#and have to wait 3 seconds after someone stops talking before i start

[leehanadez]

HEY, YOU! HOLD MY PHONE, please?

BOYNEXTDOOR when they ask you to hold their phone during p.e

Summary: There was a tradition in which guys would give their phones to the girls they liked. It was no different for them

Pairing: classmate!boynextdoor x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, cute, a little bit embarrassingly adorable ??

Warnings: none I think

A/N: hi guys!! tysm for your support on my posts! i hope you like this one also <3 it was inspired by both riwoo in that one live and this post !!

Myung Jaehyun

The whole class knew Jaehyun's big crush on you. The whole class, except you. So, it was no surprise for the people around you when Jaehyun gave you his phone before p.e class. Not even for you, since he did that pretty often, and you couldn't be happier to help him. It wasn't until one specific day, that you realized.

Jaehyun had just left to continue with the class after giving you his phone, playing basketball with the rest of the guys when suddenly your friend approached you with a silly smile.

"So... you and Jaehyun, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on y/n, you know about the tradition that guys give girls their phone while they play at p.e class"

Your face was pure shock. So that's what this was about, huh? Now you couldn't stop thinking about it.

Sungho

Sungho is... complicated. He’s an introverted extrovert. Quiet around crowds, but full of personality when he’s comfortable. And with you? He was always in-between.

He’d tried talking to you a dozen times, but it never felt like the right moment. You were either with friends, busy, or he’d talk himself out of it last minute.

But one afternoon, when you were sitting alone, watching your classmates mess around on the field, he finally walked up.

“Hey, so... could you hold my phone for me real quick while I go exercise these big muscles?”

You laughed. He panicked for a second, unsure if you were laughing with him or at him—but your smile was everything.

“Sure,” you said softly. And that was enough.

Riwoo

People always assume Riwoo’s too shy to make the first move. But the truth is... he’s actually pretty bold—once he talks himself into it.

He probably rehearsed it a hundred times in his head before walking over to you. And when he finally did, you could see the nervous excitement flickering behind his eyes.

“So, um... I know this might be kinda weird coming from me, but... would you like to hold my phone?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“N-Nothing!”

And just like that, he practically ran away—leaving his phone behind and you sitting there, stunned, phone in hand, heart maybe beating a little faster.

Taesan

Taesan had a reputation. Emo. Cold. Doesn’t talk to anyone. But deep down, he was just a shy boy with a massive crush on the one person who ever bothered to speak to him like he was human—you.

You were always kind. Always smiling. And somehow, always looking past the rough exterior he tried so hard to maintain. So of course he fell for you.

“Wait... is that Taesan giving Y/N his phone?” someone whispered across the gym.

He cleared his throat, walking up to you with a stiff kind of awkwardness.

“Hey, so uh... would you be, like... kind enough to, y’know, hold my phone and stuff?”

You raised a brow, suppressing a laugh. “Taesan, you do know guys only do this when they like someone, right?”

He paused. Swallowed hard.

“I know,” he muttered—and walked away before you could even reply.

Leehan

You saw it happening around you—boys handing over their phones like it was some sacred ritual. You didn’t mind. It was kind of cute.

But you liked someone too. Leehan. The quiet one who never joined P.E., always sitting on the bleachers, headphones half-in, attention elsewhere.

You looked over every few minutes, just to check if he was still there.

And then, a wild thought hit you.

Why did it have to be the boys who gave their phones? You worked out too! So you grabbed your phone, took a deep breath, and walked straight up to him.

“Hey, Leehan! I wanted to give you my phone before P.E. starts. Will you keep it safe for me?”

His reaction? Priceless.

Cheeks flushed pink. Eyes wide. He nodded, barely managing a: “Y-Yeah. Sure.”

You smiled, handed it to him, and turned around before he could see your face turn just as red.

Woonhak

This wasn’t just about tradition for Woonhak. This was about pride. Honor. Victory.

You weren’t clueless—you knew the effect you had. Every P.E. class was chaos. Boys fumbling over each other, awkwardly trying to give you their phones, only for you to casually walk away, unbothered.

So when it came to Woonhak, he couldn’t fail. Not him. Not the guy who (in his words) liked you more than any of those other losers.

But damn, he was nervous. He must’ve paced five times before working up the nerve to approach you.

When he finally did, his voice was soft, shaky, but so sincere it made your heart skip.

“Hey... I really don’t wanna bother you or anything, but it’d make me really happy if you could... you know, hold my phone and stuff? Like, if you don’t want to, that’s totally okay, I just—yeah, I’d like that. A lot.”

You smiled. You actually smiled.

And for Woonhak, that was the win of the century.

“Honestly, i thought you'd never ask” his face went totally pale before getting completely red.

“W- what do you mean?”

“Well yeah, it was hard enough to turn down all the other guys, but seeing you always doubting was making me impatient” you smiled, extending your hand out so he could give you his phone.

You swear you've never seen a boy smile so much.

[violentviolette]

really need to work on slowing myself down and not speaking so impulsively so i stop cutting ppl off or talking over ppl cause i feel like its getting worse and i Really Really do not wanna be that person who just bulldozes a conversation constantly

the theme this year really and truly is me working on self discipline

[mytherapyisreading14]

Drunk Confessions

Summary: You got drunk during a night out with your best friend and accidentally send your Professor a photo of you in lingerie. Now you try to avoid him, which is not really working.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, dirty talk, dom!spencer, semi-public sex, hair pulling, thigh riding, spanking, fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, oral sex (kinda, he comes in her mouth)

Word Count: 4,6k

Author’s Note: My last posts got so many likes, I didn’t expect that at all, thank you sm!! <3

Your alarm goes off - 8:30am. You groan. Your head is pounding and the sun shining into your room is just way too bright. Your stomach turns and you close your eyes to escape the wave of nausea. You slowly sit up and search for your phone on the nightstand. It feels like your head is going to explode. You reach out and unlock the screen, turning your alarm off.

It's way too early. And you drunk way too much last night. It was a chaotic but nice yesterday, a night full of laughter, way too much alcohol and karaoke. Your best friend celebrated her birthday and you promised to go to your favorite bar with her. You have to smile when you think back to the night and start checking your messages. You see that she already texted you this morning to find out how you are doing.

How are you?

I have the worst headache after last night

It was fun though, wanna go again tonight?

Just kidding, I feel like I need a week to recover from this

You can’t help but laugh and answer her quickly. You are about to put your phone away to finally get ready when a new chat catches your eye. You freeze in shock. It’s your Professors name. The one you’ve been crushing on since you saw him for the very first time.

Back when you found out that you were getting a new professor, you didn't expect much, a lecture like any other with someone who was only concerned with reciting his material. But then he entered. He came through the door and for a moment it seemed as if time stood still. The room, which had just been immersed in the murmur of conversation, suddenly became silent.

He was tall - taller than you expected and his presence filled the room in a way that you couldn't put into words. He wore a simple but elegant suit that somehow effortlessly fit him perfectly. His hair was a little longer, curly and fell slightly over his forehead. And then he looked up. His big, brown eyes met yours and in a split second everything became clear to you. You immediately knew you wanted, needed, this man.

Now you stare at the chat in complete horror. He recently gave you his number for a project. That's how this whole texting thing could even happen. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Obviously you can't remember texting him. You were so drunk yesterday that you can't even remember how you got home.

You open the chat - and your heart stops for a moment. It wasn't just a message that you sent him. It was a photo. Of you, in lingerie. It’s one of your favorite sets, you got it a couple of weeks ago. "I wore this for you today, Professor. Do you like it?” You wrote in addition to the photo.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. You just stare at the screen, the picture of you that you should never, ever, ever have sent. And the worst part: He read it. But didn't reply. Confusion and panic spreads through you. You jump out of bed, your feet barely finding purchase on the floor, and your heart keeps racing. You try to think clearly, but your thoughts are a complete mess.

You reach for your phone again and frantically tap on the chat with your best friend, but you pause and call her instead. "Hello?" Her voice still sounds sleepy and hungover. “Oh my God, I need your help!" you gasp and immediately start telling her everything.

The line is silent, then you hear a short laugh. "Wait a minute... what? You did that?" You close your eyes and search for the right words. But before you can say anything, it hits you like a blow. You also have a lecture with him today.

"I’m not coming today," you tell her. “You can't just cancel!" she says immediately, and you hear her getting herself settled in her bed. Her voice sounds determined, but also worried. "You know how it is, our seminar today. We can't miss it. We said that celebrating wouldn't stop us," she says. "Celebrating isn't what would stop me either. Seeing him definitely is," you say and lean back with a groan.

You close your eyes and sink even deeper into the pillows. Your stomach clenches when you think about it. She’s right, you really have to go today. But the text, the picture that you sent him - what if he wants to talk to you about it? Or worse, he reports the whole thing?

"I can't just sit in front of him today and pretend that everything is normal. I sent him a picture of me in lingerie... I can't face him. It's just... it's just too much!" There is silence on the other end of the line for a moment. She still hasn't said anything, and you know she's thinking. Then you hear her take a deep breath.

“Okay, the thing with the picture, that's really... a little crazy. But hey, you can skip the lecture. Just disappear after the seminar and then hide in your apartment. Or you can go and hope that when you run into him, he'll do completely different things after you seeing this photo. I bet you looked hot, was it the new set you recently bought?” she asks and you can hear her grin even though you're on the phone.

Obviously she knows about your crush on your professor. You couldn’t stop talking about him after your first lecture and she took every opportunity to tease you about it. You look at your phone as if it were the only thing that could help you think clearly. Of course she's right. You have to go to your seminar. And you can really skip his lecture. Still, the idea that he might be thinking about it makes your heart beat faster and not just in excitement.

“You're right, I... okay, I'll come," You say after a short pause, but the thought of maybe running into him still makes you nervous. “You'll see, it won't be as bad as you think. You'll get through the seminar, it's only an hour. And then we'll be out and we can take our time for everything else. And you'll just avoid your favorite professor today," she continues to teases.

“Today? More like forever," you mutter and finally get up, even though the thought of getting out of bed still paralyzes you. “See you soon then. I'll shower and get dressed now, then I'll come. Let’s meet outside the building, okay?" you ask. "Sure!" she calls out happily. "See you soon and don’t forget to wear another fancy set for your professor today. Just in case you run into him,” she jokes.

After you hang up you put the phone on the pillow and stand there for a moment, your legs heavy, your head still about to explode. But then you take a deep breath. It'll be fine, you just have get through the seminar. With a sigh, you go into the bathroom and take painkillers first. Then you start getting ready.

You turn on the water and let it run hot. A short time later, you go into the shower. The hot steam envelops you and slowly your body feels a little alive again. The nausea subsides and the hangover becomes more bearable. After the shower, you get dressed in peace - black skirt, a comfy sweater and your favorite sneakers. You quickly walk through the apartment again to make sure you packed everything and when you leave the house, you somehow feel less like a wreck.

-

The smell of freshly served pasta is still in your nose as you say goodbye. You got lunch together after your seminar and it was nice to get a little break and talk about everything that happened. Now you are ready to leave but you still have to go to the library to get a book that you need for your upcoming assignment first.

“I still have to go to the library," you tell her, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “Are you coming with me?” you ask her. “I’m sorry, I have to pick up my sister now. But be careful, you don’t want to run into your favorite professor, or do you?” she teases again. “I’m not going to run into him. I’ll hurry up and leave immediately. I’ll call you later. See you tomorrow," you say and give her a quick wave before you set off.

-

The campus is full of students rushing through the halls, carrying their books around or sitting in groups and discussing. You slip into the library and head straight to the section where the book you need is. Unfortunately it’s at the top of the shelf and you realize that you probably won't be able to reach it. You jump up a few times, but the distance between you and the book just seems too big. You sigh. If only you were a little taller.

As you attempt the jump for the third time, you suddenly feel a presence building behind you. One that seems familiar. Your heart beats faster and a nervous tremor takes hold of you. You turn around and stare straight into Professor Reid's eyes. He is standing just inches away from you and you can hear the soft sound of his breathing.

The look he gives you is almost piercing - warm, but somehow also searching. He leans forward slightly without saying a word and effortlessly grabs the book with one hand. You avoid his gaze as he hands it to you. “Thank you," you murmur, trying to hide the slight nervous tremor in your voice. He nods and stands still for a moment.

"You weren't at my lecture today." You stare at the book in your hands and feel your stomach clench. This is not good. “I..." you take a deep breath. "I haven't been feeling so good. My head..." He waits, his eyes still fixed on you, and you get the feeling that he wants to hear more. You feel his gaze on you and when you finally raise your eyes to look into his eyes, there is a silent understanding, and for a moment you wonder if there’s more. “Sick, or...?" he asks calmly. You hesitate and bite your lip.

"I went out partying with my best friend yesterday, it was her birthday… we drank a little bit too much and... well, I'm not feeling so good today. That’s why I skipped." His expression remains neutral, but something in his gaze changes. You can hardly believe it, but it's almost as if he's interested. He frowns slightly. "I understand," he then says. "But it's not ideal to miss class, especially when important topics are involved."

You nod. “I know, Professor. I won’t happen again.” You just want to get out of this situation, and as you try to take a step back he stops you. "No, wait. I need to talk to you." You pause and turn back to him. "About what? I don’t really have the time -" you begin, pretending you don't have any idea what he wants to talk about, when he cuts you off.

"Doesn’t matter, it’s important. We'll sort it out in my office." His gaze is intense as he steps towards you. The thought of him asking you to come to his office makes your heart beat faster. The idea of ​​being alone in a room with him is tempting. "Okay," you say quietly, unable to prevent a nervous tingling from spreading in your chest. You follow him, even though your legs feel like they're made of jelly.

He leads the way, his steps calm and determined, and you can barely keep your eyes from lingering on his back. As soon as you reach the door to his office, he opens it and lets you enter first. You step in, your heart now beating loudly in your ears. The moment he closes the door behind you, you realize that it is more than just a conversation about the seminar.

The look he is giving you now is not the look of a professor. It is the look of a man who wants more than just academic discussions at this moment. And the thought that you’re alone with him in this room inevitably leaves you nervous and intrigued at the same time.

As the door closes behind you, you’re left breathless for a moment. His office is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the crowded hallways outside. The room is sparsely decorated, except for the desk covered with stacks of paper and a few personal items. He is still standing at the table, his arms loosely folded in front of his chest and looks at you.

"Sit down," he says calmly, pointing to the chair on the opposite of the desk. You hesitate, then finally sit down, your heart pounding in your chest. The nervous energy inside you grows as you try to organize your thoughts. Before he can say anything else, you can’t hold it back any longer. The words come out of you hastily, almost in a rush, and you feel your body tense.

"The picture, it was a mistake! I didn't mean to... It wasn't meant for you. I was drunk, and it was stupid of me, really. I'm sorry." You look at the table, avoiding his gaze. But as you say the last words, you immediately notice how the atmosphere in the room changes. He remains silent for a moment, but then his body language shifts slightly - his gaze becomes more intense, the tension between you almost tangible.

"Hmm," he says after a pause, his voice deep and calm, "so the picture wasn't meant for me?" You flinch when you hear his question. What exactly does he want to hear? What does he want to know from you? You try to stay calm and answer hesitantly.

"It... it's none of your business." His expression hardens instantly. "It is," he says, and his voice sounds sharper, more determined now. "Because you sent it to me." Your heart beats faster as he continues. "I don't think it was an accident, even if you were drunk. You wanted to send it to me. And you did."

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You open your mouth, trying to say something, but you can't find a way to defend yourself. Instead, you just stay still, looking at your hands, which are resting nervously on your lap.

