His hair is tousled, sticking to his forehead in some places. “I’m alright, Spencie.” 

He grinned. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

+++

The next morning, the BAU office was alive with the usual hustle, but the moment you walked in, the energy shifted. Your steps were slower than usual, each movement causing a slight grimace. As you made your way to your desk, every head turned, curiosity etched on the faces of your colleagues. You could feel the weight of their stares, but you were determined to play it cool. Sliding into your chair with a quiet hiss, you placed your jacket beneath you for some added cushion. It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing.

Morgan, always the first to break the silence, leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. “Damn, girl, what happened to you? Looks like you went ten rounds in the ring.”

Emily shot you a teasing glance, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or, more likely, someone had a very intense evening.”

You gave them both a tired but amused look, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Let’s just say I had an… interesting night. And I’m definitely feeling it this morning.”

Before anyone could press further, Spencer strolled into the bullpen, a noticeable spring in his step. He approached your desk with a smugness that only you could truly decipher, carrying a cup of coffee like it was a trophy. With a self-satisfied grin, he placed the cup in front of you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Good morning, love,” he said, his voice laced with a warmth that made you both roll your eyes and smile.

“Morning,” you replied, reaching for the coffee, grateful for the momentary distraction.

But as Spencer straightened up, you noticed something that made your stomach flip—he had a shit-eating grin on his face. That was when it hit you: he was enjoying this. He knew exactly what the team was thinking, and he was reveling in it.

You watched him saunter over to his desk, pretending to be oblivious to the shocked whispers and side glances being exchanged across the room. But you knew better. That grin, the slight swagger in his walk—Spencer Reid was basking in the glory of his teammates’ surprise.

Morgan’s jaw dropped, and he pointed a finger at Spencer, then back at you. “Did you guys see that? I mean, I thought Reid was a little more- damn!”

Emily smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I did not see that coming. Who knew Spencer had it in him?”

JJ chuckled, giving you a look that was part admiration, part amusement. “Looks like there’s a lot we don’t know about Spencer.” She nodded, mouthing, we’ll talk about this later.

Rossi chimed in, a bemused expression on his face. “Well, you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones.”

You glanced over at Spencer, who was now seated at his desk, diligently pretending to be engrossed in his paperwork. The grin on his face, however, betrayed his true feelings—he was thoroughly enjoying the attention, playing the part of the humble genius who just happened to surprise everyone.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy. No, Spencer Reid was going to pay for that smug grin, just not today. And probably not tomorrow. You needed to recover first, but in a few days… oh, you were going to give him his. And it would be worth the wait.

[cherrynflowergarden]

⋆𐙚𖦹 bf matt headcanons

an hiiii sorry for disappearing again😓 let me know if you want a pt 2 or nsfw version

bf!matt who becomes your designated driver. doesn't matter if you can drive and have a car; he will drive you around anywhere and everywhere.

bf!matt who keeps your lip products in his car, almost as if it's your car.

bf!matt who keeps your favourite hello kitty toy on his car dashboard.

bf!matt you lets you tie bows everywhere in his car.

bf!matt who carries you around when you're tired.

bf!matt who grumbles a bit while doing silly tik tok trends but loves it either ways.

bf!matt who loved the kiss trend. (it gave him an opportunity to get unlimited kisses from his favourite person.)

bf!matt who loves to call you his girl.

bf!matt who is not a fan of pda but constantly has a arm around you.

bf!matt who wants you after any minor inconvenience.

"baby please i need you im dying"

"matt my love you just tripped over a rock"

bf!matt who swears he hates to be teased by his brothers and friends about but secretly loves it.

bf!matt who is socially awkward and lets you do the talking.

"excuse me, you got his order wrong!"

"can you let me how much this costs?"

"sorry to say, but matt is quite busy on the 25th. if you want we can reschedule the event. thank you!"

bf!matt who is listener. he listens to all of your endless talks. he can never get bored of your yapping.

bf!matt who has a girls night with you every weekend. he'll spend the entire night talking and bitching about people in the city with you.

bf!matt who loves gossiping. he knows all the tea. he also remembers who did what, who's dating who, who has beef with who, who fucked their bestfriend's ex and when. basically he is very much interested in the drama.

bf!matt who loves to cuddle you. anytime you're lying in his bed, he needs you in his arms. or needs to snuggle in your neck or chest.

bf!matt who gets his best sleep only when he's sleeping on your chest.

"but baby i love my personal pillow, so soft and all mine"

bf!matt who gets your favourite flowers everytime you two go on a date.

bf!matt who's not an aggressive person but will pick up a fight with anyone who makes his girl uncomfortable.

"that guy keeps weirdly staring at you, be right back gonna pluck his eyes out"

"mattew please!"

bf!matt who hates the word 'mattitude' but doesn't mind that coming from you.

"matt please your mattitude is showing"

bf!matt who continuously eats his brothers' ears off talking about you.

bf!matt that brings you up in every possible conversation.

"ohoo yn would like this"

"my girl loves this restaurant, let me get something packed for her"

"yn does that too!"

"dude can you not talk about her?"

"no tf?"

bf!matt who's genuinely surprised and happy everytime you get him something, be it flowers, his favourite drink, handmade cards or gift. he's absolutely starstruck.

bf!matt who's mesmerized seeing you in his clothes. he loves the way his shirt looks on you.

bf!matt who'll sometimes pick your nails or design or nails.

bf!matt who gets matching nails with you.

bf!matt who will make sure to pay for your nails.

bf!matt who lets you colour his tattoos when you're bored.

bf!matt who got a tattoo for you just three months into the relationship.

bf!matt with whom you have a matching tattoo.

bf!matt who knows he'll marry you.

[shrimpybbq]

so I was reading one of ur high school gf au posts and what about after a fun night with rafe and his back is all red and scratched up bc of ur night together and maybe some teasing rafe from the guys

“rafe wandering around the house with his shirt off, forgetting about the red scratch marks down his back - he just makes her feel so good she can't help it. he only smirks if anyone comments”

oh this is so yummy bc you know rafe is wandering around the pool, maybe a little bit drunk and the sun starts to come out. he just wants to feel the sun on his skin and so he takes his shirt off, only to hear whoops and hollers from kelce and topper. he’s so confused, which the boys understand from his expression, so topper decides to help him out a bit.

“good night, huh rafe?”

at that, rafe became even more confused. good night? it was just a normal night for him, wasn’t it? kelce takes the opportunity to join in, loving the opportunity to tease his friend for once.

“man, you look like you got attacked or some shit! bro, your back is raw,” he exclaims.

oh yeah, that’s what he was up to last night, rafe recalls to himself. so what he has a healthy sex life, he thinks. he makes his girl feel good, enough that she can’t contain herself. really, the scratch marks are the tame side. usually, he prefers her to bite into his shoulder if she can’t take it, loving the way she clings to him like a lifeline as she cums, but she still seems to enjoy dragging her nails down his back more often than not.

“haha, very funny. you losers are just jealous because you’re not getting any, huh?” rafe retorted. he couldn’t hide the smirk on his face, always pleased to know how good he made his girl feel. the smug grin he was known for shone brightly to his friends.

“oh i’m getting some, but you - i see why you’ve got two kids man, you’re giving it to her good!” kelce continued, his tone growing more sleazy as he looked to gain a bigger reaction out of rafe, “you fuck her like a whore all the time or what man? she’s scratchi-”

rafe saw topper turn to kelce, trying to intervene before rafe could wreak havoc but he was too late. rafe had crossed over to where kelce sat, gripping the chain around his neck tightly. he was face to face with the younger boy now, furious gaze boring into his skull.

“you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, ok kelce? you don’t talk about her like that or you’re gonna be running home to your mom with a broken fucking jaw,” rafe spat, his voice low and filled with unbridled contempt, “you understand?”

“yeah shit man, sorry. my bad, i won’t do it again.”

“good,” rafe said, delivering a mocking pat to kelce’s cheek as he returned to stand. he faced the pool for a moment before diving in, the refreshing water soothing his anger. as he was underwater, topper shot kelce a look - everyone knew not to talk about rafe’s girl like that, and now, kelce had been reminded exactly why. as kelce shot back a confused look, topper could only slump back on his recliner, an exasperated sigh leaving his mouth. rafe was a lover boy at heart, but he was still hot headed and dangerous when he wanted to be - and today they were reminded of that.

