#and it is all so sweet! like ridiculously sweet!

[amirasainz]

What about Charles x girlfriend where they spend the day on the yacht with friends, but Charles is busy admiring his gf

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

A Day on the Riviera

The sun shone brightly on the Côte d’Azur as the group of six gathered on the pristine yacht bobbing gently in the azure waters. The laughter and chatter filled the air, the perfect blend of friendship, love, and relaxation. The yacht was as luxurious as it was spacious, but the real charm was the people on board: Charles, his girlfriend Yn, Carlos with Rebecca, and Pierre with Kika.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Charles couldn’t take his eyes off Yn. She was sitting with Rebecca and Kika, the three of them engrossed in conversation and giggling over something Rebecca had just said. Yn was wearing a flowy sundress that complemented her perfectly, her hair catching the sunlight and her smile radiant enough to rival the sun.

“She looks like a literal goddess,” Charles murmured, half to himself, half to Carlos, who was standing beside him.

Carlos raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Mate, you’ve been staring at her for the past hour. You’re obsessed.”

“And proud of it,” Charles shot back, not even trying to deny it.

Pierre overheard and joined in the teasing. “Let the man live, Carlos. He’s clearly whipped.” Pierre chuckled, sipping his drink. “But seriously, Charles, blink once in a while.”

Charles rolled his eyes, though his gaze remained fixed on Yn. “She deserves it. Look at her. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Alright, Romeo, we get it.” Carlos nudged him playfully. “But don’t forget, we’re here too.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Meanwhile, the girls were having a conversation of their own. Kika leaned closer to Yn, resting her chin in her hand. “You’re glowing, Yn. I swear, if you told me you were royalty, I’d believe it.”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically. “She’s right. You’re like a princess straight out of a fairytale. Charles is so lucky.”

Yn blushed, waving them off. “Stop it, you two. You’re making me shy!”

“No, no, no!” Kika exclaimed, her eyes wide. “You deserve every compliment. Honestly, the way Charles looks at you? I’d trade my soul for that kind of love.”

Rebecca laughed. “Same here. And the way he’s been snapping pictures of you all day? Girl, he’s obsessed.”

“Speaking of which…” Yn trailed off as Charles finally broke away from the boys and started making his way toward her.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Charles approached with a grin, phone in hand. “Ladies, I hope you don’t mind if I steal Yn for a moment.”

“Steal her? Charles, she’s already yours,” Rebecca teased, nudging Yn playfully.

Yn stood up, smiling at Charles as he reached for her hand. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said softly, his green eyes sparkling. “I just wanted to take some pictures of you. You look... breathtaking.”

Rebecca and Kika exchanged knowing looks and let out dramatic sighs. “Ugh, goals,” Kika whispered, making Yn laugh.

Charles led Yn to the bow of the yacht, where the view of the sea stretched endlessly. He positioned her against the golden sunlight and began snapping pictures. “Just like that,” he murmured, “You’re perfect.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Yn said, though her smile gave away how much she adored his attention.

“No,” Charles said, lowering the phone to look at her directly. “I’m being honest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Yn stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re sweet, but you don’t have to keep flattering me, you know.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Charles replied before leaning in to kiss her. It was soft and tender, the kind of kiss that spoke volumes about how deeply he cared for her.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Back at the seating area, Carlos and Pierre watched the scene unfold.

“Charles is laying it on thick today,” Carlos commented with a grin.

Pierre chuckled. “Hey, you can’t blame the guy. He’s head over heels. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

Rebecca leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Honestly, if Charles keeps this up, he’s setting a new standard for boyfriends everywhere.”

Kika nodded. “Right? Imagine being loved like that every single day.”

Carlos feigned a pout. “You two better not start comparing us to Charles. We’ve got our own charm, you know.”

Rebecca smirked. “Of course you do, cariño. But admit it, Charles has set the bar high.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Charles and Yn returned to the group, hand in hand. Yn looked flushed but happy, and Charles had an unmistakable look of pride on his face.

“Have you finished your impromptu photoshoot?” Pierre teased.

“For now,” Charles replied easily, pulling Yn closer to his side. “But only because I have the most beautiful subject to work with.”

Rebecca and Kika let out matching “awws,” while Carlos rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, man.”

“Good,” Charles shot back with a grin. “You should all treat your girlfriends like queens.”

Pierre raised his glass. “Touché. To queens and whipped boyfriends, then.”

Everyone laughed, clinking their glasses together. The day carried on with more laughter, playful teasing, and plenty of love in the air. As the sun began to set over the Riviera, Charles leaned into Yn’s ear and whispered, “Every moment with you is perfect. You know that, right?”

Yn looked up at him, her heart swelling. “And you make every moment feel like a dream.”

For Charles, there was no teasing in the world that could make him care. Yn was his everything, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

+18

𝓔𝔁 𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓗𝓛!𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓲𝓼…

a ruthless enforcer who’s not afraid to get into a fight. Rafe’s an enigma. He only lets his guard down for a handful of people. To everyone else, he’s intimidating and cold

dressed in athleisure always, unless it is date night or game day. Cozy joggers, sweatshirts, v-neck t-shirts, and backward hats. He takes off his gold rings for games, but he never takes off his signature gold chain.

particular about his hair. He has a modern mullet with a longer fringe. He's always perfectly “undone,” removing his helmet and brushing his sweaty bangs off his pretty, chiseled face.

awful at dealing with his emotions. He has a temper—one that lands him in the penalty box often. It’s always a risk mic’ing him up because the NHL never knows what he’ll say.

an expert shit talker, chirping constantly. He loves getting in his opponent's head in any way, whether verbal or physical.

strong. Between ice time and workout, he's ridiculously cut. Thick forearms, massive biceps, deep abs and v-lines, and muscular thighs. Sometimes, he catches himself being too rough, but you swear you can take it.

so good at texting. He never fails to give you the butterflies when he’s out of town— sending you pics and texts just to let you know he's thinking about you.

a sweet talker. His favorite pet names are Baby, Princess, and Pretty; always laced in that deep southern drawl.

touchy. His hands are always on you: grabbing your hips, wrapping his big arms around you to give you a hug

posessive... He loves telling you you're his and hearing you say it.

an ace at the game. He’s known for being rough and tumble but has good hands and outstanding stats.

really, really good with his hands in more ways than one. His big hands can make you a wet mess in record time.

rich, and he loves spoiling you.

unreal in bed and his stamina is insane.

a sharp dresser. Rafe always shows up on gameday with a new designer suit. His favorite is an all-black Gucci suit.

soft around you. He's still rough around the edges, but he can't stay mad at you for anything, and you'd always get your way even on the little things, so much so that you'd tease him for it, which made him melt because “who the hell else teases him?”

always hurt. Walking around with a busted lip or a shiner.

a playboy - he was a fuckin’ dog before he met you, and those old habits were hard to break

always in his head. You're the one that got away, and he thinks about it often.

protective as hell. He checks on your socials nightly, making sure you’re okay

a jealous fuck. He’ll sabotage anyone who even looks your way without a second thought

thoughtful. He sends you your favorite flowers and that designer purse you had your eye on when you were together, waiting by his phone to see if you’ll give him anything even just a “thank you, Rafe” and he’d be more than satisfied

observant. Especially when it comes to you… He remembers everything: your coffee order, from the drinks the two of you would grab from your favorite cafe before the game. It's a little pregame ritual that he let you be a part of. He remembers your favorite songs, which is also part of his pregame routine. He loved going for a drive, listening to music, and hearing you sing along with your favorite songs, most of which he didn't know and didn't care to know; he just liked hearing your voice. He also remembers the smell of your signature perfume, the sweet elixir stamped into his memory. One of his college sweatshirts you wore the last night you were together is folded up in his drawer, and it still smells like you.

hopeful. He always sets a ticket aside for you just in case he runs into you before the game and you agree to come.

always looking around for you. At your favorite coffee shop before the game or places, he knows you’ll love, hoping to “run into you.”

reckless with his cash. Rafe went on a spending spree since cocaine wasn't an option: cars, watches, jewelry, trips, anything and everything to get his mind off you.

aggressive on the ice. Especially after your breakup, known for playing dirty. Samming bodies against the glass, throwing gloves for next to nothing, breaking sticks to get out his last bits of aggression before crashing down on the bench, burying his head in his gloves, only to go back out on the ice and crash out again.

humbled by his co-captain. He’s the only one who knows how much Rafe was affected by the breakup. He lets him know he needs to figure his shit out because it’s hurting his game and the team.

lonely. He dreads post-game losses because you were his anchor, someone who could ground him— focused more on how he was feeling versus the “game-talk” he gets from everyone else. At first, he hated it, but now he craves it, trying to remember those conversations and the sweet words you said on his drive home

really lonely… He hasn't been with anyone since and doesn't want to which is unheard of for him.

determined to win you back, which means that he’ll have to talk about all the shit he’s feeling, whichnhe knows is for the best. He’s trying to be the man that he knows you deserve.

[sanguineterrain]

hii this is my first time requesting sth so i hope its okay. what about spencer dating a reader who is asexual or takes a long time to be comfortable with intimacy but people are always asking if he’s getting any and reader feels like she isn’t enough

if not that’s totally fine thank u anyways

(this isn’t self indulgent wdym)

Thanks for requesting lovely. you are definitely not alone in feeling this way 🩷

fem!reader. you feel insecure after derek makes a harmless joke about how often you and spencer meet for lunch

****

Spencer forgets to eat lunch.

It's just a fact. He doesn't always forget, but he forgets enough for you to meet him for lunch when you can or shoot him a reminder text.

Today, you have a day off, so you decide to visit. Spencer tells you he'll meet you at the entrance so you don't have to go through security and get a visitor's badge. You think it's a little ridiculous that you have to do that every time, but according to Spencer, it doesn't take much time at all for people to become a danger to others and themselves.

Not that I think you would do that! he's always quick to add. You adore him.

He gets off the elevator with Agent Morgan. You watch as they approach and Morgan sees you, then claps Spencer's shoulder.

"Oh, so this is where you disappear to for lunch," he says, wrinkling Spencer's shirt. You can tell Spencer notices right away and is mildly annoyed. He shrugs his friend off.

"What're you talking about?" Spencer asks, pursing his lips.

Agent Morgan grins. "How many lunches out do you need, Reid? Seems like you're always forgetting food. 'S not like you."

Spencer looks at him, brows furrowed. "I need one a day, according to the general medical opinion. And my lunch breaks aren't that long."

You suddenly feel queasy.

"Uh-huh." Agent Morgan just grins that sly grin. "Don't be too long. Have fun, you kids."

You walk out. Agent Morgan goes the opposite direction of where you parked your car. Spencer's warm hand squeezes your arm affectionately.

"Hi," he says. "I actually brought lunch today, I just wanted to eat with you, so I lied and told everyone that I don't have lunch so we can be alone."

"Sweet of you." You voice is thin.

"Are you okay?"

You try to keep walking, but hello! Behavior analyst boyfriend alert. Spencer gently tugs you to stop and face him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, forehead crinkled in concern. "Your voice has a tremor."

"Did you tell Agent Morgan that we have sex during your lunch breaks?" you ask, folding your arms.

"What? No, I don't—no!"

"Because I know I've been making you wait, Spencer, and I know I keep saying I'll be ready at some point, but it's really shitty if you're telling people that I stop by just to give you head in your car or something."

Spencer's mouth opens and closes a couple of times in genuine, horrified shock, like when he'd found you hunched over the toilet in pain months ago during a bad stomach flu, and you realize then that you're way off the mark.

How could you think that? Of course Spencer wouldn't do that to you.

"Spencer, I'm—"

"I would never say or imply that. I don't even—I'm not mad or resentful of the fact that we haven't had sex, okay? I wouldn't care if you never wanted to have sex. I don't date you because I'm hoping to 'hit it and quit it.'"

You both cringe at his choice of words. Spencer sighs. "Okay, never using that phrase again. But it's true. I'm not waiting you out, and I'm definitely not talking about us having or not having sex to anyone at work." He shudders. "My living nightmare."

"I'm sorry. You're right, you wouldn't say that. I know you wouldn't. You wouldn't tell people even if we were having sex."

Spencer shakes his head emphatically. "Of course not."

Of course not.

"Then why did Agent Morgan imply that we were leaving to do it on your lunch break?" you ask unhappily.

"He was implying that we were sneaking off to have sex?" Spencer asks. "Are you sure?"

You frown. "Yeah, Spencer. He was teasing you about taking long lunches and always going out with me because..."

He nods in understanding. "Oh. That's... weird. Okay. I'll tell him not to say that stuff. I'll say that it bothers me."