He laughs quietly, a mocking, almost challenging laugh. "So you're really sure it was an accident, huh?" He slowly leans forward, rests his hands on the table and looks straight into your eyes. The look in his eyes has changed, and something in his expression shows you that he is the one in control.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed how you look at me in class? How you keep watching my hands? How you press your thighs together when I approach you?" His words hit you and you freeze for a moment. Your cheeks burn hot, you feel your heart pounding uncontrollably, but you keep quiet. Everything inside you screams to defend yourself, but you stay silent because you know he’s right.

"I noticed from the beginning, angel," he continues, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can’t believe he just called you that. It turns you on immensely. "I know you didn't just do it because of the party and the alcohol. You also sent it to me because you wanted to." He leans further forward, his presence overwhelming, and you can't help but feel small even as you try to assert yourself.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words stick in your throat. What could you say? That he's wrong? That would be a lie. “You sent it to me," he repeats, his voice now almost like a command. "Because you wanted to show me. And I don't think it was an accident. You were drunk, yes, but you wanted me to see you like this."

Your body is paralyzed. It feels like the room has suddenly become smaller. You can hardly breathe. His words and his look have completely captured you in that moment. “I... uh," you begin, but the thought that he is in control, that he sees you like this at this moment, leaves you speechless and you’re unable form a proper sentence.

He remains silent, only his eyes continue to focus on you. "You have to understand that you can't just play with me like that." His gaze becomes more intense, and for a moment it seems as if he wants to say more but then he slowly stands up, walks around the table and stops right in front of you.

"I'll show you something," he says in a calm but unmistakable voice. "And you will understand why it wasn't just an accident." Your heart beats faster. His hand reaches for your chin, lifting it up and tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches and you lean closer, craving his touch. “Get up and lock the door for me,” he says and pulls his hand away slowly.

You do as your told immediately and when you turn around, he is sitting on his chair with his legs spread. He looks so hot and you desperately clench your thighs together to relief the pressure between your legs. “Good girl. Come here,” he says and pats his thigh. You shiver in excitement and when he notices a grin spreads across his face.

You go over to him and when you stand in front of him, he pulls you down into his lap. He leans forward to whisper into your ear “That’s what you wanted, right? To be my good girl. That’s why you send me that picture. You wanted to end up here,” he says and places his hands on your hips. You press yourself closer against him and inhale his scent, he smells like cinnamon, peppermint and aftershave, it’s addictive.

However, you get interrupt by his hand reaching into your hair to pull your head back. You gasp in surprise and he leans closer to you, looking deep into your eyes again. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer,” he says and you can feel yourself getting even wetter. “Yes, that’s true. I - I always wanted that,” you manage to say and he releases your hair, satisfied with your response.

Then he leans forward and you finally feel his lips against yours. It’s even better than you always imagined and you start to grind against his leg, desperate to release the friction between your legs. But Spencer quickly stops you. “Did I allow you to move?” he asks and you shake your head.

He sighs in disappointment but before he can say anything you quickly answer him. “No, you didn’t,” you say and his grip on your hips looses a little. “That’s right. I didn’t. And you’re not allowed to move until I tell you to. You’re going to listen to me and do exactly what your told, do you understand?” he asks. “I understand.”

“See, it’s not that hard. You listen to me, you behave and you’ll get your reward. Now, do you want to ride my thigh?” he asks, his hand slowly sliding behind your back to your ass, squeezing it. “Yes, please. Can I?” you ask and he leans forward to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth. When he pulls back you can see his eyes sparkling with lust. “So polite, I like that. Yes, you can,” he says and you finally go back to moving against his thigh.

It feels good, so good and when Spencer starts to slide one hand under your shirt to grab your breasts you press closer against him. You can feel that you soaked your underwear trough and wearing only a skirt, you can already see a small wet stain on his pants. His gaze follows yours and he chuckles. “Someone’s needy,” he says and you nod, leaning against his chest, grinding down more against him.

“Spen - Spencer, I’m going to come,” you whimper but he pulls you back by your hair again. “It’s Sir for you, angel,” he says and you correct yourself immediately. “Please Sir, can I come on your thigh now?” you breath out and he grabs your hips again, stopping you.

“No, not yet,” he simply says and you whine when he stands up and you lose contact. “But I thought - “ you start but he doesn’t let you finish. He turns you around and pushes you down onto his desk. “Doesn’t matter what you thought. I decided I’m not letting you come yet,” he says and flips over your skirt to expose your underwear to him.

“I see, another pair then the ones you wore yesterday. I’ve got to admit, I prefer the other ones, but you look pretty anyway, angel,” he says, sliding his hands over your thighs and your ass. “Last night when you send me that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits and you can feel your whole body reacting to his words.

A wave of confidence flashes through you. “Did I keep you up last night, Sir? Did you have to stroke your cock while you looked at my picture? Thinking about all the ways you want to fuck me?” you ask him and turn your head slightly back to look at him with a smirk on your face. His eyes darken and he tightens his grip.

“Oh you have no idea, angel. I’m going to show you exactly what I was thinking about last night,” And suddenly you feel a harsh smack on your ass. He just spanked you. And you liked it. Your breath hitches and you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. You don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.

His hand strokes the spot he just hit before going further down to pull at your panties. He takes them off and stuffs them into his pocket. You are convinced you’re not going to get them back. Then you feel his long, slender fingers sliding between your legs before he presses onto your clit. You gasp in surprise and try to press against him but his grip on your hips is firm, holding you still.

Then he pushes two fingers inside you. “So fucking wet.” His eyes wander over your body down to your legs hungrily, appreciating every curve and every spot. “I’ve never seen such a pretty pussy. And it’s all mine now. You’re all mine now,” he says. The way his fingers move and the way he stares at you intensely feels just way too good.

When his thumb goes back to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, you can feel how your orgasm builds up inside of you and you can no longer hold back your moans. “Spencer - Sir, feels so good. Please,… I need more,” You clench around his fingers and he quickly puts a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet, angel. As much as I would love to hear all these lovely sounds you make, I don’t want to get interrupted. Not now, when I finally have you, after all this time.”

His fingers curl inside you and keep hitting your g -spot. You clench around them, he notices and chuckles. “Can I - please,” you stutter. “Yes angel,” he says, already knowing what you’re asking for and you come around his fingers. You never had such an intense orgasm from foreplay before, but you don’t mind. It’s even better than you always imagined.

He wants to give you a moment to recover but you want more. You somehow manage to turn around, even though your legs feel like they are going to give in any second and push yourself up on his desk. He looks surprised and opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt him by pulling him closer by his tie.

You wrap your hands around his neck and rank your fingers through his soft, brown hair before kissing him. You moan into his mouth and he groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “Thank you, Sir. That was amazing,” you say with a smirk on your face when you pull back. “Now is the time to lose your pants and relax, I want to return the favor.”

“As much as I want to see you down on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, we don’t have much time left. Office hour starts in less than 30 minutes. And I need to fuck you. So drop it and spread your legs for me. Now,” he demands and you obliged, sitting further back on his desk with your legs spread.

He takes a step back and starts to unzip his dress pants. When he takes out his cock your eyes widen. He is even bigger than you expected. “Are you on the pill?” he asks while he starts to pump his cock. “I am,” you say. “Good. I want to fuck your pussy and then, since you suggested sucking me off, come inside your mouth. I want you to taste me. You don’t swallow until I say so. Do you understand?” he asks, sliding his cock through your folds to tease you. “Yes Sir, I understand,” you whimper and he wastes no time and pushes inside you.

His first thrust already make your eyes roll back and you feel like you’re going to die from the intense pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waits and your hands are on his back, pressing him even more against your body. Everytime a whimper or a moan escapes your mouth his thrust become deeper, rougher and faster. You can feel him throb inside you and he keeps hitting your g- spot over and over again.

One of his hand is sneaking through your breast, squeezing it and toying with your nipple. You graze his back with your fingernails and make sure to leave marks on him. Your mind goes blank and you lose yourself in the pleasure completely. After a few more thrust you can feel the orgasm building up inside of you. “Close,” you breath out and he nods. “Me too. You can come on my cock now.”

You let go and your orgasm is even more intense than you expected. You moan his name so loud that he quickly covers your mouth with his hand again. He picks up his speed and a few thrusts later he pulls out of you to shove his cock into your mouth. You can feel his cum inside your mouth and taste him, just like he told you to. He watches you closely the whole time while he recovers from his own orgasm.

“Now swallow,” he says and you do. Then he pulls you forward with both of his hands to kiss you. The kiss is different this time, more gentle and caring, not just full of lust. When he pulls back you both smile. “I guess sending you this picture was not bad at all. And I was so worried.” He laughs. “I’m glad you send it, angel. Now I finally have you all to myself. It's a shame I couldn't take more time for you right now. There's a lot more I'd like to do with you,” he says with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t you show me after your office hours, Sir?” you say with a smirk on your face. “Make sure to be here on time, angel.”

[reidrum]

i think he knows

A/N: more doctor!reader!!!!!!! can you tell i love them. if you have requests for them please send them my way thank you <3

summary: in which spencer and reader try to find time for each other to have their first date

cw: doctor!reader, fluff, spencer being a flirt, medical talk

wc: 2.5k

A month passes before Spencer gets to see you again. A long, long month.

He stayed in the hospital for observation for another two days after meeting you, which were entirely medically necessary but don’t ask Spencer how his chest pain stopped the moment he signed the discharge papers because they just couldn’t keep him any longer. He knows it’s illogical, and a bit immoral, to fake symptoms for his personal gain. But who could blame him, had they seen you?

You didn’t make it any easier on him either, the times you’d check on him you’d leave him red for hours. Morgan had gotten suspicious seeing him be surprisingly high in spirits for someone who just got shot. You’d even talked to the nurses to get him extra jello, a love language in its own.

But his daydream was soon shattered upon his discharge, where he couldn’t just lay in a hospital bed and wait for you to come to him. He was to be sent to exile (home) to finish out the rest of his sentence (recovery), while he so agonizingly waits for the next chance to see you again.

The first day back home was already enough to send him into house fever, and he couldn’t even freely pace off the nervous energy because of his leg. You had given him your number, which meant he had to text you. It was a lot of pressure. He knew his assignment and yet couldn’t figure out what the right thing to start off this conversation with you should be.

Should he be formal and hit you with a simple Hello. Or give a bit of a flirty edge and add a heart emoji—one that Penelope taught him how to do, thank you very much. No, he should probably introduce himself since you don’t have his number. So you don’t think a random freak is trying to message you.

He types out a message and sends it before he can second guess himself anymore.

Spencer: Hey there, this is Spencer. Room 207?

Spencer flips his phone face down so he doesn’t manically check the notifications for your reply. You’re busy, you could be in surgery or doing rounds, or sleeping on a break or—Ding!

Or typing out a reply to him, perhaps.

You: Hi Spencer ☺️ how are you feeling? Spencer: Better now, how are you? You: Better now ;)

Oh, you’re everything to him.

Spencer: Are you on a break or am I bothering you? You: Lying down in an on call room bed! I love when you bother me please don’t stop

He actually giggles aloud, thank god he lives alone.

Spencer: Good, because I was running out of medical emergencies to fake just to get to see you again. You: Gasp, faking? Sweet talking works well on me, don’t get me wrong, but I might have to report you to the medical board. Spencer: I’m not that kind of doctor so I don’t think they’ll care, plus I think once they see you were my doctor they’ll side with me. You: Flattery will get you everywhere Spencer Reid be careful. Spencer: I’m sure hoping it does.

It goes on like that for a few weeks, to Spencer’s delight. Back and forth texting, the blatant flirting on both ends and his poor but endearing attempts to match it. He wants to get to know every part of you, and thankfully you’re just as curious as he is, so every waking minute either of you aren’t working ends up being spent by talking with each other.

Not just the casual things like where you grew up or where you went to school. No, he’s learned what your go to coffee shop order is, what latent hobbies you have hidden under your belt, what your favorite movie is and the specific line that makes it your favorite.

He’s told you about his favorite Doctor Who episodes—which you made him promise to show you someday, showed you pictures of his mom and his godson, his go to Indian food order for the place down from the office.

While Spencer loves talking to you, it’s simply not enough. He has to see you soon or he might combust spontaneously. He might do that anyway but it’s much more noble to have a good and valid reason to perish in such a way, like being in your presence.

Spencer: Hey, can I ask you something? You: Uh oh, I don’t like the sound of that. Spencer: Nothing bad, pinky promise. You: Ugh, the most sacred of promises <3 Okay, let’s hear it. Spencer: Are you free this Friday? You: AH I thought you’d never ask!! I am so free this friday night doctor, setting out my best dress just for you ;) Spencer: I’m sure everything you wear is beautiful, but I’m looking forward to seeing you again :) I’ll pick you up at 7? You: I’ll be waiting <333

He asks you out officially on Monday, and he spends the rest of the week praying to whatever unsub or case gods that are out there watching to calm down this week so they don’t get whisked away on a case. Tuesday through Wednesday only consisted of paperwork, and it gives him hope he might actually make it to Friday and finally get to see you. Even Morgan and Emily’s teasing of his suddenly happy mood can’t bring him down.

Thursday night comes around and he’s about ready to jump for joy as he finishes packing up his things. JJ walks by and he’s about to say goodbye to her when she waves a manila folder in the air, “Sorry Spence, conference room in 5.”

He deflates. So close.

Spencer lets his satchel slide off his shoulder and reluctantly pulls his phone out to open his message thread with you.

Spencer: Hi, I’m really sorry to do this but we just got called on a case. Do you think we could reschedule dinner? You: Hi handsome, don’t worry I understand. The world needs you crime fighters :) I’m free next friday?

He tries to ignore the way his heart stutters reading ‘handsome’ and types.

Spencer: I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Next Friday sounds great.  You: Be safe out there please Spencer: Always am. You: Need I remind you we met because you got shot on the job Spencer: That was one time, and I told the guy to shoot me. You: Yeah, that’s not making me feel better. Spencer: I’ll be safe, getting to see you next week will be my motivation to be extra careful. You: I’d hope you’re being careful regardless but whatever works for you, handsome <3 Spencer: Got a pretty girl waiting for me, I have to take extra precautions. You: Oooh that was good, you’re getting better at this Dr. Reid. Spencer: What can I say, you make it really easy. Spencer: Okay I have to go for the briefing, talk to you soon. You: Bye handsome 💞

The case comes and goes, an easy solve but it took a few more days than the team would like to admit for a case of this caliber. They return back only a week later and it’s another Thursday night where he’s hoping nothing steps in to prevent him from seeing you. He’s lucky in the sense that nothing is stepping in to prevent him from seeing you, FBI mandated break and all after a long case.

He’s not so lucky when you regretfully tell him you’re scheduled for surgery all day on Friday. You’re entirely too apologetic for his liking, for someone who flaked on you initially and had to alter your schedule to his. Especially for someone who, of all people, understands the busy lifestyles you both lead. He reassures you a thousand times over that it’s okay and that you can reschedule.