I got a bit carried away with this but I hope you like it! Rafe is such a simp and he wouldn’t stand for anyone, even his friends, badmouthing his girl.

[signedkoko]

HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???

Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?

THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

-🐚

Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.

When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed

You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face

It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow

You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way

He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord

Truly a shame

You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged

Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort

But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you

You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice

The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you

Something about it was so familiar

J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R

When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing

Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device

Unless you did it just for him?

R-K-J-E-R-K-J

" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "

Y-O-U

Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk

And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method

One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display

Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw

" COMATOSE. "

You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious

Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!

But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel

He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that

Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them

Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before

But he'd never heard of something like yours

Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle

You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved

Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures

After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!

While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you

From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction

Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled

He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear

But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with

Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to

Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of

Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites

The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you

But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats

" Silence. "

From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking

The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left

Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!

Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?

YOUR POWERS DID THAT???

He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too

Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[barcaatthemoon]

make a move || fridolina rolfo x reader ||

frido's teammates convince her to make the first move with you.

mapi snickered as she watched frido watching you. it couldn't have been a mistake that you almost always found yourself near their bench whenever you came to report on their games. you had always loved the sport, and barcelona was your favorite team. it was why you had initially jumped at every opportunity to report on the women's team. you still loved the game, but admittedly, you also had developed quite a crush on a certain swedish player.

"what is so funny?" alexia asked as she glanced at her friend. mapi pointed at frido, who was staring at you like she was head over heels. the two of you had spoken several times over the course of her time in spain, and the whole team had caught onto her feelings for you. "she's wearing that dress frido likes."

"trust me, she definitely noticed. isn't that right fridolina?" mapi teased. frido reluctantly tore her eyes away from you to glare at mapi. "(y/n) looks good in that dress. it does wonders for her ass."

"careful, frido can fight," ingrid warned. mapi didn't listen and continued to tease, earning herself a water bottle thrown her way. their antics continued throughout the end of the game, just a small distraction that you could see from the corner of your eye as you reported on the end of the game. the team began to file onto the field to celebrate, which was when you took your opportunity to speak with frido.

"excuse me, miss rolfo, do you have a moment to talk about the game?" you asked. frido let out a small sigh as she heard mapi and alexia laughing behind her.

"for you, i have as many as you need," frido said. you blushed at her words. years of media training had never stood a chance against the charming swedish woman. every single time that you interviewed frido, you felt like a bumbling idiot. some of your co-workers had noticed this, but the players that you interviewed liked you quite a bit and always let you interview them no matter what, so nobody said anything.

"thank you. congratulations on the win and successful header in the corner. i know that it's definitely my contender for goal of the match. what was going through your head today?"

"we're coming in as champions, and this first game is just a taste of what's to come for the rest of the season. everybody has been working hard, and we all just wanted to show that today," frido answered. the two of you continued your interview, and once it was finished, you reluctantly let her go and found more players to speak with. after about 30 minutes, you were finished with post-game interviews and your crew began to pack up their things.

"go on, they're getting ready to leave. this is your chance," ingrid said as she pushed frido towards you. the blonde felt like a baby deer as she tried to walk casually over towards you. luckily for her pride, your back was turned as you chatted with a young fan.

"ahem, excuse me, do you have a minute?" frido asked as she noticed your conversation come to an end. you stood up and looked at her, more than a little surprise she came over to talk after the cameras were done rolling.

"i guess i could find a few for you." you were definitely flirting with her, but were doubtful that it would amount to anything. flirting with frido was nothing new for you, and it always ended up the same way. you never went on any dates or saw each other outside of the football stadiums.

"good, i was hoping that maybe after this we could meet somewhere. i don't know if you have much work to do after this, but tonight, the girls will all be out at a bar. maybe i could get your number and let you know which one? i bet you could get some pretty interesting quotes." frido was trying very hard, and you appreciated the obvious effort.

"i would like that a lot." you scribbled your number on the back of one of your business cards. "the ones on the front are for the channel, but my personal one is on the back. feel free to call or text me for other things, i hear that i'm great dinner company."

"well, i can't drink on an empty stomach. does 7 sound okay?" frido asked. she felt like her lungs couldn't quite pull in enough air, but you were smiling at her, so she must have been doing something right.

"perfect, i look forward to dinner and a few drinks. it's a date," you said. frido swallowed nervously as she nodded, and she swore she was going to pass out when you leaned in and kissed her cheek.

…

"you know, it isn't too late for us to just turn around and go somewhere else," frido offered as the two of you turned down the street the bar was on. your dinner date had been nice. in terms of first dates, it was one of the best ones you'd been on. the restaurant was nice, frido was great company, and everything was just casual enough to keep you out of your own head.

"that sounds nice, but i'm kind of excited to see what everybody is like off of the field. and don't worry, i'm not going to be collecting any quotes," you told her. frido sighed and pouted at you, which nearly did get you to agree to go somewhere else, but one of her teammates spotted the two of you.

"about fucking time! do you know how long we've been waiting for you to get over here?" you had met claudia a couple of times before, mostly from your coverage from the barcelona b-team games. she had always been one of your favorites to interview, despite how difficult it could be to get to actually answer your questions.

"oh good, they're waiting for us," frido grumbled. you rolled your eyes as you grabbed frido's hand and led her into the bar. the patrons were mostly the players, and they all turned their heads to look at you when you walked inside. frido was quick to pick out a spot with some of the quieter girls and led you over to join her. "what can i get you to drink?"

"a manhattan if they have it. if not, just a shot of vodka," you told her. frido looked surprised by your choices, but didn't say anything. you had been a bit of a partier at university, so you knew that you could handle anything. the drink thing was also a good test of your dates because the last thing you wanted was someone who was overly judgemental.

frido left and came back just a couple moments later with your manhattan. she had something clear for herself that she took a sip of as she slid in next to you. it was a bit awkwardly cramped until you moved her arm around your shoulders. the two of you sat there with two of her teammates, marta and caroline, who were more than happy to sit out some of the more rambunctious activities of the night.

"do you dance?" you asked as you noticed more of the team move onto the dance floor.

"not really, no. you can go if you'd like to though," frido answered. she started to move out of the booth, but you held onto her to keep her next to you.

"no, it's fine. i'm having fun like this. i'm a little too sober to dance by myself."

…

"do you have to go all the way to madrid?" frido whined. you had your bags packed for your weekend in madrid. the weekend was full of games for both the women's and men's leagues, and your boss wanted you at all of them. it was a big step, and while it was a lot of work, you were more than ready for it.

"yes, i do, and while i would love to stay and enjoy your bye week with you, i have to go. don't miss me too much, okay? i have to go, my cab will be here any minute," you said. frido grumbled, but sat up to give you a proper goodbye hug and kiss anyway.

the two of you were a few months into your relationship and it felt unreal. you loved frido, you were sure of it, even if you hadn't said it yet. you hoped that frido loved you too, and a part of you knew that you wouldn't feel this way if she didn't. everything was too strong to just be coming from one direction.

"text me before you get on the plane and when you land. then, if you feel up to it, give me a call at the hotel? this feels like an awful long time to be away from you." frido cupped your cheeks in her hands and leaned down to kiss you. without your heels, you felt so small next to her. you had never really realized how much of an edge those gave you when standing around athletes all day.

"i will, i promise. see you monday night, love you," you said as you stepped out of frido's apartment. you hadn't even realized what you said until you were in the car and riding towards the airport. you were terrified to look at your phone, but when you did, you couldn't stop smiling from frido's message.

*'i love you too <3'

[silversurfersx]

Beautiful Man

jenson button × platonic!reader × lando norris

-in which lando is a snitch

mentioning to lando who you thought was the most beautiful f1 driver might have been a mistake

Being friends with Lando has it's ups and downs, one good thing was meeting Max Farewell and one bad thing was Lando itself. Now not to mistake the absolute joy in person Lando represents, bringing a smile to your face on several occasions, but that boy could talk. And how he loved to do exactly that.

