#I do usually try to catch up in the afternoons but today I have too many errands to run :/

[edward-munson]

kissing the cold away | E.M.

Summary: Eddie always visits you at the coffee place during his breaks, ordering the same drink every day.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!reader

Word count: 1.6k

No warnings

❆☕︎

Eddie walked in the coffee place, trying to warm his hands that were almost hard as rock from the cold. It was snowing outside, and he was on his break.

The Hideout was in the same street as your work. He would always come to get coffee whenever he was free in the afternoon. It was always almost by 4 pm. The bell above the door rang and you looked at it, facing him. He was wearing a black beanie, leather jacket on top of a sweater and ripped jeans. God. He can never let go of his style, even when it's freezing cold.

He sits on the stool close to the espresso machine. He loved the smell of it. He loved the smell of it mixed with your perfume, actually. And it's probably something he could never admit out loud. You turn around and shoot him a warm smile. One that makes your eyes crinkle. He smiles back at you and crosses his arm on top of the counter.

"What can I get you today, nerd?"

He grabs the menu from the counter and lifts it up to his face. You roll your eyes. He pretends he's reading the list of coffee options. You know he just likes to drink cold brew with almond milk. You don't know how or why. Even if it's not that, he just chooses a Frappuccino instead. You think it's because it's warm inside, because how else would he drink that outside? Might as well just pick up the snow from the floor and make a snow cone.

"Uhhhh" He stalls, purposely. "I'm going to want a cold brew with almond milk. And please add extra ice"

You gasp. You're not sure if he's joking or not. He starts chuckling, throwing his head back.

"Wouldn't you like me to pick some ice from outside? Maybe there's some with pee on them" You retorted, playfully mocking him.

"Now that's–" He points his finger at you in objection "Really low of you, honey"

You melt with the nickname. Your ears start to burn immediately every time he calls you that. You're not sure it's because you're shy, or because it sounds too sweet coming from him.

You shrug and start his order as you catch up with the news of the day. He says he's going to play a small gig next weekend. You tell him you're going to have a week off next month.

He drinks his coffee and makes a scene whenever he takes a sip. He closes his eyes, knitting his brows, and his lips leaves a sigh in delight.

"You're such a dork"

He muses towards you, placing the mug on the counter, and tilts his head.

"A dork yes, but you love him"

You eye him up and down and grimace mockingly. "Yeah, you wish"

You turn your back to him, only to serve a new customer. He watches as you smile at them, giving them suggestions about the drinks. He swallows his coffee slowly, gulping when you glance at him for a split second before using the machine.

He suddenly became incapable of speaking. You're just in your usual barista uniform, your hair tied in two small braids on the front. Your eyeliner is very discreet. Eyelashes with mascara fluttering as well. Your makeup is so light, and yet it lasts an entire day.

His coffee is sitting on the counter for almost five minutes, because that's how long it took for you to finally be free to talk to him again. You look at it first, and then to his face.

"Your coffee ain't getting colder, you know" You speak up, nudging your head towards the mug.

He creases his brows in confusion, looking down at it. Eddie didn't think he was being too slow to drink his coffee today and you seemed to have noticed it though.

"What do you mean? I'm a slow drinker" He tries to be bold about it, but you scoff at him.

"You almost always inhale your drinks. Unless it's a Negroni, which is like the worst drink ever"

Eddie opens his mouth in offense. "Don't you dare speak of the best recipe invented!"

You're staring at him, defiantly. You're leaning against the counter, holding the edge of it with both hands. He downs the entire cold brew, placing the mug back on the counter. He licks his lips and glances up at you, wiggling his brows.

"Now you're just going to get a brain freeze, dork" You giggle at him.

Eddie is the king of acting. So when you least expect from him, he shows his skills. "Ow, fuck. Ow, ow"

He's squirming in his seat, one hand spread over his forehead like he's having a headache. You immediately take a step further and hold his head with both hands, looking concerned. He removes his hand from his face and smirks at you.

"You're the most insufferable person I know, Munson" He watches as you slap his hands away, laughing at your reaction. "You finished your beverage. Now get out of here"

He is still giggling at you. Your face might show how annoyed you are, but deep down you match his energy. His sense of humor is one of the things you like the most about him. You love the way there's never a bad time for him, even if he's short on money.

"Hey, you can't kick your clients out! It's snowing outside, it's a crime to let people freeze"

When you look at him, he knows you're about to be serious. "I'm gonna commit a crime myself if you don't stop annoying me"

Your forehead is wrinkly because of your eyebrows that are knitted. He tries not to laugh at you, but he finds it difficult when he's having fun pushing you.

"Sorry, honey. Just trying to lighten up your day a little more" He raises his hands up in surrender, his bangs moving as he shakes his head.

He stays there until he has to get back to work. He tells you the most stupid jokes, he tries to flirt with your friend Betty and when you try to whack him with your dish cloth, he shields himself with the menu. Eddie makes your day better, no matter how it's going. He knows when you're in a bad mood, too, which makes him dial down his clownish demeanor.

He always offers to pick you up from work and drive you home. Even if you live only a few blocks after him. He doesn't care if he has to go back. You try to bring your own food every day so you eat better, but sometimes he makes up the idea of having different food whenever he thinks of it. And today you were going to eat pizza.

You're sitting on your couch as Thundercats is on TV. You talk through eating and watching the TV, laughing every now and then when you start gossiping.

Eddie finds the most random things to talk about and, strangely enough, you like to hear about them. He geeks out about Lord of the Rings and D&D, which you don't understand but you nod anyway.

You're talking about your plans to go to college, rambling over your insights, and how you're planning on getting a place to share with Robin. You're distracted by your own subject, when Eddie impulsively reaches out his hand to rub off the pizza sauce from the corner of your mouth. He slightly ran his rough thumb over your skin, removing the stain off of it.

He gave you a kind smile as soon as he dropped his hand back to his plate. You sheepishly smiled, like you just lost confidence by standing next to him.

Sometimes he doesn't want to leave your place, he wishes you would ask him to stay, but he doesn't want to overstep his limits. As he dries the dishes, Eddie stays in his daydream, thinking of how he could ever ask you out. Because he would love to. He just wouldn't know if you'd love to.

As you stand on your doorstep, you say goodbye to each other while he makes another joke or two. It's always like that, he wants to make sure you're still having a good day when you lie in bed.

It didn't cross your mind before, but now it feels like you could actually have him around sometimes. Do some sleepover, or something. You take a step towards him, lifting your feet up to stand on his height. You press your lips against his cheek, inhaling his fragrance that slightly lingers on his skin. One of your hands reaches for his shoulder for support.

Eddie stays frozen for a moment, until he holds your waist against his arm. Suddenly he doesn't feel cold anymore. He turned his head only a few inches, pecking your lips gently. They're plushy and soft. You don't know why you haven't done that before, and you're great he did for you.

He stands still, holding your face with his hand, rubbing his thumb over your chin. Both your noses are cold.

You're both a little shy. He can't express the feelings that are bubbling inside of him. But he doesn't want to cross a line yet. And he thinks you would agree with him.

"Till tomorrow, honey" He says as he takes a step back, walking to his car. "Don't forget to lock the door!"

You chuckle at his words. He's always been too protective over you.

Once he's inside his car, he buckles the seat belt and grins at himself. He's feeling like he's on cloud nine and it was only a kiss. Eddie stays in the car for a couple of minutes, digesting what happened. He tries to remember your taste, pinching his lower lip.

You're still standing by your door, your back leaning against it. Your heart is hammering against your chest, and you can't describe how good it was.

He can't wait to see you again tomorrow, and he wonders if he's still going to kiss you again. You can't wait to see him, wondering if he still wants to kiss you again.

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ Focus, Focus... ✞⛧

Warnings: sexual themes but no sex, intimacy, nudity, body worship, teasing, voyeurism, slight power dynamics, steam room setting at the end-

Word count: 2.6k

You're sitting on the couch with a book in your hands, but it's hard to focus. Really hard. Not because the book isn't interesting—okay, maybe it's not, but that's not the point. The real issue is the view across the room.

Vi's in the middle of a workout, and you cannot seem to tear your eyes away. She's been up for the past hour, using the living room as her impromptu gym, as usual. You've gotten used to her discipline when it comes to working out—her unrelenting drive to keep her body as strong as her spirit. But today, it's harder than ever to stay focused.

She's in the middle of doing pushups now, her body moving in fluid, controlled motions. Every time she lowers herself to the floor, her arms flex with powerful muscle, and when she pushes back up, you can see her shoulders shift, the defined muscle in her back contracting with each movement. Her form is flawless, and it's intensely distracting. The way her chest bounces slightly as she moves—god, that's not helping either.

Your fingers fumble with the pages of your book, but you're not reading it. Not even close. You're too busy watching how her body moves—how her legs spread just enough to show off the tattoos winding down her thighs, and how those same thighs swell slightly when she sinks into a squat. The material of her makeshift top—just a couple of bandages wrapped around her chest, nothing more—does little to conceal the raw power of her figure.

When she's doing sit-ups, her abs tense and flex in a way that makes you want to look away, but you can't. You're mesmerized by the way her stomach contracts with each movement. You know she's strong, you've always known, but seeing it in motion is a whole new level of appreciation. Every muscle, every inch of her body seems sculpted and toned in the most alluring way, and it's impossible to ignore.

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters in through the windows, catching the faint sheen of sweat that's started to glisten on her skin. The sound of her breathing—steady and rhythmic—only adds to the intimacy of the moment, like you're the only two people in the world. It's almost hypnotic, the way she moves, the way she pushes herself, and the fact that she doesn't seem to notice your increasingly intense stare.

You shift uncomfortably on the couch, your book still open but forgotten, your heart beating a little too fast. You're trying to maintain your composure, to pretend that you're not completely falling apart on the inside, but it's getting harder by the second.

Vi does another squat, and when she rises back up, you watch the muscles in her thighs flex and stretch, her body moving with a grace that belies the raw power she holds. You swallow hard, biting back the urge to make a noise—something, anything that would reveal how much you're feeling right now. The ache in your chest, the fire in your stomach—it's all building up, and it's all because of her. Because of how she looks when she works out.

She glances over at you, catching your gaze just for a moment. Her lips curl into a small smile, but she doesn't stop what she's doing. She just keeps going, moving like she doesn't have a care in the world.

"You know," she says, breathless but teasing, "I could use a spotter, you know. You're just sitting there."

You blink, snapped out of your trance, your cheeks heating up as you try to quickly hide the fact that you've been staring at her. You cough, pretending to clear your throat as you look down at the book in your hands. "I'm, uh... I'm fine. Just, uh, reading."

Vi raises an eyebrow but doesn't push. She just shakes her head, her ponytail swishing slightly as she gets back into the groove of her workout. Her body is so toned, so perfectly in sync with the movements she's making, and you feel your breath catch in your throat every time she shifts. There's something hypnotic about it—the fluidity with which she moves, like a dancer, but also with the intensity of someone who's never going to back down.

"Come on," she calls out after a few moments, doing another squat. "Don't tell me you're gonna keep sitting there like that the whole time. You're distracting me."

Distracting you? You think, swallowing the lump in your throat. If anything, you're the one who's being distracted.

"I'm not," you say, the words coming out a little too fast. "I'm—uh—I'm just... enjoying the view."

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you immediately regret them when Vi smirks, her eyes glinting with that teasing spark you know so well.

"Oh, enjoying the view, huh?" she says, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Well, maybe I should make it more interesting for you."

You can't help but freeze at that. You know her, and you know that tone. It's the one she uses when she's about to push things a little further, when she knows she has you wrapped around her finger without even trying.

You try to hide the nervousness that starts to bubble up in your chest, but she's already giving you that look. The look that says she knows exactly what she's doing, and she knows exactly what effect it's having on you.

But instead of doing anything to make it worse, she just smiles and shifts gears, moving into a plank position. Her arms are strong, her abs taut as she holds herself up, her body forming a perfect line from her head to her toes. She's holding the position effortlessly, but every time she shifts just slightly, you catch glimpses of her muscles, the strength in her body that's so evident in every movement. It's incredibly attractive, and you're helpless to look away.

When she finally lowers herself back down to the floor and sits up with a satisfied grunt, she looks over at you again. You're still holding the book—barely—but you're not reading. Not anymore. There's only her. Always her.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Vi announces, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "You coming with me?"

The question sends a jolt through your body, and for a moment, you hesitate, wondering if you can survive this level of intensity. You've always been comfortable with her, but something about the way she's looking at you now, all sweaty and confident, makes your pulse race.

"Maybe later," you say, though the words come out more breathless than you intended. "I'm fine here."

She gives you another knowing look before she disappears into the bathroom, leaving you to deal with the rush of emotions, the mix of admiration and desire, that has you rooted to the spot.

You hear the shower start, and for a moment, you wonder how much longer you'll be able to pretend that you aren't completely and utterly captivated by her. By her strength, her beauty, and everything in between.

You're so in love with her, you think to yourself, sitting back on the couch with your book in your lap—still unread. But as the sound of water running fills the space around you, you can't help but smile to yourself. This, you realize, is what happiness feels like.

Suddenly, the book in your hands feels like a foreign object. You glance over at the bathroom door, the sound of water cascading from the shower growing louder. Every part of your body aches with the desire to be near her, to be as close as possible to the woman who has you wrapped around her finger in every way.

With a frustrated groan, you throw the book down onto the couch. It's not like you were actually reading it anyway, and the thought of just sitting there pretending to be distracted by it makes your stomach twist with impatience. Vi's in there, all sweaty and radiant, and you're done pretending you can focus on anything else.

You rise from the couch quickly, your heart hammering in your chest as you make your way toward the bathroom. Your footsteps are light but deliberate, your mind focused on the one thing that's been occupying every thought you've had in the past hour: her.

The door's already cracked open when you approach, and you can see the steam beginning to fog up the mirror. You take a deep breath, your pulse quickening as you push the door open, revealing Vi, standing under the spray of water. Her skin glows under the warm light, a mixture of sweat and water making her look even more alluring than usual. Her pink hair is damp, clinging to her neck in wet tendrils, and her muscles—those strong, defined muscles you've been watching all morning—seem even more powerful in the steam-filled air.

She doesn't turn around at first, seemingly lost in the sensation of the water running down her back, but the moment you step fully inside, she glances over her shoulder, her smirk widening as she catches sight of you.

"Thought you might join me," she says, her voice low and teasing, her eyes dark with amusement. There's something in the way she says it that sends a shiver down your spine—like she's been waiting for this, just as much as you have.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. You can't help but let your eyes drink in the sight of her: the way her muscles ripple as she shifts, the way the water runs down her body like she's some kind of goddess. Your mouth feels dry, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you finally speak.