You rub your arms self-consciously and turn your body away from Spencer. "It's not that weird for him to think, though. I do stop by a lot. And you're a young guy. Other guys your age probably visit their girlfriends during lunch and do that."

Spencer raises his eyebrows. "That seems excessive. And risky. And highly unsanitary. And uncomfortable. And—"

"Okay." You laugh a little. "I get it, Spencer. You're not like other guys."

"Story of my life."

"I guess I'm not really like other girls either," you say. "Having sex on your lunch break is probably more normal than dating for six months and never having sex."

Spencer frowns. "There's no such thing as normal. There's socially accepted behavior and opinion and laws and a bunch of made up crap that a lot of people are too afraid to challenge. I'm about the furthest from normal that you can get."

Your mouth flattens. "You're not bad, though."

"Exactly!" Spencer kisses your cheek, startling you. He doesn't often initiate kisses, preferring to show affection in his own way. You don't mind when he does kiss you though.

"Exactly," he says. "And neither are you. I doubt that how you feel about sex is so unusual. But even if it was, it wouldn't make a difference to me. It's how you feel, and I respect it. If I had a problem with it, we wouldn't be dating."

You glance down the block, at the building entrance. "But people might talk."

"Derek wouldn't," Spencer says firmly. "He jokes, but he would respect this if I told him to."

"It's not him, Spence, it's just..." You shake your head. "I've hit a stumbling block with every guy I've dated because they thought I was a prude, a tease, frigid. One guy said I needed shock therapy."

"I don't think that," he says softly. "I don't think any terrible things about you for feeling this way."

"No? You haven't tried to profile me based on my aversion to intimacy?"

Spencer's face scrunches with sadness. "No. You're my girlfriend, not a suspect. This isn't something I have to diagnose. I love you. I like spending time with you. Please don't think that I don't have the capacity to know what I want in a relationship. You don't have to be suspicious of me. I have nothing to hide about how I feel."

"People might think something's wrong with you for dating me," you say.

Spencer shrugs. "So what? People already think something's wrong with me. Doesn't mean they're right. I currently hold the record for the longest relationship in the BAU, besides Hotch. I'm the winner."

You sigh. Everything you throw at Spencer about how he should run while he can, he has a response for.

You might just give up and keep on letting him love you without any strings attached.

"Have I convinced you?" he asks. "I'm really good at debating."

"No kidding," you say. "I'm surprised you didn't become a lawyer."

"Hotch says there's still time." Spencer smiles. "Wanna go to that Thai place three blocks from here?"

Spencer loves the Thai place. It's one of his safe restaurants. You like it too, mostly because of how much Spencer likes it. And you trust his recommendations. He always checks the health inspection grade before eating somewhere.

"Don't you have lunch?"

"I have a peanut butter sandwich in my desk and I'll probably stay late. It'll keep."

"Okay." You lean in and kiss Spencer. He responds immediately, stroking your cheek with his thumb. The tenderness overwhelms you.

"You're really nice," you whisper.

"You deserve a nice boyfriend," he says. "And Chicken Satay. I'll get you both."

You link your arm with his as you begin to walk.

"Is six months really the record?"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it."

[endereies]

A TOUCH I CAN TRUST - MS

No Nut November - Day 24

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ A painting brings some old memories to light when you and Matt visit the museum (sexual assault mentions - tw)

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, like it was staring back at you. You knew why.

It was so perfectly manicured, each brushstroke airbrushed to perfection. A gorgeous woman stood slightly of centre, staring at the viewer. Long brown hair that flowed past her chest and down to her hips was neatly pushed behind her ears. Even so, it left a small gap where her collarbone showed through, the highlight evident with pure titanium white. Her dress was one similar to one in your own closet, a sweet ivory. A few plaid lines just below the sewed in corset. The only difference was that this was longer, stretching to her ankles. She didn’t feel beautiful, anyone could see that on her face. The vibrant white stood against the muted colours once more, presenting a single tear. Why cry when one is so beautiful, so modest.

The man made that clear. He was centred in the frame, stood proud and confident. He was meant to be there. His hair was less neat than hers, a few curls tossed around his face. Positioned behind her, his hands grip her hips, bunches of clothing bundled around his hands. He was a man of power, the sprays of purple in his suit showing it. Proudness shone over his expressions, a mindset that was common.

That’s when you saw it, the red tints over the wrong parts of them. It wasn’t obvious unless you looked close enough, the slight pink in her clothing. Like a poorly covered mistake. Mistake? It covered her neck too, thought to be poorly interpreted lighting. Maybe it was a poorly interpreted ‘no’. his hands were covered in it, too vibrant to be a shadow.

The closer you looked at her solemn face, the more it all morphed. Her features changed. A soft button nose turning sharp, the eye colour mixing with swatches, becoming muddy. He changed too. His hair wasn’t curly anymore which now illustrated all his features, all the wrong ones. It was too familiar to ignore. How could you ignore anything about the twin etched in oils?

Your own skin grew red as you kept scratching at it, the same areas he did, begging you to ‘sit still’. Swallows grew dry in your throat, making you almost gag on the dry feeling. You just couldn’t look away. The background was blank, but the painting moved so it couldn’t be avoided. Moving your hands away from your body didn’t help, they only went to your lips, a silent barrier between your imagination. The woman twitched through your glossed eyes. God, you hated calling her that. She had a name, she is a person, real or not. She may have been a creation, but don’t creations get given titles of meaning, of value? Why was she different? Why did her name have to be connected with her past?

You didn’t dare blink. If you did, not only would you cry but without a witness, she could get hurt. Don’t be ridiculous, she wasn’t real. You were. Who was watching you? Who was watching you, except him? He stared at you again, straight forward, taunting you.

Nothing helped you feel any better, not when he was there. You were too emersed in it to notice to hot tears that flushed your face. You understood the red, it tainted your own skin. Was it comforting that someone else felt the same as you?

“Sweetheart…?” Honey seeped into your ears, soothing the tremors like a sore throat. One look at the painting and he understood, he’d seen this piece before. It was a main headline on the museum’s website when he booked tickets here. He knew the meaning and it’s all too familiar comparisons. It was easy to piece from there.

Matt didn’t want to startle you with his touch, he learnt that quickly. He needed you to ease into it,  but it was hard if you didn’t know it was there to begin with. On a whim, he lightly feathered your arm, a place he didn’t know to be a trigger. Yet you still reacted.

Your body was jolted out of thought, the clench of your eyes making another tear fall. It didn’t matter that it was in public, it mattered that it was happening. Every part of you wanted to soften your body but it was just so stiff.

“Hey, breath, it’s just me, okay? Do you want to hold my hand.” Through the anxiety you sprung to grip his hand, your longer nails almost forcing into Matt’s skin. The curls of his hair returned, there was safety in Matt. He was a little shorter too. He wasn’t the same.

“Here, I just want you to relax” He didn’t dare touch you anymore than what you allowed, so he shifted his body so not only weren’t you no longer looking at the painting, but people also couldn’t look at you. “You’re safe, no one is going to hurt you.”

His comments just drew you closer to him, away from everything else. It was too much to try and focus on anything else. Why did you have to react so pathetically?

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” You scrapped any coherent syllables together.

“I know sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” You moved a hand to wipe your face, freeing your sight.

“I thought I was better, thought I moved on…” your body shrunk into itself, a shell of what you were fifteen minutes prior.

Matt’s soul crushed itself at your words, they stung so deep knowing that was how you thought of yourself. “You are better, this whole process isn’t linear, I’d be surprised if it was. You’ve come so far, kid, and I’ve seen it first-hand. You’re so amazing and you’re so strong. But you don’t have to carry this weight alone. Why don’t be grab something to eat so you can relax?”  

“Yes please, thank you…” Matt replied with a squeeze of your hand, a silent sign of his devotion to you, a touch you could trust.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckers @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @zariyamitchell-blog @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @slutf4rmatt @flouvela @lovesturni0l0s @2prcntmilkluvr @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 !

— pairing; floyd leech x ramshackle! reader.

— summary; you serenade floyd (terribly), but he loves it, and the ensuing chaos.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s a quiet night at Night Raven College, and the students are all getting ready for bed.

❋ Well, everyone except for you.

❋ And Grim.

❋ And Ace.

❋ And Deuce.

❋ The four of you are currently clustered outside the Octavinelle dorm, and you’re holding onto a bouquet of roses (stolen from the Heartslabyul gardens) with a white-knuckled grip, trying to psych yourself up into confessing to Floyd and just getting it over with.

❋ It’s not working.

❋ You’re this close to chickening out and leaving, but Grim isn’t about to leave after all his “hard work”.

❋ In between a series of deafening yowls, Grim loudly professes your love for Floyd, and Ace and Deuce take that as their cue to play. Ace drums on some borrowed pots and pans with a ladle and a spatula, and Deuce awkwardly attempts to strum a guitar he borrowed from Cater.

❋ A light is flicked on in one of the dorm rooms, and who should open the window but none other than Floyd Leech. He’s uncaring of the late hour, if the wild, sharp grin on his face is anything to go by.

❋ “Shrimpy! Are you confessing your undying love? Do it louder! I want everyone to hear!”

❋ His encouragement only makes the “band” double down on their serenade, much to the horror of anyone sane in the dorm.

❋ Such as Jade.

❋ Who currently shares a room with Floyd.

❋ Groaning at the rude awakening, Jade buries his head into his pillow, muttering about the late hour and how he needs his rest (not to mention a better roommate). He’s already plotting to make excessively loud noises in their room tomorrow at the crack of dawn as payback.

❋ As the sound of horrendous singing continues and the noise reaches new, ridiculous levels, a frazzled-looking Azul finally bursts out of his dorm room in his pyjamas, complete with a black, feathery robe and plush octopus slippers. The pitter-patter of his feet is quick, and his nostrils flare in exasperation as he takes in the chaos before him.

❋ “WHAT is going on here?! Do you have any idea what time it is?!” His glasses are slightly askew, and he’s clearly on the verge of losing it. “CEASE THIS RUCKUS AT ONCE, OR I WILL BAN YOU ALL FROM THE MOSTRO LOUNGE FOR LIFE!”

❋ All of you are quick to scramble away before Azul can make good on his threat.

❋ Meanwhile, Floyd sneaks out of his dorm to meet you, and he catches up before you can go too far. For a moment, his grin softens as he steps closer, eyes glinting when you present him with the stolen roses.

❋ “This was your idea, huh?” He teases, his voice uncharacteristically sweet, and a genuine fondness in his gaze. “Heehee! You look so cute when you're embarrassed, Shrimpy! Next time I’ll serenade you ~”

❋ Floyd’s true to his word; he shows up at Ramshackle in the dead of night the very next day, strumming wildly on a lute he has absolutely no idea how to play.

❋ Which is probably just as well, considering that Azul and Jade have banned you from entering Octavinelle after 10 p.m.

[fawnhart]

SHORT N’ SWEET ! ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

pairings. drew x bambi!reader

warnings. tooth rotting fluff

authors note. I hope you guys like it!🪽Sorry for not updating a lot but I haven’t been super inspired lately and I just decided not to force myself to push stuff out if its not genuine </3

The snow drifted gently outside the windows of bambis brownstone, dusting the building in white, quiet, and peace.

Inside, the air smelled like warm vanilla sugar cookies, the kind that made you feel safe and cozy. Soft candlelights flickered against the walls, casting a sweet golden glow over the room, books like “indiana” and “La muse et l'écrivain” were scattered across a baby blue couch adorned with delicate, lacy pillows.

Ms. Mocha, her new kitty, curled up on one of the pillows closest to the heater, lazily batting at the fraying edges.

"Okay, I’m really freaking excited about this," Bambi said, pulling a pink, glittery panda face mask from the bag. She had pure excitement and mischief in her doe eyes, the one that meant she’d found something utterly ridiculous and she just had to share it with her man who was sprawled under her on the couch, his big hands on her waistline.

To bambi He was the sexiest man alive in that effortless, cool way, but right now, he was looking at the panda mask confused.

“I don’t know, baby,” drew said, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice warm with affection but she could hear the hesitation.

not very cool

bambi laughed, holding it up between her perfectly manicured fingernails. "Come on, it’s so cute—" she pouted at him "Plus, it’s fun. Right Ms. Mocha?"

Drew glanced at the fluffy brown ball , who was still lazily watching them from the pillow. "Mocha s’not impressed." He said playfully rolling his eyes

“First of all it’s Ms. Mocha and second of all, she is impressed! What are you talking about?" Bambi shot back, pushing her pointer finger into his chiseled bare chest. “You promised you’d do whatever to make me happy, right?.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze to her. “I did, huh?”

Bambi leaned in, grabbing his face and pressed a long chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away. “Yes, you did. Now shut up and let me put this on you.”