Having an interview session with Jenson Button gave him exactly that opportunity. And with newly revealed information he just couldn't help himself. He didn't even know when it slipped out of how it came up, but it did. The fact that you were in fact standing right between him and Jenson didn't matter.

"Oh, did you know that Y/N thinks you are the hottest F1 driver." He announced smiling cheekily. His boyish face lightened up with a teasing expression. Your divers senses locked in when you realised the words and your head shot over at him. Your eyes wide and mouth agape, while you head a deep laugh from beside you, clearly coming from Jenson.

"Lando!" You called out. "What the fuck, mate?"

Joining into Jenson's laughter the british men found the whole thing hilarious, completely opposite to you, who didn't know what to feel or think. For a moment embarrassment was all that filled you, but then you became achingly aware that people were staring and if you made it embarrassing now, it would be haunting you for a lot longer than if you just pretended and played it cool.

"I mean, I take it as a compliment." Jenson said smirking at you. Playfully you shook your head, shaking off the embarrassment and turned to Lando.

"See what you did there, Lan? Now he's getting all cocky." You said in mock seriousness pointing at Jenson next to you, getting more laughs from him and Lando. You too chuckled lightly.

"How is it my fault, I was just quoting you?" Lando argued hand on his heart as you pusred your lip. "I did not say he was the hottest driver. I just said that I thought he was the most beautiful one. I mean have you seen his face?"

Jenson only smirked more at the continuing compliments, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. From the corner of your eye you saw exactly that and a sense of regret build up in you. You could have just let the whole tying go, but as often you spoke before you thought, riding yourself further in the embarrassing situation.

Groaning internally you cursed yourself out for all the things you just said. On the outside though you tried to stay strong and not let the situation get to you. The blush on your cheeks didn't agree with your internal desicion.

"Lando, I think we should stop before Y/N dies from embarrassment. And although I am quite flattered by your very truthful confession, I think that we should probably move on." Jenson said, noticing your blushing cheeks and Lando's cheeky look as he looked at you.

"Yes!" You said almost all to eager. "Thank you Jenson!"

"Also, I am sadly in fact already married." The blonde added just to put a bit more oil in the fire of embarrassment. Groaning you put a hand on your face, hiding behind it, as Jenson chuckled and Lando giggled at you embarrassment.

But Lando wouldn't be yone of our best friends, if he didn't have something else to add. "Oh she knows. She had a funeral for the posters of you in her room when she found out."

It was a quick reaction from your side that resulted in you knocking your microphone into Lando's jewels. Smiling at the groan of paing coming from him before you turned towards Jenson who didn't quite know how to feel.

"He is lying about that part. I never had a poster of you in my room, I swear on my car." You announced to him, eyes wide a expression all serious. You needed to keep at least some of your pride. And Lando was in fact lying, about the funeral, not the posters, that was a lie from you.

Jenson looked over at Lando, holding a hand in front of the spot you hit his face in a grimace. Complementing about your possible reactions, Jenson just agreed. "I don't doubt a word you say."

He did, but he didn't say that.

[cyberpunkgyu]

Confidence Is Key - P.SH

pairing: quiet sunghoon x quiet fem reader!

genre: romance, fluff

warnings: none!

a/n: i have so many drafts, so here is another one :) i don’t know how to feel about this one though, but hope you guys like it!

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

“i have a girlfriend.” is what came out of sunghoon’s mouth as a girl tried to ask for his number.

the thing is, he didn’t have a girlfriend. he is single by choice, but jay would tease him about it. “you got no game bro.” he would say.

sunghoon is very well known in the university, however, he isn’t much of a talker and likes his alone time. he is known as the “quiet one” out of his friend group, which includes jay, jake, and heeseung. don’t get him wrong, he loves his friends, but he also loves how relaxing it is when he’s by himself.

which is why he is currently about to go in the movie theater, by himself, about to watch oppenheimer. he already got himself a bucket of popcorn with a drink of lemonade, ready for some alone time. however as he walked through the hallway of the cinema, a girl, who seemed around his age, approached him, with her friends watching her from behind.

although he told her about him having a girlfriend (sunghoon’s go to excuse), the girl for some reason still won’t leave him alone. she was fluttering her eyes, obvious that she was checking him out.

coincidentally as he glanced behind him, he saw you walk towards his direction, and it looked like you were alone as well, but you haven’t noticed him yet.

“there she is!” he let out an awkward laugh, gulping at what he was about to do. “ynnie!”

you looked up, not expecting someone to call your name, recognizing sunghoon, who is in one of your classes this semester. and did he just call you, ynnie?

you looked at him confused before glancing back at the girl who had a scowl on her face. “come on, the movie is about to start, wouldn’t want to miss it.” as he got closer to you, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you in one of the nearest theater rooms, desperate to escape from the girl he encountered.

you followed him without any questions, not having enough time to react due to the sudden interaction. you both sat down in the middle aisle, watching him glance behind him, not even realizing he was still holding onto you.

“finally.” he muttered under his breath, finally being able to relax.

“uh.” you cleared your throat, snapping him out of his head. “shit, i’m sorry.” he finally let go of your wrist, weirdly missing the warmth of his hand.

“sorry about that, i-uh,” he continued, but for some reason unable to form his words. who is he kidding, the person he’s been crushing on is right in front of him!

you shook your head, an indication that it was no big deal. “it’s okay.” you gave him a reassuring smile and was about to glance down at his movie ticket, but he quickly hid it away.

“the movie is about to start.” he quickly said, holding the popcorn on his lap. he didn’t want you to see that he was supposed to be in the other theater room, for oppenheimer. when was he ever going to have the opportunity to be with you? this was his chance.

you looked so pretty. with your pink outfit, for obvious reasons. your hair was tied with a pink ribbon, loving how some of your hair were framing your face. on the other hand, he was wearing a dark outfit, again, because he was going to watch a movie very opposite of barbie.

little did he know, you did saw a glimpse of his ticket, when he was looking away earlier, knowing already. you can’t help but smile to yourself, fiddling with your fingers, feeling a bit shy.

both of you are now immersed in the movie, sunghoon glancing at you every now and then. he loves the reaction you showed as you watched the movie, mumbling softly, your eyebrows doing all sorts of movement, your bottom lip sticking out. you looked so cute that he just wants to squeeze your cheeks! of course he’s not going to do that, not right now at least.

your arm would brush against sunghoon’s every now and then during the movie, both of you blushing like crazy. sunghoon felt his heart beating so fast that it felt like it was going to bust out of his chest!

soon the movie finished, feeling as if time just snapped. why did that felt so quick? he hasn’t even interacted with you like he hoped would happen.

you two walked out of the theater room, surrounded by a crowd, causing the two of you to bump into each other. this made sunghoon wrap his arm across your shoulder, both of you making your way through the crowd, wanting to prevent you from being crushed. it felt natural for him to do that he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

your cheeks felt as if they were on fire. both of you were so close that sunghoon’s sweet scent filled your nose. hopefully he can’t hear how loudly your heart is beating. it felt like it was about to burst! he felt so warm against you, and although it was summer, his warmth made you comfortable.

you both soon found the door outside the cinema, feeling the refreshing cold breeze, in contrast to the warm one earlier before walking in the cinema.

“well, that movie wasn’t so bad.” he said, now facing you, glad that he could still see you a little bit with the horrible lighting from the lamppost.

your eyes sparkled even through the dark night, seeing his cute little fangs as he smiled at you. “yeah, i had a great time with you, even though we didn’t really talk much.” you let out an airy laugh, “maybe we can do that again? and watch the movie you were supposed to watch?”

his eyes widened, lips parting. “huh? how did you know?”

“sorry, i might’ve seen your ticket. you know you didn’t have to stay with me there, sorry if i kept you-” you started, feeling slightly guilty as you thought about it.

“no, no. don’t be sorry. i wanted that. i mean, it was a chance for me to spend time with you.”

your cheeks heated up, feeling absolutely fluttered at the confession. damn, where did he get that confidence. sunghoon actually talking to a girl? jay would be proud.