"I couldn't just stay out there," you confess, your voice hushed. "Not when you're in here looking... like that."

Vi chuckles softly, a low, throaty sound that makes your stomach flip. "Like what?" she asks innocently, though the glint in her eye tells you she already knows the effect she's having on you. "Just a little sweaty, a little worn out from my workout. Nothing too special."

You take a step closer, moving toward her until you're standing just outside the shower, your breath quickening as the steam swirls around you. "You're everything," you murmur, your gaze falling to her chest, where the water runs in rivulets down her skin. The sight of her body, even in all its sweaty, post-workout glory, is enough to make your knees weak.

Vi eyes you with an amused yet possessive look. "You're getting all worked up over me, huh?" she teases, but her voice has that soft undertone to it that tells you she's enjoying every second of this. "Maybe you should get in here and cool off."

Without breaking your gaze, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it off swiftly, then your jeans, tossing them aside in the corner of the shower to keep them from getting soaked. The warmth of the water cascades over your skin as you step into the shower, the steam wrapping around you both like a thick blanket. Your breath hitches as you take in the sight of her: Vi, standing there, the water dripping from her body in a steady stream, her muscles soft and defined in the best way. Her skin has a healthy sheen to it, still glistening from her workout, and her posture—so confident and strong—takes your breath away.

You can't help but stare at her, mesmerized by how her body moves, how her curves are accentuated by the way the water glides down her chest and sides. Her breasts, still firm with the exertion of her workout, shift slightly with every breath, and you find yourself fixated on the way her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. The water beads along the curve of her neck, pooling at the dips of her collarbones, and you ache to run your fingers along the smooth, wet skin.

As she shifts slightly, turning to face you, you catch the faint outline of her muscles—those beautifully sculpted arms, the strength in her back as it ripples beneath the steam. You can see the way her biceps flex as she moves, the subtle play of muscle in her shoulders as they shift with her every movement. Her thighs are strong and firm, and the muscles in her calves ripple slightly as she shifts her weight.

The curve of her waist narrows down to her hips, and your gaze lingers there, admiring the way her body is the perfect combination of strength and femininity. The sight of her powerful, muscular legs, the way they move with an effortless grace, makes something deep in your gut tighten with both longing and admiration. You can't tear your eyes away, your mind intoxicated by the way her body has been shaped by hard work and dedication. And then there's the subtle curve of her belly, where the muscles contract with every breath, every movement.

"Can't get enough of me, huh?" Vi teases, her voice a soft purr, and it snaps you out of your trance. Her eyes sparkle, half-amused, half-playful, as she catches the way your gaze lingers over her body.

You swallow hard, your lips parting slightly as your heart races. You're caught, but you don't even care.

"I just..." you stammer, trying to find the words, but they don't come. Your thoughts are too scattered, too overwhelmed by the sight of her. "You're perfect."

Vi grins at the compliment, her lips curling up in that way that always drives you wild. But she doesn't leave it at that. She steps forward, just enough for you to feel the heat radiating from her body, the steam between you thick and heavy, and for a moment, you're caught in the sheer power of her presence.

You stand frozen for a heartbeat, unable to look away, as she leans in, her body brushing against yours in that teasing, seductive way she knows drives you mad. The water runs over her chest, making her skin glisten like liquid gold, and her scent—something faintly floral but earthy—is intoxicating as it fills your senses.

You step closer to her, feeling the proximity of her body heat pull you in like a magnet, until you're just inches apart. You can feel the water droplets on your skin, but it's the way she feels against you—her body pressing lightly against yours—that leaves you breathless. Her muscles flex as she shifts, the soft press of her body against yours reminding you of how strong and yet soft she is.

Vi lifts her hand, brushing the back of her fingers against your collarbone, a gentle touch that somehow sets your skin on fire. You close your eyes for a moment, just feeling her, knowing that you're exactly where you want to be—close to her, wrapped in the warmth of the water and the undeniable tension between you. The sound of the water falling is the only background to the soft catch of your breath as she moves even closer, her body now pressed against yours, the heat of her skin an overwhelming sensation.

Your hands find her hips, guiding her even closer, as your heart beats faster in your chest. You lean in and kiss her, slow at first, a tender meeting of lips, but as the kiss deepens, everything else fades into the background—the water, the steam, the sound of your hearts racing in time. All that matters is the feel of her lips, the warmth of her body against yours, and the simple fact that you're here with her, in this moment, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

[cuteniarose]

who's lien-hua??

Short answer: My absolute child and the only OC I have cried genuine, REAL tears over. And not tearing up or sniffling a little, full on SOBS. Kat still owes me emotional compensation for that one 😤😤

Long answer: She's one of @katkastrofa’s OCs that I now have partial custody of. P'Li's little sister, born in 136 AG, a sweet cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure, no matter how damn overused that phrase is, it still fits her 🥺🥺🥺 When drawing her last year I accidentally made her look a lot like my friend's little sister so now I am always extra soft about her. But considering what happens, you can imagine the level of emotional devastation this is causing me and just how much this has affected my ability to look at Katya the same way ever again. Doesn't help that her older sister has an annoying tendency to wear her waist length hair in a brushed back braid...

Anyway, for reference, the baby girl, sweet girl herself, from about July 2023:

And now that you have been fully taken with this precious thing's cuteness, it is imperative I let you know that she is killed at age 7 by the warlord who tried to turn P'Li into a living weapon 😐

She's the living embodiment of a tragedy, a child born to be collateral damage, the one who could not be saved no matter what was done, the "it was always going to end this way" half of the tragedy dichotomy. A little girl unjustly killed as punishment for her sister not wanting to become a warlord's weapon, forever remaining as nothing more but a hazy memory of someone to protect. And I'm gonna stop now because I will start crying again, istg–

(There is a verse where she lives, though that is part of a much larger AU that can basically be summed up as "completely self indulgent mishmash of ideas, everybody lives/nobody dies, sunshine and rainbows and peace on earth, unless you're a world leader, then RIP", or as we like to call it, the Ultimate AU, because we never came up with a better name :P But getting into it would take too long and there really isn't too much to explain since it lacks a cohesive plot and is more a bunch of family shenanigans thrown together, so... moving on)

In Kat's fic Lost and Found the memory of Lien-Hua is the driving force behind all of P'Li's decisions, and she constantly blames herself for not having been able to save her (despite the fact she was a child herself, no older than 13), right up until the very end where she.. doesn't really get closure, per se, but is able to let Lien go, in the scene which I have affectionately dubbed "F.C. Yee owes Kat major royalties for this one, holy hell" #ifyouknowyouknow. But also Lien is a point of some interpersonal conflict since no one else can quite relate to P'Li in this case. Ming-Hua (while not present in LaF) is an only child, Zaheer is the youngest of three and was never close with his sisters, and Ghazan... well, his sister is two separate cans of worms depending on whether you're talking about Haya or Zada. Some pretty interesting stuff overall, really scratches my soft spot for family related dealings in fics, and I can't believe I just realised that P'Li's the only non-youngest child in the RL foursome, huh. It's oddly fitting, in a way, at least in my opinion

Oh, and also, Midori is a reincarnation of Lien-Hua :)

[s0dium]

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."

[solxamber]

Match Made in Madness - Floyd Leech x reader

Soulmates get updates of each other's lives through an overly enthusiastic dream narrator. What's worse is that your soulmate seems to be completely unhinged.

It all starts on another one of those nights—the weird dream where your soulmate’s day is narrated to you in the most ridiculous fashion imaginable. No names, no faces, just an over-the-top, enthusiastic narrator who acts like they’re introducing a daytime soap.

"Good evening, soulmate! Ready for another wild day? Well, buckle up, because your beloved got into a fight with a vending machine!"

You groan in your sleep, already bracing for what’s next. The narrator continues with gleeful energy:

"After losing said battle, your soulmate kicked the machine and declared, ‘I’ll have the last laugh, metal box!’ Later in the day, they spent 45 minutes trying to convince a bird to become their personal spy. Spoiler alert: the bird didn’t agree, but they’re not giving up anytime soon!"

When you wake up, you rub your eyes and mutter, "What the hell is my soulmate doing?" Clearly, the universe decided to match you with an absolute madman, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ll even survive meeting them.

The dreams continue for weeks, and the updates get progressively weirder. Whoever this person is, they have the chaotic energy of a tornado in a convenience store. One night, you get this gem:

"Exciting news! Today, your soulmate tried to see if they could juggle three eels at once. Spoiler: they couldn’t, but they did manage to send one flying into a professor’s lunch. Next on the agenda, they challenged the ocean to a race. The ocean won."

You’re so used to these bizarre updates by now that you don’t even flinch. Instead, you’re beginning to wonder why the universe thinks it’s funny to torture you with someone who clearly doesn’t have a firm grasp on reality.

And then one night, the narrator drops a bombshell:

"Your soulmate spent the entire afternoon wondering if there’s any way they could convince their twin brother to switch places with them on a date— Oh wait, forget I said that! That one’s classified!*"

What? Now, you’re officially on edge. Not only do they have a twin, but they’ve been thinking about dating? This is spiraling out of control.

You’re sitting at the Mostro Lounge, thinking about the increasingly unhinged dreams when you spot Floyd Leech across the room. Normally, you’d ignore him because, well, Floyd has a reputation, and it’s not exactly “outstanding member of society.”

But today, something feels off. You’ve heard a few things—people say he’s chaotic, unpredictable, and obsessed with “playing” with his victims. And suddenly, you can’t stop thinking about the dream where your soulmate tried to juggle eels.

Floyd catches your eye, and before you can look away, he’s making a beeline for your table. Oh no. Please no.

“Hey, Shrimpy,” he says with his usual, lazy grin, flopping down in the seat next to you like he owns the place. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Close enough.

You swallow hard. “Uh… just thinking.”

“Thinking, huh?” Floyd leans in, uncomfortably close. “What about?”

How are you supposed to say, I think you’re my soulmate, but I’m also convinced you’re a lunatic? Instead, you nervously laugh. “Oh, nothing. Just… dreams.”

“Dreams, huh?” Floyd’s eyes narrow, but he looks more interested than suspicious. “Like… those ones where some random guy is juggling eels?”

Your blood runs cold.

“Wait—how did you know about the eels?”

Floyd’s grin widens. “Oh? So it is you! I knew it!” He laughs, leaning back with a satisfied look, like he’s just solved the greatest mystery of his life. “Shrimpy, you’re hilarious! I’ve been having those dreams about you, too. You’re always doing weird stuff, like… rescuing ducks or tripping over your own feet.”

Your heart races. “Wait, so—you're my soulmate?”

“Duh,” Floyd says, rolling his eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The universe has a sense of humor, doesn’t it?”

At first, you’re convinced this is a prank, a cruel joke. But the more you talk to Floyd, the more everything starts to click into place. He’s chaotic, sure. Completely unpredictable? Absolutely. But he’s also the same person who, according to your dreams, once wondered if seaweed could be used as a fashion statement. He’s also the guy who—oh right—challenged the ocean to a race.

And now that you’ve met him, you realize one important detail: he’s perfect.

Well, perfect in the most unhinged way possible.

A week later, you find yourself in an increasingly ridiculous situation—Floyd has somehow convinced you to help him “steal” a giant fish from the campus pond.

“Why are we doing this again?” you ask, holding the bucket as he dives headfirst into the water.

“Because,” Floyd says between splashes, “the fish looks like he’s having a bad day, so we’re gonna give him a makeover.”

You stare blankly at the pond. “You want to makeover a fish.”

Floyd pops back up, water dripping from his hair, with a grin that could melt glaciers. “Yeah! Why not?”

You don’t have a good answer for that, so you just shrug. This is my life now.

That night, you’re lying in bed, starting to doze off, when the dream narrator pops up again:

"Good evening, soulmate! Today, your other half tried to give a fish a new look. It didn’t work, but they still had fun! Also, they’ve been thinking about holding your hand."

You wake up with a groan, rubbing your face in disbelief. Of course, Floyd would think about something like that in the middle of a fish-stealing escapade. But there’s something undeniably sweet about it, too.

The next day, Floyd grabs your hand without warning as you’re walking through campus. “I had a dream about this,” he says casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “So did I.”

Maybe the universe isn’t such a prankster after all.

Masterlist

[mssorceressupreme]

Working Late Pt. 2 | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Your boss does not take lightly to people flirting with his favourite employee, and wants you to know you're his and his only.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, boss/employee, possessive!fred, teasing, jealousy, office sex, fingering, dom!fred, sub!reader, p in v, penetration, coming, overstimulation, praising ———

It was another energetic day at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and you were in high spirits. The shop was packed, the air buzzing with chatter and laughter as customers marvelled at the shelves bursting with magical novelties.

You’d felt like dressing up today, slipping on a short but tasteful black dress that cinched at your waist and flowed just above your knees. It was modest but cute, perfectly suited for the carefree atmosphere of the shop.

Fred had already complimented you earlier in his usual teasing manner, a smirk tugging at his lips as he’d said, “Trying to steal all my customers with that dress, are you?” You’d rolled your eyes playfully punching him, but your heart had fluttered all the same.

Today was no different than any other day, however that changed when the afternoon took a turn, a familiar voice catching your attention.

“Is that… Y/N?”

You turned to find none other than Oliver Wood standing before you, looking as dashing as ever in a red fitted jacket and his signature confident grin.

“Oliver!” you exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him. “It’s been ages!”

“It has,” he said, his eyes sweeping over you with unmistakable appreciation. “You’ve… changed. Hogwarts didn’t do you justice.”

A faint blush crept up your neck, and you laughed softly. “Well, I guess we all grow up, don’t we?”

As you chatted, his flirtation became more apparent. He leaned closer when he spoke, his compliments growing bolder. “I always knew you were lovely, but Merlin, you’ve really turned heads now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Fred watching. He was helping another customer, but his gaze kept shifting back to your interaction with Oliver.

His playful demeanour had vanished, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt, but his gaze lingered, sharp and brooding.

When Oliver finally left with his purchases, you turned to Fred, hoping for a witty remark or a teasing jab, but he was already busying himself with a display. He hadn’t said a word, not even a glance in your direction.

The rest of the day was tense. Fred barely acknowledged you, answering your questions with curt nods or single-word replies. It was as if he’d built an invisible wall between you, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

"Hey Freddie, a customer wanted to inquire about a stock refill. When are the next batch of Puking Pastilles arriving? They're currently all sold out and-" You approached him while the customer you were serving continued browsing, awaiting your answer.

"Next week." Fred said, a little too bluntly before walking away, avoiding your gaze as he did so.

You nodded slowly, approaching the customer with a forced smile though you were a bit hurt by Fred's bluntness, "The next batch will arrive next week, Monday I believe, best come early before they sell out again miss."