Drew chuckled, knowing damn well he’d never really say no to his girl. Not when she looked at him like that, all warm and soft with the dim light playing over her features, rolling his eyes once more before leaning in for another kiss. “Alright, alright. For you, I’ll be a panda tonight.”

Bambi clapped her hands together and let out an excited squeal, it was one of those moments that made Drew’s heart soften in that way only she could do.

“Come on,” she said, already slipping the mask onto his face, “It’s cute! You’ll see.”

Drew closed his eyes and let her take over, she fumbled a little as she pulled the mask over his face, his cheeks getting red with the absurdity of it all when she handed him the baby pink hand mirror. “I look like a—“

"Sexy panda!" she said, voice muffled and amused “you look like a sexy panda” Bambi laughed

Drew caught her eyes, and despite the embarrassment of the moment, he couldn’t help but smile.

She looked so cute with the white-pink mask and the way her eyes sparkled even through the fabric. “dream girl” he thought

Her long silky hair was up in a sparkly claw clip after being tousled and wild from a long day of filming, in this quiet little bubble of time, with the snow falling softly outside and Ms. Mocha purring beside them, drew couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

“So,” he said, settling further into the couch, letting his head rest on one of the cozy pillows, “how to lose a man in 10 days?”

“Duh” Bambi slipped off his lap and grabbed the remote. "I can’t believe you’ve never watched it”

They settled in together, Ms. Mocha curling up between the two

Bambi snuggled closer as the opening credits of the movie began to roll, “I love you,” she said kissing his bicep that was secure around her shoulder and neck

Drew threaded their fingers together “I love you more bambi ”

© fawnhart

[fic-dumpster]

Deer in Headlights | Panic arrives at the office

Summary: Working as Sanzu’s secretary for a day wasn't so bad; he was rarely in his office, so you had to handle most of his paperwork and appointments. Where was he? Who knows…

Pairing: Bonten x F!Reader

Word count: 2.4k+

Content Warnings: Plot development, feelings with sprinkles of angst (eww), reverse harem, fluff, brief mention of violence and death. This is part of a series! Just adding that for new readers.

A.N: Finally freeing one of the old wips which I rewrote like five times because i couldn’t remember what I was doing. Anyway! Enjoy more of this never-ending series of unfortunate events surrounding Doe and her harem. K bye 💋

You asked Mikey if you could stay at their workplace longer since being at home was becoming duller and duller. He agreed, but as always when it comes to anything involving you, nothing happens in this household without a fight.

At first, Takeomi objected and would only allow this ridiculous idea if you were his assistant, then Kakucho added that he also needed help. But then backtracked. He remembered his position as an enforcer and didn’t want you to see him like… that— so yeah, discarded.

Meanwhile, Kokonoi laughed in their faces. mentioning how he was the one who spent more time sitting down on his desk— buried in paperwork— and that's why you should be with him. The safest option, according to him.

Surprisingly, the infamous Bonten trio had been quiet the whole time. Ran, Rindou, and Sanzu seemed very uninterested in acquiring you for help. Such a reaction from your pack of hyperactive golden retrievers left you puzzled.

Your incertitude didn’t last long. Later you found out that they didn't want you with them due to the nature of their jobs too, just like Kakucho earlier. The more gruesome parts of Bonten always fell on their shoulders as well.

Not soon after you heard Kokonoi explain their unusual silence, he also added a few extra details. Such details gave you the final push to decide who gets a new helping hand.

Kokonoi gave the longest speech you’ve ever heard him say about Sanzu. The silver-haired individual went on and on about Sanzu never submitting reports on damage, expenses, casualties, and a whole bunch of other desk work.

Sanzu argued that it was utterly ridiculous and unnecessary since everything would be destroyed by the next day. Still, you watched them ping-pong about such… matters for a while.

That's the main reason why you decided to choose Sanzu. And that's what you are doing right now. Sitting outside the door to the pinknette’s office in a new desk that Kokonoi insisted on arranging for you, even added a new desktop setup and all.

The whole morning was pretty calm. Kakucho came by and left some sweets for you, then Ran and Rindou took you out for lunch, and Mikey passed and snatched some of the sweets Kakucho gave you.

Everything seemed normal. it wasn’t until a little after noontime when the scorching sun hit the blinds that a shadow fell over your desk. Looking up from your papers, there stood a tall man—a dangerous-looking man, you might add. A distinctive tattoo was peeking from the neck of his well-tailored suit, strikes of blue and white adorned his hair. The alarms in your head activated for the first time since you were with Bonten. Which meant that danger was imminent.

He greeted you, although his gaze was not on you but looking at his surroundings. Observing and analyzing.

“I’m here to see Bonten’s numbers two,” that was all he said, not sparing you a second glance.

Panic settled in your guts. Sanzu never told you about a scheduled meeting, nor that someone might be asking for him today. You felt that denying something to this individual was not a good answer and how you wished you had followed your instincts.

“I’m sorry, Sir, he's not here at the moment, but you can-” You were cut short when, out of nowhere, a hand hit on your desk, sending papers and pens flying everywhere.

“Call him, then,” now he did pay attention to you, yellow eyes scanning every inch of your features, “or not.”

he stepped closer to your desk, somehow, you felt he was about to break the wood and glass with his palm still there. He then proceeded to bend over, just a little, to have a closer look at you. And it was like recognition hit him and his eyes seemed to acquire a playful glint, “I don’t think he would mind if his secretary keeps me company.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. You froze under his scrutinizing eyes. As still as you were, your fingers itched to bash the keyboard on his face. What was this slimy feeling covering you, overwhelming you? A sudden thought shot through your mind… you were no cheap whore.

That’s what you wanted to scream at him, at least. But you held back— or more like, you were out of options. The fact that he was standing inside Bonten’s building unharmed and without an escort spoke volumes about the caliber of this individual.

Why was such a short interaction setting off all your distress signals? Why was your throat screaming for air even as you breathe? Cold fingertips and a racing heart were the least of your worries at the moment.

Damn, Sanzu and his unorganized schedule and his lack of communication and… you would have continued to mentally berate him if the previously mentioned individual hadn’t stepped around your desk and offered you his hand.

“What do you say we take a walk?” As much of a question as it sounded like, your instinct told you that there was not really an option to decline.

“My boss wouldn’t like me leaving my position…” you articulated with gritted teeth. Against your best judgment, you tried to kindly refuse with an excuse involving Sanzu.

“I’m sure he would make an exception for me,” those were his last words before one of his hands steered you away from your just-acquired desk.

And that’s how you were now walking away from your new desk and going to who knows where. Every step was a scream you swallowed. Again you wondered, what was your instinct detecting from him that your consciousness couldn’t comprehend?

He mentioned his name was Taiju and that you should be careful working in such a precarious organization, such a feeble thing as yourself shouldn’t be exposed to an all-male environment and he kept going on about it.

This… Taiju individual placed his hand on your lower back. Dangerously low. Too low for your liking. So much so that you even hurried your step to create some distance but it was futile.

As if they had heard your silent prayers, Rindou and Kokonoi arrived just in time to see your back being led away from your supposed workplace. Both men felt like cold buckets of water had been thrown at them, blood freezing as a picture they never imagined possible now rose in from of their very own eyes.

You heard your name being called, well, almost screamed. The big guy halted his steps and you followed soon after, both turning to the screaming duo at your backs.

“You can’t take her.” Rindou asserted with a very forced smile, hands already on their way to reach you and bolt if necessary.

“Why is that?” The blue-haired individual inquired.

“Because she’s—“

“She’s my girlfriend!”

Both Rindou and Kokonoi spoke at the same time respectively, the latter with more urgency than the other but the message was clear enough. You were not to be taken away just like that.

“Oh? Congratulations! I never expected you to settle down, Hajime-kun. I thought you would be with Sei—“

“Nonsense,” quickly replied the silver-haired man before moving beside you and hastily pulling you towards his body; avid fingers replaced the previous hand on your lower back—gripping your skin tightly.

“Then why is she with Pinky? Shouldn’t you be taking better care of your women?” Taiju bellowed, eyes analyzing how his old acquaintance held you with so much affection and care. It was clear to anyone witnessing the two people in front of him, how Kokonoi was desperately but subtly in a hurry to erase any trace of Taiju’s touch from you.

“Yeah, Koko, you should take better care of your woman,” Rindou added, internally biting his cheeks to stop himself from laughing at how unexpected of a reaction his colleague had. Forgotten was the panic no soon you were in his fellow member’s arms. Now he decided to play along just for the laughs.

Meanwhile, you were face-pressed against a hard chest and an expensive button. You would have an imprint of Koko’s button on your face, you thought as you silently groaned in frustration; but eternally grateful for their opportune interruption.

“I am,” Kokonoi sent death glares towards Rindou who seemed to forget where you had been a minute ago. He cursed his fellow member’s fish brain. Sending a nod to his old acquaintance, Koko mumbled a hurried goodbye and disappeared with you in his arms.

The remaining two were left standing, watching silver locs wave like a cape.

“That’s an… interesting character development, I must say.”

“He’s pussy whipped,” the purple head commented, dismissively as he took Taiju toward his own office. Of course, the pot calling the kettle black. Well, Rindou talked from first-hand experience.

How does he tell you that he panicked? How does he tell you that you might not have been in danger, but his mind refused to understand? How does he explain his actions when they are not consistent with how he always treats you?

Kokonoi Hajime knows it doesn’t make sense what he did or what he’s feeling. It had nothing to do with Taiju but everything to do with you.

He sat in silence with you on his lap, arms wrapped around you tightly as his mind circled over his latest silent outburst. Sanzu’s office wasn’t the coziest place but it would have to work for now.

Air was something you certainly knew you needed in order to live. You hoped you didn’t have to remind Koko of that fact as he kept tightening his grip as time passed.

Up and down, your eyes gazed over his side profile. The few details you could see from your perspective—face harshly compressed against him—seemed to suggest he was not here completely. The lost look he wore was new to you.

“Koko?” You mumbled curiosity and worry mixed together within you. After a while, the odd silence didn’t quite sit well with you. “Koko?” You called out his name for a second time, squirming in his constricted grasp in an attempt to get his attention.

“Hum?” He seemed lost as he hummed a response. Slowly blinking away whatever thoughts had captured him for the last several minutes.

You knew talking things with him was hard, you didn’t wanna say the wrong things and make him lock you out. That’s why you had waited in place, letting him process whatever happened in the hall. It was so uncharacteristic of him to claim you in public or even touch you in front of others. You had expected Rindou to make a scene but never from Kokonoi.

After another prolonged silence, you went for the safest route. Asking for the only phrase that stuck with you. “So I’m your girlfriend?”

“Of course, you are, dummy,” he whispered with a dry chuckle; cradling your head against his chest—not once did his grip loosened. You felt words weren’t needed at the moment, something told you just to be there for him.

Kokonoi wanted to reaffirm you were real, you were still there, you weren’t a product of his mind… like his younger self used to imagine.

Maybe that was it? The image of you simply walking away; your back facing him tormented him now. He felt like his old self again, the one who lost so much and the little he was left with he kept it under a thousand locks. His mind and body remembered the devastating events and the pain… the pain of having something so dear to you again and how easy it was for life to take everything away in the blink of an eye.

Fear paralyzes. That’s when he realized he was afraid, but also… in love. Love doesn’t make sense; it’s the only part of the equation he could never calculate accurately.

He was so in love, that he acted out of character—vulnerable and raw. Only you had been able to bring that back out from the innumerable hard shells covering his heart.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You might not know that your words were just what he needed. Saying whatever was at the tip of your tongue has always been a talent of yours.

“Thank you,” he said softly, unwavering. you both stayed intertwined in the coach until darkness fell.

Somewhere in Japan near an abandoned port.

“You did this on purpose, did you not?” Mochi accused the pink-haired man after checking the message Rindou had sent to the group chat.

“Dunno what you mean,” rebuked Sanzu.

ah, so feigning ignorance now, was it? Mochi sent him a questioning gaze. “Sanzu…”

“It’s a sign that she wasn’t supposed to be there. She’s perfectly safe at our place and I don’t need help with paperwork.” He nonchalantly told Mochi. “Hey! Roll out the tarp! I don’t want any mess here!” Sanzu bellowed at the henchmen around him.

“Nah, I agree. You knew.” Ran taunted him, walking toward the now laid-out tarp. “You knew at what time Koko was going to check on her with Rindou and Taiju just magically went straight to your office with no problem? Ha, right.”

Kakucho heard the conversation and nodded in agreement with Ran. Bonten’s enforcer would have engaged in the accusation party but three cold bodies rested at his feet and nobody else seemed to have his mind on the job at the moment. He barked orders to the footmen who were taking too long to move the deceased.

