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bewitched-hours · 2 days ago

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Good morning/evening.

Well its me again :] and I'm here for another request.

Basically, Mafioso x Bartender?Reader oneshot [You can make it into yandere if you want; No pressure].

Where Reader was once Mafi's best friend when they were young adult [During that time, They didn't know that He works and is a mafia himself.]

However, They had end their friendship after slowly realizing They're being friend to a dangerous criminal. After that, They live hidden with the fear of being mistaken as His accomplice and fear of geting revenge + beaten.

As for that, They faked their identities and hidden their true job under cover as a bartender since all the people come to the bar to drink [get drunk, remember nothing next morning = barely see the bartender's face well + They hidden their identities.]

But They didn't even expect to meet Him IN THAT FRICKING BAR THEY'RE WORKING-

[Extra note: Mafioso in Forsaken, not in Dream game.]

Well, the rest is up to you. Stay safe and hope you have a great day :]

-Phalpelisk

Ooo, what a good little prompt I've been fed today~ And tbh, I can't even really find much about dream game aside from fan-stuff so I always just assume Forsaken with Mafioso... (Seriously, where do I even start-)

Reader gets She/They~

Do you regret it? Probably not.

Even getting indirectly involved with the Mafia would've been too dangerous for your tastes. You did what you had to do to make sure he wouldn't be looking for you.

You had faked your death, started over with a new identity, even dying your hair and wearing lenses along with a brand new closet. Though you always had a hat on that shrouded your face in shadows just to be sure.

Nowadays you were just a bartender taking care of the unfortunate and letting them air out their frustrations for the night while you collected tips for your sweet attitude. It was hard to act like that at times but you've never lived better!

But back when you were still younger... You sometimes catch yourself still thinking about your best friend. You felt bad leaving him behind but you didn't want to be seen as his accomplice or anything if push came to shove. You were too scared to let that happen.

Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he was now. Maybe he stuck to the Mafia business? Or maybe he could've changed? Was that possible?

As you thought on such manners in the quiet of the evening, you heard the bells of the door ring their gentle tune. It was him...

You hadn't expected to find him strolling by your workplace but tried to keep your composure. He didn't look too different from when you last saw him and you could always play off your anxiousness- if he noticed it- by pointing out the fact he was a mafia boss or just his looks... Was he known as a mafia boss even? Maybe it was time you invested yourself in the news more...

"Gonna need a Tom Collins..." He sighed, sitting down as you began mixing without a second thought.

Tom Collins... Gin, lemon juice, some simple syrup, a club soda and some ice with a little lemon wedge and cherry for garnish. It's actually one of your favourites...

As you shook your shaker with the ingredients, you couldn't help but notice his tone. "Long day, huh?" You somehow managed to keep a calm voice as you spoke up, straining your current mixture into his ice-filled glass and topped it with the soda and garnishes. "Nothing a little gin and lemon can't fix though, right?" You tried to keep it lighthearted, your sweet act going right past him as he began drinking.

"Just on the hunt for someone." He suddenly chuckled, catching you off-guard. Mafioso was always someone who could somehow see right through you and made you feel predictable. Though you blamed that on him having known you for practically an eternity.

Although, curiosity was practically your second nature. "Oh? Anyone special?" You asked casually, refilling his glass as you figured he might need a couple glasses before even getting tipsy... Well, at least you could probably get away with being casual considering your fake identity.

Except... He knew. "Just an old friend... Faked her own death." He looked up at you to note your slight slip-up in hesitation.

Even though you tried to play it off as simply wanting to see the time, keeping on your signature sweetness as though it was nothing as you continued. "She must be important then, to have someone look for her even so." You faked a chuckle, it all went right past him.

Your act was like glass to him. It frustrated him a little that he couldn't break through it and keep you to himself like he initially planned but he needed you to slip-up so he knew he was stalking the right you.

And you were basically giving him just that as he went on. "One way to put it. Not like I can blame her but she didn't do that good of a job covering her tracks." You couldn't see it but you could hear the smugness in his tone as you hesitated again to subconsciously think about your steps back then.

You felt your heart race as you knew you were caught but still attempted to shake it off in hopes he didn't catch on... Which he did...

"Is that so?" Seriously- How were you keeping such a casual tone despite being caught red-handed? "Any leads then?"

Your nervousness only grew when you heard him chuckle. It felt more menacing than anything. "Just your newfound sweetness... Your acting's better though." He sounded satisfied with himself, taking one last sip of his glass before handing you his card.

"You can run the tab on this and meet me outside. I'll be sure to speak to your boss so you won't have to worry." He got up and allowed you to see his smirk, making you sigh in defeat as your act dropped. At least the other patrons were all already tipsy or drunk enough to not intervene or report this...

You quickly run his card and let him type in the pin as you made your way around to the back where you could change to your usual outfit.

A knee-length dress that you simply had worn today because it made you feel cute, thigh highs to keep your legs warm and a pair of comfortable but fancy looking shoes to match the dress... What luck-

Getting outside, he had been waiting for you by an oddly casual looking car and approached as soon as your eyes met.

"Feel free to smoke a bit until I'm back." He simply said as he handed you a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before heading inside, leaving you no room to question him.

But with a huff, you did light yourself one and began smoking to calm your nerves. How did he even find you? Did he hire someone?

The thought made you shiver slightly but you went further ahead and decided to have a look at his car.

All black, even inside. Slightly tinted windows, a bunny- A BUNNY???

"Ya like him?" His sudden appearance made you practically jump as you dropped your cigarette. "His name's Gubby, you can hold him on the drive if you'd like." He didn't even really acknowledge the cigarette so you subtly stomped on it and quietly nodded before walking around to get in the passenger side.

Gubby practically bounced forward to meet you, sniffing your hands and squeaking happily as you pet him. It was pretty cute...

Almost makes you forget you're basically being kidnapped by your old best friend-

You must've been subconsciously smiling on the quiet ride as Gubby nudged himself against your fingers if you stopped petting him for even a second.

"Feels good not to act?" Mafioso snapped you out of your thoughts and you sheepishly nodded, realizing you've been letting down your guard already. Not like he didn't know.

"I just can't figure out how you managed to figure me out." You sighed, giving into Gubby's demands for affection again. "I got a new identity, dyed my hair and cut it- I even got contacts!" Your little pouts seemed to amuse the man you had known.

"I had a little help but it wasn't too hard to pick up a trail when looking through some old documents." Another shiver ran down your spine. Did the Mafia have access to government files or something? Sounds hard to believe...

Once you seemed to be close to your destination, Mafioso handed you a blindfold and looked at you expectantly. "I'm taking you to my hideout but I'm not having you remembering the way in or out in case anything happens." He sounded more serious and firm and honestly? You didn't have the energy to argue today so you just wrapped the blindfold around your eyes and used the little space below your eyes to just focus on Gubby instead. At least someone in this car can enjoy themself that way...

It was maybe half an hour to an hour of just hearing the engine of the car and the radio playing some songs from a CD Mafioso had on him. You kinda liked it even though it wasn't your usual cup of tea so you allowed yourself to hum along, much to his amusement.

"Glad you like it, [Reader]. It's really the only music I got available." You shrugged in response, trying to get used to your old name again.

It felt... Odd. You were so used to your new life but your old name was both comforting and eerie to hear... Especially out of an old friend's mouth...

But when the car finally stopped, you almost instinctively scooped up Gubby and held him in your arms as you waited for Mafioso to guide you again... Since you- ya know- STILL COULDN'T SEE-

Instead, he decided to lift you out of the car and carry you in a bridal carry as you practically clung onto Gubby to avoid him falling off. Not a single word fell from either of you though as you tried to listen around in confusion.

When the blindfold was finally off, you were greeted by the sight of Mafioso's goons... Who all seemed very curious about your appearance as you were finally let down to the ground and one of them took Gubby off your hands to let you move your arms again.

"This is [Reader], as you all know..." Did he talk about you? Wait- did they help Mafioso find you??? "They're staying with us indefinitely." waitwhat-

"Hold on- Indefinitely??" You questioned in shock, noticing the goons looking a little nervous as Mafioso sighed. "Yes, indefinitely. I put in a lot of work to find you and I'm not risking that again so we'll have your stuff brought here. You'll be taken care of so you won't have to worry." He sounded way too calm for your tastes but were you really in the mood to argue with a mafia boss? Nope.

With a groan, you began following the goons to your new room as they struck up conversation, asking about you and talking about themselves before letting it slip...

"Boss was pretty careful to make sure you didn't notice him following ya-" The goon was pretty quickly shut up by the others in a panic as you stared at them in confusion and slight anxiousness. "What does that mean?" You demanded to know, practically clawing at your own arms to not freak out right now.

"Ah- well-" Their mingled explanations were barely audible over each other so you stomped your foot once and the sound was luckily loud enough to get their attention back to you and allow you to speak.

And for once, you had a pretty mean glare on that managed to make them hesitant. You were able to drive a little fear into them and they were beginning to see how you and Mafioso fit together. "I'm not dealing with a headache today so I want one simple explanation, even if it's fake. I'm not driving myself to paranoia over not having a solid explanation for what you mean when you said he followed me." Your tone was firm and frustrated.

They all looked between each other nervously before one of them decided to step forward and satisfy your curiosity. "Well, we only found out you two had been friends recently. He told us you were someone dear to him and we were to help him find you at a set time each day. When he finally found you he had some of us visit you in disguises to find out what he wanted but because you put up an act he decided to go himself."

You stared at them for a while, trying to process their words until sighing and letting your shoulders slump. They took that as satisfaction and all sighed in relief. You could tell they were at least half-truthful but...

Were you really that important for Mafioso to hunt you down like that?

Who were you kidding, this is the most stubborn man you've ever known. It wasn't unrealistic to make yourself believe that Mafioso was just that stubborn to find you after your supposed slip-up in your plan years ago.

Still, you never wanted this! You've faked your death and created a new identity for yourself to get away from Mafia business! Not be dragged into it!

Sighing, you let the goons lead you to your room again and you were actually kinda surprised to find out it was decorated to your liking. It was mostly based on stuff you used to like back then but those things you still enjoy today so maybe Mafioso made a lucky guess in the new stuff. It would be more touching if you weren't basically the main character in a mafia romance novel.

No, you told yourself you wouldn't act like one. Never. That was way too cringe for your liking but at least you could finally lie down again.

You immediately noticed the comfort in the plush bed as you flopped down with the goons leaving behind a button and telling you to press it if you need help before disappearing. You didn't know what it would do but knowing Mafioso, it probably had a tracker or something in it. Whatever...

Back to the bed, it was comfortable enough to tempt you to fall asleep right then and there. It was the closest you've ever felt to sleeping on a cloud. But you couldn't let that distract you.

Especially not when you heard tiny scratches at your door and were almost excited to open it. You knew it was Gubby and you were more than happy to have him join you. He was in your lap on the bed in mere seconds with you happily scratching between his ears.

"Maybe this won't be so bad if you keep me company, right?" You said playfully, enjoying the little squeaks to comfort yourself for what felt like hours.

What have you been doing for that time? Daydreaming of course.

What about? Hey, you're the reader here, you think of it yourself lmao-

Nonetheless, you were a little embarrassed when you were brought back to reality by the door opening and Mafioso stepping through with a sigh and slight chuckle. "[Reader], I think you're starting to copy Gubby..." Was all he brought out for you to notice you and the bunny both had the same expression while looking at him. And you couldn't stifle your giggling for long as Gubby began jumping in front of you and squeaking in protest, his hind legs stomping against the plush bed in anger.

If only you knew the full extent of the lengths he went to to find you...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

#forsaken roblox #forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #mafioso forsaken #forsaken mafioso #yandere mafioso #mafioso x reader

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side-order-of-thoughts · 1 year ago

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i was on the final boss on the final stage on Eight's pallette and I DIED

WHY CAN'T YOU CONTINUE OR RETRY WITH THIS ONE DAMNED PALLETTE

#splatoon #side order #side order spoilers #I have to have extra lives I can't do this game without them #So I have less slots #I'll try again with just two #I had be getting through the other pallettes with like one death #But now that the armor jump is gone I can't do shit #Eight darling I love you but your pallette is an absolute bitch #Bout to start taking their name in vain

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sky-scribbles · 5 months ago

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I'm going to say something controversial. I think there's something Veilguard does better than any other Dragon Age game. Namely: incorporating the companions into the plot.

Look, I love Origins as much as everyone. But to be frank: you could cut every companion except Alistair, Morrigan and Loghain and the plot could still work. Once you've finished the mission where you recruit a companion, there aren't other main quests that involve them in any way.

Oghren and Wynne could have stayed home after their recruitment missions for all the difference it would make to the main plot. Sten, Leliana and Zevran could vanish and nothing would change, because once they're on your team, they don't interact with the main plot at all. (There's the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I suppose - but even then, you'd be going on that quest whether Leliana and Wynne were there or not, and it's very telling that they can both die here and next to nothing in the rest of the game is impacted.)

Again: I love Origins. This doesn't detract from any of these characters being great, or from the story being great. It just means there's a layer of separation between the two. They're involved in the story, but they're not driving it, and you seldom get to see them have strong feelings about it.

DA2 is a huge step up. Your companions' personal stories are integral parts of the main plot. You can't do the Deep Roads expedition without witnessing Karl's death and its impact on Anders. You can't enter Act 2 without seeing Varric's brother betray him, or watching your sibling either die or begin a new path in life. Act 2's climax happens because of choices Isabela and Aveline have made. Act 3's endgame is all about Anders making one enormous decision. Even Fenris and Merrill, who have the fewest ties to the plot, have strong reasons to be invested in the Mage/Templar conflict.

And then Inquisition just... backslides. There are multiple companions you don't need to recruit at all, or can send away with zero alteration to the main plot. Your companions don't like Corypheus because he's bad, but no one - except maybe Varric - has any strong personal feelings about him. They have no personal stake in defeating him, not like Alistair has a personal stake in opposing Loghain, or Anders in opposing Meredith.

We go to the Winter Palace, and Vivienne is not made a part of that story. We have a whole subplot about the Wardens, and Blackwall only gets a couple of extra lines, if you even bring him. Their personal arcs could have been somehow impacted by these missions, and they're just... not. Sera is packed with internalised self-hatred that manifests as trying to distance herself from elven culture, to the point of sometimes lashing out at other elves. And despite all the missions you do where elven history features... Sera's growth past that flaw happens entirely offscreen between the base game and Trespasser?????

IMO, this is one of the biggest reasons why Corypheus is such a bland villain. He doesn't make anyone grow, except by starting a plot for them to be part of. He doesn't challenge them emotionally. No one is invested in him. Because no one interacts with the darn plot.

Veilguard, though? Veilguard keeps your companions interacting with the story the whole way through. The Treviso/Minrathous choice affects both Lucanis and Neve heavily, and impacts who they become for the rest of the game. These cities are personal to you, even if you're not a Crow or Shadow Dragon, because your companions love them.