"Sounds perfect love, I'll be here first thing next week then!" She chimed before leaving with her two kids.

During a lull in the crowd, you approached George who was stationed behind the cash register. The interaction with Fred still lingered in the back of your mind. “Is Fred… okay?” you asked hesitantly.

George looked up from the register, his usual grin in place. "Fred? Seems fine to me, why'd ya ask?"

"He's just...it's like he's avoiding me. Have I done something wrong?" You tilt your head, looking at the ground trying to recall any mistakes you might have made.

“Nah you're doing alright. He’s probably just being a git, as usual. Don’t let it bother you eh?"

But it did bother you.

Fred’s cold shoulder gnawed at you, and the more he ignored you, the more determined you became to get a reaction.

An opportunity presented itself when you passed by him in one of the narrower aisles.

As you squeezed past, you brushed against him deliberately, letting your skirt graze his thigh and pressing just enough to make it unmistakable. Smirking, you swayed harder against one particular spot in his trousers.

Fred inhaled sharply, his hands reflexively gripping your waist for a brief moment before you stepped away.

You didn’t look back, but you felt the heat of his gaze as you continued to the other side of the shop, humming as you strolled away.

As you returned to the register to finish a sale later, you noticed a folded piece of parchment resting on the counter. Your name was scrawled on it in Fred’s familiar handwriting. You unfolded it, your heartbeat rapidly increasing upon reading the words:

“My office. Now. – F”

The knot in your stomach tightened as you made your way upstairs. Merlin, what did he want now?

You pushed open the door to find Fred sitting behind his desk, a glass of whisky in his hand. His eyes were dark, his usual humour replaced by something colder, more commanding, almost scary but not quite.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You stepped closer after shutting the door, your pulse racing. Standing in front of his desk now, you waited, unsure of what to expect.

“Sit on my lap,” he ordered, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you, following your every move.

You hesitated for a split second before obeying, perching lightly on his lap. His hands came to rest on your thighs, firm but not rough, as if he was testing the boundaries.

“Who said you could flirt with customers?” he asked, his tone laced with jealousy.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you said quickly, your voice soft. “I was just being polite. Accommodating him.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, and he let out a low hum of disapproval. “Accommodating? Is that what you call it?”

His fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt, brushing lightly against your skin. “You’ve got some nerve, you know,” he murmured. “Walking around in this dress, brushing past me like that…”

Your breath hitched, your cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean to—” A white lie.

He cut you off with a soft chuckle, though it lacked humour. “Didn’t mean to, hmm? Then what was that little stunt earlier? Testing me, were you?”

You didn’t know how to respond, his intensity leaving you flustered and unsure.

Slowly but sensually, Fred began caressing your inner thigh, stroking softly and inching his way up to your clit, but not quite touching it. Though only a simple gesture, you felt a rush to your core, finding yourself throbbing and wanting more of his touch.

"You shouldn't have started something you can't finish love." He cooed into your ear.

You bit your lip, "I can finish it.." confident in your head, but a whisper came out, you felt weak under his touch like this.

"Oh really?" Fred raised a brow, "and how do you plan on doing that?" He was amused by your counter, a smug smirk appearing on that devilishly handsome face of his.

You sat there silently, avoiding eye contact him, unsure of how to respond. To be honest, you were inexperienced, you hadn't been this close to a man, in well, forever.

He chuckled lowly, one hand creeping up your skirt again, his fingertips tracing the hem of your panties causing you to involuntarily move forward.

Your body tenses, you held your breath as he continued. His fingers find your clit, circling it through the fabric of your now soaking panties. You let out a whimper in response to his touch.

Fred then finds the sweet sensitive spot on your neck, attaching his lips and sucking. His free hand reaches up and massages your tits sensually while the other hand continues with your clit.

"Let me show you love, let me take care of you..." He nips at your neck a few times before continuing, "By the time I'm done, the whole store will know my name and that you're mine."

You let out a soft moan as Fred uses two fingers to slide your panties down, the cold air hitting the exposed skin under your skirt.

His pants were now wet, both from you, and his precum. You felt a bit embarrassed that you soaked his pants but he was alright with it, in fact, he loved it.

"I don't want to see anymore flirting in my store, especially not with you." Fred's voice was deep, hoarse and almost possessive.

He presses two fingers inside of you, stretching you before flexing his fingers. You whined in response to his long slender fingers, panting heavily as he begins to work them faster inside of you, stretching you more.

Fred works on your cunt and you feel yourself growing hotter, more desperate for him. You arch your back, one arm is wrapped around his nape and the other gripping the table for support.

You fidget slightly, occasionally twitching due to the pleasure, "Fred...I'm getting close..." You whine.

The tight feeling in your core continues to build up, begging for a release soon. You get louder and louder as Fred continues fingering you, slightly faster now. "Fred!" You moan, you're getting extremely close.

Your back arches again, toes curling, and your left fingers practically are digging into his desk.

"Fred...I'm gonna....I'm gonna cu-" Your orgasm burns, erupting in your cunt and your mind explodes with ecstasy, sending a wave of pleasure over you but Fred doesn't stop, he continues.

"Fred please-" You whine, feeling overstimulated, your breathless and feeling another orgasm coming up.

"Merlin, you're so perfect love." He praises, watching you at his mercy, breathless on his lap.

Hearing him praise you like that, made another orgasm come round the corner. He really knew how to push your buttons, in the all the right ways possible.

"I can't take it! I'm getting close again...Fred! Please-" You whimper, as he picks up the pace again.

"Go on, come for me love. I want to hear your pretty moans, love it when my name slips from that pretty mouth of yours." He praised again, and you let loose.

Your walls throbbed, pulsing incredible fast, another pleasurable wave rushed over your body. "Oh God! Fred!" You moaned, before your head fall against his shoulder weakly.

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead, before carrying you bridal style, getting up from his seat and placing you on his desk.

You sat up straight, facing him, your knees on both sides of his hips and he stood between them.

"You did amazing love." Fred praises, his hands sliding on your thighs, parting them and keeping your legs open for what's to come. His shirt was half unbuttoned, pants soaking, and fluffy hair slightly tousled.

"Please Fred...I want you inside me." You plead, glancing up at him with doe eyes.

He groaned softly upon seeing you in front of him, half naked on the table, and he was about to fuck you. He wanted you so bad, he needed you.

"Alright darling." He hums, unbuttoning his belt, letting his cock spring free.

Your eyes grew wide, you'd always assume he was big, but Merlin, he was packing. You felt yourself grow excited upon seeing him, biting your lip unconsciously.

He wraps a hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance before pressing into you. The tip of his swollen head easily slides against your wetness, sliding with ease into your eager body.

At the intrusion, you tighten, "Merlin, Fred!" You moan, whimpering as he slides out then presses his hips against yours as he slips his cock all the way inside you, deeper than before.

"Mhm you feel so good around me love, so tight for me." He hums, moving faster, leaning forward to give you a kiss. You kiss him passionately but sweetly, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip while he keeps the same pace thrusting into you.

Your arms rest on the table for support, you tilt your head back whimpering at the pleasure of your hips colliding and feeling Fred inside you.

He keeps his hands planted on your hips, "Fuck, you feel so good Y/N, you're perfect you know that." Fred moans.

"I'm yours Fred..." You wince, "all yours..."

"And I'm yours, no one is going to change that." Fred responds, leaning in for another kiss. "Shit- I'm getting close..." He thrusts harder and faster, his climax quickly building up.

"Gonna release on your stomach love, that all good?" He breathlessly asks, to which you nod as a reply, unable to speak as you feel yourself reaching your climax too.

You don't last any longer, your body tensing as an orgasm erupts through you. You try to speak but only a whine escapes, throwing your head back, you lay on the desk, bare, exposed and breathing heavily.

Fred's hips rock harshly a few more times before slipping out, releasing on your tummy, every last drop coming onto your tummy. "Merlin..." He groans, throwing his head back, his broad shoulders rising and falling.

He removes his hands from your waist, proceeding to help clean you up and adjusting your dress properly. Picking you up, he carries you bridal style and lays you on the long leather couch in his office.

"You can take the rest of the day off if you want love." He leans down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I don't mind working..." You remark, "get to flirt with more people..." Your tone was teasing, smirking to get a reaction out of him.

"Flirt with them and I'll take you right then and there in front of them." He retorted, playfully.

You stand up, walking towards Fred, who was getting changed into something...cleaner and more decent, "So territorial." you spoke, helping him with his tie.

Fred tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Can't have them thinking they have a chance.”

“Please I might as well wear a shirt that says 'Taken by Fred Weasley'...” you joked.

"Not a bad idea..." He hummed, looking down at you while you finished off with his tie.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile, "You know I only have eyes for you Fred Weasley, no one comes close."

“That's my girl,” he said, his tone softer now but still edged with authority. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as possessive as it was tender, leaving you breathless. "My perfect girl."

When he finally pulled back, his eyes held a glint of satisfaction. “Now, get back to work,” he said, a teasing smirk returning to his lips. “There’s more where that came from.”

As you reached the door, you glanced back to find him watching you, his gaze warm now but still with a flicker of desire.

"I'll join you downstairs shortly." He winked, and you felt your cheeks heat again as you shut the door behind you, your heart raced as you returned to the shop floor, acting as though nothing had happened upstairs.

___

"Bloody hell, where were you two?!" George, finishing a sale, waved a customer goodbye before turning to you and Fred.

"We had some business to take care of." Fred answered for you guys, placing his hand on your lower back.

George scoffed, a knowing look flashed in his eyes, darting back and forth between you, "Yeah alright sure, business."

"Well I'm off on a date with Angelina, can you two handle the shop for the few hours?" George continued.

"What do you take me for? A slacker?" Fred replied, "Pft of course we can handle it, now go have fun." He ushered his twin away, and George, confused, grabbed his belongings and waved us goodbye, turning back occasionally to make sure the store didn't crash down under Fred's control.

"Round 2?" Fred whispered, a teasing undertone once George was out of sight.

You playfully hit him, chuckling, "We have a shop to run Weasley!"

He laughed softly, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before getting back to work.

[daisymbin]

OKAYY BUT HEAR ME OUT bf2l mingyu where they’re both *ahem* secretly love eo but their dynamics have always been *bantering and teasing* but one day oc just went 36. "i couldn’t imagine my life without you in it." and mingo just 15. 40. "don’t look at me like that unless you mean it."😵‍💫

FUXXXXXX the way I would crumble if this happened to me irl grrr... thank you for this amazing prompt req!!!

full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

fluff prompt #36: "I couldn't imagine my life without you in it." +

suggestive prompt #40: "don't look at me like that unless you mean it."

it was a quiet afternoon when you called mingyu, expecting to catch up and maybe grab lunch. you hadn’t heard from him in a little while, and a lazy lunch sounded perfect. but when he picked up, his tone was a little off, almost too casual.

“hey, are you coming over for lunch?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, a teasing grin forming.

“nah, i can’t today, im busy” he replied, his voice warm, but there was something else there you couldn’t quite place.

“busy? with what?” you teased. “since when do you have anything to be busy about?”

“i have important things to be busy with,” mingyu protested back, the playful tone creeping in, though it didn’t sound like his usual carefree banter.

“important, huh?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “like what? where are you?”

“at mom's— i mean, your mom’s,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “fixing the light bulbs and making lunch.”

“wait, what? why?” you were confused, your heart skipping a beat. you loved mingyu, but you didn’t expect him to be over at your mom’s fixing things without you. “did something happen? why didn’t she call me?”

“obviously she loves me more,” mingyu teased, his voice full of mischief. “why else would she call me and not you?”

you rolled your eyes. “does that mean i need to go over there and fight for my spot in her heart?”

mingyu chuckled on the other end, and you could almost hear his grin. “you can try, but i think i’m her favorite.”

you laughed, but you couldn’t deny the little flutter of butterflies in your chest. “fine, but i’m still coming over for lunch.”

when you finally arrived, mingyu was standing in the kitchen, a pink apron littered in butterflies tied around his waist, looking way too comfortable in your mom’s space. your mom was just finishing up, heading out the door with a “remember to lock up before you leave, you two!” as she waved to you both.

you raised an eyebrow at mingyu as he set down a plate of food. “you really came all the way over here to fix the light bulbs and cook lunch for my mom?” you couldn’t help but laugh, but there was an edge to your voice. it wasn’t exactly jealousy, but something close to it.

“what can i say?” mingyu shrugged casually, though his smile was warm, teasing. “she knows i’m handy. and besides, who wouldn’t want to hang out with someone as handsome as me?”

“right,” you deadpanned sarcastically. “handsome. so so so handsome.” but despite yourself, you smiled.

you both ate together in a comfortable silence after your mom left for her pottery class, and the moment she left, a different kind of silence hung in the air. your heart felt heavy, and mingyu noticed.

he set his fork down and looked at you, his gaze softening as you tried not to meet his eyes. “what are you thinking about?” he asked gently.

you hesitated, suddenly feeling a little too exposed. it wasn’t like you were about to tell him you had feelings for him — feelings that had been there for far too long. but the moment felt significant in a way you couldn’t explain. “i just… can’t believe you’re here,” you said, your voice quieter than usual. “i can’t believe you came over to help my mom just because she called you.”

"don't be jealous of your mom," mingyu half whined as he teased.

"it's not that," you said softly.

mingyu looked at you, his eyes narrowing as if trying to read you. “what do you mean?”

you let out a breath, feeling a little awkward now. “i mean… i couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.” the words came out before you could stop them, and you regretted them the instant they left your lips.

mingyu froze. his gaze softened, and for a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes — something more than just his usual teasing, more than just the easygoing best friend you had known for years. he swallowed, his lips slightly parted as he tried to process what you’d just said.

“wait,” mingyu said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “like… in your life as a best friend or...?”

you blinked at him, feeling your heart race. you weren’t sure what to say, your throat tightening as his eyes searched yours. the air around you both seemed to hold its breath, like the world was waiting for you to say something, anything.

“like...” you trailed off, feeling all of your unspoken feelings rise to the surface. you couldn’t stop yourself. “more than that, mingyu.”

mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly still a little nervous but trying to play it cool. "stop that," he laughed it off, “don’t look at me like that unless you mean it, you know.” his tone was light, teasing, but there was a quiet intensity beneath it that made your stomach flip.

you took a deep breath, stepping closer to him. “i do mean it,” you said, your voice steady now, filled with certainty.

mingyu’s eyes widened for a moment, and then a familiar smirk tugged at his lips, though there was still a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. he leaned back slightly, crossing his arms, as if trying to hide how affected he was. “do you now?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

you nodded slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “i do,” you whispered.

mingyu didn’t move, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, as if he was fighting with himself. but the tension in the room was palpable, and before either of you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you.

his lips were warm and soft against yours, hesitant at first, like he was unsure of how to kiss you, unsure of how you wanted it. but you kissed him back, slow and gentle, savoring the moment like it was something fragile.

mingyu pulled back just a little, his forehead resting against yours as he breathed in. “do you really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. hmm, you hummed in acknowledgement.

mingyu kissed you again, this time more confidently. his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat building between you. his lips moved against yours with a sense of urgency, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore.

your hands found their way to his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you deepened the kiss, feeling the electric pull between you. mingyu’s body pressed against yours, the kiss growing more intense, more urgent.