Spencer: Please stop apologizing, it’s okay I promise You: I just feel soooo bad. I was really looking forward to seeing you. Spencer: I know. But we’ll see each other soon. You: Promise? Spencer: Pinky. Did you eat anything? You: No I wasn’t hungry, too sad about not seeing your face. Spencer: A poor reason to starve yourself, I’m ordering food for you. Are you at the hospital? You: I’m at home but you don’t have to do that. Spencer: Okay but I want to, are you going to give me your address or will I have to find it myself? You: How are you going to do that? Spencer: I have my ways. You: It’s your tech analyst friend isn’t it Spencer: Maybe. You: So if I share your address it’s a HIPPA violation but when you do it no one bats an eye. Spencer: It’s for a worthy cause. Please let me do this. You: Fiiine. 1563 Rock Lakes blvd. What are you getting? Spencer: Thank you, honey. Pad thai with chicken satay. You: Ugh, you know me so well <3

To yours and Spencer’s dismay, this pattern continues on for another few weeks. Whenever your schedule finally clears, he gets dragged away on a case. When his schedule is clear you have back to back surgeries or consults. It’s like you just can’t get the timing right, no matter how hard you pine for each other.

The doubt travels and festers in both of your heads, the blatant evidence showing you that this may not work between you. Thing is, you both love your jobs too much to even try to accommodate the other. You’re both so busy you can’t even find time for one evening alone together.

Then George Foyet happened. The Haley Hotchner of it all, happened.

It hit the entire team hard, watching a colleague they viewed as family lose someone they loved so deeply and in such a torturous way. Spencer forced himself to take a step back and really evaluate what he was doing—was he willing to subject someone he cared about to the world he lives in? To the horrors they become exposed to? He still thinks about the heart attack he had when the Fisher King sent his mom a key after being in the same facility with her for some time. He’s not sure he can handle that kind of fear again.

Spencer knows he doesn’t have to do this, it’s so early in whatever this is between you both. You haven’t even had time to go on a date. Maybe your lives are just incompatible. Maybe he can save you before he ever even puts you in danger’s way—the ultimate act of valiant efforts in the form of preemptive measures. 

What you don’t know can’t hurt you, literally.

Ding!

But then you go and do something like this, where he gets to flip his phone over and blush red in the face at your name on the notification. That he gets to open his messages and be met with the beautiful sight of your face, smiling in a picture you took just for him showing off the coffee you got on your break and reading the book he recommended to you a few weeks ago.

And he’s just not sure if he can imagine a world where he doesn’t meet you and immediately fall in love with you.

Another week, another attempt at finally being able to take you on a date. Except this time fate has stepped in on both ends and sent Spencer on another case and you scheduled for surgery. Lovely.

The case goes fine again, save for the unsub with an overt penchant for clipping FBI agents aiming their guns at him. Enough damage to send him to the ER needing stitches on his forehead and a concussion evaluation.

The doctor seeing him was a good doctor, but he wasn’t you. It was a man who, no offense to him and his medical training, definitely did not have hands as soft as yours stitching him up. He sighs out loud in the ER as he waits for a nurse to come by and discharge him. God, he wishes it was you. 

“Seeing other doctors behind my back? I thought we had something special, Dr. Reid.”

He has half a mind to look up at the sky and mouth God?, as he feels his prayers have been answered in the most literal way.

“What are you doing here?” he asks incredulously, fully in disbelief at the sight of you in front of him.

You smile and step towards him, closing the curtain behind you, “I told you, I had surgery.”

“In Maryland?”

“In Maryland,” you nod, “They needed someone with my background to help out so I flew out.”

God, you’re so smart it physically hurts him how attractive it is.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t, I was looking at the patient log to see if they needed help in the ER when I saw an S. Reid age 27 in bed 4 and thought to myself ‘This couldn’t be a coincidence.’”

He chuckles softly, “Well, you found me.”

“That I did,” you lean in to inspect his cuts, “I thought I told you to be careful, handsome.”

The blood rushes to his face, ���I know, maybe I just knew I’d get to see you this way.”

You gently readjust the butterfly bandage on his forehead, securing it more tightly. “You could have called me if you missed me, Spence.” you whisper.

“You were busy.”

“So were you.”

Spencer pauses, “Are you busy now?”

You step back and look at his face, his borderline puppy eyes doing the most to convince you to say yes when you were about to ask him the same thing in about another minute if he hadn’t. 

You grin widely and check your watch, “I clock out in an hour. Wait for me?”

“Always.”

It makes all the missed connections and unaligned schedules entirely worth it when he gets to finally pick you up from your hotel room for your date turned into a weekend getaway. Spencer doesn’t even bat an eye when Morgan teases him about the mystery lady he’s staying back in Maryland for, or when Hotch gives him a multilayered nod of approval when he asks for a few personal days.

It’s entirely worth it and more when you and Spencer drive up to a lake house to spend the weekend together, and you joke about how your first date ended up being your first trip as a couple. Spencer doesn’t even stumble when you refer to yourselves as a couple, just tightening his arm around your shoulder and kissing the crook of your neck softly.

It’s the most worth it when, even after you said you were a couple, on the last night after staying up watching Doctor Who reruns post other activities, Spencer curls his arm around your body tugging you closer to his and whispers into your hair, “You will be my girlfriend, right?”

To which you simply beam up at him and whisper into his neck, “Of course, handsome.”

[carlthecloaked]

Wrong Number, Right Person

tried writing something after a while :3| 1.3k words | no cw |

|chapter 2|

Steve was pissed.

This date was not working out. At all.

He thought he was going out with this sweet guy from California. At least, that’s what his Tinder profile had made it seem like. But clearly, he had been very wrong.

Where would he even start?

First of all, the guy wouldn’t shut up about his ex.

Like, she sounded great and all, but maybe don’t talk about her the entire time we’re on a date?

Secondly, he wasn’t even listening to what Steve was saying. Half the time, he was scrolling through Instagram, looking at his ex's profile. Laughing at whatever post he was looking at, or he was texting someone else.

Third—and perhaps the worst part—the guy had the personality of a wet sock. Zero energy. No conversation skills. Just dull. Clearly not the charming, funny guy he’d seemed to be over text.

Steve sighed internally. Guess that was his fault for believing his Tinder profile was real.

And then, as if the date wasn’t already bad enough—

“So, are we going to your place or mine? "

Steve barely stopped himself from gaping. He forced a polite smile instead, setting down his drink.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is working out,” he said smoothly, placing his half of the bill on the table. “I have to go.”

The guy blinked, as if he hadn’t just bombed the entire date.

“But wait—”

Steve walked fast out of the cafe, he had to get out of there quickly.

“Ugh, that was the worst. I have to go tell Robin.”

While walking to the subway, he winced as he opened his backup phone. It wasn't as good as his currently broken phone. He totally didn't drop it in the toilet. Nope, that never happened.

He sighed, scrolling through his messages. He still hadn’t updated his contacts, so every number looked unfamiliar. Normally, he’d recognize Robin’s name instantly, but now? It was just random numbers.

He just figured he would text the most recent number, It'll probably be fine.

Steve: WORST date ever. like worst ever. robs i swear to god i wish i could turn back time and never swiped right on him at all. if you ever see me texting him again, throw a microwave at me

Unknown Number: any personal preference or do i just chuck it at you

Steve: chuck it

Steve: robbie i swear it was SO bad

Unknown Number: oh i didn't realize you'd actually think i was your friend

Unknown Number: uh yeah so this is not robbie

Oh. Steve blinked at his phone.

Huh.

That was… unexpected. But not bad, necessarily. Just—Huh.

He stared at the message for a second longer before shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. This was fine. Totally fine.

Steve: oh god

Steve: i'm so sorry wrong number

Unknown Number: it's fine lol

Unknown Number: but how bad was it though, like on a scale of “awkward as hell” to “can the ground swallow me whole?”

Steve hesitated.

He shouldn’t keep talking. He should just apologize again and move on.

But… what else was he doing today?

Steve: definitely “can the ground swallow me whole?” territory

Unknown Number: okay now i'm definitely invested. spill the tea

Steve: dude. he kept on going on and on about his ex, i swear it went on for 30 minutes. THIRTY. MINUTES.

Unknown Number: 🚩🚩🚩 IMMEDIATE red flag, redder than the color red

Steve: RIGHT??? and when he finally stopped he just kept scrolling on his phone

Steve: he was stalking her insta too 😭

Unknown Number: are you fr???

Steve: i wish i was lying but nope

Steve: then when i tried talking about literally anything else other than his ex he’d just respond with “yeah” or “whatever”

Unknown Number: what does that even mean??????

Steve: i have literally no idea

Steve: he even had the NERVE to ask if we would go to his place or mine

Unknown Number: the AUDACITY. the sheer unhinged delusion. did he think he was charming?????

Steve: LMAO stop i can't💀

Unknown Number: i bet he thought you 'd swoon bat your eyelashes and say “oh my god, yes! let's go to another place where you can pretend i'm not there!”

Steve lips curled at the stranger’s response before replying back

Steve: honestly i wouldn't be surprised if he thought that i should be grateful for his presence

Unknown Number: i can't believe you suffered through that

Unknown Number: no wait, you didn't suffer. you endured and you survived. for that you deserve an award. a dramatic opera performance

Steve: i hate how funny you are

Steve grins at his phone.

Unknown Number: you can repay me by continued conversation ;)

Steve: okay but you have to say who you are though

Steve: please don't tell me this is my professor🙏

Unknown Number: lol no definitely not your professor

Unknown Number: but i kinda want to keep it secret now, adds to my mysterious aura

Steve: no hints? :(

Unknown Number: i have hair

Steve: wow that really narrows it down. i totally know who you are.

Unknown Number: good luck finding it out ;)

Steve tilted his head, amused.

There was a pause.

Steve stared at his phone for a second, drumming his fingers against the back of it. He wasn’t sure why, but something about this felt… different. Not bad, just—unexpected.

He should probably just let it go. It wasn’t like it mattered who this guy was, right?

Still.

Steve: so are you gonna give me a real hint or do i just have to suffer

Unknown Number: hmm. suffer sounds fun

Steve let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. Great. Just his luck to end up texting someone who enjoyed messing with him.

And, okay. Maybe he didn’t mind that much.

The subway car jolted slightly as it began to slow, Steve barely looked up from his phone, used to the way the train moved as it went into the station. The train came to a stop, the doors opening with a mechanical chime, letting in the sound of city noise and passengers.

He stood up getting out and walking to his and Robin’s apartment nearby, glancing at his phone occasionally to check if the stranger texted again.

Steve barely had the door open before Robin’s voice rang out from the couch.

“Finally! What took you so long? Did the date go well?”

Steve groaned, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the couch next to her.

“You have no idea. I swear to God, worst date ever.”

Robin gasped dramatically, “Worse than the girl who ordered an expensive meal and made you pay?”

“Way worse”

“Way worse than the one who left you at the bar for three hours?”

“Robin.”

“Okay, okay tell me everything.”

Steve launched into the whole story, how the guy wouldn’t stop talking about his ex, stalking his ex’s instagram, the dry-ass responses and the sheer audacity of asking if they were going to his place or their shared apartment.

“That’s tragic Steve, how are you so unlucky at this?”

“I have no idea man, I guess I just attract weird people.”

“Why didn’t you text me?”

Steve suddenly sat up, remembering. “Oh, speaking of.”

Robin narrowed her eyes.

“So, uh I may or may not have accidentally texted a stranger about it.”

Robin grinned in amusement. “What?”

“I thought it was you!” Steve said defensively. “I haven’t updated my contacts on this phone yet, and I just picked the most recent number in the list.”

Robin stared. “Wait. Hold on. You had a whole conversation with a stranger instead of asking who they were like a normal person?”

Steve shrugged. “They were funny.”

Robin gasped again, dramatically. “Oh my god. You like them.”

“What? No. I dont even know who they are!”

“But you want to”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, then closed it.

Robin grinned, throwing a pillow at him. “You absolute idiot. We’re figuring this out right now.

Steve caught the pillow. “Fine. But if this turns into some embarrassing rom-com nonsense I’m blaming you.”

“Oh it’s already a rom-com, Stevie. You just don’t know it yet.”

Steve sighed, but smiled anyway.

Maybe he did want to know.

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (You're here)

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 3

For Duke it was a normal day after going to a classmate's house to finish a group project. He was eager to show you the project and talk to you about his day as he had started to do since the first day he set foot in Wayne Manor.

He could never forget that day...

The first time Duke went to Wayne Manor he was a bundle of nerves along with other emotions. He had just lost his parents due to the Joker's toxin and had just started his training with Bruce. He couldn't deny that he wasn't grateful to the billionaire and his family of vigilantes but he did miss that normality in his day to day life like when his parents were still well.

It was a day that he was lost in the mansion that was the one that found you. He had just finished his training with Bruce and Damian and had the intention of returning to his room when he got lost, but it wasn't until he ran into someone that he finally paid attention to where he was walking.

You were walking down the hall with your laptop in your hands, it seemed like you had just come from outside. He had never seen you before but Damian had mentioned that he had an older sibling that he didn't give much importance to.

"Oops, sorry. You okay, kiddo?" you asked him kindly

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. I should apologize. I didn't see where I was going" the young man apologized

"I see you're lost, these hallways of the mansion aren't that frequented" you commented

"Really? And what are you doing here then?"

"My room is over here" you commented

"Ah..." He didn't know what to say

"You must be the new kid that Bruce adopted, right?"

"Yes, it's me" he nodded

"It's a pleasure, I'm (Name)" you extended your hand to shake it and he took it

He could immediately notice the warmth of your hand, they weren't rough and hard like the hands of others, but he could feel familiarity in your grip. It felt like home.

"Duke" he nodded as he shook your hand

"Well Duke, if you want I can guide you through these halls. It's almost impossible not to get lost in this place" you chuckled

"Yeah... I'd like that" he said with a smile

"Well, then follow me!" you said with a smile as you then guided him through the Manor

From that meeting on, Duke looked for any excuse to go talk to you. He soon discovered that the family didn't show much interest in you, which he couldn't understand why. In a family of vigilantes, being the most normal should be a relief, right? Or at least that's how he saw it, since when he was with you, he felt like he was going back to his old life, without worries or training.

That's why from then on he always waited for the time to be able to go find you.

What a surprise he would get when he saw that you weren't there

Once he entered Wayne Manor, Duke immediately went to look for you in your room only to find it empty. He felt his heart stop for a second.

No... It can't be...

"Alfred!" Duke shouted in search of the butler as he ran to the kitchen and there he saw Alfred who was making food for the Waynes.

"Alfred! Have you seen (Name)? Her room is empty!" the boy spoke quickly

"Yes, I am sorry to have to tell you this Master Duke, but our dear (Name) has left the mansion" informed the butler

"What?! So fast? N-no… They couldn't leave here… Much less without saying goodbye…" he said incredulously

It was like losing his parents all over again.

"They left me a letter in my room. I suppose they left one in yours too Master Duke"

Without saying another word, Duke ran to his room where he found a letter on his bed that had his name on it. He read it and right there (Name) said goodbye to him, thanked him for his company and just like with Alfred, left him the cell phone number of his second phone in case he wanted to talk to them.

"No… It can't be…" said Duke as he let a few tears escape from his eyes

How could he not stop them?

"Please don't cry Master Duke" said a voice from the door of his room. It was Alfred who looked at him with eyes that reflected sorrow and sadness but at the same time determination.

"I know that the departure of Master (Name) was something that hurt you and me" the butler began to speak

"But I assure you that they will return home"

"How Alfred? It was more than obvious that they wanted to leave here" he said between sadness and bitterness "But I don't understand, why did no one in this place pay attention to them? They are a Wayne too"

You were like a refreshing stream for him, you were like a glass of ice water in the middle of a desert.

Why did no one in this damn place notice?