The Siege of Weisshaupt is beyond personal to Davrin and Lucanis, both of whom are entrusted with major parts of the quest: trying to kill the archdemon and Ghilan'nain. Lucanis is affected by his failure to kill Ghilan'nain for ages afterward. Davrin is haunted by survivor's guilt; he should have died when he struck down the archdemon. He's alive. How can he live with that?

Whenever killing the gods becomes a possibility, Rook hands the lyrium dagger to Lucanis. When the squad go to fight the gods' dragons with the Wardens, Taash is the one to flush the first dragon out. When you infiltrate the Venatori, Neve tricks your way in, and everything that happens is especially weighty to Bellara, whose people have been abducted. On Tearstone Island, because of how Lucanis and Spite have grown, they strikes true.

Did you not hate Elgar'nan before that mission? Because you probably will after you watch him capture Bellara or Neve, and see his fellow god kill Harding or Davrin.

You know what's a great piece of writing? There's no reason Emmrich shouldn't have been an option to deal with the wards on Tearstone Island; he's one of the ideal options to take out more wards with the Veil Jumpers in the final mission. But you can't select him to do it. Because Emmrich has far less personal investment in the Elgar'nan battle than the other two. This is Neve's city. This is the monster who tries to call himself Bellara's god. The game makes sure the characters who take control of the Blight at the end are the ones with the greatest stakes in doing so.

One of your companions, not you, wrests command of the Blight from Elgar'nan. The final mission depends on how well you've come to know each companion's skills. They're just... always involved.

And they're invested, too. The companions all have serious personal reasons to hate the antagonists by the end. Lucanis and Neve have either seen their city burn, or know it happened at the cost of their friend's (and potential partner's) hometown. Davrin has seen his order devastated. These are Bellara's and Davrin's supposed gods, and instead of helping the elves reclaim their history and culture, they're trying to enslave the world. Harding learns that the Evanuris maimed and destroyed her Titan ancestors.

Emmrich and Taash have perhaps the smallest emotional tie - and sadly I do think Emmrich especially gets underutilized in the plot. But heck, Taash is still hella motivated by the way the gods are abusing dragons. And Emmrich is tied thematically to the main conflict. He's facing the question of immortality, while nigh-immortal beings are right in front of him, proving how that gift can be abused. The final choice of his personal arc is whether he's willing to embrace his personal, mortal attachments, at the cost of consequences that terrify him... you know, the same question that Solas faces at the end.

And don't even get me started on how everyone is emotionally tied to Solas. Harding and Neve watched him kill Varric in front of them. Everyone not dead or captured has to watch him drag Rook into the Fade. Just about every companion faces some kind of huge regret or failure at some point, in constant foreshadowing for Solas's prison of regret: both the literal one he sticks Rook in, and the mental one of his own making.

Veilguard has its problems, but it absolutely shines at keeping its characters involved and invested in the main story. It gives them things to do, it gives them reasons to care. For all the flaws this game has, this part is good writing.

#things I liked about Veilguard #datv #da:tv #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard

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svetamillss · 5 months ago

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Headcanons: Your life together with them🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: various joint situations when you live with them.

A/N: I apologize for writing a little less often!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Since the girl served in the army and got used to discipline, she will follow it while living with you. She always wakes up much earlier than you, about three hours, where you can sleep until 9-10 a.m., in some cases even before lunch if you get very tired. While you are sleeping, Hyun Ju will do a lot of things around the house (quietly so as not to wake you up), cook you a delicious breakfast and go to wake you up.

She will do it gently and carefully, stroking and kissing you wherever she wants. You sometimes grumble and tell her to lie down and sleep with you in a hug, but it doesn't affect her, so she continues to wake you up with kisses.

- Baby, it's time to get up, your favorite breakfast is already getting cold. And we have a lot to do. - she says gently, kissing your sweet lips.

After a couple of minutes, you still wake up and sleepily go to eat what your Hyunnie has prepared for you with love.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy has a lot of fun living with you. After all, you have new ideas almost every day. Again, recently you wanted to lose weight by the summer, you decided to run every morning. But it wasn't very good alone, so you forced your boyfriend to join you.

- So you want us to wake up at 7 a.m. on our weekend and run down the street when normal people will sleep? - he didn't understand at all why you need it, because you were beautiful.

- And you will run with me for the company! - Dae Ho only had to agree, he didn't want to offend you.

And he knew that soon you would get tired of it and you would throw away this idea, so he decided to be patient.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and the guy were complete opposites to each other. It was especially seen with household items. Su Bong was dirty. He constantly left his clothes all over the apartment: socks in the corners, clothes were lying on the backs of chairs. You were very unhappy with it, okay, unwashed dishes, but these are extremes.

- Can you stop scattering your clothes? Can't you put the clean ones in the closet, and throw the dirty ones in the laundry. I'm tired of cleaning up after you like a little child. - you mumbled when you removed his clothes from the chair again, while he was sitting on the phone.

- Yes, yes, good. - he said without much attention.

- If this happens again, all your things will fly to the trash!

- I got it, just don't be angry, my baby. - he put down the phone and started cleaning everything, then you rewarded him with a kiss.

But he won't be able to get used to it, so he'll still leave his things, but he's ready to clean up for your extra kisses.

Park Gyeong Seok

The three of you lived in a small apartment: you, your future husband and his daughter Na Yeon. Since the girl was undergoing treatment, she often stayed at home. But you and the man didn't want her to be alone, so you decided to take a housework and sit with Na Yeon.

You and the girl played a lot of her favorite games. She is very attached to you and even calls you mom.

When a man comes home from work, the girl asks him to join you and he, though tired, agrees, because he can't refuse his beloved girls.

Sometimes you and the girl like to mock him, so you can make up him with different makeup.

- Dad now a real princess! - said Na Yeon when she painted Gyeong Seok with children's cosmetics, you just laughed at this whole situation and at the face of a man who was both grumpy and smiling.

Nam Gyu

The guy loves cats very much, but since you both work a lot, you can't get a pet yet, but Gyu really wants to, so he started feeding street cats.

He thinks there's nothing wrong with that, but he was wrong. The cats are used to the fact that the guy began to feed them and they began to come to your house en masse, meowing and asking for food.

When you saw this, you were furious, you immediately called the guy and he had a shy face, he knew what was going on.

- Gyu, do you want to explain to me what's going on with cats here?

- Well... I fed them a little, it looks like they got used to it.. - you looked at him with an evil face, although you understood that he not on purpose.

- Now you will clean up after them, so that there is not a single shit from them! - you said and entered the house, he only agreed with you.

After this situation, the guy began to feed these pets less often, and you began to think that maybe you would give Nam Gyu a kitten.

🩵🩵🩵

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estellan0vella · 1 year ago

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Shut Up, Mom! ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Toji & Sukuna (REQUESTED) Masterlist

You stand firm in the kitchen, arms crossed, after denying your child's request for more sweets. Gojo lounges casually nearby, a faint smile playing on his lips. Your little one, clearly frustrated, looks up at you and blurts out, "Shut up, Mom!"

The air grows tense instantly. Gojo's blue eyes narrow, the usually playful glint gone in a flash. He straightens, walking over to kneel beside your child, his expression serious yet calm. "Hey, we don't talk to Mom like that," he says, his voice low but firm. He gently cups your child's cheek, his touch a blend of sternness and care. "Mom loves you and makes rules to keep you from getting sick. Apologize to her."

Your child glances between you and Gojo, recognizing the gravity in his usually lighthearted father's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom," they mumble, looking down.

Gojo's smile returns, a bit softer now. He ruffles their hair. "Good. Now, how about we find something else fun to do together?"

In the living room, you're putting away toys when your child whines for more TV time. When you deny the request, they stomp their foot and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Geto, who has been quietly reading on the couch, lowers his book, his usually calm demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority. He stands, approaching your child with a measured stride. "We don't speak to Mom like that," he says softly, yet his voice carries a weight that demands respect. He kneels to meet their eye level. "Why did you say that?"

Your child looks guilty, fidgeting under Geto's steady gaze. "I was mad."

Geto nods, his expression softening slightly. "I understand being mad, but words have power. Use them to express your feelings, not to hurt others. Apologize to Mom."

With a small nod, your child turns to you. "Sorry, Mom."

Geto smiles, patting their shoulder. "Good. Now, let's find a way to enjoy the rest of our day without TV."

You're in the study, helping your child with their homework when they throw down their pencil in frustration. "Shut up, Mom!" they snap when you suggest they redo a wrong answer.

Nanami, who had just walked in with a cup of tea for you, freezes. His jaw tightens, and he places the cup on the desk with deliberate calmness. He steps over, placing a hand on your child's shoulder. "We do not speak to Mom that way," he says, his tone firm but not loud. "She is here to help you."

Your child looks up at him, eyes wide. "But it's hard!"

Nanami nods, his expression softening but remaining serious. "I know it's hard, but being disrespectful doesn't make it easier. Apologize to Mom and let's try again together."

Your child sighs, looking down. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Nanami gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning back to your child. "Good. Now, let's tackle this problem together, step by step."

In the middle of a family game night, you deny your child an extra turn, trying to teach fairness. They scowl and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Choso, who has been arranging the next round of pieces, looks up sharply. His eyes, usually so gentle, darken with concern. He sets the pieces down and moves closer, crouching beside your child. "That's not how we talk to Mom," he says, his voice calm but with an edge of disappointment. "Mom is being fair."

Your child pouts, crossing their arms. "It's not fair!"

Choso sighs, placing a hand on their small shoulder. "Life isn't always fair, but respect is important. Apologize to Mom and let's continue our game with kindness."

Your child hesitates, then mumbles, "Sorry, Mom."

Choso smiles softly, nodding. "Thank you. Now, let's see if we can make the game more fun for everyone."

During a meal, you tell your child they can't have dessert until they finish their vegetables. They glare at you and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Sukuna, who has been eating quietly, pauses mid-bite. His eyes flash dangerously, and he slowly puts down his utensils. Rising from his seat, he moves with a predatory grace to stand beside your child. "What did you just say?" he asks, his voice low and menacing.

Your child shrinks back, suddenly aware of the gravity of their outburst. "I... I said shut up..."

Sukuna leans down, his presence overwhelming. "You will not speak to your mother that way," he growls. "She deserves your respect. Apologize. Now."

Trembling, your child looks up at you. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Sukuna straightens, his intense gaze still fixed on them. "Good. Now, eat your vegetables. Or I eat your toes"

"Ryo!"

You deny your child's request to stay up late, and they respond with a defiant, "Shut up, Mom!"

Toji, who has been leaning against the doorframe, straightens immediately. His expression hardens, and he walks over, his steps heavy with purpose. Kneeling down, he looks your child directly in the eye, his voice a low rumble. "We don't talk to Mom like that. Ever."

Your child squirms under his intense gaze. "But I want to stay up!"

Toji shakes his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That doesn't matter. Respect is non-negotiable. Apologize to Mom right now."

Your child glances at you, then back at Toji, clearly chastened. "Sorry, Mom."

Toji's expression softens slightly, and he ruffles their hair. "Good. Now let's get ready for bed. No arguments."

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lost-romantique · 7 months ago

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Blitzø's Realization & Feelings

I like how Blitz is initially confused the moment Stolas arrives on scene and breaks into song...

He understands that Stolas just saved him from getting his head chopped off, but he still doesn't understand what he's doing at the trial.

After all, in Blitzø’s mind Stolas is over him, and moved on the moment he saw Stolas having the time of his life dancing with BTB.

In Blitzø’s memory reel Stolas has his top eyes open, and I think to Blitzø he reads it as Stolas seeing and relishing in that kiss, in that moment. Blitzø doesn't even consider the fact that it was a drunken kiss.

But the moment Stolas takes all the blame for himself, things take a turn...

It clicks for Blitzø, and he's just in pure and utter shock as he sees just how much Stolas genuinely and truly loves him.

It's at this moment where he says the words, "I don't want to live a life without you by my side."

Blitzø takes this time to finally let his emotions pour out like a fucking waterfall.

Whereas compared to Ghostfuckers he just subtly acknowledges it.

His expression drops from realization to pure panic at Stolas' actions. Blitzø doesn't want to die, but at the same time, he definitely doesn't want someone he cares about to take the fall for him.

"What are you doing!? I don't deserve this!"

"I realized too late!" Blitzø acknowledges that he realized both Stolas’ feelings and his own feelings too late in the game.

Blitzø in Apology Tour didn't understand his own feelings, let alone Stolas’ feelings. He tries to, but he can't.

"Don't give your life to clean my slate."

What I love about this line is that it reads as: Don't sacrifice yourself to absolve me of my crimes. Blitzø makes it clear he doesn't want this.

"You’re my heart."

Blitzø breaks down and says these words because to Blitzø this is what Stolas is, the key to his heart that he's kept locked up for years, and someone he wants to give his whole heart too.

Because Blitzø closed off his heart after the fire. His love is something that he believed could hurt someone, but with Stolas, he's worth that risk.

The moment Stolas is wrapped in chains, Blitzø moves on instinct, almost as if he's trying to get out of his own chains so he can run to Stolas.

Felt like it would be a disservice not to show the clip that destroyed me. 😀

Blitzø, the moment he's freed of his chains Blitzø says the words, "No- no!" in disbelief, shock, and desperation.

Blitzø is so desperate to stop Stolas from what he's doing, begging him to do anything to stop this from happening. And if that meant getting himself killed, he'd do it.

Because he doesn't want a repeat of this happening. It's one thing for people to leave Blitzø, he’s used to that, but it's another to have them die, especially in front of him.

He breaks down when he fears his worse fears have come true: that Stolas is dead and he can't do anything to stop it.

It's why Blitzø is so shocked and surprised the moment he sees Stolas alive, because his worse fears didn't happen.

The moment Blitzø gets the reassurance that he's is loved by Stolas he falls into that caretaking role almost instantly, since he knows Stolas is hurting right now.

He's taking steps being extra gentle, extra reassuring, extra soft, even going as far as to fluff the pillow on his couch.

It vaguely reminds me of how Blitzø is able to sorta gage what people's needs are. In this moment, Blitzø was about to shoot Creepzo, but instead he opts to beat Creepzo with the end of his gun once he realizes Fizz is on the verge of a panic attack.

What I love about this shot is that this is the most at peace Blitzø has ever looked in the entire show.