“well, i’m accepting that offer of yours. you can’t take it back now.” he bit his lip, preventing himself from smiling so widely, waiting for your response.

a smile now painted on your lips, you nodded, “maybe we can go somewhere after too, and get to know each other?”

sunghoon felt his ears turning red, not being able to hide his smile anymore. “i’d love that.” he then pulled his phone out of his pocket before holding it out for you, looking at you admiringly.

you punched in your number, biting your bottom lip as you then typed in your name before handing it back to him.

‘ynnie ♡’

a cute giggle came from sunghoon, his little dimple popping out. you curiously tilted your head as you watched him type something, seeing him glance at you and then back to his phone. he held his phone to show you what he did, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

‘pretty girl ynnie ♡’

both of you all of the sudden got shy with each other, just smiling to one another. “um, see you soon then? i should probably go now.” you fiddled with your fingers, seeing the bus has arrived at the terminal by the cinema.

he glanced to where you were looking at before nodding, “of course. i’ll walk you there.”

the two of you walked to the terminal, your hand slightly brushing against sunghoon’s. you stopped by the door of the bus and faced the cute boy, who was already looking back at you.

“thank you for tonight.” there was a moment of silence before you suddenly felt a boost of confidence. sunghoon looked so soft and you couldn’t help but kiss his cheek without any warning, feeling him freeze at the sudden contact. his lips parted, his smile widening.

you waved at him before quickly hopping in the bus, making your way to the middle, sitting by the window where you see him step back, watching the door of the bus now closing. the boy typed something on his phone and the next thing you know, you hear your phone buzzing.

unknown number: this is sunghoon :) text me when you get home, yeah? stay safe pretty.

you looked back up and nodded at him through the window, waving once again. he waved back, watching the bus driving off.

oh my god. what just happened? you thought to yourself, now pressing your palms onto your cheeks, feeling how warm it is. looking back down at your phone, you start typing.

reply to pretty boy sunghoon: text me once you get home too! :)

sunghoon skip his way through the parking lot, not caring how some people were looking at him weirdly as he passed by. he is happy. he got to talk to his crush! and now he already has a second date?! he felt like he was dreaming, and he can’t wait to see you again. his pretty girl. well, not yet. but soon.

-

bonus:

“ah! i don’t know what to wear.” sunghoon groaned, his hands resting on top of his head, pacing back and forth in his room, jay who was leaning against sunghoon’s door watches the boy in distress.

“damn. i’ve never seen him like this. he is truly whipped huh?”

“you know he can hear you right?” heeseung shook his head before going back to his game, being in the living room, which is in front of sunghoon’s room.

“i don’t know, pretty sure all he’s thinking about is yn.” jay purposely says your name clearly and loudly, making sunghoon snap out of his thoughts. “yn? did you say yn?”

“oh my god… he’s gone crazy.”

[pupyuj]

okay hear me out... nerd!annyeongz (g!p) who take the reader to pound-town for teasing them🤭🤭

[new anon unlocked!]

-🐶

lordt apologies to 🐶 anon IT'S BEEN LIKE... MONTHS?! 😭 this ask was collecting mold in my drafts omg BUT EHE i'm lucky i had some stuff on it so i can just continue where i left off :DD this is gonna be a bit long too so bear with me ya’llll 😭✊

you weren't their bully, per se... but you would be lying if you said that you didn't make fun of them every once in a while 🤭 they just looked like the biggest losers ever, how could you not? 😭 baggy sweatpants, big hoodies, thick glasses, noses glued to their textbooks, always scribbling something in their notebooks... but at least wonyoung knew how to style herself, yujin was fucking hopeless! and you always made sure she knew,, either by making fun of her outfit for that day, her messy hairdo, and the rugged way she carried herself around the halls... you're always on yujin's ass for no reason 😒😒

and then there's wonyoung who could totally climb on the very top of the social hierarchy if she so wanted to. she was extraordinarily pretty, moderately rich, can definitely fight bcs you were always impressed with how stingy her side-eye is, but she wants to stick with her loser best friend 🙄 stupid girl...

seeing them together always made you excited bcs they were your daily dose of serotonin, for all the wrong reasons! but the thing doesn't happen until you catch them alone in a mostly empty classroom one day, huddled up in the back corner engaged in casual chatter with their textbooks and notebooks cluttered on their desks as usual... you were bored so you decided to pay them a visit!

"you know yujin, i always wondered—" you rudely interrupted their conversation, earning the usual frowns you get from them whenever they see you. ugh wonyoung was so cute glaring at you since you were once again attacking her bff just for the fun of it,, yujin was even cuter. head hanging low, fidgeting with the cuffs of her sleeves... but god she looked pathetic :(( "—how you would look without these..." you pulled yujin's glasses off her face before either of them could react,,

DSKHKSMVK your breath getting caught in your throat after seeing yujin without her glasses??? "well damn.. who knew you could be so sexy, ahn?" you teased, licking your lips and shooting the tall girl a suggestive look bcs she genuinely did look fucking hot???? "you should keep this look! or else you'll never get laid! that's gonna be a waste of that big dick." ofc that was the one thing about yujin that was appealing to you :((

🫠 wony being the one that gets the courage to stand up, trying to snatch yujin's glasses back but you raised up it in the air, laughing and just being a little shit 😭😭 it was funny until you found your ass backed up against their desk, now wonyoung looked intimidating bcs of how much she towered over you and that scary little glare she had on 😰 “leave unnie alone. this is the first and last time i’ll ask.” see now that made you laugh again! she was intimidating, sure, but oh her face was just too cute! and you couldn’t take her seriously when she wore that stupid sweatshirt with the university mascot on it! she even matched with yujin! “what are you gonna do? punish me?” you teased, tilting your head and giggling.. you were so annoying 😭

and then wonyoung sneaks her knee in between your thighs, shutting you up immediately bcs now she was wayyy too close 🫣 “that’s a great idea actually. i always wanted to know if the ‘campus whore’ deserved her title.” whoawhoawhoa 😳😳 you wouldn’t even be able to spit back since wony raises her knee and presses it against your cunt! and ofc you whimpered… and ofc wony doesn’t waste the opportunity to grab your hair from behind and force you to look up at her… “unnie, you wouldn’t believe how wet she is.” wonyoung tells yujin, dark eyes locked onto yours while she slowly moved her thigh… 😵‍💫

“i-i wanna feel too…” yujin was quick to put her hands on you! bcs in truth, even when you're so horrible and straight up rude to her, she secretly gets off to you 💔💔 she’s kinda creepy with it too… stalking your social medias, admiring your pics and jacking off to them from time to time… and every time you’re all up in her face being a bitch all she can think about is using your mouth and filling it up with her load… maybe she’ll get that chance today! 🤤🤤 while wony’s making your ride her thigh, yujin has already ripped your uniform open and pulled your bra down to fondle your tits with her shaking hands… god she was so clumsy! 🙄 (she has never touched a girl in her life, give her a break!)

and both of them make their little dreams come true with their favorite position: yujin seated on a chair while you’re deepthroating her as you’re bent over with wonyoung pounding your tight ass with her own monster of a cock 🫣🫣 you couldn’t believe that the two losers filled you up better than any of the guys or the hot girls you fucked before.. it was almost humiliating how into it you were! allowing the dumb virgin ahn yujin to grab the back of your head and move you up and down her length.. she was so obnoxiously loud that people wandering around the halls probably heard her 😳 and then there was wonyoung who clearly had a lot of anger to express towards you! ramming her cock in your hole and driving herself crazy with how well you can take both of them! fuck, if she was petty enough she could get you pregnant… but that was a mission for another day 🤭 for now she needed her revenge, and that she will get, that’s for sure! 🫢

poor yujinnie who’s too caught up in the feeling that she practically forces her cum down your throat.. she doesn’t hear your gags or feel how you’ve drawn blood on her thigh with your sharp nails 😣 “f-fuck… yujin-unnie, y-you have to fuck her for real… so fucking tight i can’t believe it.. ah!” ugh being talked about as if you were some kind of toy by jang wonyoung of all people was degrading by her voice was unnaturally high-pitched and whiny.. she (and yujin) was so cute and this all felt too good to fight against! 😵‍💫

and that was how the two biggest losers(?) of the campus got their way with the school whore with the big mouth 🤭 they may or may not have kept you in the classroom for a couple hours more.. just fucking you to their hearts’ content.. and it got even more fun when you ended up feeling like you didn’t have enough of them and invited them to your dorm room.. 😳

[verstappensrealwife]

Club Lights - Lando Norris x Reader

fluff, ¿angst?

approx 1200 words

READER IS FROM MANCHESTER + FRIENDS WITH ANGRY GINGE

warnings: mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of kissing and sex- nothing 18+. I tried to use more speech :s

lando norris masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

Lando was streaming fortnite with Morgan (AngryGinge), Max (F), and Filly, when he said something that caused more than laughter from Morgans end of the call.