“No, it was Takeomi.”

Every Bonten member perked up at the information their leader was providing them with. Takeomi froze in place as four pairs of eyes focused on him. Mikey on the other hand, sat a top of a wooden pallet tower; munching carelessly on some snacks.

“Well, now it makes sense. It was too much of a good plan to be yours.” Ran commented out loud with a laugh.

“Excuse me? I was part of the plan!” Argued Sanzu like a hissing kitten.

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t know?”

Sanzu looked at Mochi with exasperation as the sound of something heavy hitting the plastic tarp resonated in the background.

“You approved, though,” mentioned Takeomi who was standing close to Mikey.

“Sometimes it’s better to let a bird clash against the glass. It learns that sometimes no matter how clear the path looks, you can’t always fly at your heart’s content.” Mikey said as he dusted off the remaining pieces of crackers from his dark shirt. “And eventually… it won’t fly in that direction ever again.”

“And Koko?” Mused Kakucho joined the two men conversing.

“He needed a push in the right direction. He’s as hardheaded as always.” Chuckled Takeomi before tasking a drag of his cigarette.

[zombyjuice]

nights like this —- jj maybank. 🐶🪽🌸☀️

when jj has a crush on a kook but not just any kook.

season one jj i miss you. smut smut smut smut.

i haven’t written in so long wth !

playlist

—————————————————————————

“Mom! That's not fair; Kie gets to stay up all night with those boys, but I can’t have a simple sleepover with my friend." You huff, closing the refrigerator door. "Y/N I will figure that out later. That has nothing to do with this; remember you're grounded." You roll your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that’s ridiculous mom, so what? I brought in a stray cat...”

“and dog, bird, oh yeah, and a SPIDER too, you know I’m scared of those,” she frowns and lowers her tone at the end; you stifle a laugh. “Also that piercing.” Your smile fades away quickly. “It’s a nose piercing! Be glad I didn’t get the lip ... yet. Your mom coughs on her water a bit and slaps your head. “Go. Go!” 

“gladly” throwing your hands in the air and rushing to leave the house bumping into no other than kiera “your introublee” you push past her and she huffs getting prepared for her mothers nagging voice.

You and Kie are twins yet almost nothing alike. Kie is the “stronger one.” She’s louder and more outspoken than you, more chaotic, and not as friendly but caring and kind just like you. You’ve always been a calm, peaceful, gentle soul, bubbly and sweet, feeling everything to the core and loving deeply and strongly, quick to stand up for your friend and not yourself, but as you grow, you find your voice more and more. You both have a little bit of each other.

jj had a thing for kie, but it was more like he had a thing for a lot of girls and especially you, well, mostly you. He tried not to since, unlike Kie, you hung out with the Kooks, and to them, it seemed like the kook year Kie experienced, you got stuck in, and, well, we know how JJ feels about the Kooks, but gosh … he couldn’t help it.

He noticed things about you that typically other people would point out as weird, at least to the people of Outer Banks, but JJ would say it’s different, a breath of fresh air even. You had pretty, dyed, curly hair and somewhat fair skin that’s always sun-kissed and the prettiest makeup that made your puppy eyes pop, and he noticed the way each piece of jewelry or how you did your makeup was an expression of you on the inside and matched or complimented you perfectly, almost like everything you wore was meant and made particularly for you; he noticed how everything depicted a phase in your life, whether good or bad, and he noticed you even had a palette: teals, greens, yellows, and what suited you the most, pink. You had different pieces of clothes; he could tell you didn’t shop where the rest of the kooks shopped, and he loved your staple piece, your short shorts, and everything hugged you so well. to say the least, he noticed things he had never noticed in anybody. He became so detail-oriented, and he couldn’t understand why he noticed everything about your beautiful, soft soul. 

“Oh, J, hey, you smile softly, waving at no other than JJ. “Hey, princess, still too cool for us?” He smiles smugly, taking his hat off. “Pft, shut up. What are you doing here?” You eye him while you continue to walk, him following closely behind. “Yeah, you know, I just came to drop off your sister, fulfilling my duties as soon-to-be boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrow at this and stop in your tracks, causing him to bump into you as well. “Damn—” 

“You? and Kiara? I thought she had, like, a thing for John B." You say, questioning his intentions, “Yeah, maybe. I dunno... Why do you care?" He rolls his eyes as if he won an argument you guys aren't even having; you chuckle and continue to walk with him at your side. “I don’t care! I’m just asking a question on the topic; I can’t ask a question? about my sister?” You nudge at his shoulder, and he smirks, staring down at you. “Yeah, whatever, princess.”

“so where are we going?” “i’m going away from you asshole.”

—-

“Hey Dad, hey Mom, where’s Kie?” You sigh, putting everything on the counters and going to give them kisses on the cheek. “In her room getting ready… She’s punished, and she has to bring you to hang out with those pogues.” You cringe. “Wow, what a great punishment! and Pogue's mom, really, what a dumb name. That’s just so dumb it makes me mad." You say quickly, making your mom chuckle, “Yeah, yeah.” 

You didn't mind this happening more often, and you're open to hanging out with anybody you like, Kie's friends, especially JJ. It's like you're a part of them but just not all the way, not willing to give up your friendships with certain people over a dumb name.

You make your way up the stairs and into your room, making sure to shout a quick “Hurry up!” to Kie in the process. In your room, you try and get yourself a little dolled up. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s for JJ. You wanted weird things when it came to him, like you wanted him to think you’re pretty or… take off your clothes, but that’s a different story. 

You found everything JJ did so interesting, and you always wanted to get to know him more, but more than ever, you felt connected with him, like he was a part of you. When you saw him, your heart softened, and you wanted to just kiss all his worries away. You could tell he was sad, but he brought light to whatever darkness he was around, just like you. 

You giggle thinking about his goofy antics and fix up your makeup and hair. putting it up and continuing everything else you put on a cute but comfy outfit with your favorite low-rise Converse with pink laces and spraying a perfume that smells almost of laundry detergent, your favorite smell.

and you leave and wait for Kie on the porch. As the door flung open, you start walking towards your bike and Kie in front of you. “Hey, uh, where are we going anyway?” and Kie looking strangely tense. smirks, “Keege time, baby.” She slaps on the bike and hops on.

You smile a bit and shrug. What happens, happens.

—-

You already know the drama that’s about to unfold, and maybe, just maybe, you're secretly excited. especially as a kook hanging out with her kook sister who’s hanging out with her Pogue friends.

“Okay, here we are; gimme your bike.” You gladly hand it over to her and start your walk to everyone. 

“Hey, is that Y/N?” John B ran up to you. “Wassup? Haven’t seen you in a while, dude. Come help; we’re just starting everything. C’mon, Kie!” 

You look behind him to see Pope waving and JJ stupidly saluting you; you try and hide your smile, making your way towards them. “Hey, Pope,” you say softly, giving him a hug. “Hi, Y/N, I’ve missed doing your work in class. You know you could really—” JJ lets out a loud sigh and throws his hat at Pope's head. “Dude! Leave me alone!” He grabs at his hat and throws it back, and you giggle. “Hi, asshole.” JJ looks up at you and puts his hat back on and stands up from the huge branch. “What’s up, princess?” he smiles smugly, shoving his hands into his pocket. “I like this top; he pinches at it, and it slaps back on top of your skin, strangely making you blush and your stomach turn just a bit. You swat his hand away. “I don’t care. "Don't touch me?” you say in a teasing voice; you made him laugh. “Can you shut up? stop talking?” He started down at you and shoved you playfully, letting a giggle out, then a shriek, when he threw you over his shoulder and started running towards the water. “JJ, I’m going to kill you!” 

“Can they stop flirting it’s disgusting.”

—-

As everyone started to pile up, the more looks started to notice you on the other side, including Sarah, who gives you a… strange look. You can tell what she wanted to say: ‘What are you doing there with them?’ but you ignore it, continuing to talk with Pope about stupid stuff. “Okay, so why did NASA switch from the water to the shitty space dude? There are aliens down there.” “Define an alien right now, Y/n.” 

—-

It got darker, and more people came and went, and you could sense something was about to go down with the way Topper came up to JJ. You turn around to say goodbye to some guest. You turn around again, and boom! Topper and JJ are pushing each other around, John B trying to get in the middle. “Shit... idiot.” 

You quickly stand up and rush to the area. John B. now taking a blow from Topper and another guy trying to shove JJ, “Hey… hey! Get off him! J, come on, stop it!” You grab him by the shoulder, and it took him a second, but he listens. Surprisingly, you dust him off and look up at him. worry and concern all over your face, “Don’t do that, JJ; you can get hurt or hurt someone else.” If it weren’t for the fight happening just right next to you, JJ would want to kiss you, but he had to ignore the butterflies and your loving look, and he had to watch John B and Topper fight, ready at any moment to jump in. You turn your attention to Sarah, who’s screaming her boyfriend's name, and it all happened so fast. JJ is over Topper with a gun to his head; your eyes widen. “how the hell does he have that?” “JJ, stop it!” “Can you check your psycho friend?” Sarah shouts at Kie, who’s now next to you, “Can you check your psycho boyfriend?” You shout back, “Yeah, he tried to drown him!” Kie screams, “JJ, let go of the gun!” 

—-

“So you mean to tell me you found a crash. went onto it. found a key. decides, "Hey, let us go to this random hotel the day after a hurricane," finds money! a gun! then finds out it is now a part of an open investigation! your dirty, sticky fingerprints all over the place! and THEN you bring out that same gun! around a whole bunch of kooks, JJ, are you kidding me? How dumb can you be?" You shove your face into your hands. "I really don't feel like being lectured right now. He was going to drown him, Y/N/N. What else could I have done?" You look at him with a straight face. “Literally anything else.” 

“Whatever, dude! It happened already. What do you want me to do? Hold on. Why do you even give a shit? 

It’s still dark out, and you're outside by the hammock, JJ sitting down on the ground and you standing in front of him. Everyone else went home, and John B is inside.

“I don’t know, JJ, maybe because I care about you.” Your tone softens. “That’s really stupid; you can get in a lot of trouble,” you say, looking down. He stands up and makes his way towards you, feeling the tensions rising already with each step. You look up. “You’re lucky you’re so likable; you would’ve been in juvie by now.” He smiles and looks down at you. “I’m likable?” His tone lowers, and that stupid smirk is on his face, his stare heavy and his pupils blown out. “Well, I’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re a part of this now, so it looks like we’re both going to have to be stupid.” 

“Yeah?” You look up; he couldn’t take those eyes you give him. “Yeahh…” He smirks and runs his hands through his fingers, seemingly getting ready to get serious. “I, uh, I’ve missed you, Y/n like a lot. I missed you coming by my house and, you know, helping me when, you know, my dad... Yeah, when I needed someone the most. no one has ever done that for me, so willingly and i don’t know, im not crazy right, cause man it feels like you barely know me but yet know everything and i just want to-”

And without thinking, you throw your arms around his shoulder and pull him into a soft yet passionate kiss, his arms grabbing at your hips, deepening the kiss, leaving you breathless with every pent-up emotion and tension, all in the kiss.

You pull back for a second, catching your breath, his pretty eyes scanning your face. “You okay?” He asks softly, “Yeah,” you say back, taking a moment, his eyes on yours, and you blush. “I really like you a lot,” his eyes and his heart soften, but there’s this feeling of fear as well. “Me too.” And he quickly puts his lips back on yours; this time the kiss is more rough, leaving you breathless. Grabbing at your thighs, he swiftly lifts you up and carries you toward The Chateau. and straight into John B's spare room, laying you down on the bed, continuing the rough kisses, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Mm, you're so pretty, princess. He lifts your leg up so it’s hanging by his side, and he slowly grinds his hips into yours; you let out a strangled moan into the kiss. “Shit.” 

The window was slightly open, so the cold breeze of the night filled the room's air, cooling you guys down as JJ filled you up to the brim, the moon's light shining just enough so he could see the pretty faces you make with each slow and long thrust. His head goes down to your neck while he whimpers so softly, fighting back the urge to say the three most beautiful words he could only show it as fucks any bad feeling out of you. "Fuck, baby, look at you." 

"What a mess." His thrusts started to become rougher yet still slow, the sound of his skin slapping yours, wet and juicy. You tried to keep quiet, but he fucked you so good you couldn't even think, "Mmph, I can't take it, JJ, too good." You let out with a squeak as he got rougher and rougher, grabbing at your face and kissing you nice and slow. It all was so passionate your heart fluttered with every movement. You could tell the love and care he put into everything; you felt seen; you felt loved. 