He's just so grateful that he's alive and that Stolas is alive.

~~~~~~

Anyway, wanted to include this bit because I love how Sam Haft pointed out that Blitzø leaves Mastermind more self-actualized.

Whereas for Stolas, he leaves Mastermind more humbled as he gets a taste of how truly privileged he is.

#helluva boss #blitzo #blitzø #helluva boss blitz #ro rambles #stolitz #helluva blitz #stolas #blitzo x stolas #stolas goetia #Mastermind

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luvendiary · 1 month ago

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hot summer nights / f. weasley

fred weasley x black daughter!reader

summary: you had always found 12 grimmauld place suffocating. but your next door room neighbor, might have just made the summer much more interesting. a/n: someone take google docs away from me. i'm supposed to be doing uni work. i'm literally a week away from my deadline, and i can't stop writing for this man, send help. also, can you tell the summer air is already hitting where i live? i am mentally back in my country already. warning: suggestive content ahead. 5.1k words. no use of y/n.

Number 12, Grimmauld Place was full of things that creaked, groaned, and whispered when no one was listening. The walls were thick with dust and thicker with history. The portraits on the wall never seemed to stop chattering amongst each other, sometimes even commenting about the visitors.

You knew that to be true firsthand — you were, after all, their favorite topic of conversation. Well, your lineage to be exact.

The daughter of Sirius Black.

That would have been scandalous enough for the house’s previous occupants, given how thoroughly your father had burned every bridge with the Black family name. But add in the fact that your mother had been a Muggle — not even a Muggle-born witch, but a full non-magical woman no one in the family tree could find a trace of — and suddenly, you were the whispered shame that had taken physical form.

Your mother’s name wasn’t even worth sneering, apparently. They didn’t know it, and so they called her other things. “That woman,” “that filth,” or “the stain.” You had learned quickly not to flinch when they did. If they wanted you to be ashamed, they’d have to try harder.

You had grown used to it. The muttering when you passed. The disdain laced in every sigh.

You had started to collect the insults, jotting them down in a small notebook and adding a tally-count every time one sounded out. It was your private little game.

“Half-blood filth.”

“Unnatural.”

“He should’ve had the decency to never breed.”

They didn’t even bother to whisper most days. Especially not the grander portraits — rigid old patriarchs in lace cuffs and curled wigs who hissed behind their frames as you strolled past.

But you didn’t hide. You never had.

If you reached a certain count by the end of the day, you allowed yourself to put an extra spoon of sugar in your tea that night.

“To combat their bitterness,” you had explained to Sirius when he had asked you about it.

He barked a laugh.

The only time the portraits grew quiet was when Sirius walked the halls beside you. They might hate you, but they feared him. Or what he'd become. Or maybe the fact that he laughed now, too loudly and too often, and that he'd given you his bedroom without even a second thought. The same one they'd once locked him in for weeks.

You had inherited more than just Sirius Black’s room and his thrill-seeking smile.

The records, for one. You’d found them stashed in an old trunk beneath the floorboards in the drawing room, sleeves worn at the corners, a few scribbled on in his lazy handwriting. “Skip this one — too many feelings.” “This one slaps. Play loud.”

You did.

Every night, without fail, you slid a record onto the dusty player he’d charmed back into working order. The first time you’d played Queen — loud enough to rattle the chandelier — you’d heard gasps and furious muttering from the portraits three halls down.

After that, it became routine. Ritual, almost.

Because if the house wanted to choke you with silence, you’d answer with music.

And tonight, on this stifling summer night, the needle scratched softly before Somebody to Love roared to life. Your window was cracked open, letting in warm air that didn’t do much except shift the curtains. You were in one of your father’s old shirts — thin with age and slightly too big — and nothing else. Your cheeks were already flushed from the heat, your bare legs sticking a little to the floorboards as you twirled.

You spun slowly at first, arms loose at your sides, mouthing the words. Then the chorus kicked in and you laughed, head falling back, hair brushing your shoulders as you let the music pull you.

Freddie Mercury’s voice filled the room, high and sharp and pleading. You danced like no one was watching — because in the privacy of your room, no one was. It was a performance for your eyes only.

The beat swelled, and you spun once more, light-headed from the movement and heat, heart beating in rhythm with the drums. You didn’t care how you looked. That was the whole point. You weren’t meant to be quiet or pretty.

When the song ended, you stood still, breathless and glowing, hair sticking slightly to your forehead, before collapsing onto your bed. Your heart still beating with adrenaline, and your head still spinning. You grinned up at the ceiling.

And then — applause.

Soft, slow clapping through the wall.

You blinked.

The sound came again, more definite this time. Three measured claps. Then a pause.

You walked over to the wall near your bed, listening.

“Hello?” you asked no one in particular.

“Impressive performance, I must say. I only wish I could have seen it.”

You leaned in, pressing your ear to the old wood, and spotted it — a small, dust-caked vent on the floorboards. Narrow enough to miss, just wide enough for sound to slip through.

You crouched, peering in.

“Fred?” you guessed.

“Unless George developed charm overnight, then yes. It’s me,” he replied. Slightly further away you heard the voice of who you assumed to be George saying something along the lines of ‘everyone knows I’m the handsome twin’.

You smiled, still breathless. “You heard that?”

“Hard not to. The whole house probably did. The portraits are livid, by the way. I heard one muttering about bloodlines and disgrace.”

You grinned wider. “Good.”

You sat back on your heels, still catching your breath from the song, the dancing, and now from this — whatever this was.

“Was that a muggle song?” he asked after a while.

“Yes, but not only any muggle song. It’s from one of the best bands ever,” you said.

“Didn’t peg you for the type."

You grinned, glancing over at the record still spinning lazily on the turntable.

“Inherited taste I suppose,” you murmured. ”Sirius says wizards have rubbish music and even worse rhythm.”

Fred chuckled. “He’s not wrong.”

You traced your finger along the edge of the vent, brushing away some of the dust. The air still felt heavy, humid, clinging to your skin, but you didn’t mind it as much now. Not with his voice slipping through the walls like this. Like a thread pulled between rooms.

“I have a theory,” you said, still crouched, voice softer now.

“Oh?” Fred replied, that smile somehow audible. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you hate good theories.” You rested your chin on your knees, arms wrapped around your shins. “I think you would definitely be one to like Queen.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because in another life I think you would have been great friends with Freddie Mercurie. Same flair for dramatic entrances and slightly inappropriate jokes.”

Fred let out a small laugh, the kind that sounded like he hadn’t expected it. “Bit of a compliment, that.”

“It is,” you said. “Don’t get used to it.”

You hesitated, then added, quieter, “I, for one, would’ve made an excellent groupie.”

There was a pause — not awkward, just... waiting.

You grinned at the vent. “Don’t tell my dad I said that.”

Fred’s reply came after a beat, his voice lower now, amused. “I’ll keep your secret. Though I might need some leverage if you start making fun of my singing.”

“You sing?” you asked, extending your legs before you.

“I perform,” he said, he would’ve sounded completely serious if not for the fact that his grin spilled into his words. “Mostly in the shower. Occasionally on rooftops. Highly exclusive audience.”

“Tragic,” you replied. “We could’ve formed a band.”

“I’m not ruling it out. You’ve got the moves. I’ve got the charm. George can play the triangle.”

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand. “Poor George.”

“Poor George indeed,” came a voice further away.

You laughed.

The silence that followed wasn’t really silence. The turntable still hummed faintly behind you, spinning the quiet end of the record. Somewhere down the hall, a portrait grumbled something unintelligible — maybe it was about you. Probably; most definitely about you.

Fred sighed, softer this time. “Do they ever get tired of complaining?”

“No,” you said honestly. “But it’s alright. They’re stuck in frames. I’m not.”

Something about the way he went quiet made you wonder what face he was making now. You wished you could see it.

“I used to think this house was suffocating,” he said after a brief moment.

“It is,” you said, stretching out on the floor now, one arm above your head, hair spread across the floorboards. “But you can live through it. Just have to find the cracks.”

Fred tapped the vent twice. You tapped back thrice.

He yawned. Not loud, but enough that you heard it.

“Go to sleep, Weasley.”

“Can’t,” he whispered. “There’s a girl whispering things to me through the floor.”

You smiled, eyes drifting shut. “I’ll stop talking then.”

“That would be a shame,” he replied.

Another beat. You didn’t want to end the night, but sleep was creeping in at the edges.

“Night, Fred.”

“Night, Black.”

He tapped the vent again.

You didn’t tap back — but only because you were already smiling into your pillow, eyes closed.

The next night, the heat hadn’t broken.

Grimmauld Place was still thick with it — the kind of heat that made the walls feel closer and the air taste stale. You’d barely bothered with pajamas this time. Just the same oversized shirt and a glass of water sweating on your nightstand.

The record player sat silent tonight. Not because you didn’t want to play it, but because you’d already won. The portraits had been so loud all day — furious, in fact — that you’d caught Sirius grinning over his tea. A personal best.

So you let the house stay quiet now, in the way that only made sense late at night. You lay on your bed, legs stretched out, and stared at the ceiling, waiting.

And then — two taps coming from the small vent.

You smiled before you even turned toward it.

You dragged your pillow to the floor and settled next to the vent again, arms folded beneath your chin, cheek pressed to the cool wood. And then, you tapped three times.

“You snore,” was the first thing you heard him say.

You laughed loudly.

“I know for a fact I do not.”

You could hear him chuckle from the other side. “Yeah. I lied.”

“That’s not a great habit.”

“I’m not exactly a model citizen,” he replied.

Neither of you said anything for a while. Not because there wasn’t anything to say, but because there didn’t need to be.

Then Fred spoke again, a little quieter this time.

“Bit strange, this house.”

“Only a bit?”

“Alright, very strange.” A pause. “But I don’t hate it as much at night. Not when it’s like this.”

You understood that. At night, when the walls weren’t watching and the portraits had dozed off into their own scowls, Grimmauld Place felt... less haunted. Or maybe just haunted in the right ways.

“I used to imagine it different,” you said. “Before I lived here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe it would feel like my father. You know. Big and wild. I thought he would have broken it in.”

“What did it feel like?”

You stared at the dark wood grain between the floorboards.

“Like I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

A beat passed before he spoke again. “Maybe you can break it in.”

You smiled and stared at the floorboards. “Big task.”

“Brave girl.”

You allowed another moment of silence to pass between you.

And then: “Tell me something,” you said.

He chuckled from the other side.

“What would you like to know?”

You thought for a bit. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

You heard him shift against the wall.

“A dragon tamer. I always thought my brother Charlie was the coolest person ever. I wanted to be just like him.” A pause, “besides, when I was little I always thought it was the sort of thing you could brag about.”

You laughed at that. “That does sound like you.”

“What about you?”

“I wanted to be a singer.”

He chuckled. “Fitting. Have you always liked singing then?”

“No. But I liked the idea of people listening to me and not telling me to shut up after.”

He hummed in response, but you could practically hear the grin spreading across his face.

“You should dance again tomorrow night,” he said suddenly. “I’ll be here. Front row.”

You tilted your head, smirking into the floor.

“You’re getting bold, Weasley.”

“I’m building a reputation,” he replied easily. “Might as well do it properly.”

You didn’t say goodnight this time. You just tapped the vent thrice. He responded.

By the third night, it had a rhythm.

It always started the same. A series of taps. You each had your call, and you each had your response.

It was always followed by a voice.

Sometimes it was just a breath. A quiet “You awake?”

Sometimes it was:

“Interesting sock choice today.”

You rolled your eyes, even as you smiled into your pillow. “They were clean.”

“One was green. The other was... tragic.”

“You wore a jumper that had a hole in the armpit.”

“I call it ventilation. Fashion-forward, really.”

You didn’t talk about anything serious — not often, anyway. Mostly it was fragments from the day. Who had tripped over the troll leg umbrella stand. How Mrs. Weasley had nearly hexed the curtains. How Fred had nearly hexed Ron just because.

George chimed in once in a while, usually when he was half-asleep and vaguely confused about who Fred was talking to.

“Tell her I said she’s brave for eating that casserole tonight,” he muttered once through the vent.

“George says—”

“I heard him,” you replied, grinning. “Tell him I said thanks. And that he’s a coward.”

Fred relayed the message. There was a muffled pillow thud on the other side.

During the day, it was different.

You didn’t talk in person. Not directly. You passed each other in hallways. You sat on opposite sides of the drawing room. But the glances happened — always. Small, deliberate flickers. He'd look at you over his cup of tea. You'd catch him watching you braid your hair at the breakfast table.

And when he laughed — really laughed — he’d always glance sideways, like he was checking to see if you were listening. You were.

Once, during a late lunch, you'd caught him staring at your hands. You didn’t look away. Neither did he.

That night through the vent:

“I saw you watching me today.”

He didn’t even pretend to deny it.

“I saw you watching me first.”

You hummed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He laughed. “Too late.”

Some nights you didn’t talk much at all. You’d lie on the floor, cheek against the cool floorboards, and just listen to him breathe on the other side. Once, you heard him scribbling on parchment — slow and paused.

“What are you writing?”

“Names for our future band.” A pause. “So far I have ‘The Howlers’ and ‘Vent Confessionals’.”

You groaned. “Please stop.”

“George suggested ‘Mischief’. But he’s clearly not the creative twin.”

“Clearly.”

You thought he might be leaning against the vent too now — your voices had the same nearness, that same faint echo of intimacy that didn’t require looking at each other.

And yet —

The looking never stopped.

Once, passing each other on the stairs, he had said nothing at all. But he looked at you. Really looked. From the hem of your skirt to the way your collarbone peeked from Sirius’s old shirt. You had felt the warmth of that gaze for minutes after.

You didn’t speak then. Not until much later.

“You’re terrible at pretending you weren’t staring,” you murmured into the vent that night.

“So are you.”

You grinned. Then, gently: “I’m not pretending.”

Silence.

“Neither am I.”

You let the record spin again.

This time it was Killer Queen — sharp, glittering, a bit smug. The kind of song that made you toss your hair and roll your hips like you were performing for an audience that didn’t deserve you.

It was nearly midnight, the house heavy with warmth and the kind of stillness that only came after everyone had given into the exhaustion of the day. Your window was open again, a low breeze barely moving the curtains, and your shirt was slipping off one shoulder.

You danced like you were daring someone to watch. You knew the portraits hated it. You almost wished they could see you — mouth soft with a smile, legs bare to the thigh, spinning lazily around the room.

And when the song ended, there was a beat of silence.

Then, as expected —

“You’re trying to kill me.”

You laughed, not bothering to move from where you’d collapsed at the foot of your bed, limbs tangled, skin flushed and warm.

“Good evening to you too,” you called toward the vent.

Fred groaned. “You should put out a warning before you start these concerts.”

“Why? Are you afraid I’ll outperform you?”

“I’m afraid of apparating into that room without thinking it through.”

That made you sit up, hair a little wild from where it had stuck to the back of your neck. You grinned at the vent.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

There was a pause. Then, with a teasing lilt, “Try me.”

You leaned closer to the floor, dropping your voice like a secret.

“I should mention — for the sake of your sanity and my dignity — that I’m only in my knickers.”

Fred groaned again, louder this time. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Absolutely.”

“Scandalous.”

“Incredibly indecent.”

“Do you want me to die?” he asked, sounding genuinely pained now.

You smiled and stretched out on the floor, cheek to the wood, voice casual. “Just keeping you on your toes.”

��I’m past from being on my toes. In fact, I’m lying facedown in despair.”

You bit your lip, enjoying every second.

Then, after a pause, a quieter voice through the vent:

“You’re gorgeous, you know.”

You blinked. The warmth in your cheeks had nothing to do with the summer heat.

“… You haven't even seen me like that.”

“I haven’t,” he said, honestly. “That’s what’s driving me mad.”

Silence. Full, and weighty in a different way now.

You let the record needle spin on the silent end of the vinyl, the crackle of dust the only sound for a moment.

And then, soft:

“Good. I’d hate for it to be too easy.”

Fred let out a breath — like a laugh that didn’t quite make it.

“You’re cruel.”

“And you’re still lying there.”

Another groan.

You smiled at the ceiling.

The vent became routine.

You talked most nights.

Not long conversations, not always flirty. Just… threads, tossed back and forth between rooms. Little things.

And outside of those moments, it was like some sort of agreement had been reached between you two.

You would save your words for when you were together — late at night.

There was no need for them during the day, and especially not amongst other people.

But things shifted. Quietly.

You passed Fred in the hallway one morning and he nudged your shoulder instead of saying hello. You bumped him right back. Neither of you said a word.

Another time, in the kitchen, he handed you a piece of toast without looking up — buttered just how you liked it, the corner already bitten off.

“Lost the other half,” he muttered, like it explained everything.

You didn’t reply. Just took it and let your hand brush his, lingering a second longer than necessary.

And then there were the looks.

Not staring, exactly.

Just… not looking away.

You caught him watching once as you sprawled on the library floor, flipping through one of Sirius’s old spellbooks. You looked up slowly — and instead of glancing away, Fred winked.

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped traitorously.

There were almost-moments. Moments where you were tempted to break this intricate dance you had created.

Moments where you stood outside his door, fingers just touching the knob before you turned away.

Moments where he knocked on yours, and then said nothing — just let his knuckles rest against the wood for a second too long.

On the nights you danced, you made sure it was angled towards the wall.

As if he could see you.

As if somehow, somewhere, something had changed. Your performances were not just for yourself anymore. And you were totally okay with that.

You caught yourself performing for the vent. For the idea of him.

And afterwards, he always said something — sometimes clever, sometimes devastatingly honest.

“I like that song.”

“You hit the wrong note.”

“You sound happy.”

That one stuck with you.

“Why haven’t you come through yet?” you asked one night, after one of said performances.

Fred was quiet for a long time.

You stayed curled near the vent, cheek against the floor, your fingertips brushing its edge. You could hear faint movement — him shifting, maybe lying down, maybe sitting up.

Finally, his voice, low and a bit raw:

“Because I don’t think I’d leave.”

The breath caught in your throat. You didn’t answer right away. What could you say to something like that?

Your heartbeat drummed in your ears.

“You say that like it’d be a bad thing,” you said eventually, trying to sound light, teasing — but it came out quiet instead.

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that didn’t reach full volume.

“I don’t know if it would be. But it’d change things.”

The near-misses only grew more frequent.

You’d round the corner of the upstairs hall, and there he’d be — talking with George or any other of his siblings, and he’d just stare at you as you walked into your room. There was something in the way he looked at you now. Something warmer. Hungrier.

In passing, he started brushing your shoulder with his hand. Sometimes, his fingers would just barely graze your wrist as you walked by each other. You never pulled away.

You met his eyes across the table one morning at breakfast — a silent stare held longer than polite. You took a bite of toast without looking away. He grinned. George rolled his eyes.

As summer grew warmer, apparently so did the tension between you two.

It started like almost every almost.

A glance. A pause in the hallway.

You were barefoot, your hair pulled up loosely, wearing one of Sirius’s threadbare old shirts and a pair of shorts you never bothered wearing outside your room. Fred had just reached his door at the same time — shirt untucked, collar a little wrinkled, like he’d changed his mind halfway through the day and then never fixed it.

You both stopped. Neither of you moved.

It was late — later than it should’ve been for words.

The house was silent.

And yet, it felt loud in your chest.

“Night,” you said, too softly.

“Night,” he echoed, like it hurt.

He lingered a beat longer. Then turned and disappeared into his room with a quiet click of the door.

You did the same, shutting the door behind you.

Your room was warm. The record player sat unused tonight. The window hung open. But none of it reached you.

You just stood there, back to the door, your heart skittering against your ribs, your skin still humming from the way he’d looked at you — like he wanted to say something else. Like you almost had.

And before you could talk yourself out of it, you moved.

Fingers on the doorknob, turning, pulling—fast and breathless and desperate in a way that felt entirely new.

You sprinted into the corridor.

Only to find him there.

Already out. Already looking for you.

Fred stopped mid-step. You did too.

There was a moment, where you just stared at each other. Eyes wide. Not sure if anything would come out of this.

But as if that had been merely a dream, you both moved at the same time.

No words. No hesitation.

He reached for you like he was starving, hands at your waist, pulling you in. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, tugging him down, your mouth already meeting his like this had been waiting in your chest all summer.

The kiss was messy. Eager. Like you were both trying to make up for every night you didn’t cross the hall.

You backed him into the wall, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, not even daring yet — just touching, anchoring himself to the fact that you were real and in front of him and finally here.

You smiled against his mouth.

“You were going to knock, weren’t you?”

He kissed you again. “I was going to drag you into my room.”

You gasped a laugh as he spun you, pressing you gently against the opposite wall.

“I beat you to it,” you whispered, breathless.

His hands were in your hair, cupping your jaw, and holding your neck…

You were overwhelmed in the best way possible.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered as he made his way down your jaw.

Somewhere behind you, the old portraits might have groaned.

But you didn’t hear them.

You didn’t care.

Not with Fred’s hand already sliding up your back, pulling you in like he couldn’t get close enough.

Your door was behind you, but it barely registered. Not with the way he was kissing you, like he’d been starved for weeks.

Your fingers fumbled blindly for the doorknob behind you. You twisted it with a soft curse against his mouth, missing once, twice, before the latch finally clicked open.

You didn’t even make it two steps into the room.

Fred was already following you in, lips still on yours, bodies tangled and swaying. You pulled him by the collar, the door swinging shut behind you as your backs hit it with a quiet thud. His hands roamed — not rushed, but hungry — like he was trying to memorize the lines of your body after all those nights whispering through walls.

He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, almost against your collarbone, one hand sliding up beneath your shirt — not pushing, just touching, resting over your ribs. “Say the word and I will.”

You didn’t say the word.

You couldn't.

Instead, you tilted your head, giving him more skin, more permission — your answer wrapped in a breathless exhale as your hands slid under his shirt, feeling the heat of him, the tension in his muscles, the way his breath caught when your fingers traced just below his ribs.

“Not stopping,” you whispered, barely a sound, more breath than voice. “Not tonight.”

Something in him unraveled at that.

His lips returned to yours, rougher now, deeper — like he’d been holding back and finally let go. He backed you toward the bed in slow, uneven steps, as if reluctant to break any part of the kiss, hands moving with intent now — under your shirt, along your waist, up your spine.

You gasped as his mouth moved again — jaw, throat, collarbone — slow drags of his lips that made your knees weak and your hands desperate.

You barely made it to the bed.

Somewhere between the shirts tugged over heads and the laughter caught between kisses, your legs hit the edge of the mattress.

The backs of your legs hit the bed and you sank down, pulling him with you.

Fred followed like he couldn’t stand to let go — crawling over you, one arm braced beside your head, the other tracing your thigh.

For a moment he just stared at you.

You couldn’t help but shrink under his gaze.

When he saw your arms going to cover your bare chest, he shook his head —slowly and imperceivable— before taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers together above your head.

“I was right,” he murmured. “You are gorgeous.”

You swallowed hard, breath shallow beneath him. His words shouldn’t have undone you like that. But they did.

He kissed you again, softer now — almost reverent — like he’d remembered to slow down, to take in everything he’d wanted for weeks. His mouth traced the edge of your jaw, your cheek, the hollow of your throat, lips dragging slowly, deliberately, like he was learning you one inch at a time.

His free hand skimmed up your side, not greedy, not rushed — just… aching. Like he needed to commit this to memory.

“You make it hard to think,” he murmured, voice rough against your skin.

“You’re thinking?” you breathed, a half-laugh caught in the back of your throat.

“Trying.” His mouth was at your sternum now, dragging heat and breath and shivers in his wake. “Failing.”

You gasped as his fingers moved lower, under your hips, pressing long languid circles into the skin.

“You’ve been dancing in thisroom,” he said, lifting his head to meet your gaze, “making me lose my mind.”

Your heart stuttered.

“You don’t even know what it did to me,” he went on, voice low, the confession raw at the edges. His mouth pressed soft kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Hearing you laugh through the wall. Listening to you spin records, not knowing what you were wearing, but knowing it wasn’t enough—”

You arched toward him with a soft sound that made him break off, his breath hitching as his mouth found a particularly good point and dragged a moan from somewhere deep in your chest.

“I thought about this,” he whispered, peering over at you, his hands now spread out on each leg, “more times than I should admit.”

“Fred–,” you gasped, threading your fingers into his hair.

That did something to him — your voice like that, your body open beneath his, no more teasing walls or whispered vents.

He moved lower, heat in every breath, and you let yourself give in — to his hands, to his mouth, to the way he kissed and sucked and licked.

“Promise me something,” he said, pulling back just long enough to meet your gaze again. His pupils were blown wide, hair mussed, lips swollen.

You nodded, breath caught.

“When this is done,” he murmured, brushing a kiss just under your navel, “you'll dance for me. For real. Nothing between us. Just you.”

You exhaled, shaky, head tipping back. “Yes.”

He smiled, wicked and warm and something deeper and far more wild than you could have evr imagined.

“Then hold on.”

And he disappeared against your skin — no hesitation now, no careful pace.

Just Fred, finally touching what he’d only dreamed of. You, finally letting him.

#x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred gideon weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter #wizarding world fic #wizarding world x reader #wizarding world

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kaivenom · 7 months ago

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I think headcanons are good start for writing Yandere

Yandere!One piece Men x reader

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Trafalgar Law, Eustass Kid, Killer

A/N: This is my first time writing this so it's very general and i hope it's the right point.

Masterlist

Luffy

It's the type of Yandere that it's so funny and smiley that you dont get it at first, he is just to friendly and nice that you don't care about the dizzy feeling on your stomach.

But once you try to get out of the ship, he just convinces you to stay, that's his secret weapon.

Who says that Luffy doesn't know how to manipulate it's wrong, with his childness he can get whatever he wants and that happens to you.

He gets kisses, attetion, cuddles, sex and everything he wants when he says it and you can't say no to him.

Especially on those times you think about leaving, it's like he reads your mind and instantly asks you with a pouty face "you would never leave me, right my darling?"

And of course you cant, you are trapped on his mental games.

Zoro

Very bad at fights, even to the point that he sometimes scares you.

He compensates it with being extra protective, in some occasions too much but you say to yourself that you love that side of him.

If someone lays his eyes on you, especially the cook, he would deadly glare at them and when you aren't looking, he will break the shit out of them.

He tries not ot be that violent next ot you, and even tries to clean the blood.

You sometimes see the blood but you ignore it, the thing you cant ignore is how he yells when he is angry.

He doesn't have to be angry at you, sometimes he is even jelaous about how other people look at you and his mind tells him that you had something to do with that.

So he yells and breaks something but then he goes and apologies saying that he is a monster and that he doesnt deserve you (a little bit of mental games)

Sanji

Another psychological one but this men plays with your good heart.

He says "without you i have no reason to live", "if you leave me then i may die", "i can't stand living if you aren't there."

At first you thought it was cute and nice and all but then you started to not know where is the limit of the gentle words and a possible threat.

Cause most likely, he wont kill himself cause he would prevent you from leaving any way posible.

And you don't want to find the answer.

Other big aspect of him is that probably he would manipulate your foods like, putting aphrodisiacs or even putting sleeping pills if he thinks you can try something on the night.

Trafalgar Law

Living on a submarine makes its really difficult to leave so... first bad point.

He has a very good case of avoidant attachment which means he doesn't pay attention to you until you feel like crying and being really desperate and that's when he makes time to care about you, but even that saying some mean things like "you are dramatic", "you are overreacting", "it's not that much, you are an attention baby".

But then, when he gets needy it's a different story.

When he wants anything, since he can room you, he gets you to the bedroom and you have to give him what he wants... even when you arent on the mood.

This go forth and back leaves you on an emotion rollercoaster but when he is attentive or when he just relies on you that much, you just love that he goes to you.

Eustass Kidd

Unlike Zoro, he is jelaous, he shows it and he can beat someone brutally in front of you.

After that, you will have to reasure him that you won't leave him, it's the only way he can calm down and so do you.

You have to be careful on how you are with others cause he can misunderstand everything.

Since he is a lot bigger, he likes to toss you around and make you go to bed with him when he needs to, espeacially, when he is angry/needy/urgent he stomps really loud so you are prepared to not resist yourself to his grip, even if you are talking to someone.

I believe that he give you these gifts: a collar, bracelets and anklets. that are made of metal to inmovilize you and make you do whatever he wants.

Don't even try to take them out, he would get really whiney and grumpy, and wont let you alone in a long time, like a real pain in teh ass.

Killer

A little bit quieter than Eustass but still really possesive and paranoid.

He is more subtle about the jelaousy but of course, he landed one punch or two to one person in front of you, he isn't called Killer for nothing.

Otherwise he won't ever lay a hand on you, but he can get scary... with that helmet on and just standing there, with his big body blocking you from the world and completely silent.

He is not one of big words so he goes thru acts.

Wrapping your wrists to oblige you to sit on his lap, tossing you on his shoulder when he is upset on how you are behaving.

The no words treatment doesn't go only for bad things, he can also go behind you and hug you suddently, he can just slap your ass or lift you hide his face on the crock of your neck.

He is somehow very unpredictable cause he is very silent and his helmet doesn't help.

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midnite-c6 · 5 months ago

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Hear me out. Pink Guard Reader (any shape guard; triangle/square/circle) who watches the contestants of this horrendous game fight for the money that glows above them and their own survival for it. Pink Guard Reader who notices two particular contestants, Nam-Gyu and Thanos. Both of them seemingly seem to stand out amongst all the players since everyone seems to be taking these games seriously besides those two, mainly. You keep a watchful eye upon them (and perhaps, sneakily help them in some situations...maybe, saving their lives at one point...?) and it doesn't take for one of them to notice and inform the other. And they now keep a particular eye on you, and perhaps, when they see you standing alone in a certain area with your pink guard uniform and mask..IDK, PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

guys tables turned!!! tthank thank..tjanks for sharing to the class hahahahahah PURRRRR. omg the way theyd absolutely look down on u bcuz like ure the one supposed to kill them and be evil so why r u being so nice? (they take advantage of this ofc) 🫶🏻

thanos & namgyu x pinkguard!reader warnings: 18+, DARK content, dubcon

つ⁠｡⁠☆ you were just so intrigued by them! i mean, they were literally treating the games like... games. no deaths, no consequences, just fun! they were insane. you liked insane, tho. you'd even save them in the game mingle. unfairly killing other players. you wanted them to live because.. you were bored, and they kept the games fun, anyways.

it was now dinner time, when the two guys would line up for their own share of food, thanos would notice it was you! the same guard that saved them since the button on your jacket was slightly broken,, "my bro, can i get extra?" he'd press his hands together, and you'd happily give him extra because, why not? nam-gyu was just behind him, asking the same, he'd even give a polite thank you.