"I couldn't answer that, Master Duke, but what we both know is that the behavior of the members of this family towards (Name) has been unfair and unjustified" Alfred walked towards the young guard and sat next to him

"I spent years waiting for someone else to see how amazing they were, but no one noticed, no one tried to get to know them" he unconsciously closed his hands into fists "And I can say that it was partly my fault, but you came along and finally someone realized what a great person we had in the family"

Alfred turned to look at him and put a hand on his shoulder which he gave a light squeeze.

"And for that same reason that they have such a powerful light, in a place like Gotham it is important to take care of them"

Duke looked at Alfred for a few seconds and then looked at the ground.

He is right. Their light is very bright. He can't let anyone turn it off.

"But… How are you going to do it Alfred? How are you going to get them back? Not even half of the people who live here remember who they are" said the young vigilante irritated

"Don't worry about that Master Duke, but you will have to help me with some things"

Don't worry (Name), you will return home.

Whether you want to or not.

But you will be by their side

It's been 2 weeks since you left Wayne Manor and to be honest… You've never been happier in your life!

Sure, you'd always had a lot of independence but now this independence felt different, it felt more refreshing.

Likewise, college had also been an interesting change from a social and academic point of view since a few years ago you had studied online and life at university was a bit chaotic but you were starting to like it.

You rented your apartment to an old man who owned the building and who kindly let you pay your rent little by little. Inside it were a few pieces of furniture that were already there, however, you gave it some personal touches to feel more at home. But what couldn't be missing were photos of your parents (F/N) and (M/N), Alfred and Duke with you.

You couldn't complain, you were living a true dream.

But live it up and savor it while you can

Because soon you'll lose it all

You were in the kitchen of your apartment making dinner when your phone rang. You picked it up and answered without looking at who it was,

"Hello?" you said as you answered your phone

"Hey (Name)!" a familiar voice greeted you

"Oh, hey Duke!" you said enthusiastically "How have you been? How's school going?"

"Oh been good, lots of homework" he chuckled "I was calling you because I wanted to see you"

"Oh yeah, sure" you nodded "Do you need me for something specific?"

"No no. I just want to see you. I miss you being around the mansion" he admitted

"Aww, you're really sweet Duke but I'm sure you have plenty of company at Wayne Manor" now was your turn to chuckle

"Yeah, they're good company but you're my best confidant and sibling"

You're MY home…

"Okay Duke, if you want we can see each other tomorrow" you proposed

"Sure!" he excited

"Perfect" you giggled at his excitement "How about we meet at the park near downtown Gotham?"

"Okay" he nodded

"Fine, see you tomorrow bro!" you said goodbye to him

"See you tomorrow sibling" he said goodbye before hanging up the call

You smiled just thinking about seeing Duke tomorrow. You couldn't wait to do it.

This was your first mistake. Trusting him.

"It's done Alfred" said Duke from the doorway of the living room

"They agreed to see me tomorrow"

"Okay Master Duke" Alfred nodded and then dusted the furniture again

"Now what?" asked the young man

"Now all that's left is to wait for me to arrive tomorrow and just follow my instructions" the butler commanded

"So… do you think all this is going to work? What if it doesn't?" he asked, half scared and half anxious

Alfred turned to look at the nervous boy and walked towards him. He placed a hand on his shoulder in an assuring manner.

"It's going to work" he assured him "Now go rest, tomorrow you're going to have a busy day"

Duke nodded, still a little unsure, but he didn't say anything else. Then he retired to his bedroom.

When he left Alfred couldn't help but smile a little. Everything was going as he had been planning and although he knew that this plan wasn't going to be to your liking in the least, he was also sure that this was the best for you.

Yes… This was the best thing for you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For y…

For y…

For them..

For them...

For them...

For him…

This was going to be the best thing for HIM

This was going to bring you home to HIM

His little ray of sunshine

Helloooo. Here it goes the third chapter! I hope you like it and I swear that in the next one the rest of the family will appear, still I would love to heart what do you expect of this work! And even some ideas!

Also I added the people that told me to add them in tag list so if you want to be added please tell me and I will happily add you. And also if I missed someone please tell me as well because I'm a bit blind most of the times and despite being on tumblr for a while now I'm still getting used to using it ":v

So if you liked this chapter please leave a heart and I'll see you on the next one!

-Izadi

TAG LIST

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[viviennemaeve]

The Inside-Out Glow-Up

How to Stop Playing Small & Start Moving Like a Winner

There’s a difference between people who are just seen and people who are felt. The latter don’t beg for attention, they just walk into a room and shift the atmosphere. That’s the glow-up no one talks about—the kind that starts inside and radiates outward.

I thought a glow-up was about changing my hair, my wardrobe, my face. But what actually changed my life? My energy.

Here’s how I stopped playing small and started moving like the winner I was always meant to be.

Step 1: The Identity Shift – Becoming "That Person"

If you’re waiting for something external to confirm you’re important (money, attention, approval), you’ll always feel like something is missing. The glow-up happens when you wake up one day and decide:

I am interesting, valuable, magnetic—before anyone else says it.

I deserve to take up space and be seen.

I no longer play down my personality to make others comfortable.

Ask yourself: If I were already the most powerful, glowing version of me—how would I think? How would I move? What would I tolerate?

Then start acting like that.

Immediately.

Step 2: Unlearning Self-Sabotage & Small Energy

A lot of us were conditioned to be “humble,” to be “likable,” to dim ourselves down. But let’s be real—playing small has never helped anyone win.

Speaking softly so you don’t sound “too much”? Stop it.

Sitting back when you know you have something to say? Stop it.

Not going after what you want because “what if I fail”? Stop it.

Winners aren’t afraid to be seen trying. And trust me, people can feel when you doubt yourself. The second you start believing you belong in the spotlight, the world will reflect it back to you.

Step 3: The Energy Glow-Up – Embodying Unapologetic Presence

Confidence isn’t just posture or outfits (though, yes, those help). It’s the subtle way you exist that makes people remember you.

Speak slower. Move with certainty. Rushed energy screams insecurity.

Make eye contact. Like you expect people to listen when you talk.

Stop over-explaining. Say what you mean, then stop talking.

Carry yourself like you have somewhere important to be. Even if it’s just a coffee run.

People should feel something different when they’re around you. Like they just met someone important. Because they did.

Step 4: Raising Your Standards in Every Area

Here’s the truth: when you glow up internally, you’ll stop tolerating things that don’t align with your highest self.

Low-effort friendships? No, thanks.

Situationships with people who don’t see your worth? Not my vibe.

Doubting yourself before you even try? That’s embarrassing.

Once you start seeing yourself as the prize, the whole world starts treating you that way too.

Step 5: Moving Like a Winner (Before the World Recognizes It)

You don’t become magnetic, successful, iconic by waiting for permission. You do it by deciding:

“I’m already her.”

“I already have what it takes.”

“It’s just a matter of time before the world catches up.”

And then you start walking, talking, living like that’s the truth. Because it is.

The glow-up isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about uncovering who you were always meant to be.

So stop playing

[theonottsbxtch]

THE OTHER GUY PT.4 | FC43

part one | part two | part three |

an: only a couple more to go out! lmk if there is anything in particular you'd like to see and if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 34,244 others

city boy summer, can't keep the hoes away

*tap to load more comments*

logansargeant: you are not a city boy

ynpiastri: or am i?

oscarpiastri: i, for the record am happily taken and will not engage in this tomfoolery

ynpiastri: @/lilyznimer i will pay you double what he's paying you to date him if you break up with him

userone: girl we all know franco is there too.

When you’d woken up this morning, the last thing you’d expected was a pounding at your door. It couldn’t have been housekeeping because you had it scheduled for 3 p.m., and it couldn’t have been a crazy fan because you made sure never to post near your door, ever. So when you opened it and were attacked by a flurry of blonde hair, your heart dropped. As per usual, whenever you saw the blonde mess, you knew your sheepish brother wasn’t far behind.

It was a welcome surprise, though. While you were enjoying the peace of the resort, it had been a while since you’d seen Logan or Oscar.

After catching up over breakfast and hearing their latest stories from home, you all had agreed to spend the day at the beach. The morning had been light and easy, filled with laughter and jokes, mocking how Oscar couldn’t tan and how Logan always managed to find an American flag, no matter what country he was in.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Logan said, nudging you with his elbow. He grinned, a knowing look in his eyes as he adjusted his sunglasses. “What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head, trying to brush it off. “Nothing, just thinking.”

Oscar, who was stretched out beside you with his arms behind his head, let out a chuckle. “Thinking about what?” Tilting his head to the side, he gave you a teasing glance. “You’ve been acting weird since you got here last week.”

There was no escaping it now. Of course it was going to be noticeable that you’d been quieter, but that was because the thoughts swirling around in your head weren't exactly ones you were ready to share. Still, you couldn’t ignore the topic forever.

“I don’t know,” you started, the words slow and careful. “I guess… I’ve stopped looking at him with so much hatred.” The words were out before you could even clarify who he was.

It felt strange admitting it out loud. You’d spent so long disliking him—publicly, even. But now? After spending more time here, after getting to know him in ways you hadn’t expected… things had changed.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about?” He leaned in, clearly intrigued.

Glancing out at the ocean, you avoided eye contact with either man. “Yeah.”

Logan stayed quiet for a moment, and you almost regretted your words. Staying quiet for a beat longer, he sighed. “You know, he never did anything wrong.”

Turning around to face him, surprised, you lifted your sunglasses to look at him properly.

“He fought his way into the sport the same way I did,” Logan continued, his tone firm but not harsh. “You can’t hate him for something he can’t control.”

You felt your chest tighten. He was right. Deep down, you’d always known that. Franco didn’t choose to replace Logan—it wasn’t personal. He was just doing what any of them would do. Fighting for a place in a sport where nothing is guaranteed.

“I know,” you admitted softly. “It’s just… hard. I wanted to blame someone.”

Oscar sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “We get it. But honestly, you’ve got to let it go. Holding on to that anger—it’s not going to do you any good.”

For a second, you wanted to laugh because you couldn’t recall the last time in your life Oscar and Logan had agreed on something.

Just as you were about to say something else, you noticed movement in the distance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him— Franco —walking along the shore. His head turned in your direction, and when his eyes met yours, he lifted his hand in a casual wave.

At first you thought he may be waving to Oscar, but when a shy smile graced his lips your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t not doing it for show, not trying to get under your skin. It was just a wave. Simple, friendly.

Before you could think too much about it, you waved back. And then, almost without realising it, a small smile tugs at your lips.

Both Oscar and Logan caught the interaction and raised an eyebrow, though Oscar didn’t say a word. Logan nudged you again, his voice teasing. “Well, look at that.”

You rolled your eyes at him but can’t help feeling a little lighter. Maybe you really were wrong about him. Maybe there’s more to him than the guy who replaced Logan.

You were still thinking about that smile when Logan gave you a sly nudge. “So… are you going to talk to him?”

Your head whipped around to his eyes wide. “What? No! Absolutely not.”

Oscar laughed, clearly enjoying your sudden panic. “Why not? You’ve already smiled at him, waved and everything. Just go over there and talk to the guy. It’s not like he’s some stranger.”

You shook your head, feeling your face heat up. “It’s not that easy! I can’t just walk up to him like it’s nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Logan said,  rolling his eyes playfully. “You’ve been trash-talking him for months, and now you’re scared to ask him out for a drink? Seriously?”

Opening your mouth to protest, your face flushed as no words came out. You were flustered, and they both knew it.

Oscar sat up, shrugging nonchalantly. “What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? So what. But I don’t think he will.”

You glanced back towards where Franco was standing, now leaning against the railing, gazing out at the ocean. He looked relaxed, completely unaware of the internal chaos you were going through just a few feet away.

Your heart was pounding, and you felt a nervous knot in your stomach. “I can’t just… I mean, what would I even say?”

Logan gave you an encouraging smile. “Just be yourself. Ask him if he wants to grab a drink tonight. You’ve already softened up to him, right? This is your chance.”

You hesitated, glancing between Oscar and Logan, who both gave you looks that said go on, you’ve got this.

Finally, you exhale, standing up and wiping the sand off your legs. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if this goes horribly wrong, it’s your fault.”

Oscar grinned at you. “We’ll take full responsibility. Now go.”

With your heart still racing, you took a deep breath and started walking across the sand toward him. Each step feeling heavier than the last, your mind racing with all the things you could say—or worse, all the ways this could go wrong. But you were already halfway there, and there was no turning back now.

When you were just a few feet away, he noticed you approaching and turned around, his expression shifting from casual surprise to something more… interested. You could see it in his eyes, the way they lit up as you stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” you managed to say, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt.

“Hola,” he replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I wasn’t expecting you to come over.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling shy. Why did this feel so much harder than anything else you’d ever done? “Yeah, well… Oscar and Logan kind of persuaded me. They said I should talk to you.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What about?”

Your mind went blank for a second, “I was, uh… wondering if you’d want to grab a drink with me tonight.”

The words came out in a rush, and you immediately felt your cheeks flush, but you managed to hold his gaze. You couldn’t believe you just said that. Your heart was thumping so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Franco didn’t answer right away, but the smile on his face grew wider. “You’re asking me out?”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah. If you’re free, I mean. It’s fine if you’re not, I understand.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the cocky driver you’d seen in interviews was gone. In its place was  just a guy—surprised, maybe even flattered.

“I’d love to,” he said, his voice steady. “How about I pick you up around 8?”

Blinking, you took a minute to comprehend what he’d just said, relief and excitement flooding you all at once. “Really? Yeah, that works.”

“Great.” His smile was warm, and suddenly, the tension you were feeling melted away. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

You nodded, still trying to process that you’d actually gone through with it—and that he had said yes.

“See you tonight,” you echo, then turn to walk back to Oscar and Logan before remembering he didn’t have your room number. “Uh, room 438.”

Franco nodded in your direction, “Room 438.”

ynpiastri

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, francolapinto and 31,487 others

fit check, kind of nervous guys (📸 @logansargeant)

*tap to load more comments*

userone: FRANCO IN THE LIKES 🤭

usertwo: oh my god i want her

oscarpiastri: scared for what? i thought you were city boy summering rn

ynpiastri: @/lilyznimer PLEASE BREAK UP WITH THIS NERD

userthree: just seen franco in the hall of the same resort, looks quite dapper if you ask me

logansargeant: this isn't very city boy summer of you

ynpiastri: eat dirt 😍😍

userfour: franyn?

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn @xxx-betty @dukeofjjune @dejavuontrack @littlegrapejuice @mxdi0

[lucy-literates]

The last request I said 2 but you actually write 3 stories that I sent not 2….early a send another one ….and now I have another idea….

So Arthur is with his best friend (YN) and the others at a coffee shop or restaurant or club or what you want and yn is joking that Arthur is so vanilla and he s for sure a virgin, after that she (yn) goes to the bathroom to touch down her makeup and while she was looking in the mirror Arthur comes in to her back and starts to play with her pussy telling her “I m gonna show you vanilla , fuck already so wet and I just touched you”, while yn is moaning like a mess, and when she sees Arthur dick she got so shoked of how big he is. Arthur enter into her and see she’s the actual virgin (but she s actually enjoining it) and starts to talk dirty to her till she came

A/N: Ooooh, this is cute, I hope I included everything you want. Enjoy! Requests are open!

Still Think I'm Vanilla?

The music was too loud, the drinks too strong, and the heat of the club pulsed like a second heartbeat under your skin. Your group had taken over a booth in the back — half the F1 grid, a few girlfriends, and Arthur pressed beside you, his arm stretched casually across the back of the seat.

You could feel him watching you. He always did. Arthur Leclerc had this dangerous, quiet way of seeing you, like he was waiting for something — or someone — to give him a reason to strike.