"Yeah, baby? You like that? Come on, be good for me, cum." 

You let out a series of the cutest moans he's ever heard. and he felt you make a mess all over his dick as he fucked into you faster. 

"Good girl, baby, good fucking girl," he moans as he pulls out and cums all over your stomach; you whimper, feeling shy. "Come here; do you want more?" He lifted your jaw up to look up at him and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You nodded, "Yeah? You want more?" His smile widened. "Come here." 

He turns around so you're on your stomach but still somewhat on your side; he wants to be able to hit every spot. "Fuck, you look so good; look at that ass, princess." He slaps your ass, not too hard but enough to get you red; you squeal. "Please, JJ, please," you cry, just dumb on his dick; that's all you want.

He doesn't say anything or warn you; he just starts to fuck into you hard and fast. causing a string of cries and moans, "Fuck, look at you. I love seeing you like this, baby."

It was sloppy, and he was quick, but the tempo slowed down, and he grabbed at your hips, slowly letting you bounce on his pretty dick, watching your ass giggle with each bounce, and slowly letting you start to do it on your own. Watching you struggle turned him on in ways he couldn't explain. "We're going to go all night, princess, all night." 

[jhilsara]

Of Bookstore, Coffees, and Late Nights pt. 2

Sunshine!Reader/Southern!Reader/Plus Sized!Reader

Pairing: Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: A year after you meet Spencer and become friends, life continues to throw curve balls. A hot summer with a broken AC, another festive Halloween, and many of your southern quirks to keep Spencer's spirits high.

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: Canon typical BAU themes, sick family members, Mentions of Emily Prentiss funeral

Previous|Next

The one where Spencer cuts his hair   

Summer is so close and you’re already feeling the heat. To be fair, the giant windows don’t really help the temperature of the store when it’s been hours of the sun beating down. Or that the sun's staying up until your shift starts now. Unlike in the fall and winter when it’s dark by six in the evening. Your shift always starts so warm and humid, the electric bill is already skyrocketing and it’s not even July yet.  

Not to mention summer is the busy season outside of the holidays. So many students are free for the summer and pinning for activities. You sigh knowing you need to start planning for that.   

You're fanning yourself with a handheld fan when the doors chime open.   

“Welcome to the Midnight Owl, let me know if-” you cut yourself off with a loud gasp as you see who’s entered.   

“Spencer Reid, you cut your hair!” you hurry around the front desk counter to look him over.   

Spencer’s face lights up with an embarrassed flush. His hands wring the straps of his worn leather bag.    

“It was just getting too hot for the length...” He tries to justify.   

“No no no! It looks good! I’m just surprised is all.” you reply with a tease. your hand twitches and you stop yourself from ruffling his hair. His pout was enough to keep your teasing to a minimum.   

He scratches the back of his head nervously. Averting his gaze from your piercing eyes.   

You bite your lip holding back a snicker, you know he’s probably been teased all day, so you give him a break. You don’t know exactly what Spencer does for his job, but you do know he and his coworkers are close. So, you aren’t surprised that he already feels a little self-conscious. You're sure they teased him to death.   

“It looks great Spencer.” you say softer, “Very handsome.” you smiled in affirmation.   

If Spencer wasn’t red before he surely was now. His hands tighten on his satchel bag and his eyes quickly look down before shifting back up.  

“Thanks.” He murmured quietly.   

“You’re drinks on me today; you look like you’ve been teased enough.” you say making your way to the drink counter.   

“Thanks, you have no idea...” he replied with a roll of his eyes and a small smile turning his lips.  

Spencer looks around and notices the shop is pretty empty tonight, no regulars, just him. Not even a random patron perusing the isles. Even the music playing overhead seems quieter than normal. He’s a bit thankful for that.  

You're making his drink, which you are giving him your homemade sweet tea. It’s far too hot for his normal hot coffee, no matter what he protests. You’ve put enough sugar in the tea to satisfy Spencer’s sweet tooth. Plus, you’re not sure he’s ever had traditional sweet tea.   

You come around the corner and hand him a glass as well as one for yourself. You look over Spencer who’s standing in his work clothes, cardigan and all and you make a mild face of disgust.   

“It’s too warm in here for you to be wearing that. It’s gonna be hotter than hell this week and I need a better air conditioner unit.” Your accent seeps through every word and Spencer finds himself smiling into his drink before he can even bother to respond.   

“I see your face Spencer, I don’t wanna hear it about my southernisms.” you point an accusing finger at him. “I’m serious about how hot it’s gonna be. These windows make the whole store like a greenhouse!” you mumble in irritation.  

Spencer just finds himself laughing and shaking his head. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just a little ridiculous how the windows are the bane of your existence.”   

You roll your eyes and places your hands on your hips, “It’s not the windows, it’s summer.” you said the season like it’s personally offended her. Making a blegh noise along with it.   

Spencer raises a brow at that, “What did summer ever do to you?” he asked.   

You raise a brow, “Listen, you try growing up in the Georgia heat and humidity your whole life and you tell me how you feel about summer. Especially swamp ass, do you know what swamp ass even is Spencer?” you say in a huff.   

Spencer snorts and almost spits out his sweet tea. “Excuse me?” his voice pitches in disbelief.   

“It’s the foulest experience where you sweat so much it soaks down your back. So, imagine that every summer of your whole childhood.” you state with a face of disgust.  

Spencer can only find himself laughing at how intense you are.  

“I’m so serious, there’s a reason I moved away from the pit of Satan's armpit, okay?” you hiss out in mild annoyance.   

“I thought it was so you had better doctors for your dad?” he accuses with a raised brow.  

You shrug nonchalantly and drinks from your sweet tea again, “That too.”  

“Come on, it won’t be that bad. Besides you actively only get the sun in these windows for an hour, maybe two tops. You work the night shift.”   

You glare at him, it’s not serious, but Spencer is trying very hard not to laugh. “Go look at the thermostat then and tell me what is says versus what it’s on.” you demand gesturing to the wall behind you.   

He rolls his eyes at your dramatics but does as you’ve asked. Spencer walks behind to look over the temperature. “It’s on 78.”   

“Yeah? What is it set to Spencer?”   

“...68.” he murmurs.   

You slam your hands on the counter, “That’s a ten-degree difference! It’s too hot!”  

You slide dramatically to the ground and release a fake sob. “I’m gonna burn up in here, melt like the wicked witch of the west!”   

Spencer crosses his arms as he stands above you, “Maybe, have you thought of purchasing a box fan?” he questions.   

You look up at him, your eyes brimming with fake tears. He’s actually impressed by your commitment to this. You would have been a wonderful stage actress.  

“My last one didn’t survive the whole summer, and it only works if I stay behind the counter... Spencer you know I move around too much!” you whine.   

“Have you tried changing the unit filter?”  

You stop being dramatic and stand up quickly. “I just assumed Josie did... oh my god, I’ve never once looked at the filter.” you murmured.   

You excuse yourself to go into the back and check the closet. Spencer stays up at the front leaning against the desk, his arms crossed as he just shakes his head in disbelief.   

“Oh my good GOD! Eeeewww!!”  

You come bolting back around and grab your phone, quickly typing out a text message.   

“Spencer it’s pitch black I don’t think anyone’s ever changed it!” You look sick in the face; pale as can be.   

“Oh my god, I need to wash my hands, I didn’t even touch it, but Jesus Christ was that disgusting.” You quickly shuffle past him and go to the bathroom, scrubbing away at your hands.   

Spencer spends the next five minutes doubled over laughing at how dramatic you are. Until you makes him go look at the filter. Then he was the one scrubbing away at his own hands in disgust.   

He’s at least ninety percent sure he saw a moth staring back at him.  

-  

It’s July and you’re still suffering. While changing the filter of the bookstores AC unit helped, it still didn’t fix the greenhouse problem.   

You're at the front, box fan at your feet, fanning yourself with a hand fan, a giant cup of ice water from the cafe area, and you’re reasonably stripped into something comfortable, well, as much as you can be. Which is a sports tank and running shorts. It’s your store, you don’t care about an arbitrary dress code that you don’t enforce anyway. Besides, everything that needs to be covered is. You have a massive flannel shirt hanging off the back of your chair, just in case you think you need to be more modest.  

The store has been pretty hectic and busy since the summer season started, the events they’ve been hosting were popular. Not to mention the Pride event she threw in June, with a mini pop-up cocktail bar. That weekend it might as well have been almost a club. Not to mention the drag show you helped throw, or the drag performers reading for children in the day. Honestly June was festive as ever. Now though, halfway through July, it’s dead inside the store at night. July meant vacations, so all of your locals were at the beach or the mountains. Some even in Europe. So, your nights were uncommonly quiet, well, except for the occasional tourist and Spencer. Which he only visits when he’s free or can’t sleep. Which isn’t as much as you would like, but just because your sleep schedule sucks doesn’t mean you should wish it upon others.   

You don’t get too much free time to hang out with your friends anymore since co-owning the bookstore, but to be fair most of your friends were your coworkers. Besides that, all your other friends are still in Georgia. You could call them, and try to plan a time to visit, but life is hectic. With the constant doctor’s visits on top of your busy schedule with the shop, it’s rare you have time for yourself.  

In fact, the last thing you did was go out with your coworkers to go see Eclipse in theaters. Which while, fun, you haven’t been out for yourself in what feels like years. You try to brush off the too familiar feeling of dread creeping into your head. Your life really revolves around the bookstore and your dad.  

It just gets so lonely in the shop from time to time. You reach for your cell phone and open the notification from the family group chat. It’s a few photos of the beach from your sister and her boyfriend. You feel the wave of jealousy rising in your throat and pushing your phone away from you. It’s not Bridget’s fault you’re stuck working around the clock, but good lord, would you kill for a vacation. Just once, you would like to not spend your waking hours thinking about your dad’s health.   

You sigh and lean against the counter, arms dangling over dramatically.    

You take some solace in knowing your sister has at least been with this new guy for about a year now...which means that maybe you should remember his name. John? Jacob? Jackson? That sounded vaguely correct. To be fair your sister rarely kept a man around long enough to remember his name.   

Your phone dings again and you don't have it in yourself to even look. You want to be at a beach, or really anywhere else. You lift your head to check the clock and almost cry when you see it’s not even midnight.   

The shop's phone rings, and the noise is so loud it makes you practically jump out of your skin. You quickly pick up the phone, begging for something.   

“Hello, this is the Midnight Owl, how can I help you?” your voice chimes happily through the phone.   

“I hoped you were working; it’s Spencer.” His voice is soft, almost like he’s whispering.  

“Oh! Hey, I thought you were out on a job?” you asked.   

He hums in acknowledgement, “I am, I just,” he sighs, “I needed a break.”   

“Oh.” you lean casually against the counter. “Trouble in paradise?”   

He scoffs, “Something like that. It’s been a long day.” you hear how tired he sounds in his voice.   

“When do you come home?”  

“Hopefully tomorrow...” he whispers.   

“Have you gotten any sleep?” you ask softly. You shift and move to stand up a bit straighter, concern written all over your features.   

The silence from the other line tells you enough, he hasn’t slept much if at all. “Spencer...” you said his name in a slight disapproval, but your tone is soft at the edges.  

“I’ll sleep when I get home.” he said firmly.   

“Spencer, I’d feel better if you slept now .” you tell him, chastising him like a child.   

“Kind of hard with my job.” He jokes.   

“You never told me what you do? You see me at my job all the time. Kind of unfair if you ask me.” you tease him.   

“You don’t need to worry about it, it’s just stressful and involves a lot of traveling last minute.”  

“So vague, but I’ll accept it for now.”   

Spencer changes the subject quickly. “Are you reading the book I gave you?”   

“Changing the subject I see... but yes, I am. It’s getting me through the very lonely hours. It’s a ghost town in here...”you said.   

“Is it still hot?”   

“ Yes . If my hair wasn’t already pulled back, I’d think about cutting it off. It’s honestly miserable if I leave the safety of the fan. I’ve called someone to come look, it can’t be normal that it’s 80 degrees in here.”   

“How soon can someone come out?”   

“Not until next week.” you whine. “I’m tempted to just shove myself in the small walk-in freezer we have in the very back...I’m afraid it’ll lock me in though.” you joke.   

Spencer chuckles, “Maybe don’t do that. I’d hate to come back and you’re a popsicle.”  

He heard you gasp, “That’s it! We should sell popsicles next week. Spencer, you are a genius!” you exclaim.   

“Technically, yes I am.” he teases.   

“Shut up, just get home soon. I’m bored outta my mind here. I’m almost done with the massive book you gave me. That’s how bored I am.”   

You can almost see him rolling his eyes at you.   

“Noted, next time I’ll make sure to send someone to check on you.”   