both of them noticed how they were the only ones getting unfair advantages, so when everyone's too busy with their food or talking to their groups, they walk up to you, as you were standing guard next to the bathrooms. you couldn't speak, since you'd be scolded to talk without permission, but the two have got nothing to lose, and they'd make it their life's goal to bother you. "pst. triangleee facee. talk to us!" thanos would poke you, his other hand occupied by the extra milk you gave him earlier. "ah, this dude's boring."

thanos would even offer the small pills inside his cross necklace, you politely decline. simply shaking your head. "do you think there's a person inside there?" nam-gyu would press on your mask as he wonders, "you're right! what if this guy is just a robot..? shiit. technology is getting good." nam-gyu would stare at you intently, trying to find something underneath that mask. he'd take his hands to touch your chest and stomach, in search of any indications on your body, of course, the touch makes you jolt. you immediately point your gun at him. "woah, woah ..my bad." he says as he puts both of his hands up. "ah, fuck dude you angered him!" they'd both laugh, and you lower your firearm. "so it must be a human." thanos would get all up in your face. "hey, tell me, man, why'd you save us?" you can't answer. "why can't you speaaak??" he was getting frustrated, clearly. you'd only turn your face to the guard with a square on his mask, signaling him as your superior. "i think if he talks, that guy would get mad." "ohhh yeah no shit, dude." and before you could react, thanos quickly pulls you to the mens bathroom, guess you have no choice but to speak now..

"there! surely you could speak now!" he exclaims and after a few seconds of contemplating, you would speak, although the voice is distorted , "that's correct."

"take off your mask then." such a straight-forward request, but you'd do it with no protest, you're just the same as them, nothing to lose. once you've lifted your mask to rest ontop of your head, you'd happily breathe in the cold air. the two stares at you dumbfoundedly. "fuck dude, your pills are starting to make me go crazy." "me too bro!!" "is it just me or are you also seeing a chick?" player 124 would rub his eyes with his hands. "what the fuuuuuuuuck." you'd only snort at their comments. "hey! you've been shootin' people , huh?" the purple-haired one would scold, "is there something wrong with that?" nam-gyu chuckles, "bet she looked hot doing it, to be honest." thanos touches your face with his hand. "you're like.. a guardian angel to us." you're embarrassed honestly, it was such an awkward moment. they'd both look at each other at that moment, reaching to some kind of decision, "hell yea, do i wanna fuck my guardian angel."

nsfw below!!-> 💘

"mmph-. god. fucking a murderer feels crazy." thanos happily blurts out in groans, as he pushes heavily inside you, putting in all his weight , balls deep inside your pussy. you couldn't moan out, with nam-gyu's cock shoved down your throat, his pace was much more abusive and mean than thanos', bruising your poor throat. they didn't even bother to go inside a stall, instead deciding to be right in the middle of the mens bathroom, where your suit was pushed to the side. they'd keep the gun slinged to your body, and your mask still slightly lifted up from your face, the mask stays on, what a hot image. the one thrusting inside your cunt was ecstatic, like he was so pent up he'd thank the gods he could put it all out inside you. "awwh.. pretty pink guard.." he would tuck your hair behind your ears, your forehead dripping with sweat. "pretty pink pussy n' all. you're so evil.." nam-gyu would also thrust far too deep, making you gag, your hands would grip on player 124's legs, letting him know that he was going too rough! and for what! "you're tough, i'm sure you can take it." and he goes even faster! it was like they were punishing you for only doing your job, not even bothering to say thank you for saving them :(

...sadly, the rules are strict when it comes to being a guard. and you've been gone for way too long, atleast you went out with a bang! literally.

I MADE THIS SO SILLY 😭🙏🏻. guys sorry mah brain nawt working LOLs but they can do it day and night every position until i learn fluent korean fr. born to ride both forced to only write and read for them😿 maybe i make masterlist after this 🤨

#squid game #squid game 2 #player 124 #nam-gyu #squid game x reader #squid game smut #squid game season 2 #nam gyu #thanos #namgyu #thanos smut #nam-gyu smut #thanos x reader #nam-gyu x reader #choi su bong

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elvenferretots · 5 months ago

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I don't think the idea of what retirement should be is talked about enough in dog sport spaces.

People "retire" dogs from sports all the time. The dog gets too old to safely play, acquires an injury that makes the sport unsafe or uncomfortable, or has a behavioral or temperament issue that makes the sport unenjoyable. I don't think anyone can argue that it's unethical to keep pushing a dog in a sport to their detriment.

But what I see from there, I can argue with. So many people get high drive working dogs and do... nothing with them when they retire. They often refer to them as a "couch ornament". They leave them home on sport weekends. They use the lack of finances or time to do an extra sport as the excuse to stop coaching and building new repertoires with the dog.

We spend so much time arguing these dogs NEED jobs, then do nothing with them for months to years at the end of their working life. Retirement (for humans as well as dogs-- but that's a whole new can of worms) should not mean doing nothing. Living beings aren't meant to stop learning and growing and doing. Puppies are less capable, but we don't do nothing with them until six months anymore. We meet them where they're at. It's so important for physical wellness and neural plasticity that we do the same with our retired dogs.

I have a dog whose health meant he would be retired in any serious competitive context. Biting a sleeve or suit is too high injury risk. He can't jump his full obedience height or to catch a disc. He will never get the AKC RACH or OTCH I had him slated for. But he still plays! He comes with to mondio club and is preparing to trial in obedience with no jumps. He trials in AKC preferred obedience and got his rally choice title, the highest level without jumps, last fall. We're going to compete for our UKC RACH this trial season, since they don't require jumps for rally and let you jump minimum height. He still competes in every disc dog competition my competitive dog does, and even surprised me by placing in the last two despite only catching rollers. We started shed hunt and a Nosework class even though I currently don't have the funds or time to compete in more sports.

The biggest difference I've noticed in him since competing with him and taking him to classes again? He's so so much more behaviorally sound. He's happier. He's fulfilled. And he's physically more sound on top of that, because he's using his body in healthy ways and is not so pent up that he's injuring himself with normal movement.

Retirement should mean a new phase in life, not life being over. Rest and stagnancy are not the same. Quite honestly, if my retired working dog isn't ready to learn a new activity or play a new game, it's time to have a serious talk with my vet about quality of life.

#dogblr #dog training #dog sports

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zroronoas · 7 months ago

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roommate!ace

bc i love ace and kept imagining what he'd be like as a roommate!

-ace loves candles, will always have one lit up and he'll even bring his favorite one everywhere he goes. if he's going from his bedroom to the living room, he will have that candle with him. super considerate though, he'll always have you come candle shopping with him and sniff each one to make sure you like the smell.

a disgusted expression is plastered onto your face as ace holds up the candle to your nose. once he sees your reaction to it, he immediately puts it back on the shelf.

"you don't like it?"

"ace, it smells like feet."

-ace absolutely loves building forts out of the pillows and couch cushions. he takes extra time and effort to make sure it's the most structured pillow fort that has ever been built. usually, he likes to sit in there while you two have movie nights and since he's using up all the couch cushions, you have no choice but to sit in there with him. you have to admit that it was cute, he would set up the inside with the softest blankets and all of the snacks you two loved.

"what are we watching today, ace?"

"wicked."

"again?"

-he's convinced that the apartment has ghosts and will literally force you to ghost hunt with him. you're terrified but it's an excuse to walk around the house in the dark while he holds your hand so you consider it a win.

"dude. did you hear that?"

you press yourself even closer into his side, frantically whipping your head side to side to find the source of the noise. you feel him tighten his grip on your hand, his way of comforting you.

"do we really have to do this? can't we just ignore them?"

"the noise came from your room, good luck sleeping in there tonight!"

"don't say that ace, i will literally move out."

"or you can just sleep in my bed tonight."

-he loves grocery shopping and doing all of the household chores with you. despite him having a messy room, he always makes sure that your shared spaces are clean. if he knows you've been busy, he'll even do your laundry for you. you appreciate the gesture but have had to ban him from touching your laundry because he always makes dirty jokes whenever he sees your underwear.

"oh, these are some scandalous panties you've got here!"

-loves to comes into your room and just plop down on your bed without saying anything. you grow accustomed to it, so usually you just continue what you're doing without sparing him a glance. after a while, he starts to snore and you have to deal with dragging him out of your bed so you can lay down.

-you and ace love to cook, especially if you're doing it together. he loves finding recipes on tiktok and is always sending them to you. neither of you enjoy cleaning up though, so it's always a fight. figuring out who's going to clean up the mess consists of bets and countless games of rock paper scissors. but ace always ends up cleaning up because he's a sweetheart and hates making you do literally anything.

-despite ace's antics and the occasional urge to kick his ass, living with him felt like marriage. you would never admit that to him, in fear of making it awkward between the two of you. you couldn't imagine constantly having to avoid each other during the duration of your two year lease.

-but it was so difficult. regardless of his intentions, ace was extremely flirty and touchy. the man was constantly teasing you and would attempt to cuddle you on the couch every single night.

"why won't you ever let me cuddle with you?" he whines. even though your foot was brought up against his chest, pushing with all your power, the man wouldn't let up. you didn't even know why you even bothered to try and stop him.

"roommates don't cuddle," you state. "and you stink."

"then let's stop being just roommates."

the sentence makes you freeze and you forget about trying to keep him away from you. your foot slowly falls back onto the couch as you stare at him, wide-eyed.

a boyish grin appears on the mans face and he takes the chance to wrap his arms around you. you have no idea what to do, but you do know that you don't have the energy to push him away. you were sure that he could feel the beating of your heart and the warmth that was spreading throughout your face.

"we can be roommates and best friends!" he grins. "that means we can cuddle now, right?"

your fist collides with his arm before you push him off and run as fast as you can to your room. ace winces as he watches you make your way to your room, the smile on his face growing even wider.

he thinks you're the most adorable person on the planet, and couldn't wait for the day he could call you his partner and his roommate.

#one piece #ace x reader #ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff

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kumkaniudaku · 5 months ago

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Just For You

Summary: Terry and Patrice give each other lasting nicknames.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

"Terrence and Patrice, you're married. Any objections?"

None from Terry. A few from Patrice, but what was new? She always had objections. Ms. Cole answered each of her star pupil's questions in extreme detail before sending the pair home as a fictional married couple exploring the semester's section on personal finance.

It was Terry's idea for them to work together on the weekend at his house, citing weekday football practices as too much of a hindrance to after-school instructional time. His sophomore year came with another growth spurt to a towering 6'1", and he couldn't let the new length or extra muscle go to waste. The fight for starting receiver had only just begun.

Patrice hated falling behind. The thought of letting days pass without tracking toward their project's completion ate away at her. She allowed Terry to have his way, but under one condition: they'd work all morning on Saturday to knock things out in one day.

He scrunched his face and ran a hand over his haircut. "Patrice, that's a lot. We can't stretch it to two days?" He thought again for a better solution when she started to open her mouth with a rebuttal. "What if we talked on the phone and finished up Sunday night! Then you only have to leave home once!"

"Take it or leave it, Terrence. One day or a little bit every day after your practice."

With Saturday morning SportsCenter's top five clips playing on the television while they sat beside each other, their feet and legs jutting out from beneath his mother's coffee table, it was clear he'd taken the offer with a few concessions. Highlights stayed on during homework.

Patrice sat still and quiet while she watched Terry twirl a pencil between his fingers and squint at the instructions on their project syllabus. Late morning sunlight streaming through the living room window brought out the honey color in his eyes, her favorite part of the blue-green pieces of art she pretended not to sneak glances at when they spent time together. His brows furrowed to create little ripples at the center of his forehead. Three. She always counted them when he made his focused face.

If anyone didn't know him, he'd look like an intimidating man at least five years his senior. But Patrice knew Terry was mostly a gentle giant. He spoke softly as if the sound of his own voice was scary, opened doors, laughed on occasion, and remained polite day to day. Compared to the other boys in his grade, Terry was a saint—a saint slowly creeping his way into Patrice's day-to-day thoughts.

Terry's shoulder brushed against Patrice's as he shifted on the floor, making her shuffle further away to avoid the goosebumps populating her forearm. Terry glanced over, concern replacing the focus in his eyes. "You okay? Did I hit you?"

"No, I just didn't wanna be so deep in your space." Partially true. The why was her secret to keep.

Terry shrugged. "It's cool. You're not bothering me." She never was. If he were honest, Terry wished she would bother him more. Come over more, show up to more games, and stay on the phone a little later when he called under the guise of missing notes from class, knowing the only thing he missed was her voice. He scooched closer to her, leaving a sliver of space between them. "So, I think you're the breadwinner in this scenario. Sixty-thousand a year ain't half bad. You must be a professor or something. Talkin' them students' heads off, I'm sure."

"Shut up," Patrice laughed as she elbowed his side. "You aren't far behind! Your $45k gets us to a combined $105k. That's more money than I've ever seen."

Her compliment of his pretend income pulled a closed-mouth smile from Terry. "Yeah, well, how do we spend it? Says here we need to budget our combined monthly income between bills, discretionary spending, and savings." Quick mental math helped him tally their post-tax income. "That's $3,204 bi-weekly. Just under $7000 a month. I think we can handle that."

"Let's start with housing and work from there?"

"I'm following your lead."

One hour of hard work and bickering netted the play couple one outcome they could agree on. Terry thought it'd be best for them to choose a modest three-bedroom dwelling with a low mortgage to fit their housing needs and free up funds for two cars. Though Patrice wanted a bigger backyard for her garden, she relented when her mate pointed out she'd get the better car and a summer vacation if they were wise with their monthly spending. One night out a week, $500 a month in "fun funds," and a strict savings schedule left them more than enough money in their reserve to consider children in their plan.

Brain fog stemming from a quietly growling belly made Patrice stretch her arms high about her head and whine. "Can we take a break? I'm a little hungry."

"I can make you something!" Hearing the extra eagerness in his own voice felt like a punch to the throat for Terry. Embarrassment had him scaling back to save face. "It's just a PB&J. You don't want me using the stove. Or you can wait 'til my mom gets home. She usually does crawfish on the weekends."

"Shoot, let's do both! I've never had crawfish before."

Not ever having crawfish was a cardinal sin in Terry's household. If his parents found out Patrice had been living a life without experiencing their family specialty, she'd be forced to camp out until every piece of corn, sausage, potato, and crustacean was consumed. Terry logged the reference in the back of his mind for later use as he made his way into the kitchen.

While Terry focused on the even spreads of peanut butter and jelly on his mama's "good" bread, Patrice took her time mosying around the large living room to acquaint herself with her surroundings.

Expensive trinkets and books she'd never read lined the cubby spaces on one side of their large wooden entertainment center. On the other, family photos told the Richmond family's story. At the top, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond posed in formal attire with big smiles to celebrate what Patrice assumed was their wedding day. Another shelf featured photos of twin girls with encased baby booties in the middle. She smiled at their big afro puffs and chocolate-covered faces while they enjoyed dessert at Disney World. Then, she spotted it. Perched on a stack of photo albums, a little boy decked in Spider-Man gear from head to toe stretched himself in the hero's signature squat. But those eyes were unmistakable. Little Terrence was clearly on a mission to save the world. Or his backyard, at the very least.