“Y/n, god bless her heart, is not my girlfriend.” Ginge had to quickly say before any misconceptions were thought.

“But- I- You were linking arms all throughout the time you were in Monaco?” Lando replied, a look of confusion and disbelief on his face. “Prove she isn’t. Call her right now!”

Ginge simply shrugged and grabbed his phone, scrolling his contacts and landing on you.

It rung twice before your voice- on speaker- was played down Morgan’s mic.

“What do you want?”

“Fuck me, wanna be a bit nicer.”

“No, not really…” There was a pause where no one said anything, “Well what do you want, Morgan? I am busy!”

“I love you,” He was trying to bait you.

You laughed loudly- so loud the mic cut out a few times- “Have you drank? Call your girlfriend not me!” You chuckled before hanging up on him.

Ginge stared blankly at his camera, knowing Lando was watching. “Was that enough proof, Lando?”

Lando ignored him, although very satisfied,  “So~ Who’s your girlfriend Ginge?”

—

A few weeks later, Morgan extended another invitation to Monaco, which you eagerly accepted, thrilled at the prospect of a free trip. Upon meeting up at Manchester Airport, Morgan was relentless with his vlogging, capturing every moment up close—from your reunion at the terminal, to boarding the plane, takeoff, the in-flight experience, landing, and even baggage claim. Every opportunity he had, his camera was practically shoved up your nose.

When Lando arrived to pick you both up, Max was also recording, documenting Lando for his own channel. It was impossible to miss—especially for you—the way Lando looked at you with literal heart-eyes as you stepped out of the Nice-Côte d’Azur airport in the south of France.

"Good morning!" you cheerfully greeted, pulling your suitcase behind you with a coffee in hand.

Lando could barely muster a response, causing Max to chuckle behind the camera. Lando's attention was entirely on you during the drive to the hotel, to the point where he nearly crashed.

Your hotel room was charming, featuring a large bed, a stylish bathroom with a huge mirror, and a lovely view of the Monaco streets.

Unsurprisingly, Lando was quick to offer his assistance, suggesting he come up to your room to "help unpack and whatever."

You smiled gratefully as Lando heaved your 15kg case up the flight of stairs to your room, his muscles straining with the effort. "Thanks, Lan," you said, flashing him a warm smile. "I really appreciate it."

"It's nothing, I'd do it all over again for you," he replied, a deep blush creeping up his neck. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "You don't have a boyfriend, right?"

You shook your head, no, and a heavy silence settled between you, tinged with disappointment that he didn't continue to speak.

Lando began helping you put your clothes into the wardrobe, his hands moving deftly until he reached your underwear. Suddenly, he seemed paralyzed, his eyes darting around the room, trying to look anywhere but at the intimate garments.

"Lando, I googled you. I know you're not shy about seeing people's underwear," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

"Hey!" he retorted, his face flushing even redder. "You shouldn't believe everything you see!"

You gave him a pointed look. "You believed I was sleeping with Morgan..."

He huffed in frustration. "Rightly so... I mean I would—" He abruptly stopped, his words hanging in the air.

"What, you'd sleep with Morgan?" you laughed, but the humor faded as you saw the mortified expression on his face. Lando looked utterly flustered, as if he wished the ground would swallow him whole.

You stopped laughing, suddenly aware of the tension. His eyes were wide, nervous, and embarrassed, almost traumatized by what he had just admitted... out loud... in front of the girl he was clearly talking about.

"Oh, right," you said, your voice trailing off. You knew exactly what you wanted to say, but the words caught in your throat. You desperately wanted to kiss him right then and there.

"I—sorry—erm," he stammered, his voice shaky. "I'll talk to you later."

He moved faster than the cars he drove, practically fleeing from your hotel room, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

Later that night, Morgan waited outside your door, poised to dive into the allure of Monegasque nightclubs. You adorned a stunning, shimmering top paired with elegant black trousers, exuding understated glamour. Sharing an Uber, the anticipation built, though Lando was initially nowhere to be found. However, Max had secured a booth, complete with a large pitcher of an enticing orange cocktail, surrounded by a few unfamiliar faces.

One drink in, Lando sauntered over and playfully collapsed into the booth beside you. His hair, slightly tousled, added to his charming dishevelment. Clad in a simple jean-top combo and a watch that undoubtedly cost more than your annual rent, he exuded effortless style. The club thrummed with energy, the pulsating strobe lights and the dance-club remix of Nelly Furtado's "Say It Right" filling the air.

Lando's drunken smile was captivating, his eyes locked onto yours, his skin aglow under the club lights, making him look irresistibly beautiful. "Hi," he murmured dreamily, patting your thigh a few times before resting his hand there.

"Y'alright, Lan?" you asked, amused.

"Y'alright!" he mimicked with a laugh. "I love your voice, your accent, and your face. Such a beautiful face," he slurred.

You laughed, "How many drinks have you had?"

He widened his eyes in response, silently conveying the answer: "a lot."

While the table engaged in lively conversation, Lando's attention remained on you, murmuring your name just to gaze into your eyes, often letting his eyes drift to your lips.

"Why don't you like me?" he suddenly whispered in your ear, his face inches from yours.

"I like you," you replied, confused. He frowned, indicating that wasn't what he meant. "Yeah, I like-like you. I've never said I didn't."

"Like... like you'd hold hands and kiss me?"

You smiled, "Ask me when you're sober."

The next day, you woke with only a slight nausea, the remnants of the night before. As you stepped out of the shower and dressed for the day's filming, a knock echoed through the hotel. Opening the door, you found Lando, holding a bouquet of lilies, a bright smile on his face.

"What are you doing—and how are you not hungover?" you asked, surprised.

"I drink green smoothies... Anyway, I'm here to officially ask you on a real date," he declared, "with me. Right now."

Taking the lilies from his outstretched hands, you nodded. "Yeah—let me dry my hair first, bu—"

Before you could finish, Lando grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of the room, quickly snatching your keycard from the table and shutting the door behind you. "You look beautiful, and I cannot wait any longer to not see you on a date with me. So, we are leaving. Now."

You groaned, feeling the damp ends of your hair.

"Lando!"

[lucvly]

i saw in ur matt bf headcanons thag he would love reader sitting on his lap so can u like make a story where they’re wit their friends or smth n the reader’s sitting on matt’s lap n she feels him get hard n like whispers “i hope what im feeling is ur keys” THEN LATER ON HE TAKES HER TO HIS ROOM N THEY FUCK! ☺️☺️ i hope that’s not confusing or anything

BLUE JEANS. ( matt sturniolo )

warnings › smut, exhibitionism if you squint, dirty talk, praise, slight consumption of alcohol, dom!matt (i’m a switch!matt truther guys please.)

author’s note › wrote this while listening to ldr 🤒 keep the reqs coming i have way too many but fuck it we ball !! also smut is definitely not my forte, bear with me.

› as much as you loved small get togethers with your closest friends, you weren’t sure your boyfriend and his brothers hosting one in their house was the smartest idea. you were wary of how the night would go, taking into consideration the fact that last time they hosted one of these get togethers nick and larray ended up playing beer pong on the kitchen counter, nearing a wasted state. but you still decided to attend and accompany your boyfriend, and you loved any occasion to dress up and spend time with your closest friends, so technically it was a win win situation for both of you.

showing up at their house, your doubts and wariness got pushed to the back of your head completely. your thoughts now shifting, wanting nothing more than to have a good time, some good conversations and spend time with your boyfriend and the presence of your closest friends.