“...Not funny.” You pout. You check the time; you’ve only been talking to Spencer for a little over an hour.   

“Where are you this time?” you asked.  

“Georgia...ironically enough.”   

“Ohhhhhh, south or north? Actually, it doesn’t matter. How is the humidity?" You sound all too enthusiastic to ask him.   

“...Wet.”  

You hum, “So I guess you’ve experienced the sweat pouring down your back into your ass crack?”   

“...I wouldn’t have phrased it like that, but yes. It’s been a sweaty week.”   

“Sweatin’ like a sinner in church as my daddy would say.” you add in a light playful tone.  

“Anyway, besides coffee the only thing I’ve had to drink is sweet tea. Which, while it is good, yours is better.” he admits.   

“You’re just trying to butter me up, and it’s working. What do you want?” you asked.   

He sighs, “Can’t get anything past you.”   

“Think of it as my own older sibling senses, it’s like a mom but better.”  you said casually.   

“Could you please pick up my mail? I haven’t been in my apartment for a few weeks. I’ve had back-to-back work trips.” he asks tentatively.  

You snort, “Of course I will, your apartments just down the street! What are friends for?”   

“I owe you.”  

“No, you don’t. You’d do the same for me. I’ll let you know if anything is a pressing matter.”   

“You know opening my mail is a federal crime, right?” He jokes.   

“Mmmm if you find out I went through it.” you tease.   

“Y/N-”   

“Relax! I’m just joking. Your mail will be waiting, unopened, when you come back tomorrow.”  

“Thanks, I have to go but, goodnight.”  

“Night Spencer.”  

As you hang up, you’re left with the overly warm bookstore and the quiet emptiness of it. You still have hours to go and can only hope someone comes to ease the boredom. You look down at the book Spencer lent and see the roughly two hundred pages left to read. You pick up your sticky notes and a pen and decide to finish it before seeing him again. It’s not like you have anything else to do besides sweat.  

You really hate summer.  

The one about Halloween (part 2 electric boogaloo)  

October is by far, one of, if not, your favorite months of the year. There’s something about the confirmation of the crisp air letting you know it’s finally that time of year. The leaves changing, the smell of apples, caramel, and pumpkin filling the bakery, it all makes you nostalgic for your childhood.  

You have so many memories of running through the backyard leaves with Birdie, carving pumpkins with your daddy and sewing makeshift costumes with your momma. You remember the year you hand sewed a cat tail onto a ballet leotard and how proud you were that you had done it all by yourself. You loved trick-or-treating with your baby sister and dragging her up to houses with scary themes. Bridget always cried but you knew how to make her see the silliness of it all.   

The wind reminds you of how you’d parade around the neighborhood with your friends and bike around the cul-de-sac. Your heavy flannel flapping behind you as you could smell the leaves and rain. You truly missed the biting cold chill air that came with the turn of the season and stores filling up with decorations. How you would wait all day long for your favorite movie to play on cable during sleepovers.   

You give a wistful sigh, maybe you just miss the last moments of when your family was still close, before it fell apart before your eyes. That last Halloween when you were thirteen was so fun, but it just leaves a weird sour taste in your mouth now, like a granny smith apple.   

The bitter feeling that creeps up your throat makes you nauseous. You need coffee... or a sedative.  

You’re just far too busy trying to keep the festive activities alive, to think about childhood right now. There is a trunk or treat to plan for the neighborhood block. All the small businesses were going to barricade off the road for trick or treaters the night of Halloween. You really needed to think of a theme to decorate the back of the shop's minivan. It offered so much potential; you wanted the theme to be fun but still bookish. Maybe it could be Harry Potter? It was festive enough and based on a children's book series.   

The costume wouldn’t be that hard either, you could easily dress as Hermione or any student really. All you needed was robes and a wand. Plus, you’re pretty crafty, you could easily make props for the car and get some tea lights.   

You shoot a text to the group chat of coworkers who want to participate and let them know the car theme will be Harry Potter.   

It’s a quick choice, but it’s fitting enough. One that’s easy to dress for too. You definitely have house robes from when your friends from home went to Universal Studios during opening weekend. It was a wonderful souvenir gift and belated birthday present that they had chipped in to give. A wonderful Hufflepuff robe and matching scarf. You wished you could have gone with them, but knowing they were thinking about you was enough.  

You try to come up with something else that needs to be done, any other activity to focus on for the store. You’d rather keep your mind busy than look at the sterile walls of the hospital you were in.  

Maybe that’s why you were being so nostalgic right now, it was easier to think of a happier time than where you are now.  

You look at the time and groan to yourself, you’ve been in the waiting room of the doctor’s office for the past hour, and you had no idea how long you were going to be there.  

Your nerves are shot, and your leg is still bouncing nervously. Your dad had finally agreed with his doctors that he needed to be in physical therapy twice a week. This is the first week he’s doing two sessions, and you wanted to stay this time. You're just worried, but you’ve always worried.   

The sad look the check-in nurse, Susan, gives you every time you come in fills you with such rage that you had to bite the inside of your cheek not to yell at the woman. You and your daddy didn’t need pity. He was sick, and it was your job to take care of him. You didn’t need pitiful looks. Pity didn’t pay the medical bills and they sure as hell weren’t going to cure your dad.   

You plug your ears with headphones and open your iTunes to listen to music. You just need a distraction. You dig around in your purse and pull out the new book you’re reading, Warm Bodies. Maybe getting lost in this weird retelling of Romeo and Juliet with zombies will help you pass the time. From the parts you’ve read you've found it pretty humorous. A fun little Shakespearean retelling. It was perfect for the spooky season anyway.   

You try to settle into the most uncomfortable chair and begin reading.   

You pass another gruelingly long hour that way, reading about R and Julie. Reading about this zombie man slowly regaining his humanity, his sense of self... it’s almost jokingly painful that you wish love could easily cure your dad as it does R.   

You suddenly remembered how much you hated Shakespeare.  

-  

It’s finally Halloween and you’re manning the van with candy and handing it out to tiny children all dressed in fun colorful costumes. You're standing there with three of your coworkers, who have decided to be Professor Dumbledor, Professor McGonigal, and the Dark Lord respectively.   

The lights on the street are glowing green, orange, and purple. There’s a small fog machine hooked up next to the store’s van, and the speaker from the music store’s booth is blaring the best ambient music. It’s quite a festivity.  

As much as you want to be, you’re not in the best mood. You’re absolutely beaming at the kids and laughing with your coworkers, but you’ve been in a bit of a mood. Spencer said he was going to help you, but he had a last-minute work call. You're trying to not let it be a mood killer, and on the surface it’s believable. You're a little sad though you aren’t getting to spend it with him. They’ve been talking about spooky and fall themed activities for the past month. Spencer had agreed to spend Halloween with you, since no one he knew seemed to share his enthusiasm for the holiday.   

You've seen hordes of kids come and go all night. Ghosts, cats, vampires, sparkling vampires, and lots of fashionable monsters in bright neon colors. Monster High? you think it is what the kids said they were.   

You look down and see the bottom of the candy bucket and the last few kids going from car to car.   

“I got this if you guys want to go home tonight.” you tell your employees.   

"You sure? We don’t mind.” the cashier Keri, Professor McGonigal, states.   

“I’m positive, I’m just gonna close these doors and lock up for the night. It’s a tomorrow problem to clean up along with the rest of store decorations.” you just shrug and wave them off.   

“Happy Halloween!”  

“This was fun, have a good night!”   

“Night!”  

You wave off your three employees and give the last little trick or treater the rest of the candy in the bowl. The rest of the block is packing up as well.  

You shove the tables and chairs unceremoniously into the back of the van and easily park it behind the store.   

That’s a problem for Josie in the morning or you tomorrow night.   

You walk in through the back entrance and turn on a few of the front lights. You turn the sign to closed and lock the front door. Your only goal right now is to take down the Halloween decorations so it’s a clean slate in the morning.   

You were on a ladder pulling ghosts from the ceiling when you heard a knock on the glass of the store.   

“We are CLOSED !” you shout, your accent seeping through. You could not bother to be polite for the rest of the night. You just wanted to shower, put on your favorite Halloween movie, Casper, and go to sleep.   

There’s another tap at the window, more persistent.   

“I said we are closed!” you yank the ghost hanging from the ceiling and turn to glare at the person through the glass, but all the anger leaves your body.   

Spencer stands there, waving with a timid smile and pointing at his watch.   

You scramble down from the ladder and throw open the door, “What are you doing here? I thought you had a work call?” you asked in confusion.   

“We have tickets for a phantasmagoria show, I wasn’t going to miss that!” He said excitedly, “Are you ready? It starts at ten.”   

You just blink for a moment before your face splits into a grin and nod, “Yeah, yeah, just let me change out of this real quick and we can go.” you said looking down at your Hogwarts robes.   

Spencer finally looks at what you’re wearing and gives a small grin, lightly touching your scarf and humming.   

“Hufflepuff makes sense.” He murmurs softly.   

Your face bursts into a flush before you swat Spencer away and turn to scurry off to change.   

Halloween was always your favorite holiday.   

The one with migraines    

Spencer can’t keep fighting through these migraines. He’s lying on the couch of his apartment in the middle of the day, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes to add pressure. He finds no relief.  

The doctor was useless, and he genuinely feels irritated and at a loss.   

Then he remembers your hands softly stroking through his hair. His eyes flew open, and he pressed the heels of his palm to his eyes, rubbing them raw. He can feel the heat of embarrassment on his neck as he thought about your soft hands running through his scalp. He presses his palms harder and still finds no relief.  

He sits up quickly and calls you.   

“Spencer?” Your voice is soft and groggy; you sounded like you just woke up.   

“Sorry, were you asleep?” he asked sheepishly.   

“It’s okay, I was napping. What’s wrong?” He can hear you shift around, moving blankets probably.   

“I, uh,” he suddenly feels embarrassed. Spencer sighs, “I keep having awful migraines. I’m at a loss and I’ve just been irritated because my head won’t stop pounding.”  

“Ohhhhhh. Been there before.” you said quietly. “Do you want me to come over? I can do all my tricks. I have like, a ritual if my meds don’t work.” you offered.  

“Please.” He finds himself asking you in a small voice.  

“Don’t have to ask twice, I’ll be over. Go ahead and boil a tea kettle though- you'll want a warm drink.” you’re more awake now, your voice sounding concerned, “I’ll be there soon.”   

You don’t live that far away, but it’s still at least a fifteen-minute drive, with no traffic. You make it over in roughly twenty, and you give a small tentative knock on his door. When Spencer lets you in, he sees that you’re in your lounge clothes with a hoodie and baggy sweatpants. You're holding a Walgreens bag that is packed to the brim. Your appearance is a little disheveled, almost as if you were rushing, as your hair is pulled back, your glasses are almost falling off your face.   

“Go change into something comfortable, you don’t want to be in work clothes with a migraine.” you chastise him and shoo him off to his bedroom.   

Spencer holds his hands up in defeat and does as he’s told. Immediately scurrying into his room to change into something more comfortable.   

You get to work while you’re in his apartment. You close all of his curtains, blocking out the bright sunlight. You make your way over to the air conditioning unit and turn it down to a crisp 66 degrees and turn the ceiling fan on. You go into the kitchen and start to unpack the Walgreens bag of goodies. You’ve brought a few freezable ice packs, an eye mask, and some over the counter pain killers. You brought them just in case, you weren’t sure if Spencer was someone who preferred medicine or not. You had no problem taking four ibuprofen pills but that was you.   

Spencer opens the door and he's in sweats and a T-shirt. He sees you moving around his kitchen with ease, grabbing two mugs and making tea. You have some honey out and pour a healthy amount into each mug. Your brow is furrowed in concentration as you work.   

“Go sit on the couch, I’m coming with a mug.” you direct him softly holding two mugs in your hands.   

Spencer shuffles his feet over to the couch and plops down shutting his eyes tightly. You press the warm mug in his hand, setting yours on the coffee table. You move back to the kitchen to turn off the light and grab a sleep mask and the medicine.   

“Drink this, it’ll make you feel better. I turned down your air conditioning and I brought a sleep mask for you, to help block out the light.” you tell him.   

He nods and moves to drink the tea, it’s sweet from the honey but it does immediately relieve some pressure, at least mentally.   

“I brought some ibuprofen; I take 800 milligrams or take my migraine medication to stop mine. But sometimes you just need really good cold sleep. Mine just make me nauseous, so I need the meds.”   

Spencer shakes his head no, “I don’t want to take any pain killers, not right now anyway.” he whispers.   

You nod, “That’s okay. Just finish your tea and then lay down. I’m gonna help you get some sleep okay?”   