In awe of how cute Terry looked as a kid playing make-believe, Patrice reached out to grab the frame for a closer look. That was him, alright. Terry still had the same toothy grin that crinkled his nose at the bridge and made his eyes close from the rise of his cheeks. Ears too big for his body stood out even more than they did ten years later. He may have been smaller in stature and much more upbeat than the brooding teenager in the other room, but after a year of friendship and a little secret pining, she could recognize him anywhere.

Immersion disarmed Patrice's senses, giving Terry ample space and opportunity to sneak up on her. "That's funny?" His voice cut through the silence, making Patrice jump and turn to catch the sly smile on his face. "That was my fifth birthday. I can't remember why I didn't get a party, but I guess I still had fun that day."

"It's cute," Patrice complimented. "I didn't know they made masks for little kids with adult-sized heads."

Payback from her jab tasted perfectly sweet on her tongue, like her Nana's homemade apple pie. Patrice watched Terry roll his eyes and shake his head before pulling the glass photo frame from her hands and placing it back in its rightful spot.

He pretended to laugh along before kissing his teeth. "Come get this sandwich before I change my mind, girl."

Terry would never change his mind, no matter how hard he tried to pretend or fight back the smile revealing his top row of teeth. Patrice had a free license to pick with him, and, on occasion, he'd join in to further solidify their friendship.

Lighthearted rounds of the dozens meandered into winding conversions dominated by Patrice's favorite secret chatterbox. He ran through team drama a mile a minute, only taking breaks to chew and ask her intentions for the remaining pretzels on her plate. She granted him permission to clean up her portion and his if it meant he'd keep talking.

"So, you like orange?" His abrupt change in subject turned Patrice's passive listening into active confusion. He pointed at the scrunchie on her wrist to clarify. "The color, I mean. I noticed you wear it all the time. I was just wondering if it's your favorite."

Patrice fiddled with the ponytail holder, looking for anything to keep her from making eye contact with Terry. Knowing she was being watched excited and terrified her with equal intensity. "Um, yeah. It is."

"How come?"

"I don't know, really. I think because of how the sky turns orange when the sun's going down in the summertime. That's always been pretty to me." Terry committed the information to memory with a quick head nod, letting awkward silence scream into Patrice's ear until she forced out a follow-up question. "What about you? What's your favorite color?"

Terry thought for a moment. "Blue, mostly. But like Carolina blue. If you get too dark, it's like the Patriots, and I hate the Patriots."

"Dang. Soooo, no tickets to see Tom Brady for our fun money, huh?"

"Well, I ain't say all that!"

Stomach-busting laughter derailed all thoughts of returning to the second half of their assignment. Instead, they chose to take a nose dive into each other's likes, dislikes, and anything in between. Terry had to know Patrice's birthday for…research purposes.

She scribbled the date on his mother's wall calendar. "April 23rd, remember? Shakespeare's birthday!"

Fitting. Terry stored the date away in the section of his brain reserved for important things like stats and Lil Wayne lyrics for good this time.

"What's your favorite food?"

"My maman's étoufée," Terry answered, whistling from the memory of last Thanksgiving. "I can't wait to go visit next month!"

How Patrice wished to visit with him and experience even the smallest taste of the dish, brightening his smile more than she'd ever seen before.

Back and forth they went while time morphed into more of an abstract concept than a rule governing the physical world. Terry's favorite film? Remember the Titans. An obvious answer for obvious reasons, but Patrice loved to hear his explanation anyway. Patrice's plans for her future career? A teacher, high school English more specifically. And, if she found the time, she'd get her PhD and teach other teachers how to teach one day. Her commitment to learning and school was admittedly odd to Terry, but still, he found her passion for it magnetic.

In their own world, Patrice and Terry were free to be themselves in every imperfect way. Nothing was too nerdy or too weird to discuss. And, if it got close, they knew to keep each other's secrets.

Gathering plates for cleanup, Terry rattled off his umpteenth question. "What's your middle name? Wait! Can I guess?" Patrice smiled and pushed for him to take his best shot. "You look like a Nicole."

"No way! How'd you guess that?"

"Every Black girl's middle name is Nicole. Or Marie. It was a 50/50 chance."

"It was a 50/50 chance," Patrice mocked before kissing her teeth. "What's yours? Michael?"

Terry smirked at her attempt to get him back. "Nope. It's James. Me and my dad have the same one."

"I guess that's kinda cool." Curiosity turning the wheels in Patrice's head robbed her of seeing Terry trying to hide his smile and reddening ears from her view. "Do people ever call you TJ, or is it always Terrence or Terry?"

Hardly anyone called him Terrence. His full first name was his mother's go-to when he was in trouble. In school, teachers faithfully called him what existed on the roll sheet. But, those closest to his heart knew him as Terry and nothing else. The divide between Terrence and Terry was his way of telling friends from foes. TJ, though, was new and interesting.

Thinking for a couple of seconds yielded no results. "Nah, I don't think so. You can have dibs if I give you one."

Decisions decisions. Alternate names gifted by little boys never went well for Patrice. Four Eyes, Girl Urkel, and Stilts still haunted her well past elementary and middle school. The potential fallout from another botched nicknaming debacle wouldn't deter her from having something special between them.

"Fine," Patrice relented, grumbling enough to pull a laugh from Terry. "But nothing about my physical appearance. Or food-related. Or downright mean. Or Pat. I hate Pat."

Her heavy southern twang exaggerated all of her demands, eliciting a laugh from Terry as he shook his head. "You know, usually, people don't get that much say in their nicknames. It's kinda the whole point."

"Yeah, well, this ain't one of them time, so tread lightly."

Terry lifted his hands in surrender, not wanting to squander his opportunity to deepen their connections. If rules existed around what he could and could not call her, so be it. "What about…P," he prosed after a few seconds. "Short and simple."

"And unfortunately already taken by my mama. Try again."

"Patty? Like LaBelle. Y'all both kinda mean but in a cool, old lady way."

Patrice's annoyed eye roll sharply contrasted with Terry's impish grin. Payback was officially his again.

"Terry, I swear! Be serious!"

Relenting, he tossed out another option. "Okay, okay," he laughed. "For real this time. How does Treece sound? Just the second part of your name." Terry watched her mull over the idea, his smile growing when she offered no immediate rebuttal. He nudged her shoulder and smiled when she forced a sour expression. "Nah, you like it! Treece! Treecey! Big Treece!"

Listening to Terry rattle off variations of her newly minted nickname, the sound from his lips sounding like her mother asking who wants a second helping of ice cream or Usher singing to her and her alone through her radio's speakers.

"You know we sound like twins now, right? TJ and Treece?"

"That's what we should name the kids."

Missing context caused an invisible record to scratch, forcing Terry to quickly correct himself. Kids? They'd just reached good friend status. Patrice opened her mouth to question Terry, but he beat her to the punch with an explanation.

He emphatically waved his hands in front of him, trying to sweep the misstep into the ether. "For the project! I meant kids for the project!"

"Right!" The project. Duh. Patrice tried to recover cooly from what she was sure looked like utter panic with a dash of hopefulness on her face. "The kids from the project. Which –"

"We should get back to. It's gettin' late. Unless you stayin' for crawfish tonight?"

Dancing eyebrows and an irresistible grin slowly turned a firm no into a maybe before Patrice could stop her lips from moving.

She sighed, giving in to the barely there push of peer pressure. "I'll call and ask my mom," she grumbled. "Is the phone in the living room, TJ?"

"By the couch, Treece."

Special names reserved for private use added another layer to a friendship blossoming by the day. Terry stood in the kitchen for a second longer to try out Patrice's new moniker alone, flexing different inflections and how it sounded next to his. Treece and Terry. Terry and Treece. Treece Ellis. Treece Richmond.

The last one earned a few repeats until Patrice's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"No luck on crawfish, TJ! I've got to leave to babysit my brother tonight!" she hollered from the other room. “Come on so we can finish! We gotta get one of these kids on paper and budget for their Spider-Man birthday party!"

Terry chuckled and shook his head. She'd never let him live that down. "Alright. I'm coming. You're a real demanding wife, you know that?" he shouted back with a smile.

Treece Richmond. He could get used to that one.

—————-

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @ghostfacekill-monger @nyifly22

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge

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kirlicues · 5 months ago

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Mini Modern Home Collection | Sims 2 Residential Lot Downloads

Modern homes aren't typically my build style, but I put these together several years back and they are currently residing in my desert town of Modern Mesa because coming up with creative town names isn't my strong point err....collecting dust.

These 5 lots are on the smaller size, 3x1, 2x2 and 3x2, so they work great for those small nooks and crannies that need to be filled in in a neighborhood.

Each of these homes only has 1 or 2 pieces of CC that can easily be omitted. I can't live without upper cabinets in my kitchens, but maybe you can! 🤣🤣A list of CC is included below each home. Most of it is either Maxis "lost and found" items, or pre-order bonuses.

All EPs and SPs are required for these lots.

If you want to grab all the lot files in one download you can do so here, or here on SFS.

Here's the first home. This one has 2 bedrooms, 1.5 bathrooms and is built on a 2x2 lot. You will need the MANDAL dresser from the Ikea Stuff Pre-order bonus items, and the usual upper kitchen cabinets.

Floor plan layout:

Mini Modern Home #1: MF | SFS

CC List (Included): -Maxis Match Wall Cabinets by CTNutmegger at ModtheSims CC List (Not Included): -MANDAL dresser from the Ikea Stuff Pre-order Bonus -Maxis Match Chimney Recolors by Kimsie at ModtheSims

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Moving on to home #2. This one has 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom and is built on a 2x2 lot:

Floor plan layout: If you need an more space, the upstairs living room can be walled off and turned into extra bedroom.

Mini Modern Home #2: MF | SFS

CC List (Included): -Maxis Match Wall Cabinets by CTNutmegger at ModtheSims

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And now for home #3! This one has 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms and is built on a 3x2 lot. Tap the pictures to see a larger version:

Floor plan layout: The 3rd bedroom is being used as a home gym right now, but you're welcome to toss the treadmill (and other things) and plop a bed in there instead.

Mini Modern Home #3: MF | SFS

CC List (Included): -Maxis Match Wall Cabinets by CTNutmegger at ModtheSims

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Now for home #4. This one has 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and is built on a 3x2 lot. If the round window doesn't show up as a window just remove the Genuine Railway Tie fencing from the 2x1 space directly in front of it. I'm using @fwaysims Object Freedom mod which gives me a little more, uhh, freedom in object placement. 🤭 Tap the pictures to see a larger version:

Floor plan layout:

Mini Modern Home #4: MF | SFS

CC List (Included): -Maxis Match Wall Cabinets by CTNutmegger at ModtheSims CC List (Not included): -Maxis Lost and Found BASKIS ceiling light

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And now for home #5. This one has 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and is built on a 3x1 lot. The car is not included in the packaged lot download. It's just there to look fancy and add a pop of color. Don't worry though, it comes with the game. You can find it in the buy catalog under misc> cars.

Floor plan layout: Feel free to turn the open space on the second floor into another bedroom if you need more room.

Mini Modern Home #5: MF | SFS

CC List (Included): -Maxis Match Wall Cabinets by CTNutmegger at ModtheSims CC List (Not Included): -Maxis Lost and Found Diagonal Bohemian Molding

All EPs and SPs are required for these lots.

I’ve run these home through the Lot Compressor so any random references to sims that aren’t there should be removed. I have also run them through the Lot Cleaner to remove any bits of buggy code. These lots come with a shiny custom thumbnail so they have even more curb appeal in your Lots and Houses bin! 😄

I ALWAYS recommend using the Sims 2 Pack Clean installer to install lot files.

Want to improve the look of your game, or grab some "Lost & Found" Maxis objects? Check out this post.

#kirlicuessimlots #dl: lots #residential lot #lot #sims 2 maxis match #ts2 #ts2 cc #sims2 #s2build #ts2 build #sims 2 lot #sims 2 lots #lot download #sims 2 house #sims 2 build #ts2 download #sims 2 download #the sims 2 #thesims2

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reidmarieprentiss · 11 months ago

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Dare Ya

Summary: Spencer and Penelope are roommates, you get a dare during girls night that changes your relationship with Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, mild crime description, sneaking into beds

Word count: 3.6k

a/n: this is so silly & cute ,, i saw someone say they love penelope and spencer being best friends and i can't disagree hehe

main masterlist

After surviving a terrifying attack outside her apartment, Penelope Garcia can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that now shadows her every step. Seeking solace, she reluctantly accepts Spencer Reid's offer to move in with him, hoping his quiet, protective presence will help her regain a sense of safety.

—

Penelope was sprawled out on the couch, her colorful blanket draped over her as she scrolled through the latest memes on her tablet. Spencer walked in, holding two mugs of steaming tea, carefully balancing them as he made his way to the coffee table.

"Okay, Penelope, I’ve got your chamomile, extra honey, just the way you like it," Spencer announced with a proud smile, handing her the mug.

Penelope’s eyes lit up as she accepted the tea. "Spencer, you’re an absolute gem! What would I do without you?"

Spencer sat down beside her, taking a sip of his own tea before replying, "Probably starve, considering your idea of dinner is three packets of Pop Rocks and a diet soda."

Penelope gasped dramatically, clutching her heart. "I’ll have you know that’s gourmet snacking in some cultures!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Well, in this apartment, it’s all about balanced meals and—"

"—and daily doses of nerdy lectures from my favorite genius!" Penelope finished his sentence, her grin widening.

"Exactly," Spencer agreed with a chuckle. "Besides, you’re the only person who appreciates my random facts at 2 AM."

Penelope nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Of course! And who else is going to let me blast show tunes at full volume while I reorganize your books by color?"

Spencer’s eyes widened in mock horror. "Wait, you wouldn’t dare…"

Penelope leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, sweetie, it’s already done."

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

"And you’re lucky I love you," Penelope shot back, lifting her mug in a toast.

Spencer clinked his mug against hers. "Best roommates ever."

"Forever and always," Penelope agreed, smiling warmly at him.

—

“Reid, don’t forget I’m having the girls over tonight,” Penelope reminded him as she flitted around the kitchen, her excitement palpable.

“Girls' night, I know,” Spencer replied with a small smile, glancing over at the calendar on the wall where Penelope had circled the date in bright pink marker. “You wrote it on the calendar.”

Penelope paused, turning to face him with a hopeful look. “Are you going to join us this time? It’s going to be fun! We’re talking snacks, gossip, and maybe even some scandalous games…”

Spencer chuckled, already making his way toward his room with a book tucked under his arm. “I’ll pass, thank you,” he said, his voice warm with amusement.

Penelope pouted playfully, but she couldn’t hide her grin. “One day, Dr. Reid, you’ll see the light and join us!”

“Maybe,” Spencer called back with a laugh, already imagining the lively scene that would soon fill the apartment. For now, though, he was content to let the girls enjoy their night.

Penelope Garcia loves hosting her infamous girls' nights with the BAU ladies, filling her and Reid's apartment with laughter, drinks, and the latest gossip. Spencer, ever the accommodating roommate, doesn’t mind the occasional takeover—he’s more than happy to retreat to his books. What he didn’t anticipate, though, is you always showing up in your cozy pajamas, looking irresistibly adorable and sending his heart into a tailspin. As the nights unfold with playful games and shared secrets, Spencer finds himself leaving his room more and more often, struggling to keep his cool amidst the lively chaos.

—

The apartment is buzzing with energy as you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit in a cozy circle on the living room floor, surrounded by empty wine bottles, snack wrappers, and the remnants of your laughter-filled evening. The air is thick with friendship, and after a few rounds of lighthearted gossip, the group decides to spice things up with a classic game of truth or dare.