“you look amazing.” you heard a voice that you could recognize anywhere as the door swung open carefully. “i’m sorry i couldn’t pick you up, princess. i had to help nick and chris put this whole thing together.”

as soon as he opened the door, a soft smile crept up onto your lips, analyzing his figure discreetly before even stepping a foot inside. he was the slightest bit sweaty, his hair messy, a lopsided smile plastered on his face as he gazed into your eyes, stepping closer to you, placing a greeting kiss on your lips as he took a hold of your waist with one hand, guiding you into the house, the other hand managing to softly close the door behind the two of you as you stepped in.

“that’s okay, you owe me though.” you teased, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, watching the smile on his face widen ever so slightly.

“fair enough.” he shrugged jokingly, a chuckle escaping his lips as he kept his arm wrapped around your waist, continuing to guide you inside.

the music was at a prudent volume, loud enough to not be able to hear anyone else’s conversations, but not soft enough as to where it became boring.

your friends were mostly all scattered across the living room, beanbags and couches filled with all your closest friends having closed conversations, laughing with red solo cups in their hands.

your boyfriend guided you towards the living room, settling one of the beanbags– and it was a given that you were sitting on his lap, his hands snaking to the sides of your waist, though one of them slid up to your stomach, rubbing up and down slightly as a gesture of comfort.

you struck up a conversation with nick who was sitting right next to you on the floor, he was telling you something about how he thought you and matt should get a room, and how he loved the skirt you were wearing today.

2:03 AM.

by the time the clock hit two in the morning, drowsiness started kicking in, though you were all in the middle of a very interesting game of truth or dare. currently madi was gasping at the names of every single one of nick’s exes, nick letting out possibly the loudest laugh.

you took the opportunity of this small break in the game to get a bit more comfortable on your boyfriend’s lap, considering you were starting to get a bit sleepy. you definitely underestimated how tricky getting comfortable in a beanbag would be, especially on your boyfriend’s lap. however, you started to shift your lower body, attempting to find a more comfortable position.

the hand that was on your waist tightened its grip ever so slightly, and the hand that was rubbing your stomach abruptly stopped its movements, a very faint noise coming out of matt’s mouth.

you were sure you were mistaken, probably the effect of the sleepiness that was starting to take over your body as you squirmed on his lap again, this time, hearing a low whisper, yet clear “fuck,” as matt attempted to play it off by clearing his throat.

you were still oblivious as to what was going through your boyfriend’s mind in that very moment, and you shifted your hips once more, finally finding a comfortable position on his lap, laying your head back on his shoulder for a bit more comfort.

this was all before you heard what you could definitely assure was a low groan from matt, followed up by both his hands resting at the sides of your hips now, gripping a bit tighter than usual. you started to feel something poking your thigh.

oh.

you slightly moved your head closer to his ear, lips close enough to softly whisper, “i hope what i’m feeling is your keys.” you spoke as you raised your eyebrows and laid your head back on his shoulder again.

“can’t help it when you’re moving like that.” he whispered back, forcing a soft laugh at some comment chris had made regarding one of the questions.

before you could even answer, your conversation was interrupted by madi, who, with a wide smile on her face, asked, “y/n, truth or dare.”

you thought for a second, though you had already mentally answered, because there was no way you were getting up when your boyfriend was gripping your hips like you’d run away at any second, and his boner was poking your inner thigh.

you teasingly sat up on matt’s lap before answering, forcing you to move your lower body again, which elicited a soft moan from him which he managed to play off as a cough. “hmm, truth.” you finally answered with a small smile, looking down at madi who was sitting right next to nick.

“hm, oh–” she paused before nick leaned over and whispered something to her followed by a fit of giggles from both of them. “where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

your boyfriend leaned his head back and loudly groaned. you could tell he was trying his best to continue playing, but the raging boner and this conversation was definitely not helping his case.

you gasped in disbelief and shifted once again to turn to look at him, causing him to let out a choked grunt he quickly covered up by clearing his throat.

“you told nick about that?!” you exclaimed, your tone filled with disbelief as your mouth was still open, in a gasping expression.

“nick, i swear to god.” your boyfriend answered, his tone being full of annoyance. he wanted nothing more but to leave, but to his dismay, he was hosting– and it would be rude to leave the guests unattended.

“do i even wanna know?” madi’s face contorted in disgust, shaking her head as nick patted her back im faux comfort.

“you don’t. trust me.” nick answered plainly, and madi required no further explanation to know that she probably shouldn’t have asked that question.

“whatever. i’m tired, i’m going to bed.” matt spoke, mainly to the rest of your friends who were still seated or laying down on the floor filled with pillows and blankets for more comfort.

“y/n, you staying?” chris asked, slightly raising his eyebrows in amusement at matt’s quick change of attitude.

“i’ll go with him, someone’s gotta take care of him.” you joked, knowing that this was definitely about to get on matt’s nerves. the double entendre was quick to affect matt, unbeknownst to anyone else except the two of you.

his hips slightly bucked up against your ass, a very low groan, almost a whimper, escaping his lips as you spoke, his hands holding onto the sides of your waist tightly, as if he were to let go, you would run away. you couldn’t deny the wetness starting to pool in your panties, a hint of redness showing up on your cheeks.

“agreed.” chris replied, though he was already distracted with another conversation madi and nick were having, incredibly loudly.

you were thankful they were all so distracted and caught up in their conversations that they couldn’t tell what was going on with you and your boyfriend. this allowed you to quickly stand up, your boyfriend standing right behind you to cover himself up, both of you making your way to his room as quickly as possible.

as soon as you walked through his bedroom door, he shut the door completely closed, quickly locking it, and before you could even let a single word out of your mouth, he was pushing you up against the wall, crashing his lips with yours, engulfing you in possibly the neediest kiss he’d ever given you. his hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as your arms wrapped around his neck, reciprocating the kiss with equal force, your tongues fighting for dominance.

“god, i need you.” he managed to whisper in between kisses, his knee making its way between your legs, up all the way to your core, earning a low gasp of pleasure from you. “wanna make you feel good.” his hands made their way to the hem of your shirt, taking a shaky breath before asking, “can i?”

“yes, please,” you whined, shakily breathing as you stared into his eyes.

he wasted no time sliding your shirt off and skillfully undoing your bra as he leaned in for another passionate kiss, his hands sliding to cup your breasts, massaging them carefully as a loud moan escaped your lips. “matt–”

he knew you too well. he knew what you wanted without even having to voice it, and he followed your pleads, his hands moving down to undo your skirt, his gaze fixed on the way the skirt you were wearing hugged your curves so perfectly in a manner that made his cock twitch in his pants.

the skirt fell to the floor, revealing the lace panties that almost made matt cum in his sweatpants, a shaky breath eliciting from his mouth as he pulled your panties to the side, two fingers dipping down to rub your juices and spread them all over your cunt, preparing you for the stretch. “atta girl.” he whispered.

this earned a hiss and a low whimper from you, the cold metal from his rings contributing to the feeling of pleasure he was causing. you were sure your legs were going to give out, and your hands now lowered to hold onto his shoulders as your mouth was open agape, letting out shaky moans.

as soon as he felt you grip his shoulders tightly, he pushed two fingers into you, causing you to let out a loud moan and a whine of his name, making his cock twitch. he waited for a split second before starting to pump his fingers with ease, your wetness making it easier for him to slip in and out of you.

he was so focused on your expressions and your pleasure, watching your face contort with desire, your eyes rolling almost to the back of your head and your mouth open, letting out the prettiest sounds. it was priceless, he wouldn’t trade this moment for the whole world, knowing how good he could make you feel with just his fingers made his brain get hazy.

“you look so pretty like this,” he pumped his fingers in and out of you quickly, speeding up his movements as you whined and whimpered. it was starting to overwhelm you, everything about it. the coldness of his rings, the speed of his fingers, the whispered praise– before you knew it a knot was forming in the lower part of your stomach.