So naturally, you gave him one.

“You know,” you said, propping your feet on the low table, nursing your cocktail, “I bet Leclerc’s the most vanilla out of all of you.”

The table roared with laughter.

Arthur’s drink paused halfway to his lips. “Excuse me?”

“I mean look at you,” you teased, eyes locked with his. “Perfect hair. Buttoned-up attitude. You’re definitely still a virgin.”

Even Charles spat his drink out laughing, which made it even better.

But Arthur didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink. He just tipped his head, slow and thoughtful, and smiled at you like a lion about to pounce.

You didn’t notice the way he rolled his sleeves up after that. Or how he stayed quiet, sipping his drink while never taking his eyes off you. You were too busy gloating.

A little while later, you excused yourself to the bathroom — cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the satisfaction of getting under Arthur’s skin. The hallway was darker than you expected, lit only by the red pulse of a neon exit sign. You were still fixing your lipstick at the mirror when the door opened behind you.

You glanced up.

And froze.

Arthur.

He stepped inside without saying a word, locked the door behind him with a soft click, and leaned against it.

“Vanilla, huh?” he said, voice low, rough with something unreadable.

You blinked. “Leclerc—what are you—?”

He was already behind you. His chest pressed against your back, one hand curling around your hip as his other slid under your dress, palm dragging up your thigh.

“Say it again,” he growled. “Call me vanilla one more time.”

You barely managed a gasp before his fingers found your panties — already soaked. He chuckled darkly against your ear, teeth grazing the shell of it.

“Fuck. Already wet for me, and I haven’t even touched you properly.”

Your knees buckled as he pushed your panties aside and slipped a finger between your folds, dragging it up slowly — teasing, relentless.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, voice dipping dangerously low.

“No,” you whispered, body trembling.

“Didn’t think so.”

He turned you toward the mirror, keeping his hand between your legs. You were a mess already — makeup slightly smudged, mouth parted, eyes wide.

“You talk all that shit in front of our friends,” he muttered, “but this is what happens the second I touch you? Pathetic.”

He pushed a second finger in and you moaned, hips rocking forward involuntarily.

Arthur's other hand came to grip your jaw, forcing your gaze back to the mirror. “Look at yourself. Look at how needy you are.”

Your breath hitched.

“Leclerc—”

He cut you off by dragging his fingers out of you and licking them clean, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. Then he unzipped his jeans, letting his cock spring free — thick, flushed, and way too big to match your jokes.

You stared.

“Oh my god.”

Arthur smirked. “Still think I’m vanilla, baby?”

He bent you forward over the sink, lining himself up. But when he started to push in, slow and firm, his brows furrowed.

He stilled.

“You’re—fuck—you’re a virgin?”

Your cheeks burned. “Yeah…”

A pause. Then—

“Oh, baby.”

The way he said it made your whole body clench.

“Running that smart little mouth like you’ve had dick before? You really are a brat.”

He slammed into you in one hard thrust, burying himself fully with a groan. You cried out, gripping the sink, overwhelmed by the stretch — the pressure — the way he filled you completely.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, thrusting deeper. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

Each movement sent shockwaves through you, your body gripping him like a vice. Arthur’s hands roamed — one around your throat, the other gripping your hip so hard it’d bruise.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he panted. “Gonna let me ruin you so good you never think about anyone else again?”

You moaned something incoherent, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Say it,” he demanded, hips snapping harder. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” you gasped. “Arthur—fuck—you.”

“That’s right,” he growled, fucking you harder now, eyes locked with yours in the mirror. “You’re mine now.”

Your orgasm hit you like lightning — body convulsing, legs shaking, vision blurring. You were crying out his name like a prayer and a curse, and he followed seconds later, groaning your name low and filthy in your ear as he spilled into the condom.

He held you up when your legs gave out, pressed kisses to your shoulder, and helped straighten your dress — still catching his breath.

When you finally turned to look at him, dazed and ruined, he just smirked.

“Still think I’m vanilla?”

You shook your head, too blissed out to speak.

“Good,” he said, tugging your panties back into place and brushing your hair behind your ear. “Because I’ve only just started.”

Tag List:

@livelaughleclerc

@alexxavicry

@ariellovelynn

@linnygirl09

@softhyunieeee

@_astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[bloomzone]

2025: #13 The Wake-Up Call: stop wasting time and own ur education

⚠️ : harsh motivation

『Let me cut the bullshit and get straight to the point: you’re wasting your life. I said it. u sit there, complaining about school, whining about how “hard” it is, scrolling through your phone like the world owes u something Cuz it doesn’t. No one is coming to save your lazy ass.』

✒️..Cuz a big number of ppl think education is a joke !? You think skipping class, half-assing assignments, and coasting through life on autopilot is cute? Hell nah pookie. It’s fucking pathetic. While you’re sitting there making excuses—“I’m too tired,” “This subject is boring,” “I don’t see the point”—there’s someone out there grinding, pushing, sacrificing everything for the life you’re too scared to fight for.Do you know what it feels like to be stuck? To have doors slammed in your face because you didn’t put in the work? That’s the life you’re signing up for every time u choose to be lazy. Every time you say, “Fuck it, I’ll do it tomorrow,” you’re digging your own grave. You’re giving up on the one shot you have to make something of yourself.

But you’re not completely fucked yet.

Yeah, school sucks sometimes. I get it. Waking up early, dealing with uninspiring teachers, and subjects that feel pointless—it can feel like a waste. But here’s the truth: life doesn’t care. The world is cutthroat, and if you don’t show up, it’ll eat you alive. You either hustle, or you get crushed. That’s it.

So, what do you do? You fucking start. No more excuses, no more procrastinating. Here’s how to get your shit together:

1. Set a Fucking Goal

Stop floating around like a goddamn leaf in the wind. What do you want? What’s the dream? You can’t hit a target you don’t aim for. Write it down. Visualize it. Make it so real in your mind that you can taste it. Whether it’s becoming a doctor, starting a business, or simply getting out of your current situation—know your “why.”

2. Get Ruthless About Your Time

Stop wasting hours scrolling through TikTok, bingeing Netflix, or playing dumbass mobile games. Track your time. Every second you waste is a second you’re giving to someone who’s working harder than you. Use a planner, set alarms, make a schedule—whatever it takes to get shit done.

3. Start Small, Stay Consistent

You don’t have to study for eight hours on day one. Start with 30 minutes of focused work. Use the Pomodoro method: 25 minutes of pure focus, 5-minute break. Do that four times, and you’ve already put in two solid hours. Consistency beats motivation every damn time.

4. Stop Waiting for Motivation

Motivation is bullshit. It’s flaky, unreliable, and temporary. What you need is discipline. Discipline is doing what needs to be done, even when you don’t feel like it. Hate studying? Too bad. Set a timer and do it anyway. No one said this would be fun .l talked abt this click here !

5. Surround Yourself with Hungry People

If your friends are lazy, you’ll be lazy too. Cut out anyone who’s dragging you down. Find people who are grinding, who push you to be better, who make you uncomfortable in your mediocrity. If you can’t find those people, be that person. Lead the fucking way.

6. Own Your Failures

Stop blaming teachers, parents, or the system. If you failed, it’s on you. Take responsibility and learn from it. Failure isn’t the end—it’s feedback. It’s the world telling you where you need to improve. Use it.

7. Reward Yourself, But Only After You Earn It

Studied for two hours? Cool. Take a 15-minute break. Finished your assignment? Great. Watch an episode of your favorite show. But don’t let rewards come before the work. Earn your dopamine hits—they’ll feel a hell of a lot better.

8. Stop Romanticizing “Easy”

Nothing worth having comes easy. You’re not entitled to success; you have to fight for it. The grind is what separates the winners from the losers. Fall in love with the process, even when it sucks. Because that’s where growth happens.

9. Remember Who the Fuck You Are

You’re not some weak, helpless victim. You have the power to change ur life, but only if you stop feeling sorry for yourself. The world doesn’t owe you shit. You owe it to yourself to rise up, to push harder, to become the person you know you can be.

10. Think Long-Term

When you’re tempted to slack off, think about your future self. Five years from now, do you want to look back and say, “I gave it my all,” or do you want to drown in regret, wishing you could go back and do things differently? The choice is yours—every single day.

Stop Fucking Around

You’re not a kid anymore. This is your life. Every decision you make is shaping your future, whether you like it or not. You have one shot at this. Stop wasting it. Get off your ass, open your books, and start fighting for the life you want.

the pain of hard work is temporary, but the pain of regret lasts forever. So choose wisely. Do the work. Stay hungry. And when you’ve finally made it—when you’re living the life you once dreamed of—you’ll look back and thank yourself for not giving up.

@bloomzone 📇

[deardaichi]

023. glances, crushes, and setups — iwaizumi hajime.

wc: 0.7k cw: f!reader. seijoh 4 friendship. iwaizumi is whipped. setups. getting together (kind of) a/n: iwa and the seijoh 4 supremacy. i hope you enjoy <3 anonymously requested

iwaizumi sees you everywhere.

not in a weird way, but in the way that happens when someone becomes part of the rhythm of your day — walking down the same hallway after class, sitting by the windows during lunch, scribbling something in the margins of your notebook with your head tilted just so. you’re not loud. you’re not trying to be seen. but iwaizumi sees you anyway.

he doesn't say anything. doesn’t know how to.

so he keeps it to himself — the way his eyes follow the shape of your smile, the way his ears tune in when you laugh. he learns to recognize the sound of your voice from three tables over. he knows when you switch your hair up. he notices when you wear your sleeves too long and end up tucking them back.

he doesn’t stare. not really. just…looks. like a habit. like breathing.

“you’re pathetic,” hanamaki says one day, halfway through unwrapping his melonpan. “it’s almost impressive.”

iwaizumi doesn’t look up from his food. “shut up.”

“you’re watching her again,” matsukawa adds, sipping from his juice box. “with that very intense face you do.”

“it’s not intense,” iwaizumi mutters.

oikawa leans in across the table, face too serious. “you look like you're calculating wind resistance to throw a volleyball through a moving train window.”

iwaizumi glares. “i’m not—whatever. leave it alone.”

but they don’t. of course they don’t.

on friday, they ambush him.

“you have to come with us,” oikawa says, already pulling him down the hall. “it’s very important.”

“this feels like a setup.”

“it is,” hanamaki calls cheerfully from ahead.

“but it’s for your own good,” matsukawa adds, which makes it worse, somehow.

they lead him to a quiet little corner behind the school, near the side gate no one really uses. and then they vanish — literally disappear around the corner, laughing like idiots.

and then you show up, turning the path with a little furrow in your brow like you were also asked to meet someone here.

you stop when you see him.

“oh,” you say, surprised but not in a bad way. “hi.”

“...hey,” he says, suddenly aware of his hands, the silence, the ridiculous pounding of his own heart.

you glance around. “were you, um. supposed to meet someone here too?”

he clears his throat. “yeah. but i think i got set up.”

your lips tug into a smile. “me too.”

you both stand there for a second — not awkward, exactly. just quiet. then iwaizumi shifts his weight and says, a little rough around the edges, “i’ve…kind of been wanting to talk to you.”

your eyebrows lift, surprised. “yeah?”

he nods. looks down for a second, then back at you. “would you maybe wanna hang out sometime? just us.”

you smile again. this time it reaches your eyes. “i’d like that.”

and before he can even register the warmth in his chest, the soft surge of relief��

“SEE?” oikawa shouts, poking his head around the corner. “THAT WASN’T SO HARD, RIGHT?”

“you’re welcome,” hanamaki says, stepping into view like he’s been waiting backstage. “we did you a favor.”

“a huge favor,” matsukawa adds, holding up a peace sign.

hanamaki turns to you with a grin, too pleased with himself. “he’s been admiring you from afar like a respectful stalker for, what, three months?”

iwaizumi makes a noise of pure betrayal. “hanamaki—”

but you’re laughing, hand half over your mouth, cheeks warm. “that long, huh?”

“at least,” hanamaki nods, unbothered. “we’ve had to listen to him suffer through it the entire time.”

iwaizumi’s still groaning. oikawa’s already planning the imaginary wedding seating chart. matsukawa is narrating the scene like it’s a nature documentary.

and you — you’re still smiling at iwaizumi like he hung the moon.

you bump your shoulder gently against his. “you could’ve just said hi, you know.”

“yeah,” he mutters, eyes flicking to you. “i’m starting to realize that.”

and honestly? you’re kind of glad he didn’t. because now you get to watch him turn red while hanamaki keeps talking, and it’s kind of perfect.

taglist (open. ask to be added <3): @tangerinelovr @oligbia @megapteraurelia@iwantfoodpleasebuymefood @dira333 @kcandyliciouss

© deardaichi | everything here is written with care — please don’t repost, copy, or alter my work without permission.

[itoshiierae]

Hii i LOVE ur writing sm ugh!!!! i also have a req so pls hmo.. (I thhink this would look good in headcanon format) so ur describing ur type to them(u both have crushes on each other) and its the exact opposite of them, but in the end u tell them u were just joking and that they are ur type

I rlly wanna see this with Bachira, Barou, Gagamaru, Chigiri and maybe pre wc Kunigami<33

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ not your type (except… maybe he is) 𓂃⋆.˚

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: bachira meguru, barou shoei, gagamaru gin, chigiri hyoma & (pre-wc)kunigami rensuke

ᡣ𐭩 notes: hii there and aww thank you!!! 🥹🩷 anyway, this was sooo much fun to write omg. i loved the chaos of making them spiral a little before giving them the relief they deserve HAHAH <33 btw i tried doing this in headcanon format like you requested!!! c:

ᡣ𐭩 cw: mutual pining, light angst ( but fluffy ending! ), light teasing, barou might seem ‘harsh’, mentions of body type and appearance preferences, eventual fluff

♡ BACHIRA MEGURU ♡

𖦹 you say it without thinking, “i like quiet, serious guys. y’know, mysterious types who barely smile.”

𖦹 and he just… freezes. like straight up stops swinging his legs, leans back slowly, blinks at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

𖦹 “so like… not me?” his voice goes all awkward and small, like he’s trying so hard to sound chill but he’s already spiraling inside.

𖦹 he starts sulking. draws a sad little monster on the table with his finger — doesn’t say anything. doesn’t make eye contact. just wilts in real time like you personally broke his spirit. won’t even look up when you call his name — just keeps doodling his tragic little guy, like he’s going through a breakup you didn’t know you were part of.

𖦹 so obviouslyyy, you push him a little further by saying: “no offense, but you literally talk to your shoes when you’re bored.”

𖦹 after hearing that, he looks genuinely offended. like his jaw slightly dropped, blinking at you as if you just told him his dog ran away and then he turns back to his little monster drawing & makes it even sadder.

𖦹 you let the tension simmer for just a second more, then finally crack a smile, laughter curling at the edges of your voice. “i’m just messing with you... you’re totally my type.”

𖦹 he pauses — stunned — like he seriously didn’t expect you to say that out loud. the sad monster he’d drawn???? now suddenly has hearts for its eyes. “you little liar,” he whispers, fighting a smile. “say it again.”

𖦹 and when you do??? he throws himself at you in a hug and won’t let go for like another 3 hours.

♡ BAROU SHOEI ♡

𖦹 it starts with a joke you didn’t mean to land: “… y’know i like laid-back guys who are chill & someone who doesn’t care too much about appearances.”

𖦹 he deadass stops mid-sip of his overpriced protein shake and just blinks at you like you spoke a forbidden language.