Penelope leans forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, truth or dare?” she asks, her voice full of playful challenge.

Feeling the warmth of the wine and the comfort of your friends, you giggle. “Dare, obviously,” you say confidently, knowing full well that Penelope won’t go easy on you.

The girls exchange conspiratorial glances, their eyes practically twinkling with mischief. Emily is the first to speak up, grinning as she leans closer. “We dare you to… climb into Spencer’s bed while he’s sleeping.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, your cheeks flushing at the thought. “Wait, what?!” you whisper, a mixture of shock and excitement bubbling up inside you. The mere idea of being that close to him, even in such a silly, innocent context, makes your heart race.

JJ nods enthusiastically, her smile widening. “Come on! You’ve been crushing on him forever. It’s the perfect opportunity to get a little closer,” she teases, nudging your shoulder playfully.

Penelope claps her hands together, her excitement barely contained. “Think of it as a harmless prank! He’ll never know, and it’ll be our little secret,” she adds with a wink.

You bite your lip, your mind racing. The thought of sneaking into Spencer’s room, tiptoeing over to his bed, and slipping under the covers while he sleeps soundly is both terrifying and thrilling. But the encouraging looks from your friends, coupled with the wine-induced confidence, push you to make a decision.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it,” you finally agree, your voice a little shaky but determined. The girls let out a collective squeal of delight, stifling their laughter as they quickly urge you toward Spencer’s bedroom.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully open the door to his room, the soft creak of the hinges sounding far too loud in the quiet of the night. Spencer is fast asleep, his face peaceful in the dim light filtering through the curtains. His glasses are on the nightstand, and a book lies open beside him, his fingers still loosely resting on the pages.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly approach the bed, your steps light and cautious. You glance back at the doorway, where the girls are peeking in, holding their breaths in anticipation. Gathering every ounce of courage, you carefully lift the blanket and slide into the bed beside Spencer, your movements as gentle as possible.

As you carefully slide under the covers beside Spencer, you’re acutely aware of every sound, every movement, your heart hammering in your chest. You had been fully prepared to stay for only a few seconds before making your escape, but the moment you settle in, something unexpected happens—Spencer, in his sleep, rolls over and instinctively drapes an arm around you.

You freeze, eyes wide in shock, as you feel his warmth envelop you. His face nuzzles into your shoulder, his breath soft and steady against your neck. Your initial reaction is to panic, to jump out of the bed before things get any more complicated, but the sensation of his embrace is so comforting, so natural, that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Instead, you find yourself relaxing into him, letting out a breath. Spencer’s grip tightens slightly as if seeking out your warmth in his sleep, and your heart melts at the sweet, innocent way he snuggles closer.

From the doorway, the girls are watching with wide eyes, trying desperately to suppress their giggles. Penelope claps a hand over her mouth, stifling a squeal of excitement, while Emily and JJ exchange looks of pure amusement, both of them barely containing their laughter.

You turn your head slightly, giving them a pleading look to stay quiet, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. There’s something about the way Spencer holds you, even in his unconscious state, that makes you feel safe, cherished, and you can’t bring yourself to disrupt the moment.

As the minutes tick by, the warmth of Spencer’s embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing begin to lull you into a state of calm. You know you should slip out, return to the girls, and let them finish their game, but instead, you find yourself growing drowsy, the fatigue of the night catching up with you.

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift off to sleep, nestled comfortably in Spencer’s arms.

Back in the living room, the girls exchange glances, their excitement bubbling over. Penelope, always the ringleader, whispers with a grin, "Looks like she’s spending the night there. Mission accomplished, ladies."

Emily chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "She’s really going for it, huh?"

JJ giggles, still trying to keep her voice low. "I think we just made Spencer’s dreams come true—literally!"

The girls continue to snicker and whisper amongst themselves, marveling at how perfectly the dare has played out. They decide to let you enjoy your impromptu cuddle session, knowing that this is one girls’ night that will go down in history.

—

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, gently stirring you awake. For a moment, you were wrapped in the cozy haze of sleep, feeling an unfamiliar warmth around you. As your eyes blinked open, reality came rushing back, and your heart dropped into your stomach—Spencer was still there, his arm draped across you, his face just inches from yours.

Panic set in as you realized exactly where you were and what had happened last night. Before you could gather your thoughts, Spencer stirred beside you, his brow furrowing in confusion as he slowly woke up. His eyes fluttered open, and the moment he saw you lying there, his expression shifted from sleepy contentment to utter shock.

“Wha—what’s going on?!” Spencer exclaimed, his voice a mix of confusion and panic as he scrambled back, pulling the blanket up as if it could somehow explain the situation.

You bolted upright, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Spencer, I—I can explain!” you stammered, trying desperately to find the right words. But the sight of his wide, bewildered eyes only made your heart race faster.

“Why were you…? How did you…?” Spencer was clearly struggling to make sense of it all, his mind racing as he tried to connect the dots.

You cringed, feeling mortified beyond belief. “It was just… it was a dare,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Penelope, Emily, and JJ—they dared me to sneak into your bed while you were sleeping. I swear, it was just a silly prank. I didn’t mean to—” You broke off, feeling the heat of humiliation crawl up your neck.

Spencer’s eyes widened even more, if that were possible. “A dare? You climbed into my bed because of a dare?” He sounded incredulous, his voice cracking slightly.

You nodded, biting your lip and wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I didn’t think—I didn’t realize you’d… snuggle up to me like that.” Your voice trailed off, the words sounding as ridiculous out loud as they did in your head.

Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you didn’t think was possible, his mind clearly reeling as he processed what you had just told him. “I—I didn’t know. I must have been dreaming or something. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know you were there!” He was stumbling over his words, just as flustered as you were.

The awkwardness in the room was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your ears. The last thing you wanted was for Spencer to think you were some kind of creep. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, but no coherent words formed. The embarrassment was too overwhelming.

“I should go,” you finally managed to squeak out, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you scrambled out of the bed, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste. You bolted for the door, your face burning with shame.

Spencer started to say something, but you didn’t stop to listen. You couldn’t—every fiber of your being was screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible. You could hear the girls' giggles in the living room as you rushed past them, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t bear to face them, not after what had just happened.

The moment you were out of the apartment, you leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, your heart still pounding. You had never been so embarrassed in your life. The whole thing had backfired spectacularly, and now you had no idea how you were ever going to face Spencer again.

Inside the apartment, Spencer was left sitting on the bed, staring at the door where you had just fled. His mind was still trying to process everything that had just happened, his cheeks still burning. He had never been so confused, or so flustered, in his entire life.

—

After the chaotic morning had settled down and the girls had finally left, the apartment grew quiet. Spencer was still in a bit of a daze from the unexpected events that had unfolded earlier. He moved around the kitchen mechanically, setting up breakfast while his thoughts churned.

“So, boy wonder,” Penelope began, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table as Spencer placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. “Care to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Spencer sighed, sitting down across from her with his own plate, though he wasn’t sure he had much of an appetite. “I’m just… confused, I guess,” he admitted, poking at his eggs with his fork. “About everything that happened this morning.”

Penelope nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, it was definitely one for the books,” she agreed. “But I think there’s more to it than just a silly dare, isn’t there?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t know. It’s just—when I woke up and saw her there, I was… shocked, obviously. But then, after she explained, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have her there, so close. And now, I feel like I completely scared her off.”

Penelope’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Spencer, I think you’re missing the bigger picture here,” she said gently. “Do you like her?”

Spencer looked up at Penelope, a bit startled by the direct question. His cheeks flushed slightly as he considered it. “I mean, yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “She’s smart, funny, and… she makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. But I never thought she’d be interested in me like that.”

Penelope’s smile widened, her heart warming at the sight of her friend finally acknowledging his feelings. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Doctor,” she said with a playful wink. “The reason we dared her to climb into your bed wasn’t just for fun. It was because we’ve all noticed how she looks at you, how she gets all flustered when you’re around. She’s been crushing on you hard, Spencer. We thought a little nudge might help her break the ice.”

Spencer blinked, the revelation sinking in. “She… she likes me?” he asked, surprise and hope flickering in his eyes.

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, she’s got it bad for you,” she confirmed. “But she’s also shy and probably feels like she’s not on your level. That’s why she freaked out this morning—she’s likely mortified because she thinks she messed everything up.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, processing Penelope’s words. It was almost too much to take in at once, but the more he thought about it, the more everything made sense. The way you always seemed a little nervous around him, the way you’d light up when he shared random facts or when you’d bump into each other in the hallway. And now, the fact that you’d been daring enough to go along with something as bold as sneaking into his bed—it all pointed to one thing: you had feelings for him, just as he had for you.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Spencer said softly, a small smile beginning to form on his lips. “But now that I know… what do I do?”

Penelope reached across the table, placing a hand on his arm. “You talk to her, Spencer. You let her know how you feel, that you’re not upset about what happened. She’s probably freaking out right now, thinking she ruined everything. But you can turn this around, make it something good.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of determination growing within him. “You’re right,” he said, his voice gaining confidence. “I need to talk to her. I don’t want her to think I’m upset or that she did something wrong.”

Penelope beamed at him, giving his arm a supportive squeeze. “That’s the spirit! You’ve got this, Spencer. Just be your sweet, nerdy self, and everything will fall into place.”

—

Monday morning rolled around, and the usual bustle of the BAU was in full swing. The team was busy reviewing files, catching up on paperwork, and getting ready for whatever case might come their way. But Spencer Reid had something else on his mind—something far more nerve-wracking than profiling criminals.

With a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small, carefully wrapped box from your favorite bakery in the other, Spencer made his way to your desk. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anticipation and anxiety as he approached. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over, but now that the moment was here, his nerves threatened to get the better of him.

You were focused on your work, completely unaware of the flurry of emotions heading your way. But when you sensed someone standing in front of your desk, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat.

Spencer stood there, looking slightly nervous but determined, holding out the bouquet of flowers—a beautiful blend of your favorite blooms, carefully chosen with Penelope’s help. Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart skipping a beat.

“Hi,” Spencer said softly, his voice a little shaky but warm. “I, um… I got these for you.”

You stared at the flowers, then at Spencer, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. “Spencer… what’s all this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I wanted to apologize for how things went on Saturday. I know it was a little… unconventional, but after thinking about it, I realized I shouldn’t have let you leave feeling so embarrassed.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, both touched and confused. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. I was the one who—”

He gently cut you off, holding up the box from the bakery. “And I also got you this. I know it’s your favorite,” he added, offering the box with a small, hopeful smile.

You hesitated for a moment before accepting the box, your fingers brushing against his as you did. The gesture made your heart flutter. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling a mixture of emotions welling up inside you.

Spencer shifted slightly, looking down at the flowers before meeting your eyes again. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Penelope said, about how sometimes we all need a little push to see what’s right in front of us.” His gaze was earnest, his voice steady as he continued. “And I’ve realized that I don’t want to miss out on what could be something really great.”

Your breath caught as his words sank in, your heart beating faster as hope began to bloom within you.

“So,” Spencer continued, a small but sincere smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Maybe we can start over, without the dares, and just… see where things go?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. The embarrassment from the weekend melted away, replaced by a growing sense of excitement. You glanced at the flowers and the pastry, your favorite treats carefully chosen just for you, and felt a smile spread across your face.

“I’d love that, Spencer,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

Spencer’s smile widened, relief and happiness evident on his face. “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. “And thank you for the flowers—and the pastry. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Spencer said softly. “You’re worth it.”

Your smile grew even brighter, and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at his words. “Well, in that case, I guess I’m going to have to say yes.”

Spencer’s face lit up with joy and relief, and he let out a breath he was holding. “Great,” he said, his voice full of quiet excitement. “How about dinner tonight?”

“That sounds perfect,” you replied, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

As Spencer walked away to return to his desk, a spring in his step, you couldn’t help but glance down at the flowers and the pastry. The weekend’s awkwardness seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the sweet possibility of something new and delicious.

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg

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u6is · 7 months ago

Text

wish you were here right now

summary: at a lively yacht party celebrating his team's league win, Kylian ignores the chaos around him, staying on his phone with you—and the conversation quickly takes a steamy turn.

—kylian mbappé x reader: smut (PWP)

"The team are having this yacht trip to celebrate our win." Kylian said, his voice crackling over the phone line, "Would you like to join me?"

But you couldn’t. You had already promised your mom that you’d go on the family trip that had been planned beforehand.

"I'm sorry," you replied, trying to mask the disappointment, "I wish I could be there with you."

The line was silent for a moment before Kylian spoke up, his voice a mix of understanding and a hint of sadness, "It's alright, babe. I get it. You can't miss out on family time. I'll just have to party extra hard for the both of us." He laughed, attempting to lighten the mood.

You knew his teammates—or as he calls them, his "friends"—were probably lining up a night full of partying with female escorts in tow. Still, you trusted your boyfriend wholeheartedly. “Have fun, okay? Congrats again on the win. I’ll see you in a few days,” you said softly over the phone.

The family trip was nice. The sunsets were beautiful, and your mom’s cooking was always a delight.

But Kylian’s texts kept coming in. He sent pictures of the vast ocean and the lavish yacht. He talked about the fancy dinners and the wild parties, he said it wasn’t the same without you.

“Fireworks are set for tonight,” Kylian texted, attaching a shirtless photo of himself, clearly meant to tease you.

You couldn’t help but smile, imagining his playful grin and the way his eyes would light up when he knew he’d won you over.

You quickly typed back, “Sounds exciting.” But as you stared at the photo, you couldn't shake the feeling that Kylian was teasing you on purpose, his abs almost taunting you from the distance between you two.