“gyu...” you gasped between kisses, breathless.

he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, "i love it when you call me that," his lips brushed against yours lightly. “you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and filled with desire. "because once we start, I won't be able to stop."

“yeah,” you murmured, your voice shaky. “i’m sure.”

with a low growl, mingyu kissed you again, this time with no hesitation. his hands slid down your body, pulling you even closer as the world around you seemed to disappear. it was just the two of you, finally giving in to everything you’d both been too scared to admit for so long.

[goldfades]

ROOKIE ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

request: "paige's gf and she insists on teaching her basketball—even though she's terrible at it. paige spends half the time “coaching” her (aka being flirty) and the other half laughing when she completely miss the basket"

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here—standing under the hoop on a Saturday afternoon, gripping a basketball like it’s some foreign object you’ve never encountered before.

In your defense, sports have never been your thing. You’re more of a cheer-from-the-bleachers, snack-at-halftime, maybe-ask-what-a-three-pointer-is-later kind of person. And yet, here you are, because your girlfriend, Paige—decided today was the day you’d “learn the fundamentals.”

“Okay, baby, it’s easy,” she says, her voice brimming with the sort of confidence only someone who’s mastered the art of the crossover can pull off. She spins a ball on her finger effortlessly, her grin teasing but somehow still the softest thing you’ve ever seen. “All you gotta do is aim and shoot. No pressure.”

You squint up at the basket. It feels like it’s a mile away. “No pressure?” you deadpan, bouncing the ball once and grimacing when it doesn’t exactly obey. “Do you even know me?”

Paige snickers, sidling closer until she’s standing next to you, her hand on your hip. She’s wearing her usual practice gear: baggy shorts, sneakers laced tight, and a loose shirt that somehow still manages to hint at the muscle underneath. It’s honestly unfair how good she looks while being this annoying.

“Listen,” she says, her tone shifting into something that almost passes for serious. Almost. “I know you. I also know you’re fully capable of putting this ball in that hoop if you just focus and stop looking at me like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You glance at her, and she’s smirking now, like she knows she’s caught you. Which, to be fair, she has. “First of all,” you mutter, turning back to the basket, “I do want to be here. Second, you’re distracting.”

“Am I?” Her voice is teasing, but you don’t dare look again. You already know she’s doing that thing where she cocks her head just a little and raises her eyebrows like she’s so impressed with herself. “Want me to step back so you can concentrate, rookie?”

“No,” you reply, huffing. “But if you call me rookie one more time, I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna what?” Paige interrupts, leaning down just enough so her lips are by your ear. Her voice drops an octave, and you swear you can feel her grin against your skin. “Miss the basket again?”

You groan, shoving her lightly with your elbow, but the weight of her hand on your hip doesn’t budge. She’s laughing now, full and bright and utterly unapologetic, and despite your best efforts to stay annoyed, you can’t help but crack a smile.

This is going to be a disaster. You can feel it.

You take a step back, spinning the ball once between your hands, trying to look like you’ve got some semblance of control. You absolutely do not. It’s slippery and awkward, and you’re already regretting agreeing to this. Paige watches you with the intensity of a coach but the playfulness of a girlfriend who knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Alright, babe, let’s see what you’ve got,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning back on her heels, all casual and amused. She looks entirely too comfortable with the idea of watching you embarrass yourself.

You square your shoulders and look up at the hoop again, trying to remember the quick, nonsensical explanation Paige gave you about form and aim. Something about “elbows in,” “flicking your wrist,” and “imagining you’re putting cookies in the oven.” Honestly, she lost you after “elbows.”

Paige steps closer, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the court. “Okay, pause,” she says, gently placing her hands on your shoulders to adjust your stance. Her touch lingers a little too long to be entirely innocent, and you glance at her, catching the faintest flicker of her teasing grin. “You’re holding the ball like it’s gonna explode. Relax.”

You loosen your grip, if only slightly, and she takes a step back, nodding approvingly. “Much better. Now, bend your knees. Remember, this isn’t a free throw contest, it’s a rhythm thing. Like dancing.”

“Dancing?” You give her a skeptical look. “You’ve seen me dance. That’s not helping your case.”

“True,” she says, laughing. “But at least you don’t step on anyone’s toes here.” Her hand brushes your lower back, the contact brief but enough to send a little jolt through you. She always does this—throws you off-kilter just enough to make you forget what you were supposed to be doing.

You shake your head, focusing on the hoop again. “Alright, alright. I’m doing it.”

“You’re doing it,” Paige echoes, stepping back into your peripheral vision, her hands on her hips like she’s supervising. “Visualize it going in. Manifest it.”

“Manifest it?” you deadpan. “Are you a basketball player or a yoga instructor?”

“Both, apparently,” she shoots back, laughing again. “Come on, just throw it already.”

You take a deep breath, bend your knees, and, in one fluid (well, semi-fluid) motion, you shoot. The ball arcs through the air in what you think is a promising trajectory… only to miss the basket entirely and bounce harmlessly off the backboard. It rolls lazily away, as if to add insult to injury.

Paige absolutely loses it. She doubles over, clutching her stomach as laughter spills out of her. It’s loud and unrestrained, the kind of laugh that’s so contagious you almost forget why she’s laughing in the first place. Almost.

“Don’t laugh,” you say, but your own voice wobbles with the threat of a giggle. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige straightens up, wiping at the corner of her eye dramatically. “Babe, you hit the backboard so hard I think it just filed for workers’ comp.”

“Wow, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes but failing to hide your grin. “This is why I don’t play sports.”

“Oh, come on.” Paige retrieves the ball with a few quick strides, tossing it effortlessly between her hands as she makes her way back to you. She stops just in front of you, holding the ball out. “You’re doing fine. You just need more practice.”

“And by practice, you mean you laughing at me until I cry?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” she says with a grin that’s entirely too charming to argue with. “Now, let’s try again. But this time…” She steps behind you, wrapping her arms around you and placing her hands over yours on the ball. “I’m gonna guide you.”

Your breath catches slightly as she leans in, her voice soft and close to your ear. “Okay, elbows in. Knees bent. Don’t think too hard about it. Just feel it.”

It’s a miracle you’re even upright at this point, let alone holding the ball. Her voice is low and encouraging, her arms warm and steady around you, and suddenly, basketball doesn’t seem so terrible.

“Now,” she murmurs, her hands shifting just enough to nudge yours into position. “Shoot.”

You do, and this time, the ball actually arcs in a somewhat respectable manner. It hits the rim and bounces off, but it’s a lot closer than before.

“Progress!” Paige announces, stepping back with a proud smile. “You’re getting there, rookie.”

You groan. “Stop calling me rookie!”

“Never.” She’s already picking up the ball again, twirling it on her finger like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “One more time. Let’s see if we can actually make one.”

“Fine,” you say, holding out your hands. “But if I make this shot, you owe me something.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise, her smile turning playful. “Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” you say, taking the ball and narrowing your eyes at the hoop. “But I’m thinking something big.”

Paige laughs, leaning against the pole of the hoop, her gaze fixed on you. “Deal. But if you miss… I get to call you rookie forever.”

You shake your head, fighting back a smile. “No pressure, right?”

“Exactly,” she says, her grin widening. “No pressure at all.”

You focus on the hoop again, blocking out everything except the promise of finally making this shot—and maybe wiping that smug grin off Paige’s face. With newfound determination, you bend your knees, grip the ball like you actually know what you’re doing, and take the shot.

Time slows down for a second. The ball soars in a near-perfect arc, hits the rim… and bounces around it once, twice, before dropping cleanly through the net with a satisfying swish.

For a moment, you just stand there, stunned. Then it clicks: you made it. You actually made it.

“Oh my god!” you squeal, throwing your hands up in triumph. “Did you see that? I made it! I actually made it!”

Before Paige can even respond, you’re hopping around the court like you just won a championship game. Your excitement is entirely disproportionate to what just happened, but you don’t care. You’re too busy celebrating your hard-won victory, flailing your arms and spinning in a little circle.

Paige leans against the hoop, watching you with a mixture of amusement and adoration. “You’d think you just scored the game-winner at Madison Square Garden,” she teases, but the softness in her voice gives her away.

“This is my moment, Paige!” you shoot back, still grinning like a fool. You stop hopping just long enough to grab her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “I made it! I’m a basketball prodigy now. Bow down!”

She laughs, her hands coming up to rest on your waist. “Alright, Michael Jordan, calm down.”

You narrow your eyes at her, playful and determined. “No, you don’t get to laugh. I deserve a reward for this. A big reward.”

Paige arches a brow, her lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, do you now? What kind of reward are we talking about?” Her voice dips into that suggestive tone that always makes your heart skip a beat.

You tap your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… how about… lunch? I’m starving. And since I’m the champion now, you get to go buy it for me.”

Paige blinks, her smirk faltering. “Lunch?”

“Yup,” you say cheerfully, stepping back and crossing your arms. “From that cute little sandwich place I like. You can’t say no. I earned this.”

Paige stares at you, her expression torn between disbelief and fake betrayal. “You just made the shot of your life, and this is what you ask for? A sandwich?”

“What did you think I was going to ask for?” you counter, cocking your head.

She shrugs, her tone casual but her grin anything but. “I don’t know. Maybe a kiss. Or maybe some leg-shaking, world shattering head.”

“Paige!” You shout at her language, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks heat up at the suggestion. “I just exerted all my physical and emotional energy making that shot. I need food first. Priorities.”

She groans, dragging a hand down her face in mock despair. “You’re killing me here. Fine. But only because I’m impressed you actually made it.”

“Damn right you’re impressed,” you say, puffing out your chest dramatically. “Now go. And don’t forget the extra pickles!”

Paige shakes her head, laughing as she jogs off toward the parking lot. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You owe me, rookie!”

“Never!” you call after her, grinning as you watch her go.

You sink onto the court, still buzzing with excitement. Sure, basketball might not be your thing, but moments like this? With her? You could get used to them.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　MIGRAINE

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Spencer has suffered from headaches since his teenage years, but nothing like the one he's experiencing now. When a bad migraine decides to hit him during his work time, Y/N is right there to help him, just like she promised she always would.

WARNING: Somewhere between ep 11 and 12 from season 6 | Migraine, pain, throwing up, Spencer being "babied" and taken care of (just like it should've happened when he had his migraines).

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The first time Spencer Reid experienced a migraine, he was sixteen years old. At the time, he had chalked it up to stress. It wasn’t unusual for him to push his mind and body to the limit; classes by day, independent studies by night, and taking care of his mom full-time.

But, like most things in his life, Spencer adapted. He found ways to manage the episodes, learning which triggers to avoid. Over time, the migraines became something he lived with. He rarely talked about them; they felt too personal, too vulnerable. And vulnerability wasn’t something he had been taught to show, not in childhood and certainly not in his line of work now.

Since joining the FBI, the migraines have remained manageable. Sure, the stress of chasing unsubs and staring at evidence under glaring lights could sometimes bring on a headache, but they were rare enough that he didn’t worry. Until today.

The pain started as a faint pressure, a dull throb behind his eyes as soon as he woke this morning with a call from Hotch, Y/N's warm body against his own doing nothing to ease it, but he had dismissed it, thinking it was just lack of sleep since they've just got back from a case in New Mexico.

Y/N's eyes were sure to catch it all, how his shoulders were more hunched, his steps just a touch slower, and the faint crease between his brows that seemed to just stay there. She knew his body language like the back of her hand; something was off.

But Y/N didn’t hover or prod. She knew Spencer’s rhythm, his boundaries, and she knew that he didn’t need her hovering or asking every ten minutes if he was okay - he hated that. She trusted Spencer to come to her if it became too much.

Instead, she slid a small glass of water and Spencer's usual medication across the counter to him, pairing it with a piece of toast slathered in butter and his first cup of coffee.

She didn’t say a word about it, only kissed his cheek softly as she leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper as she murmured "I love you", her lips lingering for a moment.

And Spencer was sure that her kiss would magically make him feel better in no time - silly him. By the time they arrived at the BAU, the ache had deepened, expanding until it felt as though his entire skull was caught in a strong fist.

Now, in the middle of the afternoon, sitting at his desk, Spencer struggled to focus. His temples throbbed in time with his heartbeat, sending jolts of pain that spread down his neck and shoulders.

A sharp sensation had settled behind his left eye, making it impossible to fully open without a stabbing pain shooting through his head. He pressed his fingers to the sides of his head, attempting to massage away the discomfort, but it was futile.

A tingling sensation kept creeping along his arms, the nerves in his fingertips hypersensitive to the touch of his pen. Even the faint friction of his clothing against his skin felt unbearable, leaving him breathless. His limbs kept moving around in his chair, trying to find a position that didn’t make his muscles feel like they were ready to snap.

Across the bullpen, Morgan leaned casually against the edge of his own desk, glancing momentarily at Spencer while talking with Ashley, a teasing smirk growing on his face as he noticed the younger's pace while flipping pages - it wasn't slow, but surely slower than 'Spencer's normal'.

"Looks like someone’s slower than usual today." Morgan called, his tone lighthearted as he hoped to pull Spencer into their usual playful demeanor.

But Spencer didn’t respond - which wasn't news when the genius was concentrated, squinting his eyes at the too bright lights above him, sending harsh glares on his desk that seemed to burn straight into his brain.

He tried to look up in a tentative of looking at Derek, but as soon as his eyes moved, his vision sparked with white flashes that momentarily blinded him, not noticing how Morgan's smirk faltered as he exchanged a concerned glance with Y/N across the room, who had been shooting Spencer glances for quite some time now.

Frustration started to bubble inside Spencer as the pages of the case file in front of him seemed to blurry even more when he moved his eyes back to it, the letters swimming across the paper as if they were mocking his attempts to work.

The sounds around him only seemed to make things worse. Across the bullpen, Prentiss's deep voice rose in conversation with JJ, sharp and too loud for his own taste. The gentle tapping of Ashley's keyboard sounded like a woodpecker drilling into his ears. The steady rustling of paper, the faint squeak of wheels on rolling chairs, even the scratch of Y/N’s pen on paper, it all seemed to close around him, leaving him struggling to breathe. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together in an effort to keep himself from snapping.