𖦹 his eye twitches like you’ve just personally disrespected his gym splits, his skincare, and the 17-step hair routine he claims he doesn’t have. “…what the hell did you just say?”

𖦹 “wait so… you seriously want a guy who doesn’t groom himself!!?” he mutters, practically spiraling, listing off how those kinds of men probably don’t floss, don’t moisturize, and — with full offense — are just plain disgusting. “low standards,” he scoffs, as if you were the one who needed to reevaluate your life.

𖦹 he’s seething on the outside, sulking on the inside — muttering that ‘you just don’t know what’s good for you.’

𖦹 so after dragging it out justtt enough, you laugh and reassure him, “i’m joking. i actually like guys who take care of themselves…. that means you’re exactly my type, barou...”

𖦹 he immediately scoffs. clicks his tongue and then glares at you before saying, “tch... you better not say stupid shit like that again.”

𖦹 but he’s blushing all the way down to his collarbone. half-hiding behind his protein shake like it could shield his pride. you could tell that his entire mental system just crashed, and you know he’s probably gonna replay this moment mid-set at the gym later, scowling while angrily curling dumbbells.

♡ GAGAMARU GIN ♡

𖦹 “i like pretty boys... yknow, those that are skinny, delicate, almost as if the wind could carry them away….” it slips out mid-convo, lighthearted and harmless

𖦹 or so you think. you don’t mean it seriously. it’s just a throwaway preference, a passing comment you figured he wouldn’t take personally

𖦹 but gagamaru pauses mid-sip of his drink and then glances down at his six-foot-something wall of a body, the kind that could body slam a tree and he’d probably win.

𖦹 then he looks at his hands — big, calloused, rough — almost as if they’ve betrayed him. you watch in real time as his soul briefly leaves his body.

𖦹 and worst of all? he’s not even sulking. he’s just… solemn. he stares straight into the void and mutters under his breath, “guess i’ll go learn ballet or something…”

𖦹 you panic because no way??? he’s not even joking. the man is spiraling, full gentle-giant overthinking mode unlocked, and you’re scrambling to stop him before he ACTUALLY signs up for a modern dance elective.

𖦹 you laugh, reach for his hand, and lean in just enough to murmur,“…gagamaru, no. i was only teasing… you’re exactly my type.”

𖦹 he immediately freezes like someone just pressed pause on him. and then, slowly, the softest smile unfurls across his face. it’s not his usual blank-faced calm — this one’s hopeful, warm, basically the kind that makes you want to melt into his hoodie and never leave.

𖦹 his voice cracks faintly. “you’re serious?” like he’s trying to hold back the smile tugging at his lips, just in case it’s a joke.

𖦹 afterwards he lets out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding, then starts grinning — all goofy charm and too-big emotions crammed into one oversized frame. “okay. good. ’cause i was about to buy eyeliner.”

♡ CHIGIRI HYOMA ♡

𖦹 “i’m into super tall, muscular guys. yknow like those bodybuilder types….” you say it without thinking — casual, teasing, maybe even just to see his reaction. but the moment those words leave your mouth??? oh, you’ve just triggered something in him.

𖦹 chigiri immediately stopped whatever he was doing initially. his expression doesn’t even change at first — he just freezes. and then: “…so you’re saying… you want a guy who can squat me?”

𖦹 his voice came out flat. unimpressed. offended on behalf of every race he’s ever run. “yeah, basically,” you say, just to be annoying.

𖦹 he side-eyes his own legs like they’ve failed him. and the fact that they’ve carried him through national matches & broken records — but apparently, they’re not ‘squat-my-girl’ worthy. “i could sprint you into the next century,” he mutters under his breath, “but okay.”

𖦹 he starts tying and untying his ponytail, trying to look all unbothered — but you can clearly see the crack in his cool facade. the silent fluster. the subtle pout. the internal monologue of ‘so what if i’m not six-foot-five? i have definition. i have stamina. i have quads built by god.’

𖦹 “… you really like those types, huh?” he asks it too casually — like a test. almost as if he wants to see if you’ll actually say it again.

𖦹 satisfied with his reaction, that’s when you finally lean in and say: “not really... i actually like pretty, fast guys with killer legs… so you’re literally my type, hyoma.”

𖦹 he malfunctions on the spot. tries to play it cool, but fails miserably. then he mumbles something like, “…tch. whatever.” but his ears??? red. his neck??? flushed. his hands??? suddenly became too fidgety… and the second you’re not looking? he’s smiling to himself like an idiot the entire day.

𖦹 later that night, he sends you a post-workout mirror selfie. shirt half-damp, towel slung over his shoulder, muscles flexing just right with the caption that reads “still not tall enough?”

𖦹 and you???? you almost combust on the spot.

♡ KUNIGAMI RENSUKE ♡

𖦹 “…honestly, i like bad boys. cocky, unhinged, the kind that makes your friends worry.” you say it with a grin — playful, but laced with just enough bite to make him pause. and kunigami???? oh, he takes it personally.

𖦹 “so someone like… barou?” he doesn’t even say it sarcastically. it’s genuine confusion like he’s already doing mental gymnastics trying to understand how you ended up liking the complete opposite of everything he is. and then it begins — the spiral.

𖦹 he starts listing his own good qualities like you’re about to file a complaint: “i cook. i clean. i floss. i don’t fight strangers unless i’m legally allowed to. i hold doors open for people—”

𖦹 and then his voice just trails off and he immediately goes quiet like something in him just deflated a little.

𖦹 “…guess i’m not your type, then.” he says it so softly it actually hurts a little.

𖦹 until you lean in and say with a small, almost mischievous smile, “nah… i was just messing with you.” and then — without even letting him recover — you drop the real one: “i actually like guys with strong morals. and a killer body. and guess what???? that’s literally you.”

𖦹 you could’ve SWEAR that the sunlight got brighter after that. he blinks at you — once, twice, mouth slightly parted like he genuinely didn’t expect that coming from you.

𖦹 “…wait. wait you’re serious?”

𖦹 you nod, and that’s when he turns red. not just a light blush — but full on red, ears and neck included. he immediately looks away, trying to hide it by adjusting his hoodie like it’s a shield.

𖦹 “…thanks.” he mumbles. “that means a lot.” and for the rest of the day, his smile got a little brighter. and he also flexes his biceps a bit more than usual during workouts. just in case you’re still watching (which you are.)

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[noimnotmae]

𝐌𝐈𝐗-𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏 — Lando Norris⁴

summary: Since their time in Miami, YN and Lando have stayed in touch, talking whenever they could over the past few weeks. Unbeknownst to the McLaren driver, YN is planning to spend the weekend in Monaco with her cousin.

˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷ lando norris x female! reader 🔸

Ｐａｒｔ ７

Ｐｒｅｖｉｏｕｓ Ｐａｒｔ

[INSTAGRAM]

ynusername posted a story

viewed by landonorris, lhea_theitgirl, yourcousin, livduh and other

[IRL]

You didn’t mean to hide it.

Not really.

Okay— maybe a little.

The idea of telling Lando you were flying to Monaco had crossed your mind about seven times on the plane, and another five while waiting for your bag. But for some reason, you stopped yourself each time. You weren’t sure what it was.

Maybe it was the fact that your dynamic with him— whatever it was— only existed in texts and a few missed calls lately. Maybe it was the way people had started recognizing your face after Miami.

Or maybe… it was because you didn’t know what seeing him again would actually mean.

And so you said nothing.

Instead, you sat across from your cousin, who looked effortlessly put together, sipping from a glass of wine like this was just another Tuesday.

Which, for him, it was.

[INSTAGRAM]

lando.jpg

liked by lhea_theitgirl, maxfewtrell, ynusername and 503,029 other

lando.jpg 📷 dump

View comments

user1 good luck today lando 💪

user2 he posted!

user3 active era?

user4 posting on this acc right before quali 😅

user5 the second photo 😫🥵 ❤️ by ynusername

user5 NOT YN LIKING MY COMMENT 😭 I SEE U GIRL

user6 wait... is that a matcha drink? 🤨

user5 they're not very sleek

user6 ikr. they so have a crush on eachother

user7 ur so unserious for looking this good on race weekend

user8 feels like someone's about to show up

user9 PLS post more

[MESSAGES]

[INSTAGRAM]

ynusername added to their story

၊၊||၊ Getaway Car • Taylor Swift

viewed by lhea_theitgirl, livduh, and other

(Post no longer available)

replies:

user10 am I bugging or is that... NICE airport?

lhea_theitgirl have fun girl, take tons of yacht pics pls 🙌

ynusername anything for u ❤️

user11 gurl dont tell me ur at Monaco

user12 u have no idea what ur doing to us 😭

lando.jpg

liked by ynusername, maxfewtrell, lhea_theitgirl and other

lando.jpg no place like home

view comments

ynusername love the fit 9.5/10 ❤️ by author

lando.jpg what's a guy gotta do for a 10?

user13 LANDO SHE'S IN MOANCO!!

user14 outed her right away 😭

ynusername ruined the surprise 😒

user13 gurl- you posted it on your PUBLIC story

user14 HELP SHE DELTED THE POST!

user15 they're flirting in the comments again 😒

user16 👀 same country 👀

ynusername bunch of party poopers 😔

user16 👀

user17 ANOTHER LANDO.JPG POST?

user18 feeding us with another post

[MESSAGES]

[INSTAGRAM]

ynusername

liked by livduh, landonorris, lhea_theitgirl, yourcousin and 5,820 other

ynusername little lunch date with cuz after a quick outfit change. thnx ꩜yourcousin for treating me to lunch 😘

view comments

yourcousin quick outfit for change my ahh. you took literal hours

ynusername I had to fix my hair 😿

yourcousin you were fine

ynusername nah. you agreed that my hair looked terrible!

yourcousin I wouldn't have if I knew you were gonna take literal days getting ready

ynusername don't be drmataic

lhea_theitgirl okay, ladies, leave the family drama private

user19 who is that fine shyt?

user20 her cousin

user19 yes, ik, I can read

user20 okay, geez 🙌

landonorris that place looks familiar ❤️ by author

ynusername you're being paranoid

landonorris you're gaslighting me. also, ur cousin looks familiar

user21 does he not know?

user22 he's being gaslit by yn ✋😭

user23 he's on to you girl.

yourcousin (private)

📍Monaco, Monte Carlo

liked by livduh, lhea_theitgirl, yourcousin and 180 other

yourcousin you bet she bought 3 matcha drinks when she found a cafe that has them. addict.

tagged: ꩜ynusername

view comments

lhea_theitgirl you have a problem ꩜ynusername

ynusername 😍😋🍵

livduh not a day when she doesn't have matcha in her hands

yourcousin it's actually concerning 😨

mutualfriend Monaco 😍

user25 ❤️❤️❤️

user26 that's literally Monaco

yourcousin oh fr? 😧

user26 is that sarcasm?

yourcousin no.. maybe.. yes

user26 so are you, or are no guys not in Monaco

yourcousin I do live there 🤔

user26 HAHA COFNIRMED! FINALLY.

lhea_theitgirl is she still playing hard to get?

yourcousin unfortunately 🙄

[IRL]

Monaco was quiet tonight.

Not silent— but the kind of quiet that made the air feel heavier. The kind that pulled your thoughts out of hiding and laid them bare.

Lando sat on the floor by the window, hoodie loose, feet bare, glass of something half-finished beside him. His phone was warm in his palm from how long he'd been holding it, doing nothing but scrolling.

It had been hours since the comments started flooding his lando.jpg post.

"YN’s in Monaco??"

"Saw someone who looked like her near Larvotto 👀"

"Why do I feel like they’re both pretending not to be in the same city rn lol"

He hadn’t answered. Not one. But he'd seen them all.

Then there was your post— lunch with your cousin. No geotag. Just vibes. But the background? The chairs? The salt-and-pepper shakers? He knew that café. Everyone local did.

Still, denial clung to him like an old hoodie. Familiar. Comforting. False.

Until he made a mistake.

He clicked on the last slide. The cousin. A quick username check led him to a profile. Private— obviously— but the bio had a Monaco pin. Lando hesitated. Then sent a request. It was stupid, maybe, but curiosity itched at his skin like a rash.

When your cousin accepted thirty minutes later, Lando dove in.

A recent post. And under it, a comment from someone:

"is she still playing hard to get?"

There it was.

Undeniable.

He leaned back against the wall and stared at the screen, lips parted slightly in disbelief. His pulse quickened— not with excitement, but with this weird mix of nerves and... need. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

She was really here. In the same city. Minutes away.

And she hadn’t told him.

He thumbed over the comment section again, hovering over the reply box. Maybe something light. Easy. Something like:

"Pls tell your cousin to quit trying to lie to me."

Or maybe just an emoji. The eyes 👀 maybe. Keep it vague. Keep it safe.

He typed. Erased. Typed again.

Paused.

His finger hovered over the send button.

He didn’t know why he was hesitating so hard. It was just a comment. Just her. Right?

But that was the thing. You weren’t just her. You were… you. That girl. The girl. The one who got under his skin in the softest, strangest way.

The one who never left his head.

He was seconds from sending it when his phone buzzed again.

A message.

From you.

YN: so… i lied.

Lando blinked.

He let out a small breath of a laugh. Unconscious, quiet, but real.

He didn't answer right away.

Didn't even click the notification.

He just stared at it.

Heart rattling in his chest like it was trying to tell him something.

He didn’t know what to say. Not yet.

So instead, he leaned his head back, let the quiet wrap around him again, and smiled like an idiot.

Ｐａｒｔ ８ — Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

A/N: We're almost at the end people! Also, why is it that when Lando crashed is the race I chose not to watch? Am I tripping or am I... perhaps McLaren's lucky charm? Tell me I'm delusional or else I'm gonna start believing.

Taglist: @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @barcelonaloverf1life @tangointhequango @bbl3ssy @mxdi0 @d3kstar @multifandomdiva @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @laneyspaulding19 @ilove-tswizzle @lillysbigwilly @lemon-lav @minkyungseokie @nichmeddar @chonkybonky @starz4me1 @harrysdimple05 @spanishcorndogs @musicheaux @butterflyqueen234 @ilivbullyingjeongin @evie-119 @blacksoul-27 @hellowgoodbye @azuramicah @ririyulife @pandora108

if you want to be added to the taglist just comment it ☺️

[shroomyv]

1st sunrise together

(not your last)

Remmick x female reader (one shot)

A/N: alr people…I haven’t written in months…finally tryna start writing again and stop trying to make story perfects and put out what I enjoy writing and not what I think evb else needs or wants from me. On that note thanks for 300+ followers wtf. Also uh this is my first sinners fanfic (def won’t be my last) so bear with me pls. Just a lil short thing for you guys. Once again, sorry if this was mid, took a small ass prompt and extended it sorry. Comments and reblogs are appreciated (I love talking to u guys sm)

Summary: you and Remmick have been around each other for a bit. Getting comfortable in ways you live, love and do things. Your guard is always up but his has begun to go down. What happens if one day you aren’t on a hunt with him cause he makes you stay home and does something different. “You’re just paranoid—that won’t happen.” Is what he tells you all the time. 9 times out of 10, you’re right.

WC: 2.6k

Warning: death, angst, lil cringe, fic moves rlly fast, little terrible world building moments, mentions of blood, mentions of religion (holy water, is that a mention?), mentions death, mentions of gunshots and guns.

It'd already been 3 years since his teeth seeped into your neck.

They drained your body of blood and brought you back to life—just with a few changes and tweaks to the way you were able to live out life now.