“i’m– fuck, i’m gonna cum.” you moaned out, already focusing on reaching your high, your hips grinding onto matt’s fingers for an extra sensation of pleasure– when all of the sudden, his movements stopped abruptly.

you could’ve sworn you almost let out a loud cry, a small whine escaping your lips as you held onto his shoulders as tight as possible, your legs slightly shaking. “please,”

“i need you to cum all over my cock,” his words sent a shiver down your spine, making you even wetter if that was physically possible, a blush rising to your cheeks despite the position you were currently in.

your lips connected once again in a hungry kiss, both of you making your way towards his bed as he broke the kiss for a second to take off his shirt, quickly kissing you again with desperation. you laid back onto his bed, almost all the way back, barely reaching the headboard, not once breaking the kiss.

he pulled back for a moment to take off his sweatpants and his boxers, not very mindful of where they were going to end up— all he wanted was to feel your cunt swallow his dick whole, and that was evident with the way his dick sprung up to his stomach, already leaking precum.

you could never get used to his size, and the mere sight of his dick springing up to his stomach made you squirm, almost drooling.

“shit, look at what you do to me, princess.” he spoke in a low tone, pumping himself a few times before leaning down close to you, lining himself up with your entrance before finally pushing himself inside, earning an almost pornographic moan from you as your hands moved to his back, your fingernails digging into his skin as he gave you a moment to adjust to his size.

after a quick moment he started moving with small grunts and groans, pushing himself in and out of you, almost abusing your cunt with the pace he was going at– your moans echoed through the room, loud cries of his name being heard as he pumped his dick into you.

“please, matt–” you whined loudly, digging your nails further into his skin as he thrusted even rougher, a dragged out groan coming from his lips.

“i know baby, let go, i got you.” he cut you off by pressing his lips onto yours, sharing a sweet yet desperate kiss as one of his hands reached down to your clit, using two fingers to stimulate you even further by rubbing at a speedy pace. “c’mon, let go angel.”

“i– fuck,” you cried out, the knot in the pit of your stomach finally coming undone with a loud moan of your boyfriend’s name, your nails scratching his back, leaving him with a burning sensation he was sure was going to leave marks by the next day.

“that’s it,” he praised, continuing his thrusts as you only managed the whine at the overstimulation, feeling his thrusts get sloppier as his breaths started to become uneven and unsteady. he thrusted even rougher a few more times before finally releasing inside of you with a loud groan, collapsing beside you on his bed, both of you attempting to catch your breath for a second.

you laid in comfortable silence for no longer than a minute before matt spoke up, “i’m gonna go run a bath for us, okay?” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before standing up.

“sounds amazing.”

[divinesolas]

Hi, how are you? A Headcanon of what it would be like to be Jacaerys' second wife (Baela being the first) and to spice it up a bit, the reader being the daughter Alicent

a.n: made this a lot more angsty (even tho its like not) as intended lmao but i hope you enjoy 🫶🫶

- baela had died during childbirth, her daughter having survived

- the first time you spoke to him since his wedding was at the funeral, which he barely said more than a word to you, cradling his daughter tightly in his arms

- you two were the best of friends as children

- you have loved him since you were a young girl and was devastated to hear of their engagement

- you begged and begged your mother to betroth you to him but she continued to refuse until it had been too late

- they loved each other so much which broke your heart

- you fled westeros as soon as the wedding had ended, choosing to instead spend your days in essos trying to forget about the dark eyed prince

- yet when you return he is only more handsome then when you had left

- you stay as far away from him as possible, he was so clearly grieving and you had not wished to disturb him

- you thought that would be it so late in the night with bag and hand you try to leave only to be shocked at the sight of jacaerys standing in the empty hall, clutching his cloak around himself as he stared at you

- he begged you not to go, to return to the keep with him even if its just for a little while

- it was so clear he needed someone so you agreed with much hesitation

- you tell yourself you will only stay for a week

- then a week becomes two then two becomes a month then a month becomes a year becomes two and suddenly you are living full time in the keep

- You two become close friends and you continue pushing down that deep deep feeling in your heart as you believe he will never feel the same

- yet one night you stand in the nursery, sitting on the floor giggling with the young laena who hits the blocks against each other until jacaerys shows up

- he urges a maid to come and put laena down to bed, you insist you can do it but he asks you to stay

- that is the night he kisses you for the first time

- you stop him just as quickly believing it to be a heat of the moment act

- “i did not think you would be so cruel. you must know of my affections.”

- “i am in love with you.”

- Your wedding happens a fortnight from then

- your mother was furious, she had wished for you to marry someone, someone that was not of his kind she said

- and you blew up on her

- he had heard you and as soon as you had stormed out of the room he pulled you into a dark corridor and kissed you until your legs were shaking, for more then one reason

- his family was more then happy to welcome you into their side, you became fast friends with lucerys and joffrey and due to your experience in taking care of laena you help out with aegon and viserys which puts you in the good graces of daemon

- your family however was way more reluctant about your union, taking this opportunity to tease you about your marriage to the “strong” boy. your grandsire had even managed to corner you and attempt to pursued you to break off the engagement to which you quickly shut that down

- you did not care much for your familys feelings when you were more than happy

- your wedding went smoothly and you ended up having a mini honeymoon period in dragonstone where in a few months time you and jacaerys would be living

- when he had been informed you were pregnant three moons after your wedding he turned pale

- he even begun to flat out ignore you until you confronted him and told him you would not tolerate this and he snapped out of it

- he was scared. so scared he would have to suffer through the same pain he had those years ago but you reassured him everything would be okay

- though when you were laying on the bed covered in sweat and breathing heavily he was not too sure

- he demanded he be in the room, not allowing himself to make the same mistake as last time

- he let you grip his hand so hard he thought it would pop but it was not enough to distract him from the fear he felt as he looked at you, the women he was so in love with, in so much pain

- when cries fill the room and a babe is placed in your arms he finally allows himself to cry, you had a boy.

- He snarled at the maesters when they tried to put him in his arms first or when they asked him what he would like to name him

- he was furious at the disrespect you were facing but you did not care.

- “what about laenor?” You look up at him and smile

- he places a kiss on your forehead as he beams down at the babe. “its perfect.”

---

not tagging my perm taglist just cause this is something rlly small 😭😭

[calicoheartz]

could you do dating Caitlin and when your out some girl recognizes her and asks for pictures and reader gets a lil jealous with smut?!?!?!

Envy’s Veil ; Caitlin Clark

꣑୧ — summary | Caitlin x jealous!reader

wc ; 1.4k

— warnings | NSFW under the cut ! praise (lots of it) so much sweet tension , teasing , fingering (r! receiving)

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : the time has finally arrived for my first ever smut fic 😈 pls forgive me as it is very light as im slowly easing myself into it , buuut i hope u guys enjoy ! ◡̈

After a week of long practices and conflicting schedules, you and Caitlin decided to take some time and unwind at a local bar. The atmosphere was lively, with music playing in the background, and the sound of chatter and laughter filling your ears around you. You found a cozy booth in the corner and settled in, simply enjoying the time with your girlfriend, grateful at the opportunity to spend time with her.

As you sipped your respective drinks and continued your conversation, the brunettes eyes widened in recognition, as you saw a young woman excitedly approach your table from the corner of your eye.

“Oh my gosh! Caitlin Clark right??” the woman exclaimed, her phone already out and grasped around her hand, ready for a selfie.

Caitlin smiled softly, nodding slightly, “thats me, would you like a picture?”

The woman nodded eagerly, wrapping her arm around your girlfriend's waist and Cait stood up to pose with her. You watched from the booth, a small pang of jealousy tugging at your heart. You knew Cait was just being friendly, but you couldn't help but feel a tad bit overprotective over her. I mean, that was YOUR girlfriend, and the woman was practically throwing herself at her ???? But you couldn't help but feel a little bit insecure.

You kindly offered to take their picture, and it ended as quickly as it started. The woman gave a quick thank you, before rushing back to the booth where her friends were. But even after it was all over, you still couldn't shake the feeling of insecurity and jealousy.

Caitlin, noticing something was off, as the evening continued you seemed quiet, almost as if something was on your mind. She grabs your face, caressing your cheek softly, her other free hand wrapping her fingers against yours. She softly whispers , “hey, is everything ok?”

You give her a small, but doubtful smile. Reassuring her you were okay and just tired. For the rest of the night, you were anxiously attached to her at the hip. Whether it was asking for a few kisses every now and then, or asking to hold her hand, this definitely made the brunette aware that you were in fact, not okay. And that beneath the surface there was something bothering you, she just couldn’t figure out what.