But the worst part was the impossibility of concentrating - Spencer’s mind was usually his greatest ally, a place where he could retreat and find order even in chaos.

He stared at the case file in front of him, the report on Andrew Jacobs, a killer who had brutally murdered several women, including his own wife. Spencer knew the details of the case intimately, had memorized every little thing, every piece of evidence. But now, as he tried to write his report, the words wouldn’t come.

His pen hovered over the page, trembling slightly in his hand as the muscles in his fingers twitched. He pressed the tip of the pen to the paper, determined to start, but his mind was blank. No, worse than blank, it was fractured.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to write a sentence.

Andrew Jacobs exhibited narcissistic tendencies, as evidenced by-

The thought dissolved as another burst of pain shattered his focus. The rest of the sentence was lost, replaced by another white flash. His hand tightened around the pen, and he nearly snapped it in half as he exhaled a shaky breath.

He tried again.

Jacobs selected victims that resembled-

The throb in his temples flared, and he dropped the pen, his hand too weak to hold it.

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, desperate to shut out the light, the noise, the overwhelming sensations. He hunched over his desk, his breathing shallow and labored, trying to ride it out without drawing attention to himself - well, more.

Maybe caffeine would help. It had worked before, maybe inconsistently. But it was better than nothing.

Pushing back his chair, Spencer stood, determined to exterminate his pain. But the pace in which he did it sent a wave of vertigo crashing over him, the room tilting precariously to one side.

His vision narrowed as he stumbled, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the edge of the desk, but his fingers missed the mark. His foot caught on the leg of his chair, and he tripped forward, nearly knocking over a stack of case files in the process.

Lucky him.

"Spence!" Y/N’s voice cut through the cloud of his disorientation, filled with concern.

Before he could even process what was happening, her hands were on him, one steadying him by his biceps, the other catching the stack of papers before they could scatter across the bullpen.

Spencer forced a quick, shaky smile, hoping it would be enough to stop her worry.

"Sorry." He said, his voice as steady as possible. The effort to sound okay only made the pounding in his head worse, and he winced slightly as he tucked a very short lock of hair behind his ear - still used to having it longer. "I'm okay. I just tripped."

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she studied him. Her hand lingered on his arm, her grip gentle but firm, as if she was afraid he might fall again.

"Spence, are you sure? You don’t look-"

"I’m fine!" Spencer cut her off, his voice a touch too loud, earning a questioning glance from Prentiss across the room. He cleared his throat, softening his tone. "I just need a refill." He added, holding up his empty coffee mug as if it were some sort of shield. "Do you need one? I can get you it if you want!"

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before stepping out of her grasp and making a beeline for the coffee station. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t turn back.

Reaching the coffee maker, Spencer set his mug down with trembling hands, the slight clink of ceramic against metal sounding impossibly loud to his hypersensitive ears. He focused on the simple motions of pouring the coffee, hoping the familiarity of the task would anchor him.

The smell of the freshly brewed coffee hit him, and his stomach churned in response. He swallowed hard against the wave of nausea but pressed on, filling the mug to the brim.

The first sip burned his tongue, but he didn’t care. He gulped it down, the heat spreading through his chest like liquid desperation. Maybe the caffeine would kick in quickly, stopping the edges of the pain enough for him to concentrate.

But as he drained the mug, the room began to spin again. A nauseating dizziness wrapped itself around him, pulling his vision into darkness for a moment too long. He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he fought to stay up.

His stomach churned violently now, and his head felt like it was splitting apart. His legs wobbled beneath him, threatening to give way, and he knew he couldn’t keep standing. He needed to sit down. Now.

Spencer scanned the room for the nearest chair. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as he half-stumbled toward the breakroom table, collapsing into a chair before his legs could betray him entirely. He set the empty coffee mug down on the table with shaking hands - almost missing it - and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.

The sound of Spencer’s body collapsing against the chair reverberated through the bullpen like a thunderclap. Heads turned instinctively toward the breakroom, curiosity quickly giving way to concern when the sound was followed by a groan. A deep, guttural groan of pain that struck Y/N.

She knew that sound.

Her head snapped up, her pen clattering onto her desk, and in an instant, she was on her feet, moving toward it with determination.

"Y/N?" JJ's voice called after her, tinged with confusion, but she ignored her.

As she entered the room, the sight before her made her heart squeeze. Spencer was slumped in one of the chairs, his body hunched forward, his arms clutching his stomach. His hair was a mess, sticking to his damp forehead, and his shirt was rumpled, the fabric pulled and creased as if he’d been tugging at it in desperation to rid himself of the sensation of it against his clammy skin. Sweat dripped from his temples, his face pale and drawn, his eyes half-closed as though the effort of keeping them open was too much.

"Spence?" She whispered, her voice steady despite the panic rising in her chest.

She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering uncertainly near his, afraid to make things worse but desperate to comfort him.

"Hey, what’s wrong? What are you feeling?" She asked, her tone filled with concern. Her eyes scanned his face, searching for any clue, but the only response she received was a low, pitiful whimper.

The sound broke her heart.

Before she could press him further, Spencer’s body stiffened, his face contorting as a sudden wave of nausea overtook him. His stomach grumbled violently, and he gagged, a sharp, involuntary sound that echoed through the room.

"Oh my-!" Y/N gasped, realizing what was happening just as he tried to stand, his weak limbs shaking under his own weight.

He only managed to rise an inch before his knees buckled, sending him crashing back into the chair. His hand flew to his mouth as another gag wracked his body, his face twisting with misery. The effort to move had only made things worse.

Y/N acted on instinct, her heart pounding as she spotted the small trash bin tucked beneath the desk behind him. She grabbed it quickly, her movements fast, and positioned it under him just in time.

Spencer bent forward, his body heaving as he retched violently into the bin. His stomach emptied itself in painful spasms, each cough leaving him weaker. One of Y/N's hands cradled his shoulder to keep him from falling to the ground, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly. "I’m right here. Just let it all out. You’re going to be okay."

Her fingers traveled from his back to the back of his head, intertwining through his damp hair, tucking the short strands behind his ears as she continued to whisper reassurances. The sound of her voice was low and soft, grounding him.

Outside the breakroom, Morgan and Prentiss had gathered by the coffee station near the door, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm as the muffled sounds of gagging reached their ears. Morgan had been the first to step forward, concern taking over his face, but Emily stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Give them a second." She said quietly.

Inside, Spencer’s nausea began to ease, though his body still trembled, probably because of exhaustion. Y/N kept knelt by his side, her hands never once leaving him, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.

When he finally stopped, Spencer sagged against the chair, his face pale as a ghost, and his breathing shallow and uneven. Y/N quickly took off her jacket, gently wiping his mouth and chin before brushing the hair from his face again, creating a mental note to throw her clothing inside her washing machine as soon as they got home.

"Y/N, you don’t have to do this-" Spencer started, his voice weak but laced with sincerity as he tried to lift his head and meet her gaze, trying to push her jacket away with his hand.

Y/N didn’t let him finish, shaking her head.

"You make it seem like taking care of you is hard work." She cut him off with a soft smile, her free hand slipping over his lifted one, her thumb rubbing gentle circles into his knuckles, lowering them.

Spencer's eyes darted away, his cheeks coloring faintly in embarrassment. He hated that she was seeing him like that - so sick and so not him.

"But taking care of you." She continued, her other hand coming to rest on his thigh, warm and grounding. "Is the easiest thing in the world."

Spencer hummed softly in response, the sound noncommittal but tinged with gratitude.

"Now." She said, her eyes searching his as she lowered her head to his high, searching for his eyes. "What’s going on?"

Spencer shook his head weakly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He was too drained and too overwhelmed to explain the relentless storm of pain that had consumed him in such a small period of time.

Y/N exhaled softly, her worry deepening as she took in his refusal to answer. She glanced over her shoulder, debating whether to call for Hotch or JJ.

"Okay." She said gently, leaning closer so he could hear her. "You don’t have to talk right now. Just breathe. I’m here."

The smell of vomit began to permeate the room, clinging to the air in a way that would have turned most stomachs. But Y/N didn’t flinch. She’d seen and smelled worse in her years with the BAU. Compared to that, a little puke was nothing.

"My head..." Spencer’s voice cracked as he whimpered several minutes later of silence, his words barely audible as his hands flew to his face, fingers pressing harshly against his eyes.

Y/N’s heart clenched, and she instinctively reached for his wrists, her hands gently tugging his away from his head. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and glassy, pain etched into every line of his expression.

"Oh, honey." She cooed softly, brushing the strands of hair from his forehead. "It’s your migraine again, isn’t it?"

A faint, almost imperceptible nod was all he managed.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" She asked, her voice gentle. "You should’ve said something before we even left your apartment this morning."

He shook his head weakly, as if the mere thought of explaining himself was too much effort.

Y/N sighed, her fingers brushing over his temple in a soothing motion.

"Alright." She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We’re going home, okay?" She paused for a beat, watching him closely. "Can you stand?"

Spencer didn’t respond right away. He stayed hunched over, breathing unevenly, his shoulders trembling slightly as if he was waiting for his body to answer for himself. Finally, after a long moment, he whispered.

"I don't think I can. I’m dizzy... really dizzy."

Y/N’s expression softened even further.

"That’s okay." She assured gently, her hand rubbing slow, comforting circles across his back. "There’s no rush, Spence. We’ll wait until you feel ready, alright?"

He didn’t answer, but the slight relaxation of his posture told her he’d heard. She stayed by his side, her fingers trailing up to his shoulders, massaging the tension she could feel knotted beneath his crumpled shirt.

"I’m going to grab some water for you, okay?" After a moment, she whispered. "Just something to rinse your mouth and maybe settle your stomach." She began to shift, preparing to stand, but the soft wince that escaped Spencer stopped her in her tracks.

He reached out, his hand trembling as it found her arm, his grip gentle but insistent. His big puppy eyes met hers with a silent plea.

"Can you stay?" He asked lowly, his fingers loosening slightly but not letting go. "I don't need water."

He actually needed it, but it could wait. He preferred her by his side.

"Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere." She assured him, nodding. "I’m right here."

She settled back into her position beside him, her arm draped protectively over his shoulder. They stayed like that for several minutes, Y/N murmuring soft reassurances while Spencer focused on taking slow, measured breaths.

Eventually, he shifted slightly, his posture straightening just enough to signal he was ready.

"I think... I can stand now." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, throwing her jacket over her shoulder before her hands moved to support him as she stood, then gently helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, heavily leaning against her, his weight a little awkward against her frame, but she didn’t mind.

"Easy." She murmured, her voice calm. "One step at a time. I’ve got you."

With painstaking care, she guided him out of the breakroom, her focus entirely on him. Their teammates noticed them, their concerned gazes following, but Y/N didn’t pause to explain.

She led Spencer to the bathroom, not caring to turn on the lights, knowing that it would just make his situation worse. She eased him down onto the small bench near the sinks, watching as he sank into the seat with a groan, his head drooping forward again as though even holding it upright was too much.

"Hang tight." Y/N said softly, brushing her hand over his shoulder before turning toward the sink.

She turned on the faucet, letting the water run cold, and dampened a handful of paper towels. Returning to Spencer, she knelt in front of him and gently pressed the cool towels to his face and neck. He sighed faintly at the momentary relief, his body relaxing slightly under her care.

"There we go." She whispered, dabbing away the sweat on his brow and cheeks. "Just a little longer, alright?"

She smoothed down the rumpled fabric of his shirt, adjusting it to make him more comfortable, and ran her fingers through his hair, untangling the damp strands.

"You’re doing so well, honey." She murmured, her voice gentle. "We’ll get you feeling better soon, I promise.

Spencer blinked at her, his pain-clouded eyes filled with love. He didn’t have the will to speak, but the way he leaned into her touch said everything he couldn’t.

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb brushing lightly over his eyebrows before standing again.

"Come on." She said, offering her hands. "Let’s get you out of here."

Spencer took a deep breath, summoning what little strength he had left, and let her guide him to his feet. Y/N steadied Spencer as they exited the bathroom, her hand firmly wrapped around his right arm - it would be barely 20 steps to the elevators. She could handle that. She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but commanding.

"Spence, close your eyes for me, okay? The lights out there are only going to make it worse. I’ll guide you, I promise."

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then nodded weakly and let his eyes flutter shut. Y/N adjusted her hold on him, now wrapping his waist, taking most of his weight as they slowly started their journey through the small path to the exit doors.

The hum of conversation in the office dimmed as curious eyes turned toward them. Y/N’s jaw tightened, her sharp gaze sweeping the room, sending a hard glare to anyone who dared look too long or seemed close to say something, as if to warn don’t even think about it.

Her eyes found Morgan when they crossed the glass doors, who was watching them, his expression full of concern. He tilted his head slightly, silently asking if she needed help. She gave him a curt nod, Spencer's body against hers starting to make her legs feel tired.

Morgan moved swiftly, stepping ahead to press the elevator button, ensuring the doors would be ready for them. Then, without hesitation, he came to Spencer’s other side.

"Let me take him." Morgan said gently, sliding his arm around Spencer’s shoulders to ease the weight off Y/N.

Spencer stiffened for a moment at the unfamiliar touch, but as Morgan steadied him, a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He relaxed slightly, leaning into Morgan’s strength, though his grip on Y/N’s hand remained loose, as if afraid to let her go entirely.

Morgan gave him a reassuring smile.

"Hey, pretty boy." He said lightly, his tone warm and familiar. "How are you feeling down there?"

Spencer’s lips twitched faintly, a weak attempt at humor breaking through the haze of pain.

"Not so pretty right now." He murmured, his voice hoarse and strained.

Morgan chuckled softly, his hand giving Spencer’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Nah, you’re still prettier than most of us, even like this."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile at Morgan’s effort to keep the mood light. She adjusted her pace to match theirs as they finally reached the elevator. Morgan shifted slightly, ensuring Spencer stayed upright while Y/N pressed the button for the parking level - he really looked like he was about to pass out, and none of them wanted that.

The elevator ride was quiet save for Spencer’s shallow breaths and the occasional comforting words from Morgan. Y/N kept her hand on Spencer’s one, her fingers tracing calming circles above his skin.

Morgan’s grip was steady as he guided Spencer to the car after they reached the garage, Y/N walking ahead to open the passenger door.

"Alright, pretty boy, here we go." Morgan said softly, helping Spencer lower himself into the seat. Spencer groaned faintly as he settled in, head resting against the headrest.

Morgan straightened, closing the door carefully before turning to Y/N, who stood nearby with her keys clutched tightly in her hand.

"You good, Y/L/N? You sure you got this? I can follow you, help get him settled if you want."