Spencer nods his head and takes a deep breath drinking from his mug. He feels awful, the pounding in his skull won’t stop.  

“Is it always this awful?” he asked, looking at you with his wide eyes, brows turned down in a sad expression.   

You rub his arm in affection, “Sometimes? Mine are triggered a lot by the weather or sometimes I don’t even know. I do know I’ve gotten optical migraines too, and those suck even more.”  

He’s listening to you, but he’s not enjoying the facts. He can read about migraines all day long, but hearing from someone else the same experiences he has sucks.   

“When did you start getting them?”   

You hum in thought, “When I was thirteen... right before my momma left.”  

“Did she get them a lot? You’re mom?” Spencer finishes his cup and sets it down.  

You put a pillow on your lap and push Spencer down. You hand him the eye mask to put on. Spencer complies easily and his long legs dangle a little over the edge of the couch, but he’s comfortable. You run your hands lightly through Spencer’s short hair, like you’ve done before in the bookstore. Spencer hums contently.   

“She did... Her’s were worse. Always in the bathroom puking from them. She’d have to be in bed all day until it ended.” you whisper.   

“Are yours that bad?” Spencer’s voice is just as quiet to match yours. He’s relaxing into your touch, feeling the pressure lighten from his head.   

“No, but I get worried sometimes when I get nauseous, ya know? I’m always worried they’re gonna get as bad as mommas did. And I can’t imagine being stuck in bed all day.” you said sadly.   

Spencer’s quiet as you mention your mother. It reminds him of his own fear he’s been trying to avoid thinking about. He’s reminded of his doctor's visit, and it irritates him. He knows there is something happening with him, the way he feels his skull pulsating like his brain is trying to jump out of his body is reason enough.   

It’s not psychosomatic. He knows it's not.  

“You okay? I just felt you tense up.” you ask him softly.   

“Fine, just...thinking.” he mumbles.   

You give a soft chuckle, your soft hands still massaging his scalp gently. “I know it must be hard for you, being a genius and all, but I really need you to shut your brain off. Go to sleep alright?” you demanded gently.   

He gives a scoff but tries to settle down. He focuses heavily on your hands and how soft it is. The couch starts to melt under him and your quiet hums, that he isn’t even sure that you know you’re doing, finally sending him off to sleep.   

When Spencer finally wakes up, his headache is gone. He finally feels back to normal. He moves to remove his eye mask, but he finds the room is almost just as dark. His eyes adjust and he realizes he’s alone on the couch. Where you were is just a pillow and there’s a soft blanket laid over him and he smells something being cooked.   

Spencer stretches his body and moves to sit up, looking into the kitchen. You’re quietly shuffling around. The only light being from the microwave above the stovetop. He can hear the sizzling of whatever you're cooking, it smells great.   

You hear him moving around and turns to send him a smile, “How you feelin’?” you asked, tilting your head trying to assess him.   

Spencer stands and makes his way into the kitchen, trying to find out what smells so good. “A lot better. I’ve had that headache for two days.”   

Your brows shot up in surprise, “You should have told me sooner Spencer. I woulda helped.” you chastise him.   

“Was away for work, couldn’t.” he informs making his way behind you to peer over your shoulder at the stove top.   

“What are you making? It smells great.”  

You straighten up a bit with a wide grin. “That would be my favorite comfort food, especially after feelin’ like shit. My very fatty, very southern, biscuits and gravy.” your accent seeps through, as you exaggerate it, trying to prove a point.   

Spencer just snorts a laugh and moves back, “Is it almost done?”   

You roll your eyes, “You’ve been awake for less than five minutes and you’re already starving.”   

Spencer just ignores her comment looking at the stove top to check the time, it’s later than he imagined. “Is it really nine o clock? Shouldn’t you be at the bookstore?” he presses in concern.   

You shake your head, “I called out; besides, I always work the night shift. Someone else can or we can handle being closed for one night.” you tell him casually.   

“You could have left, really, I would have been fine.” He tries to tell you.   

You shake your head and move to get the biscuits out of the oven. “Spencer really, it’s not a big deal. You called for help and I’m staying until you shoo me out, I wasn’t just gonna leave without saying anything.”   

You shook your head in mild disbelief and went to make plates for both of them. Spencer just finds himself standing there gawking. You wanted to stay until you knew he was okay. He feels his heart clench at that, and he brushes it away. He doesn’t think he can handle whatever emotion is creeping in at the edges, cracking his carefully crafted foundation.  

You gently smack his hand and nod to the counter. “Go sit down, it’s almost done.”  

Spencer does as he’s told and moves to the other side of the counter and takes a seat on one of the stools. It doesn’t take much longer for you to plate the food and slide it across to him. You place one for yourself next to him and grab two glasses of water.   

Spencer and you eat in amicable silence enjoying their meal. Then you break the silence.   

“Have you seen anyone about your recent migraines?” you asked him.   

Spencer’s silent as he paused eating. His body tenses up and you wonder if you have hit a sore spot.   

“I saw a doctor and got an MRI done.” he said, voice tense.   

“I’m guessing you didn’t like the results?” you prod treading cautiously.  

“The results were nothing. There was nothing showing up in my brain... the doctor said it was psychosomatic.” he whispered, a bitter tone in his voice.   

“Then it probably isn’t anything to worry so much about Spencer.” you said, moving to rub his back gently.   

“It can’t be psychosomatic, I’m not- I'm not crazy.” he said firmly.   

The tone was the most aggressive you’ve ever heard from Spencer and your eyebrows raised.   

“Spencer, I’m not calling you crazy sweetheart.” you tell him calmly. “Are you, are you worried that you are?”   

Spencer’s body is tense, and he covers his face with his hands. “Did you know schizophrenia is hereditary? That it shows up around your late twenties?”   

“Oh, oh. ” you realized what his actual problem was now.  

“Spencer, the odds of you having it are low. It can run in families but it’s more complicated than that.” you told him in a reassuring voice.   

“I know that, but-” he stops himself, not looking at you.   

“Spencer,” you said his voice soft and calm. “It’s okay. You’re okay . I promise.” you continue to rub his back reassuringly. “If you feel this intense about it, then get a second opinion.”   

He nods, finally looking up at you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”   

You shake your head, “It’s something you’re worried about and it’s okay to voice that.”   

Spencer moves and pulls you into a tight hug.  

“Thanks for listening.” he murmured into your hair.   

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Anytime.” you whisper.  

The one after Emily’s funeral   

You are outside Spencer’s door shuffling on your feet. You’ve been debating for the past fifteen minutes on whether you should even knock on his door.   

You haven’t seen him in a month... you’re a little more than worried. If it wasn’t for the single word response texts you were getting from him, you’d think he was dead.   

The rain pattering on the window of his apartment's hallway is the only background noise you have besides the buzzing of the fluorescents above you. You’re pacing back and forth debating on if this is a good idea or not. He would ask if he needed help, right? They were friends... He’s kind of the only real friend you've made since you came to Virginia. Well, besides Josie.   

You take a deep centering breath and find your resolve. you knock on his door.   

When Spencer emerges from his apartment, you’re taken aback. He only opens the door a crack, but it’s enough for you to see the state he’s in. His eyes are dark and rimmed red. He’s in rumpled up sweater and sweatpants. His hair is up in different directions, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Not to mention the faint beard that’s growing in. His eyes find yours slowly, and he looks a bit taken aback and opens the door more.  

“Oh Spencer, honey,” you step forward and pull him into a warm hug. You feel him melt into your touch.   

“You look awful, what happened?” You’re blunt but Spencer doesn’t seem to mind it, he hasn’t let go to tell you otherwise.   

Spencer’s been holed up in his apartment. When he’s not working, he just burrows away. Penelope and JJ have called a few times. Checking in on him. He’s kept those conversations short. He can’t find it in him to talk about Emily with his friends yet. Not when he can still feel the weight of Emily’s casket; it almost bears down on his back in a way that feels crippling.   

Spencer’s so tired of losing people.  

Elle  

Gideon  

Emily  

How long until he loses the next person?  

Your warm body settles his nerves, and he can feel the irritation that buzzed at the harsh edges of his own soul ease. Spencer knows he looks like a wreck; he feels like one. He’s been in pajamas all weekend and barely has left his couch. When he does find himself getting any sleep, the only image he sees is Emily. Which, if he thinks about it for too long, he’s going to start sobbing again.   

“It’s a long story,” He finds himself barely able to say. His voice warbled and tiny.   

You somehow always know when something's wrong, like there is a homing device in your brain that rings letting you know he needs a reprieve.   

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you whisper as you rub soothing circles into his back, “I was coming to check on you, I just hadn’t seen you around in a while.”   

“Could you stay here,” he asked you timidly. “Just, just for a little while.”  

Spencer feels the fight leave his body; the argument built up that he was ready to unleash on anyone else. The prickles of irritation fog his head, almost turning into a migraine, seem to fade. The only thing left is exhaustion.   

You seem to always help him sleep, if he’s lucky, it won’t be another nightmare. He’s having more nightmares than ever. He'd love just a dreamless sleep, anything besides the nightmares, the territory that can with his job.   

He finally pulls back away from you and goes inside his apartment.   

You follow Spencer looking around his home. It’s dark and surprisingly messy. Not how you’re used to seeing Spencer’s apartment. His books are open and scattered along the floor near his large armchair. There’s empty, or rather half drank, coffee mugs scattered along his bookshelf or coffee table. There’s a large duvet half draped over the couch. You assume that’s probably where Spencer has spent most of his time, and the pile of laundry you see resting in the half open laundry room.   

It’s a depression cave.   

Spencer sluggishly goes into the kitchen and grabs a pot of coffee, before he can pour it you are gently prying it from his hands.   

“I think you’ve had plenty of caffeine.” you tell him softly.   

He makes a face but doesn’t fight you on it.   

“Go and take a hot shower, I’ll make you some tea alright? It’ll feel better than endless caffeine.” you tell him and gently push him out of the kitchen.   

You wait for Spencer to disappear into his bedroom before you let out a sigh and look around his apartment. You had her work cut out, that was for sure.   

You start by boiling a kettle of water and you start gathering the mugs from around the apartment. At least the ones in your immediate sight. You gather at least ten different mugs at various stages full of coffee. You put them in the sink first before moving on to looking for the chamomile that you know you’ve left here before for when he gets his migraines. You find it surprisingly quickly and grab it from the shelf where his coffee sits. You open it to find there’s only a few tea bags left. He must still be getting those migraines more than he lets on.   

You grab one, and a clean mug from his cabinet and set it aside. Still waiting for the water to heat up. You move onto the sink that’s overflowing and rolls up your sleeves to get started. You give a quick rinse and gently scrub the dishes before piling them into the dishwasher. By the time you're done the hot water is ready and the dishwasher is full.   

You wash your hands before making a cup of tea for him, making sure you add plenty of honey to accommodate his sweet tooth.   

You're in the middle of changing out his garbage when you hear Spencer reappear. He shuffles lazily out of his room in new clothes. He’s in a large Doctor Who tee with the Tardis on it, and flannel pajama pants that don’t fully reach his ankles. He’s also put on clean socks, two different ones with silly patterns.    

You give him a smile before handing him the mug of tea. “You look a lot better,” you said with a soft smile.   

Spencer just gives a shrug before sipping his tea. you follow him to the couch, and he wraps the duvet around his shoulders, making himself look so much smaller for a man that towered over you with his height.   

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked him.   

Spencer sighs and looks deep into his cup, like the tea would give him answers. Maybe if he believed in reading tea leaves and fortunes, but he wasn’t religious or superstitious by any means.  

“I lost a close friend, and it just...it’s been tough.” he said.   

“Oh Spencer,” you lean forward and hold one of his hands, “I’m so sorry. That- that can’t be easy.”   

He cried so much; he would think he didn’t have any more tears left. The blurry vision foggy up the edges of his sight tells otherwise.   

“I didn’t get to say goodbye...” he whispers out, trying to not sob again.   

You take a deep breath, you give Spencer a sad look before you whispered, “Sometimes we don’t get to say goodbye.” you replied quietly.   

“I’m so tired of people leaving with no warning-” he catches himself before he can finish, biting his tongue.   

You don’t pry, just let’s him go through the motions, trying to comfort him how you can.  

“I’m sorry Spencer.”  

Spencer leans against you and closes his eyes, “I hate change.” he murmured.   

You move your hand up to run through his hair gently, like you’ve done before.   

“I don’t either.” you whispered.   

Spencer grows quiet as you continue to stroke his hair. You hear his breathing finally settle and you know he’s asleep. You gently move to lay him down on the couch and go to work.   

Spencer’s home needed a deep clean, something to make it at least more bearable to come home to so he’s not so overwhelmed.   