Eventually, Caitlin couldn’t take it anymore. She gently grabbed your wrist and led you to the bar’s exit, and proceeded to drive the both of you back to your shared apartment. Among the confusement, you simply figured that the brunette had caught onto your message. But obviously you yourself were never going to mention it, it wasn’t typically like you to get jealous, plus it really wasn’t that big of a deal. All you wanted right now was to go home, get into bed, and forget that it ever even happened.

Well…that isn’t what happened.

As soon as you got home, you proceeded with your everyday nighttime routine. Beginning to slowly slip off your heels, and beginning to remove your jacket. You hadn’t really spoken much to Caitlin during the drive, and you wanted to keep it that way. The last thing you wanted her to know was how badly you wanted her to show you that she was yours, and obviously that you were even jealous to begin with.

Caitlin on the other hand, noticed your behavior (to be fair, you didn’t even try to hide it), and how you also hadn’t said anything during your drive back home. She wasn’t sure exactly how to make sure you were okay, as to her knowledge; you rarely acted like this.

You made your way to the living room and plopped onto the corner of the couch, with Caitlin following right behind you. She took a deep sigh before breaking the silence, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” your eyes widened at her sudden comment, as your fingers found their way to the hem of your blouse, you started fiddling with it slightly, only giving her a small pout in reply.

The brunette noticed this, and it immediately all clicked.

Oh. that’s why you were acting weird.

As soon she took note of this, she quickly scooched closer to you, wrapping her arms around your figure and burying her face in your neck, leaving small kisses over the piece of skin. A small moan escaped from your lips as a surprise at the sudden contact, Caitlin began tracing sweet shapes on the inside of your thigh, as she slowly whispered, “why don’t i show you how much you really mean to me, yeah?”

You nodded your head slightly, taken completely aback by her statement. But the idea of Caitlin doing anything to you in general is enough to have you completely soaked. She gently lifted you up, carrying you from the living room and into your shared bed, and softly putting you down. She had a feral look in her eye, but you knew deep down she would take good care of you. She tugged at the beautiful black fitted dress you were wearing, waiting for your approval to remove it, once she got it; she wasted no time slowly unzipping the back and gently slipping it off you. Caitlin had begun to feel your entire body, running her finger tips up and down your arms, slowly itching her way down your sides, before the began rubbing the inside of your thighs again.

You allowed a small whimper to leave your mouth at Cait’s free hand sliding down your exposed stomach, her lips kissing your neck and jawline as she allowed her fingers to wander closer and closer to your aching core.

“Do you want me to touch you here, my sweet girl?” she hummed into you, the special spot on your neck vibrating. You let out a light, but breathy moan. “Yes please, cait.” you said back, watching as her hand rested teasingly on your pussy. Your words seemed to have been good enough for her, as her palm lifted up, fingers feeling around for a certain nub.

You let out a pornographic moan when she briefly brushed against it, purposefully trying not to touch you at first. Your eyes were hazed with want, watching her long and slender fingers touch you, and only you while she sucked and kissed at your neck.

“Here?” she asked, as she slowly circled your clit with her thumb, pressing down on the nub while doing so. You let out a gasp at the sudden rush of pleasure. Your breath hitched as you let out a desperate plea for more. Two of her fingers joined together to rub you, her fingers working slowly and softly. Carefully rubbing your clit, up and down, side to side. Playing with it, toying with you-

She smiled smugly, giving you the most delicate kiss on your lips. As soon as she accumulated enough of your slick on her fingers, she wasted no time slowly prodding at your entrance, slipping 2 fingers into your core, as she listened for your reaction. She didnt have to listen very hard, as the moan you let out left her own wetness pooling in between her thighs.

Caitlin studied your face, observing the way it contorted from both the plain and pleasure, giving you enough time to adjust to the sudden pleasure before slowly pumping her fingers in and out, before quickening her pace.

“You’re doing so good for me,” she whispered sweetly, not taking her eyes off of you. “Look at you, taking me so well, just like a good girl should.”

She begins to tease you slightly, slowing her pace down and slowly rubbing your clit, but shes pushing her fingers so deep that you have to screw your eyes shut.

Caitlin knows youre sensitive, melting at slightest touch, you can feel your insides slowly begin to squeeze around her fingers, indicating that youre close.

“Yes just like that baby, come on, youre almost there” she whispers, “such a good girl, do you wanna cum on my fingers?” she asks teasingly. You eagerly nod your head, words not even daring to come our of your mouth due to the immense pleasure that youre feeling.

Your buried your head into her shoulder as you reached your high, your sweet cries muffled by the fabric of her shirt. She held her fingers in your for a couple of seconds, helping you through your orgasm; before carefully sliding them out. Your entire body shivering at the mere absence of them.

She smirked proudly, slowly bringing her fingers to her mouth before sucking them clean. A ritual she does after every time she makes you finish with her fingers.

She pulled you into a hug, kissing your head softly, “You did so good for me, good job baby”, as she gently rubbed circles onto your back.

“If that does show you how much i want you, then Im not sure what will”

omg wait that was lowkey…ok miss camiii 🫣👀 , anywhooo not sure how I feel about writing nsfw , but I will definitely keep it in mind for the future. As always , tysm for reading !

[creepy-friday]

Can I make a request? Headcanons or a little Oneshot idk of Alastor x Wife!reader? Both being couple goals like Morticia and Gómez. Being evil together, like a good old classical couple 👉👈🥺

Alastor x Wife!Reader

I can see the reader symbolic animal being a crow/bat,and being able to manipulate/manifest them in both physical and shadow form

they would get along with Alastor's manifestations,sometimes he would pet them,have them around whenever you're not since he craves presence

both of you play spooky little tricks on the other demons such as making things levitate,opening the doors,flicking the lights,it's truly amusing seeing the undead fear the ..well..undead

you would give "soft nightmares" to someone then said someone would think they're prophetic and Alastor would further convince them they are just so that they make a deal with him to keep them safe from absolutely nothing

both of you give each other the side eye everytime something happens that both of you don't agree on

he has a shadow attached to you and inevitably the said shadow would try to woo you every chance he has

the "microphone" he has also has to be a little bit oblivious at times.

Both of you sit in complete silence,just enjoying each others presence while doing your own thing then suddenly his mic opens his little eye "what a lovely couple both of you are,what were the odds for both of you to be silent in bed!" Alastor chuckles and you let out an annoyed giggle "did you hear that,dear?" you ask him,putting your chore aside.

"Of course,just don't mind him,but for real now,what were the odds?" he continues to joke about it."No.That was the sound of a fucking divorce." you joke in return making him even more flustered and talkative,getting him all touchy feely with you

for real now,the word "divorce" makes him a top comedian,cook,lover and everything in between,even if it's in the context of a joke,he wouldn't want to lose you

if your personality tends to be more introverted/melancholic he would 100% take it as a challange and would do everything in his power to get you to do something completely out of your character

he never calls you by your name(except for serious occasions/spicy ones,if you know what I mean) but rather uses pet names such as "Honey";"Dear";"Darling"; "Cara mia"

uses every opportunity to dance with you whenever a good song is playing

you don't have to be shy with him,his mischievous personality will totally use it to his benefit and tease the living hell out of you

I have this lil' headcanon that if the both of you are listening in to a conversation and if you can't hear,he would manifest some old headphones to hear better "here you go,darling"

"Husk is adorable" you sing,trying to pet the man in question "Well,I say he looks completely utterly miserable!Of course you find him adorable!" Alastor laughs,bringing his one sided friend closer to your reach

asks your opinion on every important decision he has to make even if he is already sure about what to do.If you have a different view on it he will definitely reconsider

Angel Dust would be all sighs,puffs and "get a room" just because the two of you do simple romantic gestures such as Alastor's gentlemanly behaviour of kissing your hand and such

Vaggie's tolerance of Alastor drops to 0,but she adores enjoys your presence.She wishes both of you would have more time together but your husband always needs to barge in and annoy the living hell out of her.Alastor doesn't really likes her so he wouldn't want you around her that much

dark humour that leaves everyone poker face except the two of you

he doesn't except much from you tbh,just the same old love to be reciprocated