Y/N shook her head.

"I’ve got it. Thank you, though. He’ll be okay. He just needs some rest and quiet." She offered Morgan a small but grateful smile. "Can you let Hotch know that we had to go earlier? I'm gonna text him later to explain it all better, but I know he will be worried."

Morgan studied her for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, you got it. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will." Y/N replied.

Morgan gave her upper arm a gentle squeeze before stepping back, waiting until she climbed into the driver’s seat before heading back inside.

Once the door was closed, Y/N glanced over at Spencer. His breathing had already evened out, his face slack with sleep. A twinge of sadness pulled at her chest, wishing she could take all his pain away. She reached out gently, brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

"You’ll feel better soon, baby." She whispered softly.

With the car in motion, Y/N quickly decided that taking him to her apartment would be the best option. Spencer’s place, though obviously comfortable, required climbing a flight of stairs, and there was no way she was going to risk him - or herself - having to deal with that. Her building had an elevator, and she knew he’d be just as safe there.

The drive was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine. Spencer didn’t stir, his head tilted slightly against the cool window as the motion of the car lulled him deeper into sleep. Y/N drove carefully, taking turns gently and avoiding any sharp stops, all the while stealing occasional glances at him to ensure he was okay.

When she finally pulled into her building’s parking garage, she cut the engine and let out a breath. Turning to Spencer, she hesitated for a moment before reaching over and resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey." She said softly, giving him a gentle shake. "Hey, we’re here. I need you to wake up for me, okay?"

Spencer let out a quiet groan, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly began to rouse. He squinted, grimacing as if the mere act of opening his eyes was too much.

"I know, I know." Y/N cooed softly, her voice full of understanding. "I'm sorry, baby. Just a little further, and you can sleep again. Come on, I’ve got you."

With sluggish movements, Spencer let Y/N unbuckle his seatbelt and help him out of the car, cringing slightly at how useless he felt and looked right now. His legs were unsteady, and she quickly wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him toward the building’s entrance.

By the time they reached her apartment door, the sound of clicking nails on the floor echoed as Snow, her fluffy little Shih Tzu, padded over excitedly to greet them.

"Hey, Snow." Y/N whispered softly, nudging the dog back with her leg as Spencer swayed slightly beside her. "Not now, sweetie. Go lie down."

Snow, almost sensing the mood, tilted his head, nudging lovingly at Spencer's leg before trotting off to his bed in the corner of the living room.

"Alright, Spence. Let’s get you to bed, too." She guided him carefully into her bedroom.

Her free hand swiftly clicks her bedside lamp on, the soft glow of it casting warm light across the room.

Helping him sit on the edge of the bed, Y/N crouched down, quickly unlacing his Converse and slipping them off one at a time. Next, she loosened his tie and removed it, setting it gently on her dresser.

"Let’s get this off too, okay?" She murmured as she unbuttoned his crumpled white shirt.

Spencer didn’t resist, his limbs too uncoordinated to help her, only moving them to press his palms hard against his eyeballs again, but his action was quickly - and gently - stopped by Y/N.

Once the shirt was off, leaving him in just his pants and mismatched socks, she eased him back against the pillows, ignoring her mind telling her that he would be mad for 'going to bed in outside clothes, do you know how many germs there is in this?'

Spencer sighed softly as he sank into the mattress, the lines of tension in his face easing just a little. Y/N adjusted the blankets, pulling them up to his waist to keep him warm before brushing her fingers softly through his hair, tucking the messy strands away from his face.

"There we go." She whispered to herself, her voice as soft as the dim light of the room.

Satisfied that he was settled, she straightened up and turned toward the door, ready to let him get the rest he desperately needed. But just as she took her first step, she felt a gentle tug on her wrist. The touch was weak, barely there, but enough to stop her.

Turning back, she saw Spencer’s hand wrapped loosely around her wrist, his long fingers barely curled. His eyes were still shut, but his brows were drawn together, his lips parting as he whispered, voice hoarse and fragile.

"Can you... stay here? Just for a little more."

Y/N immediately sat in the mattress, by his hips side, her heart skipping a beat with his tone of voice.

"Of course, honey." She murmured, brushing the top of his fingers softly with her thumb. "I’m not going anywhere. I promise."

Spencer let out a shaky breath. His grip on her wrist didn’t tighten. If anything, it was soft and almost reverent, like he was afraid to hold on too hard.

"Sorry." He murmured, his voice cracking, so quiet she almost missed it. "I’m... sorry for all of this. For making you deal with this."

The apology was so honest but so unnecessary that it sent a pang straight through Y/N’s chest. She leaned closer, resting her free hand gently on his cheek, her thumb tracing along his jaw.

"Spencer." She whispered, her tone firm but warm. "Don’t be stupid." She smiled faintly, noticing how his right eyebrow moved slightly up, the way it always did when he was feeling confused. "You’ve done this for me so many times. How many nights have you sat with me when I wasn’t feeling my best? How many times have you made me tea, or read to me until I fell asleep, or stayed up just to make sure I was okay? You never complained. Not once."

Spencer’s lips pressed into the faintest semblance of a smile, barely there but still enough to make Y/N’s heart squeeze. His hand slipped from her wrist to her own hand, his fingers curling around hers, warm despite the cool sweat still lingering on his skin.

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice raw, like it was taking everything in him to get the words out. And maybe it was. Being transparent with his feelings was the hardest thing for Spencer - something he was trying to change since putting his eyes on Y/N for the very first time.

Y/N leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment as if to let him feel every bit of affection she carried for him.

"You don’t have to thank me." She murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. "This is what love is, Spence. I’m here because I want to be here. Because I care about you."

Spencer’s grip on her hand stayed soft as his features relaxed again, the tension melting away. But just as she began to pull back, her tone shifted, still gentle but also firm.

"In the morning, we’re going to the doctor, okay?" She said softly, her tone sounding rhetorical, as if not waiting to hear his opinion.

Spencer’s brows knitted together, his lips parting in protest, but he didn’t immediately respond.

"Spence." She continued. "I know you’ve dealt with migraines since you were younger, but this? This wasn’t normal. It came out of nowhere, and it hit you so hard. You have to have it checked out."

Finally, he spoke, his voice cracking.

"But... what if... what if it’s not just migraines?" His voice wavered, and he squeezed her hand tighter. "What if it’s... what if it’s something worse? What if it’s like my mom?" His voice broke on the last word, and he swallowed hard, his breathing shaky. "I can’t... I can’t risk that. I can’t risk knowing that now. I can’t risk losing you because of it."

Before Y/N, Spencer had been trying to do every test and clinical exam that would show him how close to schizophrenia or Alzheimer's he could be - his college years had been full of them - but now he did his best to stay away from it. He just couldn't risk it.

Y/N’s face fell at his words, and the fear evident in his expression. She cupped his face gently, forcing him to look at her, even if his eyes fluttered open for only a moment.

"Spence." She said, her voice thick with emotion but steady. "You’re not going to lose me. Ever. Do you hear me? Whatever happens, I’ll be right here. I’ll be with you every step of the way. You’re not alone in this."

He closed his eyes again, his features crumpling as he absorbed her words. He wanted to believe - he needed to - but the example he had from his father had been everything but perfect.

"Don't keep worrying your head with this. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? Right now, I need you to rest. Just rest."

"I love you." He murmured, his voice softening. "So much."

Y/N let out a shaky breath.

"I love you more." She whispered back, smiling softly, brushing her fingers through his hair one last time before pulling back. "Get some sleep." She said gently.

This time, he didn’t protest as she stood and stepped toward the door. Quietly, she slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension of the day began to melt away. Snow trotted up to her, tail wagging gently as if offering quiet support.

"Alright, boy." Y/N murmured, scratching Snow behind the ears. "Let’s get this place in order and make something to eat for later, huh?"

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘..?

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your worst fears come true when you realize Sirius and Remus didn't want kids.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Talk about pregnancy, pregnant!reader

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Wolfstar x reader

The early afternoon sun was streaming through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the cozy living room as you lounged on the couch, legs draped over Sirius’ lap, Remus sipping tea from his spot on the chair beside you. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through Sirius’ hair, watching him lean into the touch, his smirk softening into something more vulnerable. Remus caught the slight shift in your expression before you even realized it was happening.

You had been thinking about this moment for days now—wondering if it was the right time to bring it up. But after spending the past week with Lily and seeing her excitement over Harry growing inside her, the yearning in your heart had only intensified. You could practically feel it in your bones now.

"Hey," you started, a little softer than usual, catching both their attention. "What do you two think about having kids?"

There was a beat of silence that followed, their reactions not immediate, which only made your heart race a little faster. Sirius quirked an eyebrow, his usual cocky grin flickering into something more unsure. Remus stiffened ever so slightly, and you noticed his fingers tighten around his mug, the faintest of trembles in his hand.

“K-kids?” Sirius echoed, the words like a foreign concept in his mouth. He glanced at Remus, the two sharing a look that wasn’t lost on you.

“Y-yeah,” Remus began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.”

Your stomach dropped, the air growing heavier. You tried to play it off, giving a weak laugh. "Oh, alright. No worries, I was just—just curious."

But the lump in your throat betrayed you. There was a beat too long of quiet and you suddenly remembered how suffocating the room felt.

“Oh! Actually, I—I forgot,” you stumbled over your words, pulling your legs off Sirius and standing up quickly. “I was supposed to meet Lily and James today.”

Remus furrowed his brow, a hint of concern crossing his features. “Are you okay?”

You waved him off, grabbing your jacket and trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I’ll see you later.”

The second you were outside, the cool autumn air hit your face, and your resolve shattered. Hot tears pricked at your eyes as you made your way to Lily and James’ house. How could they not understand? How could they not even entertain the idea?

James opened the door with his usual wide grin, though it faltered the moment he saw the state you were in. “Hey—whoa, what’s wrong?”

You managed a wobbly smile before your face crumpled. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

Without another word, James pulled you inside, calling for Lily. “Lils! We’ve got a situation here.”

Lily appeared moments later, cradling her swollen belly, her face lighting up with concern. “Oh, love. What happened?”

You collapsed onto the couch, and it all came pouring out—how you had asked Sirius and Remus about kids, how they had dismissed the idea like it was nothing, and how much it hurt because you already knew deep down that something was different.

“They don’t want kids,” you sobbed into your hands, feeling utterly lost. “And I just—what if they never want them? I can’t wait forever, and—"

“But do they need to want them now?” James asked, trying to make sense of your outburst.

You didn’t respond, just cried harder, until Lily placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. Her eyes softened as the realization dawned on her. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, kneeling in front of you. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Her words sliced through the fog in your mind, and you dissolved into fresh sobs, unable to deny it any longer.

James’ eyes widened in disbelief as he sat down beside you. “Bloody hell.”

For the next few days, you stayed with James and Lily, hiding away from the world—and from Sirius and Remus. Every time they sent an owl, you ignored it. Every time they came by, you pretended you weren’t home. You couldn’t bear to face them. What if they were never ready? What if this dream of yours was something they’d never want to share?

Back at home, Sirius paced anxiously while Remus stared out the window, worry etched into every line of his face.

“She’s avoiding us,” Sirius growled, frustration bubbling to the surface. “What the hell did we do?”

Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was the question. We brushed it off like it didn’t matter, but it did.”

“We can’t be ready for something like that,” Sirius muttered, his voice low. “I can’t—what if I’m like him? What if I’m just like my father?”

Remus set his mug down, his eyes clouding with his own fears. “And what if—what if it’s a full moon and the baby—what if it’s like me?”

They sat in silence, haunted by their shared doubts and insecurities, until it hit them both like a lightning bolt.

“Oh,” Sirius whispered, eyes wide. “She wasn’t asking for ‘someday.’ She was asking for now.”

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on James and Lily’s door again, only this time you couldn’t ignore it.

James opened it, looking between Sirius and Remus with a mixture of relief and exasperation. “Took you long enough,” he muttered, stepping aside to let them in.

They found you in the sitting room, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you like a shield. You didn’t look up when they entered, but you felt their presence immediately.

“Love,” Sirius started softly, coming to sit beside you while Remus hovered nearby. “We… we’ve been absolute idiots.”

You sniffled, keeping your gaze on your lap. “You think?”

Sirius winced. “Yeah, we do.”

Remus crouched in front of you, his eyes pleading. “We didn’t realize what you were trying to tell us. We didn’t understand.”

“And now that you do?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What then?”

Sirius reached for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “Now we tell you that we’re scared. Terrified, even. But we want this. We want a family with you.”

Remus nodded, his voice soft but steady. “We don’t have all the answers. But we’ll figure it out—together. We’re ready, if you are.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from hurt. They were from hope, from the overwhelming love you had for these two men who, despite their fears, were willing to take this leap with you.

You let out a shaky breath, a small smile tugging at your lips as you whispered, “I think we’re going to be alright.”

And in that moment, with Sirius’ arms wrapped around you and Remus’ hand resting protectively on your stomach, you believed it. You were going to be more than alright.

You were going to be a family.

[finalgilmoregirl]

omg I loved your grumpy x sunshine Mike and reader work - could you please do another scenario where the sunshine! reader is the one who has a bad day and it’s up to grumpy! Mike to comfort and help out in his own way? :) thanks for sharing your work!

a/n : i'm glad you enjoyed it, thanks for the request. fem!reader, she/her pronouns, mainly just fluff

☆ bad day : grumpy!mike schmidt x sunshine!fem!reader

mike knew something was wrong the moment he closed his door behind him and was greeted with silence has he entered the house.

you were always rushing in to greet him as soon as the sound of his keys against the door knob signaled his arrival, but today that clearly wasn't the case.

"hello?" mike called out and a moment later was met by the sight of abby creeping out of the hallway.

"where's y/n?"

"well hello to you too" the young girl rolled her eyes, walking past mike and heading for the kitchen.

"sorry" he sighed, catching her arm before she got too far and pulling her into his arms for a hug, earning a groan in response. "how was your day?"

"it was okay, but i think y/n/n's sick."

"sick? what do you mean?" mike thought back to when he last saw you just that morning. you were fine, your normally bubbly self despite the early hours, yawning between giggles as you and abby got breakfast prepared.

abby shrugged, "i don't know, she's been in bed since we got home."

mike knew you better than abby to know that you couldn't be sick. even if you were sick, you would protest and continue your daily routine as usual. something had to have been seriously wrong for you to defy from that routine and lay in bed for hours, especially with abby home. you hated to leave her alone and always tried to find something spontaneous and fun for the two of you to do if time permitted.

he warily walked into the direction of your shared bedroom and slowly opened the door that was left ajar. the lights were off and if it wasn't for the glow of the hallway light, he wouldn't have been able to see your figure on the bed in the dimness of the afternoon darkness.

but there you were, laying on your side, facing away from the door. mike could tell you weren't sleeping by the way that you were scratching at the loose threads of the faded colored duvet.