The man who bit you, your husband, Remmick. He stayed by your side just as he promised before you allowed him to bite you.

He cared for you just as you asked and needed, and you tried to return the favor whenever possible.

He made sure all your needs and wants were met as soon as he could make it happen.

If you were hungry, he’d make sure you’d get full. If you wanted to be held, he’d carry you. If you wanted to hear music or dance, he’d crack out that banjo and get to playing.

He made sure to keep you as happy and protected as he possibly could.

You two typically had a nightly ritual of going to get bodies to feast on to cure your hunger if you weren’t tending to each other's wounds from the night prior or relaxing after a passionate night.

Whenever you two went out hunting, you had a sort of ritual of burning down the houses once you were done with the bodies. You were a no-evidence kind of girl, he didn’t understand why, and thought he wasted time waiting for the sun to come up—you just couldn’t care and continued to burn whatever house you two raided.

You two had different ways about how you dealt with business. Whatever way you dealt with it, you knew it was always better when it was two of you dealing with it instead of one suffering with the issue alone.

Out of the two of you, one of you almost always got roughed up by the end of the night if a human was fighting back from you trying to bite them.

This night, it was you.

Remmick was pissed, livid actually. You don’t think you’d ever seen him take greater pleasure in killing someone, ever, once he finished killing whoever put a few bullets in you.

“You need to relax…” You said “yer getting worked up over nunin'’ you know I’m gon heal so just breathe and relax.”

You tried your best to calm him down—you hated when he was constantly worked up, especially over things you considered small. He didn’t consider you getting hurt a “small thing” to him; it was a big issue.

You grabbed onto his suspenders, pulling him back into the bed with you.

“It ain’t no small thing…sure you’ll be fine in a week but y’know how much I hate seeing you hurt.” He said, voice sounding all pissed but trying to relax it to not worry you.

he was still on the issue and you didn’t mind it as long as he stopped working himself up over it.

Your forehead pressed against his—you two sharing any warmth you possibly could to each other. His arms began wrapping around your back like a snake, holding onto you like he never wanted to let go.

You winced for a second as he got ready to let go, but you wrapped your arm around him so he wouldn’t try and move away.

“Remmick…stop worryin’.” You gave him a reassuring smile as he kissed your face softly.

“You can’t tell me to stop worryin’.” He said

“And why is that?”

“‘Cause ya do the exact same thing.”

“Hm…well, it’s ok when I do it.”

He just rolled his eyes at you—finding what you had to say was unfair but knew he could argue against it because he’d lose anyway.

You two were always worried back and forth, taking turns on who would be the one panicking for the night. It was mostly you so you had gotten used to it but whenever it was him you wanted him to relax and not press the issue.

Your head still pressed against his as you two took in each other and every feature. Your arms still wrapped around his body, and his still wrapped around yours…

A few moments of silence filled the air before Remmick finally spoke again.

“You gon eat tonight…you ain't touched nothin’ since we last went huntin’.”

He squeezed your hand—getting your full attention as this was his way of telling you he had to go out.

“Well, let me get on up.” You said.

Before you could get off the bed—he leaped up and stood in front of you.

“No darlin’.” He said, “you gon stay here and rest.”

“We don’t really need sleep….besides, I’ll be patched up in a day or two at most.” you said

You began to look him up and down—what he said was silly to you, and you didn’t agree to it at all. You tried to stand again, but this time he put his hands on your shoulder, keeping you down for a second.

“Remmick…”

“Please, jus’ stay here…I’ll be back, promise.” He said softly.

Your eyes and his met as he was giving that same little pleading stare that a puppy would give you when it did something wrong.

You just huffed—you were annoyed you couldn’t go with him, but if he wanted you to rest that badly and promised that he’d come back, you’d just stay put for the night.

“Fine, Remmy.” You said

You pulled him in by his suspenders, giving him a kiss. He quickly returned it as you let go of his suspenders and he leaned in closer pushing you down on the matress a bit more.

You broke the kiss to speak.

“Uh, Remmy, don’t you have food to be getting? You're on a time limit with that sun.” You said teasingly.

He just cleared his throat before pulling himself up.

“Right, yes.” He said, “When I get back though, I want more of whatever that was gon’ be.”

You just chuckled as you watched him leave out of the door into the night.

A few minutes had passed before you stood up to do some house chores—thought you might as well pass the boredom with some work.

You walked around the house as it felt a little lifeless without Remmick there—you knew he’d be back soon as promised, but you were just as impatient as he was.

While you were walking around, your eyes were jumping onto every object, seeing if anything needed cleaning or if it was out of order.

Your eyes finally came to the nightstand, and you saw nothing wrong at first glance till you looked back.

A box of matches, your box of matches was still there…

That same box of matches you used to get rid of any evidence whenever you two went out.

“Shit.” You murmured.

Your mind racing with worry as per usual about him. You told him you’d stay put, but you had a certain way of doing things, and you didn’t want to stray away from the usual.

You just swallowed down whatever worry you had in your throat. He could handle himself, he lived this long without you, he’d be fine.

hours had begun passing—you knew the sun was gonna be up sooner than later.

That worry you swallowed down began climbing right back up your throat. Pacing back and forth around the room like a madman, you had not a clue where he was.

You were ready to leave and try and find him yourself until a loud, frantic bang caused you to get up and dash to the door.

As soon as you opened it, you saw him.

Remmick—beaten up and bruised. A few gunshot wounds, blood all over his face and body, rips to his clothes, and nasty gashes and cuts on his face.

You knelt to where he sat, trying to pull him back up to his feet. You had nothing to say in the moment—your top priority was getting him to safety and patched up.

Remmick stood up with your help as you examined his face. He grabbed your hand tight, stopping you as he needed your full attention.

“We gotta go.” He said, “We gotta go right now, darlin’.”

You just nodded—you got ready to turn back into the house to grab a few things before you heard screaming and gunshots. People were out hunting and searching for you.

“Ain’t no time,” Remmick said as he grabbed you by the back of your dress.

You were dragged out by your back until he released it—you two dashed through the woods.

It was pretty rare for you two to be haunted when you were usually the ones doing the hunting. Sadly for you two, it was more of them and not enough time to fight back. You just needed to run and find shelter.

“Remmick, why ain’t you bring them damn matches.” You murmured but he heard every word.

“Thought I wasn’t gon need em, clearly it was a full house. I’m sorry, let’s just get out of this then you can yell at me later.” He said

His hand grabbed onto yours tightly, running through the woods with you, trying to find any safety. If you two weren’t on the brink of getting murdered—you’d consider it romantic.

Gunshots flying into trees as bullets miss you two. Water splashing as whoever was chasing you tried to fling holy water on you. You two just gave each other that soft-eyed look before you kept running.

He wanted to keep you safe—he promised to keep you safe.

Now he was falling short on his promises.

You didn’t care—as long as you were with him,, you considered yourself safe. You just kept running until you bumped into him and realized he came to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” You shouted.

You just looked up and saw the moon was going down. Sun was just coming up quicker and quicker.

“Remmick, we can find some place to go, cmon.” You said, “We just gotta go, cmon.”

He quickly pulled you to the side—you two now under a tree, trying to think of anything to get yourself out of the situation. You could deny it all you wanted, but there was nothing more that could be done in that moment.

“I didn’t take them matches—didn't do things the at we usually do it. Now I messed it up.” Remmick spoke in a wimpy sort of tone.

“Remmick, I’m not about to scold you for this.” You said, “atleast not right now. So relax we gotta get out of this ok?”

He was used to you scolding him for the small things, and any other time you would’ve, but now it was life or death. If it just so happened to be death, you weren’t about to spend your final moments scolding him. You just pressed your head against his hoping that time would freeze for you just for a second and it felt like it did.

You started to cry—he wanted to cry. He had broken his promise, he said he’d always keep you safe, always make sure you were protected.

The sun wasn’t slowing down for anyone, it was gonna come up eventually. The hunters drew closer, and little tears became flowing pools of water.

“I broke my promise—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He murmured.

He tried his best to calm you down while he was panicking himself. He began holding you tighter, but the sun began to shine through the leaves on the tree. You two didn’t have much longer. You were either gonna die by the sunlight burning you to ash, or die by the hands of hunters that weren’t finished off.

“Remmick.” You said in a stuffy tone

You swallowed down your tears as best as you could for a second to talk.

“I know you said you keep me safe, and you think you broke the promise.” You said, “If you wanna make it up to me, just keep one promise you made.”

You two began curling into each other tightly as he held onto you as best as he could. His skin took the majority of the burns from the sunlight as he tried his absolute best to protect you from the heat that was coming.

“And which one is that?” He asked

“Staying with me.” You said, “and I want you to stay with me…and watch the sun rise.”

His head lifted up,, and so did yours. His eyes were weak and questioning what you just said. He couldn’t believe this is what you were saying but he knew you two didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Cmon.” He said

He grabbed your hand, leading you out of the woods into the open sunlight. You two were met by a river—memories filling your mind of all the times you two went there at night. Your life with him was flashing before your eyes.

The hunters were here, and so was the sun. You drowned out their screams to catch you guys—you were so focused on him and the burning pain that flowed through your body that you couldn’t give two shits.

His hand stayed clasped onto yours—you two burning up quicker than you were before. Smoke coming from your body as if you were food being cooked and prepared.

You two finally reached the lake. Feet soaking in there as if the water was gonna save you but you knew it was over—your forehead just pressed his as you began to cry weakly, and he just held onto you tighter and tighter.

Memories flowing through your mind of the life you had with him.

That first time you met, the time he turned you every promise he made, every kiss you shared, every passionate night you two enjoyed, every meal shared, every life taken.

It all rushed through you faster than ever before.

You never expected it to be so short, you wanted it to be longer. Remmick spoiled you rotten—because you’d forgotten you can’t just get everything you wanted.

Tears and screams of agony still left your face as he held onto you tight—he held you tightly in that same warm embrace he always did. He tried to calm you down as best as he could, giving you comfort in whatever way he could in the moment. It only helped so much.

Both of you sizzling and burning alive by the second, smelling like rotting meat and flesh, getting ready to be thrown out. Your flesh melting to his at this point, you two were becoming one, except this time, it was physically.

Remmick kissed you softly on the forehead before speaking.

“I’ll meet you again—next life, we’ll try again. I’ll keep you as safe as I can, and I'll love you jus’ like I did in this life. Promise.”

You just looked at him, and the ash began to surround both of you. You were silent—taking in your final breaths as you knew your time on earth was over.

Hunters could’ve came in that water at any time and put a stake in your backs—they just stayed in the woods, watching what they caused all go down and finish.

You ignored them, eyes just stuck on Remmick and how his body was melting away right before you. Memories of how you would patch him up whenever he was like this flowing through your mind as you were silent.

You just felt weak, you couldn’t save him, and this time he couldn’t save you.

“You gotta respond, give me something,” he said, “Don’t let these last few seconds be silent. Speak to me, say whatever’s on your mind..”

He gave those same pleading eyes that he would always give to you when you were mad or he wanted you to reason with him.

His crumbling hand reaching towards you face to wipe off the tears as best as he could before you spoke again.

“I’m scared.” You said

“Me too.” He replied

For one second it was dead silent before you picked back up the conversation speaking again.

“Promise I’ll be patient, but you keep your word, Remmick.”

“I will,” he said, “I promise I will, darlin’.”

Foreheads pressed together one final time. He gave you a smile and you returned one until your lips met–whatever was left of them, at least. He began humming a soft tune painfully. He tried to hide any sadness he had in the moment from you, and you respected it.

He just hummed soft melodies that he would play or sing for you whenever you were home with him to comfort both of you as you were ready to leave this body.

You got to see a sunrise with him–and what made it even better was the fact you’d get to see more with him in the future.

The ash of both your bodies wisped away in the wind, but not a single spec of dust separated.

You’d be reunited soon.

You'd just have to be patient, like he asked.

Just like you promised.

[joyswonderland1108]

Omg not a SIGHTING!!! call the FBI!!!

LMAO some of you ARMYs — and let me say it louder for the Jikook police in the back — are starting to give “emotionally unavailable 1950s toxic husband who forbids his wife from showing her ankles in public” energy. Like?? Please untighten your corsets. People saw Jikook in NYC. They tweeted about it. TEXT TWEETS. No pictures. No videos. Not a drone shot. Just good old “hey I just passed them!” excitement. AND SOME OF Y’ALL LOST IT.

“Delete this.” “Don’t share this.” “Protect their privacy.” Protect their—??? THEY WERE OUTSIDE. In New York City. Public streets. With other humans. Not on a military base, not in the Bermuda Triangle, not hiding in Yoongi’s underground studio eating shadow soup. Just… OUTSIDE.

And suddenly you act like you’re Joan of Arc being burned at the stake for BTS’s sins. Miss me with the fake morals, please. Why didn’t you cry “don’t share!” BEFORE you found out what exactly was going on? Hmm? Why wait till after you've gotten the tea, then hop on Twitter acting like the Virgin Mary of Privacy Laws? Y’all wanna consume but then pretend you’re too holy to participate. Hypocrisy in 4K.

Someone said “some of y’all Jikookers will out them for a hit tweet.” Girl be serious. Unless they’re caught in 4K making out inside the Vatican during Sunday mass, a SIGHTING on the sidewalk ain’t “outing” them. It’s not that deep. And what’s even funnier is: if Jikook did come out officially, some of y’all would STILL be on Twitter like “pls stop spreading it 🥺 respect their privacy 😔” WHEN THEY THEMSELVES TOLD YOU. It’s giving delulu gatekeeper with control issues.

And believe me — if we’re talking about “outing” (which we’re not, because this ain’t that), it’s not gonna be some random incel on Twitter with 3 followers and a Jungkook pfp who lives 10,000km away. Let’s be serious for one second. If anyone had the material to actually out them, it would’ve already happened. Dispatch, the nosiest gossip overlords in South Korea, literally built their brand on blowing up celeb couples and STILL haven’t touched Jikook. So here we are.

The only people who could ever truly “out” Jikook are:

Jikook themselves,

Jikook via their company,

or Jikook through a coordinated media scoop because the stars aligned and it was part of some galaxy-brained PR move.

A tweet that says “I think I saw them near Central Park” isn’t that. Be serious.

Oh but wait — WHERE were your moral compasses when the members showed up to J-Hope’s concert? That wasn’t officially announced either, but y’all had ZERO problems with pictures and videos of them in the crowd floating around Twitter before they were even showed on the big screen. I didn’t see y’all crying “privacy!!” then. Funny how suddenly public sightings are sacred and must be protected like state secrets… unless it’s convenient for your hype. The hypocrisy is glowing in the dark.

Let’s break it down for the people in the back with bad Wi-Fi:

Leaked schedules / private photos / sasaeng trash? Yes. Bad. Burn it.

“I saw BTS at a Starbucks in Manhattan”? Regular celebrity shit. Normal. Not a felony.

But go ahead. Keep acting like public sightings are national security threats and that anyone sharing them is personally violating the Geneva Convention. Meanwhile you were RT’ing videos of them at Hobi’s concert like CNN breaking news.

Y’all are not morally superior for turning fandom into a toxic power trip. You’re just exhausting. Let people have fun. Let people be excited. Let people BREATHE.

Please. Touch grass. Drink water. Unclench.

[taintandviolent]

Le coup de foudre ; Gambit x Reader

summary: THIS IS PART 3 OF THE TACO TUESDAY SERIES! PART ONE HERE / PART TWO HERE! Reader is suffering, big time. She wants Remy, but he hasn't called. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.1K | some angst to start things off, smut with some plot (we've got an established relationship, huzzah), French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), shower sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n, and some fluff at the end, because I went and broke y'all's hearts in the last chapter.

a/n: praying that the gambit fandom hasn't completely died out.... i'm so sorry this took me so long. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

The first day is the hardest. 