The thought of him surrounded by those gorgeous women didn’t sit well with you, but you had promised yourself not to be that girlfriend.

“Send me a selfie?” Kylian texted, interrupting your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and stepped outside the balcony of your private hotel room, the cool sea breeze kissing your skin. You quickly snapped a selfie, standing in the sunlight. Your sundress, the one that hugged your body perfectly, flowed gently with the breeze, accentuating your curves. With a playful grin, you tilted your head just enough to catch the light, sending the photo with a casual, natural air, teasing him without even trying.

Kylian’s reply was quick, and you could almost hear the smirk in his words:

"Tu es la plus belle femme que j’aie jamais vue." (You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.)

"That dress is doing more than just looking good on you." His tone was cocky, playful, and definitely hinted at more than just teasing.

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. It was all fun and games until his next message popped up: "I would take that dress off you in the blink of an eye."

As the night went on, the party was in full swing, with his teammates living it up and the escorts they brought along.

Achraf, one of Kylian's best friends and teammates, noticed Kylian hadn’t put his phone down all night. Standing up from the couch with a girl by his side, he walked over to where Kylian was still smiling at his screen.

Achraf gently grabbed Kylian’s phone, and Kylian looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What's up, Hakimi?"

"You’ve been on that thing all night," Achraf said, laughing. "You’re missing all the fun."

"I’m having fun," Kylian replied, still smiling.

"Yeah, fun with your phone," Achraf teased, tossing the phone back to Kylian. "I’ll grab you a drink, but seriously, put the phone down. You’re no fun to the girls."

Kylian just smirked, getting up and following Achraf. As they walked, he quickly typed out a message to you: "I’ll talk to you later, babe."

Kylian wasn’t really a big drinker, but tonight he’d indulge for the celebration. Still, his mind kept drifting back to you in that sundress. He’d saved the photo and found himself glancing at it over and over. There was something about the way you looked in that dress that had his thoughts spinning, intoxicated, not by the alcohol in his hand, but by the image of you.

A few minutes later, with the alcohol starting to take its effect, Kylian found himself reaching for his phone once more. His fingers typed out a message before he could stop himself.

"Can’t stop thinking about you in that dress," he texted, his words slow and a bit more daring than usual.

He stared at the screen for a moment, then added, "Maybe I should come see you sooner than planned."

"You haven’t seen me in my bikinis yet," you replied, adding a pleading face emoji, hoping to make it seem like an innocent tease.

As you hit send, a rush of excitement coursed through you. There was something thrilling about flirting with him like this, especially knowing that despite the many people on the yacht, including all the stunning women around, his attention was completely fixed on you.

Kylian’s reply was teasing and direct: "You’re driving me wild just thinking about it. Don't make me wait."

With a nervous giggle, you stepped into the bathroom, the cool marble floor beneath your feet. You untied the strings of your sundress, letting it drop to the floor. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your heart racing. The bikini was new, a surprise you had packed for when you’d finally get some time alone on the beach. The neon blue of the top contrasted with your tanned skin, and the bottoms hugged your hips perfectly.

You took a deep breath and held your phone up, angling it just right to capture the reflection in the mirror. The camera clicked, and you studied the image for a moment. You looked amazing. You bit your lip, feeling a mix of excitement and naughtiness.

Achraf was talking to him when Kylian’s phone buzzed with a notification. He smirked as he looked at the screen, feeling a surge of heat rush through him. The picture you sent him had definitely stirred something inside, an arousing thrill coursing through him.

Achraf glanced at Kylian, who was smirking with his head down, absorbed in his phone. "You're no fun, Kyks," his teammate remarked, but Kylian didn't hear him, lost in his own thoughts.

He glanced at the picture again, his eyes lingering on your reflection in the mirror. The neon blue bikini was a bold choice and it had definitely paid off. The way the bottoms hugged your hips, it was a sight that made his heart race.

You watched the screen, your heart pounding in your chest, as you waited for Kylian's response. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a thrill of excitement that made your skin tingle. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

Then, his message appeared. "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now." It was raw, unfiltered, and incredibly arousing. The words sent a jolt through your body, and you felt your cheeks flush. You couldn't believe he'd said something so explicit, but the desire in his message was undeniable.

You took a step closer to the mirror, the cool air of the cabin brushing against your skin. Your eyes traced the curves captured by the bikini, and you felt your body respond to his words, a warm ache building between your legs.

Kylian's gaze was glued to his phone, his heart racing as he stared at the picture. His shorts began to tent as an erection grew, the fabric straining against his hardened cock. He shifted uncomfortably, the pressure increasing with each passing moment.

Amidst the laughter and chatter of his teammates, he couldn't ignore the ache in his pants. It was like a silent symphony playing only for him, a sweet torture that grew with every glance at your bikini-clad reflection.

Kylian excused himself, "I'll catch up with you later, mec," he says, struggling to keep his voice steady, thick with longing, and retreated to the cabin he had booked for privacy. The door clicked shut behind him, muffling the outside world.

He looked down at the bulge, a silent testament to his desire, and groaned. The shorts felt like a prison around his throbbing cock.

His phone chimed once more, a message from you lighting up the screen. "Your turn," you texted. "I want to see you."

Kylian didn’t waste a second. He sat on the edge of the plush bed in his cabin, the soft white sheets a stark contrast to his tanned skin. He looked down at the bulge in his shorts, his pulse quickening. With a devilish smirk, he unbuttoned his shorts, letting them fall to his knees, his cock springing free.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. It was thick and hard, standing proudly against his abs. The tip was flushed a darker shade of pink, begging for attention. Kylian’s hand wrapped around it, stroking it gently. He took a deep breath, feeling the headiness of his desire for you.

With a grin, he held the phone in one hand and began to stroke himself with the other. The camera captured every inch of him, the way his hand moved up and down his shaft, the way his abs tightened with each stroke. He knew you'd love watching him, the same way he craved seeing you in your bikini.

The room grew hazy with his building arousal, the scent of saltwater and cologne filling his nostrils. The sound of the waves outside was a gentle serenade to his own escalating rhythm, the stroke of his hand against his skin echoing in the quiet cabin.

He sent the video, his heart pounding as he awaited your response.

It took you a moment to process the video. Kylian, your sweet, loving boyfriend, was masturbating for you. The sight of him, so raw and vulnerable, made your core throb with desire. You watched him stroke his cock and you realized you had never wanted him more.

Your hands shake as you place your phone on the counter, pressing the record button. Your eyes remained glued to the screen as you reached behind and untied the strings of your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts bounced freely, the cool air of the room teasing your already hardened nipples.

You stepped closer to the phone, your heart racing as you slid your hand down the front of your bikini bottoms. You felt the wetness of your desire, and a soft moan slipped from your lips as your fingers grazed your clit.

As his phone chimed once more, Kylian watched the video you had sent in response. His eyes locked onto your every move. The sound of your breathing grew heavier, the sight of your hand disappearing beneath the fabric of your bikini driving him wild. He stroked his cock faster, his thumb swiping over the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip.

He couldn't help himself—his need to hear your voice was too strong. With one hand still wrapped around his shaft, he called you with the other. He facetimed you amidst the noise of the party, his teammates cheering and music blasting in the background. The line connected, and your face appeared on his screen, illuminated softly by the warm glow of your bathroom. "I'm so fucking hard for you right now," he growled into the phone.

Your breath hitched when you heard the raw desire in Kylian's voice. The sound of the waves outside the cabin grew distant as you focused on the sensation of your fingers playing with your clit, tracing delicate circles as you watched him stroke himself in the camera. "Oh, baby," you moaned, "me too."

"Take those bottoms off," Kylian ordered, his voice thick with lust. "I want to see all of you."

Your hands trembled as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your bikini bottoms. You pulled them down slowly, your pussy exposed to the cool air. Your phone was propped up on the sink, the camera clearly capturing you as you stood right in front of it. Kylian's eyes were glued to the screen, his breaths coming in quick, shallow pants.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he murmured, his hand moving faster on his cock.

The sound of his voice, the sight of him stroking himself, it all sent you spiraling into a frenzy. You stepped closer to the sink, spreading your legs apart for the camera, giving Kylian the full view of your aroused pussy.

"Oh, baby," Kylian murmured, his voice thick with lust, "you're so fucking wet for me." His hand moved faster, the slick sound of his hand against his cock echoing in your ear.

From your perspective, everything is cloaked in darkness, as if he's in a private space, alone with his desire. The only sounds are his groans and the strokes of his hand on his cock. You feel entirely exposed for him, and it gives you the confidence you need.

You could feel yourself getting wetter just hearing him. You slid two fingers inside yourself, the sensation making your toes curl. "Kylian," you gasped, your voice a needy whisper, "I want you so bad."

"Fuck, me too, baby," he groaned, the sound of his hand moving up and down his cock a sweet symphony to your ears. "I wish I could be there to taste you."

Eventually, you notice it, Kylian’s eyes were hooded with desire as he watched you touch yourself. He took a deep, shaky breath, then spoke in a commanding tone that sent shivers down your spine. "Add another finger inside of you, baby."

Your body responding to his voice. The feel of your three fingers sliding in and out of your wetness was heavenly. "Just like that," Kylian instructed, his breathing becoming more ragged. "Imagine it's my cock, pumping deep inside of you, making you moan like you do when we're together."

You closed your eyes, the image of Kylian fucking you playing in your mind like a steamy home-made video. The sounds you made were pure, raw desire, echoing like a melody of forbidden passion.

"Turn around for me baby," Kylian's voice was a command, yet it held an undertone of longing, the kind that made your knees weak and your pussy clench with anticipation. You obeyed, feeling a thrill at the thought of him watching you so intimately despite the miles between you. You turned around, the soft curve of your ass on full display.

Your free hand reached out to the wall for balance as you began to finger yourself, the other hand buried deep inside your pussy. The sensation was exquisite, a delicious mix of pleasure and vulnerability that had you gasping for air.

You arched your back. The sensation was surprisingly erotic, and you couldn’t help but tip your hips back, pushing your ass towards the camera.

"That's it," Kylian's voice was strained, his need for you palpable through the phone. "Now, touch your clit. Slowly."

You shifted your other hand from the wall to your clit. You took a shaky breath, your heart racing at his command. Your fingertips grazing the swollen bud of your clit. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, feeling your arousal spike.

He watched as your other delicate fingers move in and out, his gaze intense as he tried to mimic your motions with his own hands, imagining it was his cock instead

Kylian watched, his breath hitching as he stroked his cock in time with your movements. "Fuck, baby, your ass looks so good," he murmured, his eyes never leaving the screen. "I can't wait to fuck you again."

Your ass and legs began to tremble, the tension in your body building with every stroke. You could feel your orgasm approaching, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to crash over you. "Kylian," you gasped, your voice trembling as much as your body, "I'm going to cum."

His groans grew louder, his strokes faster, "Do it, baby. Cum for me."

With trembling legs, you began to slap your pussy, trying to hold back the impending orgasm. Your other hand clamped over your mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sounds escaping you, your body trembling with unrestrained pleasure.

The stinging sensation mixed with the pleasure of your fingering was overwhelming. Each slap echoed through the quiet room, a rhythmic punctuation to Kylian's strokes and your gasps.

You slid a finger again, feeling your cum ooze. The sight was so erotic, so raw, that you couldn't help but look at the camera behind you, a tired smile playing on your lips. You knew Kylian was watching, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh, and the thought made you hotter.

"Putain bébé, t'es tellement sexy," (Fuck baby, you're so sexy)

Kylian's voice was a hoarse whisper, the sound of his hand still working his cock in the background.

His hand move faster, his strokes becoming more erratic. The tension in his body was palpable, his muscles tightening with every second that passed. And then, with a loud groan, he came.

Kylian's cum shot out in thick ropes, splattering against his abs and stomach. The sight was mesmerizing, a beautiful mess of white and your desire. He painted himself with his release, his hand moving in slow, lazy circles, smearing it across his skin.

"Oh, fuck," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours, "That was incredible."

You watched him through the phone screen, panting and flushed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. You couldn't believe what had just happened—how you'd both given into the moment, separated by miles of ocean yet feeling closer than ever.

He took a picture, capturing his cum-covered abs and his still-hard cock. He sent it to you without a word, and you stared at the image, a strange mix of satisfaction and longing filling you. The stark white of his cum against his tanned skin was a powerful visual, a testament to the intensity of his desire for you.

With your own arousal still pulsing through you, you pulled your bikini bottoms back up, feeling the sticky wetness of your cum against your skin. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of naughtiness as you adjusted the panties. They felt like a secret, a deliciously dirty little part of you that Kylian had unlocked from afar.

"I want to fuck you, baby," Kylian's voice was a low rumble, the sound of his need resonating through your body. You could feel your pussy clench at the words, the desire for him to fill you up so intense it was almost painful.

"I want that too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "So much."

The line went quiet again, the only sound the distant laughter from outside the cabin and the steady beat of your own heart. You felt a sense of longing, a deep ache that no amount of self-pleasure could ever truly fill.

"I miss you," Kylian finally said, his voice softer now, the passionate haze of his orgasm giving way to a tender vulnerability.

You grabbed your sundress from the floor and slipped it on, your legs still trembling from what had just happened.

You felt your own heart swell at his words, the distance between you suddenly feeling like a tangible void that needed to be filled. "Me too," you murmured, leaning against the sink, the coolness of the marble a stark contrast to the heat of your skin.

Kylian took a deep, shaky breath, then stood up from the bed. He reached for a towel, wiping the last remnants of his pleasure from his stomach and cock. His erection began to subside, the need momentarily sated by the intense orgasm he'd just had. He pulled his shorts back on, his cock still half-hard, the fabric clinging to his skin like a second layer.

As he buttoned them up, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness that it wasn't your hand touching him.

"I'll be home soon," Kylian promised, his voice still thick with lust. "And when I do, I'm going to fuck you like it's the last time we'll ever be together."

The words hung in the air, heavy with desire and promise. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a thrill that was both terrifying and incredibly exciting. "I'll be waiting," you murmured, your voice a mere whisper of a promise.

Exhaustion enveloped your body as you whispered that you’d call him by morning, and with shared "I love yous," the call ended.

Kylian remained in a euphoric haze, as he stepped out of his cabin, he tried to mask the storm within. But his mind raced with the memory of your sounds, your body.

He found Achraf and walked over to him.

"There you are, the best player in the world," his teammate joked, his voice thick with drunken cheer as he raised his cup in a toast.

That night, Kylian felt like a God, basking in the praise of his teammates. Yet, his thoughts were consumed by the longing to return to you, to worship you—his Goddess.

note: ngl, that leaked convo from when he was still at Monaco..man’s a freak 😭 this fic gives off “I’m doing it, are you?” meme LMAOOO bye 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe smut #pwp fics

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