"hey" he called out softly, nearing your spot on the bed where he then took a seat on the edge, softly placing a hand on your shoulder. "you okay?" he asked, trying to gauge your emotions. that quickly cleared up however when he heard a sniffle come from you, followed by a small hiccup. you were crying.

mike leaned over to look at your face and was met with wet eyes and puffy chapped lips. his eyebrows furrowed, "hey hey hey" he said softly, moving you so you were now laying on your back, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to will the tears away. you hated crying, and you knew mike hated to see you cry. "what's wrong? what happened?"

you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath, clearly trying to control yourself. "just...had a bad day." you sighed.

"well, talk to me about it." mike wasn't always the best at dealing with emotions, but he was good at comforting you and abby, always wanting you to open up to him, even if he had trouble doing the same sometimes.

you took in another deep breath and nodded, preparing yourself to tell mike about the worst day you'd had in a while.

"i fell off the front steps after you and abby left this morning. but it was okay" you started, "i laughed, realized i scraped by knees and had to change my pants but that was okay." mike nodded along and listened, rubbing your side as you spoke. "but then i got a flat tire on my way to work." you continued, sighing as you felt the emotions building up again. "that was fine, it took me a while to get it fixed but i mananged and that was taken care of with no problems. but i was late, and usually my boss would let that kind of thing slide, but we had some hire ups there to oversee us and when one of them called me out for not being "better prepared", instead of changing the subject or at the very least, defending me after everything i've done for him, he agreed! then she basically told him that i should either be fired or have my paycheck cut." you finished with a huff and let the fresh tears that had built up in your eyes fall down your face.

mike felt a pang of hurt in his chest as he heard you recount the unfortunate events of your day. you didn't deserve to go through all of that. "why didn't you call me?" he asked, brushing the tears away from your face and attempting to flatten the hairs that had become out of place.

your hands came up to cover your face as you let out a sob. "i forgot to charge my phone!" you cried, earning a soft aww honey from mike as he kissed your temple, allowing for you to let your feelings out. after a minute of you gasping for air through your cries and furiously wiping away tears that just kept coming, you started to relax. you sighed and turned your head to your partner.

"i'm sorry you had to see me like this, how was your day?" you asked, still sniffling. mike shook his head and scoffed a laugh, even in the middle of a breakdown, you still want to talk about him.

"no don't worry about me, it was fine." he said, "how can i help you?"

you shrugged, looking down and beginning to play with mikes fingers where his hand now rested on your stomach.

"come on" he insisted, "you always help me when i'm having a bad way and i want to help you now. do you want a snack? do you want to watch a movie, or go for a drive? anything you want, i'll do it for you."

you let out a small laugh at mike's dedication, causing him to squeeze your side. "i'm serious!"

you looked back up and into his eyes, cracking a small smile. "maybe a movie." you said quietly.

"okay, i can do that." mike spoke, starting to get up from his seat on the bed until he was stopped by your hand on his arm.

"but first can you just hold me for a bit. please?" mike looked down at you with a kind of softness that he ever only reserved for you.

"yeah, i can do that too."

the end ☆

[doumadono]

Synopsis: in a serene moment of post-war healing, Bakugo and you cherish a peaceful afternoon in the park

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

"You're late," Bakugo's voice cut through the quiet of the afternoon, his impatience evident in his tone.

You quickened your pace, seeing him standing by the park entrance with his arms crossed. "Sorry, I had to finish up some things with Aizawa-sensei. You know how he gets," you explained, trying to catch your breath. "Besides, I knew you'd wait for me."

Bakugo rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, well, next time, try to be on time," he grumbled, though his irritation seemed to be melting away.

The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the park. 

You had always loved this time of day, when everything seemed to slow down, and the world felt a little more magical.

The war against the villains had ended months ago, leaving scars but also new beginnings. The world was slowly healing, and so were you and Bakugo. Today was meant to be a break from everything - a day to just be together and enjoy the peace you had fought so hard for.

The park was alive with the sounds of children playing, couples laughing, and birds singing. It was a stark contrast to the chaos you'd both endured, and you found solace in the normalcy of it all.

"Hey, can we sit here for a bit?"

You glanced up at Bakugo Katsuki, who was already eyeing a quiet spot under a large oak tree in the park. 

"Sure, Katsuki," you replied with a smile. You settled down on the blanket he'd brought.

Bakugo sat beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed against yours. He stretched out his legs and leaned back on his hands, tilting his head to the sky. 

"Mind if I sit here?" you asked, pointing to his lap and feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

Bakugo cracked one eye open, smirking. "Tch, do what you want," he replied, though you could see the faintest hint of pink on his ears.

You giggled, taking that as a yes. Carefully, you shifted, settling yourself on his lap. 

His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. Despite his rough exterior, Bakugo had a way of making you feel safe and cherished. "Comfortable?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"Very," you replied, leaning back against his chest. "It's a perfect afternoon, isn't it?"

Bakugo hummed in agreement, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Yeah, guess it is," he admitted. "But it's not just the day."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Oh? And what else makes it perfect?"

He rolled his eyes. "You, idiot," he said, his tone softer than usual. "You make it perfect."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Despite his gruff manner, Bakugo had a way of expressing himself that always caught you off guard. You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand. "You know, you're pretty amazing yourself, Katsuki."

He huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but you could see the slight curve of his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all mushy on me."

You laughed, feeling light and happy. "Too late for that," you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "We deserve a break after everything we've been through."

He tightened his arm around your waist, his calloused fingers running up and down the curve of your waistline. "Damn right we do," he muttered. "Not that I need to be reminded of all the idiots we had to deal with."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Katsuki, we won. We made it through. And now, we get to enjoy moments like this."

He huffed, but his grip on you tightened. "Yeah, yeah. I know." He paused, his expression softening. "I just... sometimes it feels like it’s too good to be true, y'know?"

You smiled, rubbing your nose with his. "It’s real, Katsuki. We made it real."

He sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. "You’re always so damn positive," he said, but there was no bite to his words.

"I have to be," you replied, your voice soft. "For both of us."

Bakugo's arms tightened around you, and he nuzzled your neck, making you giggle. 

There was an intimate intensity in being so close, feeling the surge of his heartbeat, now mighty in the wake of his encounter with Shigaraki, pressing against your side. His breath, warm and steady, brushed the skin of your neck.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first stars began to appear, twinkling in the twilight sky. 

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against Bakugo's.

"Hey," he said after a while, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for sticking with me," he said, his tone unusually sincere. "I know I can be a real pain sometimes."

You turned in his arms, facing him. "Katsuki, I wouldn't have it any other way," you claimed firmly. "You're worth it. Every stubborn, explosive part of you."

He stared at you for a moment, then pulled you into a kiss. It was soft and lingering, filled with all the emotions he often struggled to express. 

The park was gradually emptying as families and joggers made their way home. 

"You know," you began, breaking the silence, "I always wondered what you saw in me."

Bakugo's grip on your waist tightened slightly. "What kind of stupid question is that?" he grumbled, but there was no real anger in his voice.

"I'm serious, Katsuki," you said softly. "You're this amazing, strong hero with a bright future. Sometimes I wonder if I'm enough for you."

He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Listen to me, idiot," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You're more than enough. You make me better. You challenge me, keep me grounded. Hell, you make me want to be a better person. And if you can't see that, then maybe I'm not doing a good enough job showing it."

Your eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt words. "Katsuki, I..."

"Shut up," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. "Just... stay here with me. That's all I need."

You nodded, blinking back the tears. "Always," you whispered.

For a while, you both sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence. The gentle hum of crickets filled the air, adding to the serene ambiance.

Bakugo shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on you. "Remember that time we got caught in the rain during patrol?" he asked suddenly.

You chuckled, nodding. "How could I forget? We were soaked through and had to take shelter in that tiny café."

"Yeah," he said, a rare fondness in his voice. "You looked like a drowned rat."

"Gee, thanks," you replied dryly, but you couldn't help but laugh. "And you were grumbling the whole time about how much you hate the rain."

Bakugo smirked. "Still do. But that day... it wasn't so bad."

You smiled, leaning your head back against his shoulder. "It was kind of nice, wasn't it? Just us, sipping hot chocolate and watching the rain."

He nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. It was nice."

You turned slightly, looking up at him. "I love you, Katsuki," you whispered, the words coming out easily, naturally.

Bakugo's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you might have surprised him. But then he smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. "I love you too," he said, his voice steady and sincere.

You kissed him then, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of all the love and affection you felt for him. When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

"We should probably head back to the dorm," you murmured, though you didn't really want to move.

Bakugo sighed, but he nodded. "Yeah, probably," he agreed. 

The future was uncertain, but you were ready to face it together, hand in hand. Because with Bakugo by your side, you knew you could conquer anything.

[pupkashi]

“can i hug you? you look like you could do with it”

a/n: hi friends ! i hope u all enjoy this :] thank u for the request and sorry for taking so long :( i feel like this is slightly ooc for satoru but oh well :P

wordcount: 1,661

masterlist

you always watched gojo from a far, always a bit intimidated by the much taller sorcerer. he was carefree, always standing up to the higher ups in ways you’d only daydreamed of. he always spoke his mind, never once holding his tongue when it came to insulting those he disliked.

you’d always give him small smiles, telling him good morning and to have a good evening the times you had passed by him, not wanting to seem rude.

he would always say it back, continuing the conversation with you until you parted ways. he’d stand up for you during meetings, never allowing the higher ups to disrespect you. anytime he’d see your eyes widen a bit at the mention of a mission that seemed too difficult, he was quick to offer himself up in your place.

“don’t you geezers think i should take the mission on? y/n had something planned for the students anyway” he says, anger evident in his voice, but he’s shooting you a smile and a thumbs up as he speaks.

“fine, you can take this one gojo” one of the higher ups say, “y/n you’re free to leave.”

gojo watched you with a love struck look on his face. one you didn’t notice as you were too busy scurrying out of the room, trying your best to not get on the higher ups bad side.

after the third meeting of gojo taking on your missions you decided you should at least thank the man. you approached him shyly, giving him a small smile and saying hello, gojo smiled brightly at you, asking how you were.

the two of you clicked fairly quickly, eating lunch together when you could and making easy conversation. you’d listen to him gush about the first years and shit on the higher ups and he’s listen to you rant about your day and talk about the shows you were watching.

it’d only been a couple weeks since the two of you actually started to get to know each other, but you considered him a friend of yours, even if sometimes you did wish it was more than friendship.

you find yourself walking the empty halls on a thursday afternoon, the clocks ticking in the classrooms as you passed by them, heading towards your office to finish up some paperwork before the higher ups would get onto you for it. the setting sun causes golden rays to leak through the countless windows, shining on you as you continue down the halls.

there’s a cool breeze as you step outside, a sigh as you hold onto the papers in your hands a bit tighter, walking towards the garden area to cut through and get to your office a bit quicker.

a mess of snowy white hair catches your eye, making you slow your steps.

gojo satoru sat on one of the many benches, his elbows resting on top of his knees, chin in his hands. his uniform was a bit scuffed, you could only assume he’d gone out on a mission and only recently returned.

his eyes were covered by the familiar black blindfold, but there was a small frown on his lips. you debated not cutting through the garden today, leaving your new friend unbothered, but your body make the choice for you, already walking towards the strongest sorcerer with a small smile on your face.

“good afternoon gojo” you greeted, still a couple steps away when he turned to look at you, his entire demeanor changing to his usual cheery self.

“hey y/n! whatcha up to now?” his head titled a bit to the side, the mannerism reminding you of a puppy.

“just paperwork, how bout you?” you reply, sitting next to him on the bench, setting your papers down next to you, phone placed on top so they didn’t fly away.

“oh the usual,” he sighs, tilting his head back with a sigh, “thinking about my students, the future for the Jujutsu world and our place in the universe” he laughs dryly and you chuckle softly.

“but hey! there’s nothing gojo satoru can’t do” there’s a strained cheeriness to his tone, it’s makes your chest tighten. a tight smile paints his features, one that doesn’t even reach his eyes like it usually does. his shoulders are slumped and there’s no confident aura like there usually is.

now it’s your turn to frown, looking at him with gentle eyes before you’re speaking up, “can i hug you? you look like you could do with it” your face is burning and your heart is racing.

gojo is looking at you dumbfounded, did you really just ask him that? did someone tell you about his little crush on you?

“sorry! i didn’t mean to cross a line since we just-” you begin, your hands waving apologetically before you’re cut off with his arms around you.

the sudden contact renders you still for a second, then you’re snaking your arms around his neck, letting one of your hands find purchase on the back of his neck.

he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, you can hear a soft hiccup leave his mouth. you don’t mention it, you only squeeze him tighter to you, trying to hold him together, trying to show him you’re there for him.

“it’s okay” you whisper, “I’m right here for you.” your words seem to strike something in him, as his grip around you tightens, his arms are firm around your waist, his fingers gripping the fabric of your uniform, as if he was scared if he let go you’d disappear.

it’s only minutes later of your hushed reassurance that he’s loosening his grip on you, pulling away with a bashful smile on his face.

“if we weren’t friends before we certainly are now” you smile at him softly. the words elicit a chuckle from the sorcerer.

“who told you?” he asks suddenly, following your movements as you pick up the stack of papers next to you.

“told me what?” your brows are furrowed softly and he can’t help but think of how adorable you look.

“‘bout how i like you” he smiles, his confidence already back in full swing as he’s grinning down at you, loving the way you grew flustered at his words.

“what?! no! nobody told me anything!” you shriek, suddenly holding the papers tightly to your chest, heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears.

“huh, figured you would’ve noticed by now” he mumbled, “you didn’t think i was taking on all your difficult missions as a coincidence did ya?”

you’re speechless as you stare at the man infront of you, never once did the thought of the gojo satoru having feelings for you cross your mind.

“well- i mean i thought it was” you sputter out, “why would i think anything else” you laugh nervously, “i thought you were just being nice!”

satoru is just smiling at you, shaking his head and watching the way the gears turn in your head as you ramble on.

“- and so i didn’t want the entire world to just implode you know?” you look up at him, slightly out of breath and your eyes still a bit wide. “what?” you grin, taking in the way he’s looking at you, not exactly sure what he’s smiling about.

“so you do like me? or was that whole metaphor not really a metaphor and the future of the world is in the palm of your hands” his head is cocked to the side again, a cocky smile on his lips and you’re rolling your eyes.