The first day is the hardest because by 1:30 PM, you realize that you’re in love with Remy Lebeau. You cry on the couch he kissed you on. Why are you crying? Because you can’t remember the last time you’ve been in love with someone, and you know what comes with love. None of it is good. 

The second day sucks too because you go to work, and come home to an apartment that, for the first time since you’ve lived there, really felt empty. There’s nowhere you can sit that he hasn’t touched. His memory lingers everywhere and try as you might, you can’t escape it. You aren’t sure you want to, either, which is troubling in and of itself. 

By the third day, your heart is aching, but it’s a dull ache. Something like anger has started to roil in your system, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t called, or stopped by. You can justify it by saying that you don’t know what mutant superheroes go through or what their daily life looks like, but you’re still sour that there’s been nothing but radio silence on his end. 

Day four comes and goes, and nothing changes. You’re still sad. You’re still angry. But most of all, you’re still lonely. 

Day five… however. Day five comes, you’ve cycled through all the stages of grief and landed somewhere on the spectrum of desperation. 

So, after work, you march across the hall to Wade’s, and knock three times in a little melody. After a few moments, the door flies open, revealing a very casual looking Wade. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and grey sweats. You avert your eyes from his groin, out of respect. 

“Wade,” you stammer, scratching a non-existent itch on your arm. “Hey.”

“Pookie! How nice of you to stop by. Blind Al and I were just about to partake in some Colombian party powder, care to join us?” 

Your pupils dilate. Was he being serious? You couldn’t tell. “Uh… no. No, I’m good.” 

You shift uneasily. You aren’t sure how to start this, so you just blurt whatever comes out. 

“Wade… um. Look, I’m sorry to ask this of you. I just…. I can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t seem like the type to ghost someone, and I just… I really want to talk to him.” 

“You want Gambit’s number?”

You perk up, relieved that you didn’t have to ask the question yourself. Wade was more perceptive than you thought. 

“Y-yeah, if you have it.” 

“I don’t. Womp-womp. But I gave him yours.” 

“Oh…” A beat. “...wait. How did you get my number?” 

“Remember that package that was misdelivered?” 

“No….” 

“Yikes. Well, I do. It had your name and phone number on it. I figured it’d be useful to have so…” He taps the side of his head.

“Why did you… did he ask for it?” 

“Boy, did he.” 

You frown, feeling an overwhelming flurry of emotions. On one hand, he’s had your number and hasn’t called. On the other hand, he wanted your number. But he hadn’t done a damn thing with it. Your shoulders sink, unconsciously. 

“Oh, sweet cheeks. Someone play some Cigarettes After Sex, this is getting emotional.” Wade mock frowns, looking off to the left for a moment before his eyes dart back to you. “He’s probably saving lives or something heroic. Undisclosed mutant drama.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, choosing to ignore his weird commentary. “I appreciate it.” 

“What’re you gonna’ do now? Cue the depressed drinking montage.” 

“That’s a great idea, actually…” 

“No, no… let’s not.” 

You interject with a finger in his face. “Yeah, let’s.” 

“If you’re going to do that, let’s do it inside. C’mon.”  Wade doesn’t give you a moment to reject him, and plants both of his hands on your shoulders, yanking you forward. 

Turns out, Wade does have alcohol. He makes you a drink, something that tastes like whiskey. Maybe it's your whiskey, left over. You bring the glass to your lips, sucking the liquid down. It’s strong, but you aren’t complaining. 

“Oooohohoh, you’ve got it bad, huh? Heart eyes and all that mushy-gushy shit?”

You throw a glare his way, and take another sip. The liquor burns better than any remark you could’ve come up with.

“It’s okay,” he says, nodding. “I can’t say I blame you. It’s that Southern charm he’s got. Handsome, slick, and he can do magic tricks.” His eyes widen, excitedly. “How could you not fall in love with him?”

“Wade, you’re not helping.” 

“Sure I am,” he retorts. 

You take a seat on Wade’s couch, looking distraught. You’re thankful that Blind Al is in fact… blind because she can’t see the way that the tears are welling up in your eyes. You look at the chairs that you two sat on, flirting with each other.

“Oh,” Wade says, looking somewhat surprised. “Oh no.”

“She cryin’?” Blind Al asks. Great, she’s perceptive. You swallow back a sob, and bring the glass to your lips again. 

“Almost… almost… c’mon, give us a cinematic, single tear.” 

You shake your head and suck it up as best you can. You don’t want acknowledgement, that’ll only make it worse, possibly sending you into a fit of sobs. You don’t even know why you’re so upset – it’s not like he told you he never wanted to see you again. He just hadn’t… well, done anything and that was somehow worse.

“Je-sus…!” Wade says suddenly, leaning over to angrily look through the peephole. He stays there for a moment, before leaning back, a sly smile on his face. 

And that’s when you hear the dull thudding that has Wade’s attention. It sounds like a knock – a heavy handed one. 

You straighten your spine, curious. 

“Oh, this is too perfect.” He says under his breath, before taking one step towards you. “Save the waterworks, your Cajun Prince has returned.” 

You set the glass on the floor and scramble off the couch, practically on all fours as you run towards the door, pushing Wade out of the way. Standing on your tiptoes to look through the peephole for only a split second, you get a visual. Hurriedly, you twist the knob and throw the door open, wanting to rip it off its hinges. It bumps into the wall behind it, and your breath rushes out.  

Remy stands there, facing your door, his fist raised to knock again. He has a duffel bag on his shoulder, which slides off the second he hears your voice. 

“Remy?” you call, your voice quivering slightly. He turns abruptly, his coat flaring out behind him. He’s wearing armor now, and looks like he’s just come back from something serious.

“Chere? What’re you –” 

You don’t need to answer again, instead, just run across the hall, rushing into his arms. Your body hits him so hard that you let out a little vocalization, a delicate oomph, as you compress yourself to him. He immediately responds by wrapping one arm around your waist, and the other around the back of your head, hand petting your hair gently. 

He smells like blood, sweat and ash, but you nuzzle your cheek into the rigid plate of his purple chestplate anyway, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso in a desperate hug. 

After a moment, you pull away, just enough to look up at him. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with such an adoration that you can’t help but clench your stomach. He looks like he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“Is this your superhero outfit?” Your fingers stroke the ridges in his cowl, admiring it. Slowly, they trail down the length of it, and begin to make their way over his smooth chestplate. 

He laughs, looking down at you. “ ‘Spose so.”

“I like it.” 

Two smiles later, he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, lifting you up off the ground slightly. You’re on your tiptoes again, smashing your lips against his and tasting him as hungrily as you did the first time – if not hungrier. There’s something extremely erotic about kissing a costumed hero, something to do with uniforms and all that, you assume, but the butterflies in your stomach go wild at the feeling of his armor against you. This time, you don’t try to suppress anything and give into the feeling of it all. 

Someone sighs dreamily behind you and Remy breaks the kiss to look knowingly over the top of your head. Wade is leaning against his door frame, hands clasped in front of his chest. Short of having hearts bursting over his head, he’s silently gushing, his brows pulled together in a sappy expression, with a dorky smile curling around his lips.

“Oh, c’mon! Just a peek? Where’s your sense of fan service?!” 

“No, Wade.” Remy croons, opening your door and pulling you in with him. He shuts the door with one hand.

“Now before we get to the good stuff, I wanna’ wash this day offa’ me.” 

You nod your head, understanding, and reach for his hand. The bathroom is adjacent to your bedroom, so you lead him down the hall.

You flick on the light; it’s all dark tile and cool tones. You head to the sizable shower, and open the glass door, leaning in just enough to turn the knob. The water splashes to life, and steam fills the bathroom quickly. 

Watching Remy undress himself is like a strip tease that has you biting your lip. He’s determinate and meticulous, like he knows you’re watching. The jacket and armor pieces come off first, and get set on the edge of the bathroom counter. Then comes the shirt, revealing that delicious torso again, the one that you’ve been longing to run your hands over for almost a week. He quickly unzips his pants and drags them down his legs before setting them atop the rest of the items. The briefs are last – the perfect ending to reveal his heavy, flaccid cock before he turns, and walks into the shower. He’s got a perfect ass, too; muscular and round. You’re pretty sure you could bounce a quarter off of it. The water splashes against the roundness of his freckled shoulders, spattering against the muscle and onto the tile. 

“Chere, c’mere…” He reaches for your hand, pulling it inside the shower. 

“Wait, wait,” you laugh, and retract your hand. “I’m not coming in there fully dressed.” 

“Then get naked, mon amour. We know we done been waitin’ long enough to feel each other again.” 

You pull your shirt over your head, and reach around back to undo your bra. Your jean shorts are next, joining the pile on the floor.

The water is warm, but Remy’s naked body is even warmer. 

There’s a beautiful, tender familiarity in the way you touch each other, coupled with a hunger that can only be fueled by absence. He hasn’t had you in days, you haven’t had him; the desire has reached a boiling point, and needs to be expelled. He presses you against the tile of the shower, watching as the water pitter-patters against your skin, over your decollete, over your breasts and down the gentle curve of your stomach. He leans down and kisses the hollow of your throat, his hands cupping your hips forcefully.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“I missed you too… maybe more.” 

“Ooh, doubt that.” 

As his fingers trail along your body with an air of ownership, Remy kisses your wet shoulders, nipping at the warm, slick flesh. Despite the heat, you shiver. He has a real knack for making your body shudder. Your knees feel like jell-o, so you wrap your hands around his strong neck, interlacing your fingers behind it for some support. 

His fingers dip down between your legs and teasingly splay out over your folds. His middle finger slips between them, glossing over your center, and slides all the way down, teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger. Everything is wet, but he can feel the slickness that meets his finger. His cock twitches against your thigh. 

“‘Dat’s my girl,” he says, low. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout ‘dis way too much.” His hand cups your cunt, as if to punctuate his sentence and you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You shift, forcing more friction against his wet palm, the warm water pooling between your legs. “The thought of you been distractin’ me. You a dangerous woman, cher…” 

“I’m dangerous? Says the guy who has fucked me in every room, on almost every surface in my apartment…” 

Remy chuckles and the sound fills your heart. There it is again – that unyielding feeling of adoration. You’re horny as all get out, but somehow, you still have the capacity to swoon over tiny things like his laugh. This isn’t you, this isn’t what you’re used to. Frustrated, you bump your head against the tile, letting out a small groan. 

He notices this, and brings his other hand – still leaving one situated between your legs – up behind your head. 

“What’re you doin’? What’s wrong, chere?”

“Nothing...” you huff, looking over at the shower head. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but you aren’t ready to spill your guts to him yet… you’d rather have him rearrange your guts and not think about the feelings. 

He smirks, devilishly, like he already knows. If he does, he’s not letting you off the hook. 

“Guess I just gon’ have to fuck it outta’ you, huh?” 

You avert your gaze back to him, pupils dilating. You know him well enough now that he means what says.  

With that, he places a kiss on your forehead, and turns his body towards the stream of water. He begins washing himself, and you watch as the suds slowly trail down the ample curve of his back. You reach forward, spreading them over the indentation of his spine, washing him gently. 

“Hoo, the way you touch me…” he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear it. 

The shower is intimate and everything is mutual, cue the montage. For the… what? Tenth time that week? You realize that you're in way too deep with Remy. Way too deep, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. 

Drying his feet off on the mat and allowing you space to do the same, Gambit then pulls a towel from the rack, and wraps it around your naked body. The droplets absorb into the fibers, and you’re a little less drippy. Well, your body is. The hungry, whining void between your legs isn’t. 

When Gambit turns, you catch a glimpse of his half-hard cock and blush. Even though you’ve fucked it, sucked it and everything else, the sight of is still enough to send butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

He can’t get you to the bedroom fast enough. His hands are on your hips, directing you towards the bed and you let out a little vocalization, much to his delight. 

“C’mere, mon ami… get up on ‘dat bed.” 

You obey. Why wouldn’t you? You’ve been waiting for this for almost a week now. 

Before he has a chance to stop you, you’re reaching forward to take his cock in your hand. It’s heavy and hot and the feeling of it against your palm makes you clench painfully, twinging with heat. You take your time in stroking him to full hardness, swiping your thumb over the leaking tip and smearing the pre-cum down his veiny length. 

Once he’s there, he’s like a freight train. Unstoppable and panting hard. He fucks you hard over the edge of the bed, hard enough to make your breasts bounce back and forth with each bullying thrust, withdrawing it to the tip and bottoming out each time. Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of bodies slapping together, flesh against flesh. 

“Tell me,” he grunts. “Ain’t no place for secrets up in here.”

“It’s not important – uuhhh!” Another thrust, deep as he can go. 

“Cher,” he growls and thrusts again. “I ain’t gonna’ let you cum ‘till you tell me.” 

“No,” you moan, bringing your hands to your tits as they move. “Please, I’m so close, we can — uhhh god!”

He’s relentless. 

“Fuck, fuck-fuck, oh my god…!” 

With a slick pop, he pulls his cock all the way out. You lift your head up, gazing distraught between your legs; he’s centimeters away from you. The tip is red, glistening and angry as it twitches up, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

“Tell me, cher, or you ain’t gonna’ get ‘dis cock again.” He bucks his hips forward, dragging the fat, wet tip against your swollen cunt. You cry out at the sensation, your clit buzzing with electricity. Despite all that, he doesn’t penetrate you again, and you whimper at the empty sensation. Every time you try to move your hips to get his cock to slip in again, he pulls back just enough to put distance between you two. You whine through gritted teeth. 

“Okay!” 

He presses the head of his cock against your clit. Waiting. Patiently. So patiently. For a moment, you marvel at the control he has considering that his cock looks red and angry, aching to empty itself inside of you. 

“Fine. I think…” You pause to catch your breath. “I think I love you.” 

Remy closes his eyes for a second, reveling in the sound of you saying it. He’d wanted to say it to you at breakfast, and he’d wanted to say it before he left. 

“Mm.” 

“Mm?”

“Mmm-mm. ‘Dat’s what I wanted to hear, chere. An’ it sounds so good comin’ outta’ ‘dat mouth of yours.”

He lines the cockhead up, and bottoms out with another word. He’s said enough, apparently. When he takes hold of your hips, lifting them up slightly to give himself a deeper angle, you wrap your hands around your sheets until the fibers squeak. Your nails dig into the fabric, nearly puncturing holes in them. It’s only a few more earth-shattering thrusts before you cum, and before he fills you with white hot heat, the two of you calling and moaning each other’s names in ecstasy. 

After softening inside of you, which is somehow extremely sweet, he withdraws himself from your cunt, and uses the sheet to clean up the mess that leaks out. He carefully lifts you up onto the bed fully, and then crawls next to you, nestling into the same space he did last night. 

It’s like he never left. 

“I really do, you know. I love you. I know we just met and fucked and that’s all, but I love you.”

“You keep sayin’ ‘dat’s all’ as if what we have is somethin’ casual, cher. You’re gonna’ hurt Remy’s feelings if you keep ‘dat up. So, knock it off, ah?” 

“It’s… it’s not casual?” 

He shakes his head. “I love you too, mon coeur. I have since I first saw you…” 

You hum happily, and nuzzle yourself against his bare chest. “I finally understand that French phrase I learned… C’etait le coup de foudre?” (It was love at first sight.)

“Oui… oui.”