“yeah” you breathe out, looking anywhere but him, trying to slow down your heart rate as you realize what you’ve just admitted and who you’d admitted it to.

satoru doesn’t care that your poor heart’s going a million miles an hour, he’s putting his hand under your chin and forcing you to look at him. he has a soft smile on his face, one that grows wider when he notices the way you squirm under his touch, flustered beyond belief.

“how about dinner tomorrow at 7? I’ll pick you up” there’s a reassuring calmness in his voice that makes you smile back at him, nodding and replying with an ‘okay.’

it’s quiet for a second between the two of you, but he’s quick to break the silence.

“thank you,” he clears his throat before elaborating, “for being here for me,” shifting in his seat as you look at him.

now it’s your turn to stare at him while his eyes are darting from plant to plant. you’re biting back a small smile as you reply, “course, I’ll always be here.”

satoru studies your features, only finding genuine kindness written across your face. the same kindness that made his mornings a bit brighter and his late nights less exhausting. the same smile that makes lunch breaks feel too short and missions away much too long.

the two of you sit on the bench long enough for the moon to say hello. both of yoh staring up at the sky and it’s stars, your hands rest in the space between the two of you, pinkies brushing every once in a while.

satoru is the first to make a move, linking his pinky around yours before diving in and intertwining your fingers with his.

the two of you continue talking, neither one of you daring to acknowledge your linked hands. the blush on satoru’s cheeks was a secret kept between the moon and him, and the way your stomach flipped was kept quiet between the stars and yourself.

when you finally do reach your office, it’s only to set your paperwork down on your desk, closing the door and taking satoru’s hand back in yours.

“ready?” he asks and you nod, letting him wrap an arm around you and hold you close to him, giggles leaving both of your lips as he walks you home.

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[thef1diary]

I absolutely love your writing!!!

Are you able to write something where reader is in a relationship with Max or Carlos or Lando. They sometimes playfight and yn usually wins. But one day the driver has to go somewhere else and uses his real strength to stop playing. And yn is shocked that he used to just pretend. Slightly angsty but mostly fluff.

Only if you can please :)

Playfight | M. Verstappen

warnings: slight angst, mainly fluffy

wc: 800+

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You and Max have always been close. Long before you started dating, you were best friends, partners in crime, and each other's confidants. Your days were filled with inside jokes, playful banter, and those moments of playfighting that always left you breathless with laughter. You loved the way Max engages in these little tussles, seemingly evenly matched, making it all the more thrilling.

Today was one of those days. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of your apartment, casting a warm, golden glow across the living room. Lounging on the couch, you and Max are scrolling through your phones and sharing random memes when the playful urge strikes you.

You nudge Max with your foot, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Bet I can take you down in under a minute."

He looks up, eyebrows raised, and chuckles. "Oh, really? Is that a challenge?"

You nod, laughing as you leap off the couch and adopt a mock fighting stance. Max follows suit, rising to his feet with a grin that mirrors yours. He's always game for a little fun, no matter how ridiculous.

You start your usual routine of playful attacks, knowing exactly how to make him laugh and stumble. But today, Max seemed a little distracted, glancing at his watch every few seconds. You notice but choose to ignore it, too caught up in the moment to let it break your stride.

"Alright, alright, you win," he says, attempting to end the fight quickly.

But you're not ready to let him off the hook. "Oh no, you don't get off that easy!" you tease, lunging at him again.

"Seriously, schat, I've got—" he starts, but you cut him off with a lighthearted shove.

"Come on, baby, fight back!" you urge, laughing as you goad him into continuing.

He sighs, clearly reluctant. "I really don't have time for this right now," he says, but you're too lost in the moment to listen.

You push him again, harder this time, and his expression changes. Without warning, Max grabs your wrists, twists you around, and gently but firmly pins you face-first to the couch. The sudden display of strength leaves you stunned, your breath catching in your throat.

"There, I win," he mumbles into your ear, before releasing you as he noted the time on his watch.

You lie there for a moment, processing what just happened. Slowly, you push yourself up and turn to face him, your mind racing. "Max... what was that?" you ask, unable to mask the shock in your voice.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly guilty. "I'm sorry. I really have to go. I didn't mean to—"

"You've always let me win, haven't you?" you interrupt, the realization hitting you hard.

Max sighs, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah," he admits softly. "I didn't want to ruin the fun."

You sit up fully, the playful mood evaporated, replaced by a mixture of surprise and a sting of hurt. "Why?"

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "I liked seeing you happy. It was never about winning or losing for me."

Your heart clenches, a lump forming in your throat as you process his words. "You've been holding back this whole time," you say, more to yourself than to him.

He nods, finally meeting your eyes. "I didn't want you to feel... I don't know, like you couldn't beat me. It was more important to me that you had fun."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "You're too sweet for your own good, you know that?"

He chuckles softly, squeezing your hand in return, but the tension between you remains. "I try, and I'm sorry for rushing off like this. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

You shook your head, preventing a smile from forming on your lips as you thought of an idea. "No, don't make it up to me, we'll just have to rematch."

He quirked up an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do that again?"

A grin breaks through despite your best efforts to remain serious. "Absolutely. But this time, let's make it more interesting. How about we use Nerf guns or water guns, you name it. Let's see who really comes out on top."

Max laughs, the sound easing the last of the tension between you. "Now that sounds like a challenge I can't refuse. But remember, you asked for it."

You nod, feeling a thrill of excitement. "It's on, baby. Next time, no holding back."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, still smiling as he heads for the door. "I'll be ready. Just don't be too disappointed when you lose."

With a smile, you settle back, imagining the thrill of the next fight. It won't just be about winning or losing—it will be about showing Max that you're ready to match his strength, playfulness, and love, shot for shot.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @helenemandl6 @charlesleclercsonlywife @dreamingonbed @heylookwhoitis @67-angelofthelordme-67 @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl

[tojipie]

adah … reader sliding toji her panties during a visit … him jerking off with them in his cell … (i know realistically it wouldn’t work bc regulations blah blah blah guards would see it and all BUT but indulge me for a sec) this man would go FERAL FOR THEM ((satosugu would try to steal them deprived freaks))

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: jerking off, mentions of violence, panty kink .. ? if that’s not a thing ignore that tag

you don’t know what had gotten into you today, truly. 

the idea had popped into your head as you were getting dressed, a little voice in the back of your brain directing your thoughts toward the maxi skirt you’d bought on an outing last weekend.

the fabric was opaque, impossibly silky. ebbing and flowing along the dips of your body all the way down to your ankles. tight enough to show off your figure but not enough to restrict your movements. easy to maneuver in without being too obvious.

that’s precisely why you have no issues wiggling your panties off each hip under one of the prison’s many visitor tables, letting the black lace slip over your knees and around your ankles.

you let one foot slip out of the garment, lifting your leg to brush against toji’s calf slowly.

huh? 

he whispers, amused at what he thinks is a little game of footsie. the inmate palms at the meat of your calf lovingly, traveling down down down until calloused fingers close around your ankle.

oh.

he’s quiet when he says it, eyes blown wide with a mix of shock and arousal. you barely hear him over the bustle of the visitor hall, the small smile gracing his face being your only indication of what he’s about to do.

toji delicately lifts the fabric from around your leg, scanning the perimeter to make sure no one’s looking. emerald eyes bore into yours as your boyfriend balls the garment up in his fist, bringing his closed hand up to his mouth.

and then he kisses it. kisses your panties through the gaps in his fingers without ever looking away, sending a lightning bolt of arousal straight to the deepest pit of your stomach.

you swear you see him stuff the fabric down the front of his pants before he heads back.

˚ ✧ ───

your little gift doesn’t last a chance in the shitty hiding place he picked, haphazardly thrown under the swell of his pillow while he eats lunch in the mess hall. all toji knows is that they were in his cell mates’ greedy little paws by the late afternoon, the two insufferable men huddled around the item like schoolgirls reading a magazine.

“how the fuck did you get these past customs?” geto asks in disbelief, turning the fabric over in the dim light. gojo runs a lithe finger over the lace border in silent interest. 

“didn’t get it in the mail dumbass,” your boyfriend sneers, snatching the black lace from both men with a huff. 

“so y’r broad snuck them to you, huh?” gojo teases, head hanging off the edge of the bunk with boredom. 

toji couldn’t stomp the two young men half to death like he usually would, disappointing as that was. he did only just get visitation rights back again after his last infraction.

the last time he’d beat geto’s face in was after the younger man had got his hands on a picture of you, earning toji 2 months in solitary confinement.

he really did think he was starting to go crazy, spending 22 hours a day in that padded room with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. being fed through a tray slot in the wall like a fucking zoo animal. 

more time in solitary meant less time with you. less time with the picture of you he tacked to the underside of the top bunk with a wad of gum, palming himself slowly as he takes in the sight of your sweet little smile he knows all too well.

less time with the soft clutch of your panties caressing the underside of his dick, catching milky ropes of cum as he finishes all over his stomach on the slab of metal this place calls a bed.

and a whole lot less time of getting to rut into you under the dim light of a spare storage closet, hours after dark. hand closed right around your lips as he takes you over and over and over.

so if toji had to bite his tongue till he drew blood and settle for jerking his dick raw as a distraction, then so be it. at least your little present would keep him good company till’ your next visit.

taglist🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq @i-literally-cant-with-this @emikokomura @moonriseoverkyoto

[sonder-paradise]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭

◊ ft. xiao, venti, kazuha, wanderer, gn!reader

◊ genre. fluff, reader teasing anemo fools

— 𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

he watches you carefully from the cooling shade of the tree above. whatever you're currently off doing, it seems to be entertaining you much more than usual. but there's something entirely charming about the way you find such joy in the timid moments teyvat gives you.

the gentle breeze sways past the two of you bringing in the salty scents of the nearby port and the mountainous ranges just beyond. he closes his eyes just a moment, soaking in the sound of your bubbling laughter and the symphonic winds.

"xiao!"

his eyes flicker open and, in a moment, he's at your side. he seems rather alert for a second before he realizes there is a board smile dressed across your face.

"is something the matter?"

you shake your head; that odd, little grin neglects to fade from your features. he raises an eyebrow at your behavior.

"no, just wanted to see you. oh, here."

and suddenly your hand is reaching towards him and you're leaning in a little too close and his breath catches in the back of his throat and now he's debating whether or not he should lean in too and—

"you had a leaf in your hair."

xiao turns a brilliant shade of red as your hand pulls back and you reveal a little green leaf. he stumbles through a mismatched phrase before you stop him with that stupid grin.

"what? did you want something else instead?"

you can practically see the steam burst from his ears.

— 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

another night, another set of drinks for the anemo archon and his beloved. venti belts out a brilliant set of notes for just the two of you as you plop down beside him on the grassy hillside. the moonlight streaks down on you both through the stony fingers of the statue of seven.

"do you think master diluc will notice?" he mumbles aloud.

"notice what?"

"the wine we stole!"

you laugh, waving him off. "i left some mora on the counter, i'm certain he can put two and two together."

venti joins your laughter. then he strums the strings of his favored lyre. venti feels the buzz of alcohol hit the back of his throat and he's grateful for this brief moment of mundanity the two of you have been given.

"oh, venti."

he turns as you call him and it's at that moment he realizes just how close you've gotten to his face. his eyes briefly flicker down to your lips and the buzzed gaze in your eyes.

then you pull back, having grasped the bottle of wine behind him with a grin.

"another round?" you pause, noting the pink dusting his pale cheeks and the way he looks absolutely hypnotized with you."

"oh? did you think i was going to kiss you?"

venti seems to snap out of his trance and gives you an apparent pout. "of course! why else would you get so close?!"

"to get the wine?" you shake the bottle a little, raising an eyebrow at him.

"wah! then just ask me! now kiss me properly!"

— 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

kazuha's grown a little tired of your constant teasing for today. perhaps you woke up a little too mischievous this morning, but he's not sure how much longer he can tolerate your behavior.

once: this morning while attempting to wake him up, he was certain he caught you trying to kiss him. and yet, he was surprised to hear that you were just brushing hair out of his eyes.

twice: early in the afternoon when you grasped his waist and looked at him from over his shoulder. he even unconsciously leaned in towards you, but instead you moved in to your right in order to pass.

and now three times: after lunch, having just watched you walk away after cupping the side of his face and leaning in, only to be met with you wiping crumbs off his face.

"kazuha, is something the matter?"

he stares at you before flashing you a smile you're certain is bound to be trouble.

"not at all, but would you like to explain your actions today?"

"what actions?"

"are you playing coy with me now, y/n?"

"whatever are you talking about?"

kazuha leans in, reaching to grasp your chin and adjusting it to match your eyes to his. his eyes flicker down to your lips and the butterflies in your stomach swarm almost violently.

then, he stops, pulling back with an overly-sweet smile.

"still don't know what i'm talking about?"

you swallow thickly, taking in the peeved expression in his eyes. whoopsies.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 / 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞

he should be used to these types of long night chats. he wants to be used to the way your voice chimes about the challenges of the day or the pleasures of it. but he also finds it addicting all at the same time.

the light of the candles illuminate your face as he listens carefully to you. whatever you're talking about has to do with something he can no longer attempt to remember. but you haven't asked him any questions on his comprehension of the matter so he doesn't clarify anything.

instead he watches your lips. the way they look so kissable, so delectable, so... ah, what were you saying again?

scaramouche snaps out of his stupor upon hearing his name leave your tongue. but, even then he hopes his eyes weren't about to tell you what exactly he was paying attention to.

"what?" he spits out.

"nothing, you seem a little distracted."

"well, you're wrong. i'm just getting sleepy is all."

you chuckle, scooting just a couple inches over to him. "i think i understand what's going on."

your face grows nearer to his and he can feel his heart ready to beat out of his chest and his face turn redder by the second. his eyes flicker down to your lips once more and for just a moment, he has to snap those eyes down to prevent them from tattling on his intentions.

your lips just barely graze his own and by then his skin is bursting red. but, you stop and you grin at him.

"you want to kiss me, is that right?"

scaramouche's eyes light up in a strangling embarrassment, but instead of the words he's ought to say it comes out a sputtering mess of emotions and excuses.

"what!? no! of course not! you- i—" then he pauses, grasping onto your wrist, "stop saying stupid shit like that and just kiss me if you're gonna do it already, okay??"

Taglist: @xo-cuteplosion-xo @planetxiao @nonsense-corner @ireallylikehamsters @eccedentesiast-sapphic @rebeccka @the-lost-anime-dad @lettucecabbage-kun @irethepotato @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ajaxstar @plinkuro @kiraisastay @lilia-sspouse @straymoon96 @coquettemaiden @leweird @ash-astrophel @uchihaeirin @lemontum @willburzone @rocambolescomargot @aestellia @fpyura @cerisearan @rosemary108233 @abvolat @thenightsflower @sammybeefangirls @wonpielle

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