You start with the laundry and work your way around the room as the washer and dryer run through load after load of clothes. The only spot you don’t feel comfortable touching is his books. That seemed like an organized chaos situation if you’ve ever seen one.   

Spencer sleeps for hours, so long that you find yourself dozing off after you're done cleaning. You slide yourself back onto the couch and curl up in the corner. You just go to close your eyes for a moment, you won’t spend the night.   

You dream of coffee, book pages, and a familiar purple scarf that makes its way in too.   

The morning sun comes in through a small opening of Spencer’s curtains and washes over the couch, bathing you and Spencer in its light. The two are curled into each other under the duvet on the couch and if either of them woke up at any point in the night and curled closer to the other, they would never know. 

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

Winnin’ you over | Eddie Munson

summary: eddie knows no such thing as giving up. he sure has shown you. (takes place before pt. I)

warnings:

word count: 1,124

pairing: Eddie Munson x black!reader

part I

——————————————————————————————

Eddie Munson had a lot of confidence—or at least, that’s what he told himself. Confidence was key when you were the self-proclaimed king of the freaks, the Dungeon Master of Hawkins’ finest misfit club, and the lead guitarist in a band that sometimes sounded like music. But all that bravado flew out the window the first time he saw you.

It was during lunch in the cafeteria. Eddie had been mid-rant about how D&D wasn’t “the devil’s work” when you walked by, laughing with a friend. He froze, his hands halfway to the air in a gesture of exasperation, and completely forgot what he was saying.

“Dude,” Dustin had whispered, nudging him. “What are you doing?”

Eddie ignored him, his eyes glued to you as you moved through the cafeteria like you owned it. Everything about you was magnetic—your confidence, your smile, the way you casually brushed off the stares of half the student body.

That day, Eddie Munson decided two things:

1. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

2. He was going to make you his.

Eddie’s first attempt was, in hindsight, not his best.

You were sitting in history class, diligently taking notes, when a folded piece of paper slid onto your desk. You glanced around, your brow furrowing, before unfolding it.

The note read:

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again? – Eddie Munson (aka, the guy in the back with the killer smile)”

You turned in your seat, locking eyes with him for the first time. Eddie gave you a crooked grin and a little wave.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching with amusement, before turning back to the front of the class. You didn’t write back, but Eddie swore he saw you smile.

When the bell rang, he darted up to your desk. “So? Did it work?”

“Did what work?” you asked, stuffing your notebook into your bag.

“The note,” he said, gesturing dramatically. “My carefully crafted pickup line. On a scale of one to ten, how swoon-worthy was it?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm… about a six.”

“A six?” he repeated, clutching his chest. “That’s harsh.”

“Maybe try a seven next time,” you said with a grin before walking away.

Eddie watched you go, a determined glint in his eye.

Most people would’ve given up after the note incident. Eddie Munson was not most people.

A week later, you were standing by your locker, swapping books between classes, when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned to find Eddie, guitar in hand, looking both ridiculously confident and slightly terrified.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he launched into a dramatic performance.

“I wrote this song just for you,” he declared, strumming the first few chords.

His voice wasn’t half bad, and the song—about a “queen in a world of peasants” who stole his heart—was surprisingly sweet. A small crowd gathered, snickering and whispering, but Eddie didn’t care. His eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time.

When he finished, he gave you an exaggerated bow. “So? Am I officially your favorite musician yet?”

You laughed, clapping politely. “That depends. Do you serenade every girl, or just me?”

“Only the special ones,” he said, grinning.

“Good to know,” you replied, your smile softening. “Thanks for the song, Eddie. It was… nice.”

“Nice?” he groaned, pretending to stumble back in defeat. “I poured my soul into that, and all I get is ‘nice’?”

You leaned in slightly, your voice teasing. “Alright, it was very nice. But you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

Eddie watched you walk away, a smirk tugging at his lips. He was losing, but he didn’t mind.

By now, Eddie was starting to feel desperate. You weren’t exactly rejecting him, but you weren’t saying yes, either. So he decided to pull out all the stops.

One Saturday afternoon, he showed up outside your house with a mixtape in one hand and a slightly lopsided bouquet of daisies in the other. He knocked on the door, his heart pounding, and waited.

When you opened it, your eyes widened in surprise. “Eddie? What are you doing here?”

“I come bearing gifts,” he said, holding up the mixtape.

You took it, reading the label: “Songs for the Queen of Hawkins High”.

“And these,” he added, thrusting the daisies toward you. “Technically, they’re from Mrs. Cunningham’s yard, but don’t tell her that.”

You laughed, taking the flowers. “Eddie, you’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming?” he offered.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t hide your smile. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Because I really fucking like youyou,” he said simply, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re smart and funny and beautiful, and you don’t care what anyone thinks. And I know I’m probably not your type or whatever, but… I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, Eddie thought you might actually say yes. But instead, you stepped back and said, “Thanks for the flowers, Eddie. And the tape. I’ll give it a listen.”

Then you closed the door, leaving him standing on your porch with his heart in his hands.

A few days later, Eddie was sitting on the hood of his van in the school parking lot, strumming his guitar and feeling sorry for himself. He’d done everything he could think of, and you still hadn’t said yes.

He was mid-riff when he heard a voice behind him.

“Is this your sad boy routine?”

Eddie turned to find you standing there, holding the mixtape he’d given you.

“Hey,” he said, setting his guitar aside. “Did you listen to it?”

“I did,” you said, walking closer. “It was actually really good. I didn’t know you had such good taste in music.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises,” he said with a weak smile.

You stopped in front of him, your eyes searching his. “Eddie, can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he said.

“Why me?”

Eddie blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean, why you? You’re you. You’re amazing.”

You crossed your arms. “You barely know me. What if I’m not as amazing as you think?”

He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Then I’ll just have to get to know the real you. But I don’t think you’ll disappoint me.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, your expression unreadable. Then, to his complete surprise, you smiled.

“Alright, Munson,” you said, holding out your hand. “One date. Don’t make me regret it.”

Eddie’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “You won’t. I promise.”

And just like that, Eddie Munson’s life changed forever.

[scarletwinterxx]

one sunday morning - hong joshua imagine

how it took me this long to finally write a sunday morning referenced au for joshua idk too HAHAH but it's here

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You hear the soft hum of the espresso machine as you stand behind the counter of the cozy little café you’ve managed for years.

It’s a quiet Sunday morning, sunlight spilling through the wide windows in golden waves, the kind that makes everything feel warm and alive. You’re arranging the freshly baked croissants in the display case when the bell above the door chimes, signaling the arrival of your favorite regular: Joshua.

Joshua, with his tousled brown hair, that lopsided grin, and the slightly oversized denim jacket he wears like it’s a second skin. He walks in with a lazy kind of confidence, as if the world couldn’t possibly surprise him, but his eyes light up the moment they find yours

Every. Single. Time.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, leaning casually against the counter. “What’s the special today? Let me guess… something ridiculously overpriced but totally worth it if you make it?”

You roll your eyes, but your lips curve into a smile anyway. “Good morning to you too, Joshua. And no, the croissants are reasonably priced. But since you’re feeling cheeky, maybe I should double the price just for you.”

His laugh is warm and rich, like a favorite song you never get tired of hearing

“You wouldn’t dare. You like me too much.”

You arch an eyebrow, trying to look unimpressed. “Bold assumption.”

“Oh, come on. Admit it,” he teases, leaning closer. “I’m your favorite customer.”

“Second favorite,” you counter, suppressing a grin. “Mrs. Kim tops you, hands down. She doesn’t mock my pastries.”

“Mrs. Kim who said the cake wasn't moist when it was literally called moist cake?” he says, feigning offense. “But fine, I’ll accept second place... for now. What do I need to do to get bumped up to first?”

“Be nice to the barista, that’d be a start.” you say, pointing to yourself

Joshua places a hand over his heart, as if wounded. “I’m always nice to you. I even brought you this.” He pulls a small bouquet of daisies from behind his back, slightly crushed but undeniably charming.

You blink in surprise, the teasing retort on your tongue dying instantly. “You brought me flowers?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “I saw them at the farmer’s market and thought of you. Figured they’d look better on your counter than in my office”

Your cheeks heat, and you curse the telltale blush. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed. Then, his voice drops into a playful lilt. “But if this earns me a free croissant, I wouldn’t say no.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try. But fine, I’ll give you one. Consider it a thank-you for being marginally charming.”

“Marginally?” He gasps in mock horror. “I’m devastated. Here I thought I was irresistibly charming.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Joshuji” you say, sliding a warm croissant onto a plate and handing it to him. “There. Now go sit down before I change my mind.”

He takes the plate, his fingers brushing yours for a brief second.

A touch so fleeting you’re not sure he even noticed.

But you do. Every time.

As he settles into his usual spot by the window, you catch yourself glancing his way more often than necessary. He’s flipping through a dog-eared paperback, his brow furrowing every now and then in concentration.

There’s something about the way he exists so effortlessly, so entirely himself that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Later, when the café is quieter and he’s the last customer lingering, he makes his way back to the counter.

“So,” he says, resting his elbows on the polished wood. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

“Nothing too exciting,” you admit. “Probably just laundry and a terrible rom-com.”

“Terrible rom-coms are my specialty,” he says with a grin. “Need company?”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you inviting yourself over?”

“Depends. Do you have popcorn?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, his grin softening into something quieter, something warmer. “Let me make the popcorn. You can pick the movie. Deal?”

For a moment, you hesitate, the weight of the invitation hanging in the air. But then you see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and you think: Why not?

“Deal,” you say, and his face lights up like a summer sky.

And just like that, without even trying, Joshua makes the ordinary feel extraordinary. This, you think, is how you fall in love.

[loveless-in-nowheresville]

-JJBA x reader jealousy headcanons-

Really randomly felt like doing this so-

here!

But yeah jealousy headcanons, self-explanatory I think. Got carried away (as I do) (Bruno oml I had. Much to say. Basically wrote an outline for a fic for him lol)

Characters: Joseph Joestar, Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati (randomly much longer than the other ones whoops), Guido Mista, Leone Abbacchio

Warnings: jealous behaviors obviously, mild violence implied, slightly unhealthy relationship with Abbacchio and his low self-esteem, mildly suggestive I guess

-Joseph Joestar: A man who has no right getting jealous, but will anyways. Never a super intense jealousy, I think it would take quite a bit of boldness from another person flirting with you before he gets jealous enough to step in. Though when he does get jealous he’ll play it off really passive-aggressively, with that usual arrogant charm of his. “Oh I’m sorry (he’s not sorry), my date and I (he puts a hand on your hip) were just LEAVING (he gives you a pointed look that asks you to play along), let’s go, DEARIE ( a nickname he uses for you when he’s a bit miffed)” and before you know it you’re being dragged away by a massive British man. It’s a bit embarrassing really…because he Does start fights over you, and he always acts so proud of himself too-

It is kinda funny to see him acting all smug over winning a fight (easily, since he’s huge and muscular and a really good fighter) and then immediately getting dragged off and scolded by you. His sudden shift from that confident and arrogant guy to a nervous and apologetic mess is entertaining to see.

You do think it’s kinda sweet that he cares enough for you to actually get jealous, but you also know it’s kinda just a pride thing for him. He’s always been a man who takes things pretty far, always been a bit wild and untamable…and you liked that about him…but you always knew it would get him in trouble, and usually you were the one picking up after him when he lets his jealousy get the best of him and he ends up causing a scene.

-Rohan Kishibe: Man who fervently denies being jealous but gets jealous easily and all the time. He gives off weird vibes so sometimes people just ask: “is this guy bothering you?” if they don’t recognize him or can’t tell your in a relationship with him and wow does it make him mad. He goes into one of his little rants about how he is your partner and it is completely rude to assume he was bothering you just because he doesn’t coddle you like some other men would their partner. But honestly can anyone be blamed for thinking he was a little sketch? He typically doesn’t talk to you very nicely, and he looks like an odd individual just following you around.

Beyond people, he also gets strangely jealous when you show animals more attention than him. You stopping to pet cats or dogs on your little strolls with him, and he’s just glowering a short distance away. A full on SCOWL. He gets so annoyed when you coo and pet and hug an animal for too long in his presence. Probably because he thinks you prefer the type of love and affection animals can give you over the type he gives you. He knows he’s grouchy and irritable and sometimes struggles to say nice things, so in a way it makes him feel self-conscious. But he thinks that’s stupid, so he doesn’t use his words and instead acts jealous, making petty comments about how ridiculous it is that he must share your affection with animals and he’ll even shoo animals away from the two of you sometimes. You think it’s silly. And you can easily tell what’s going on, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.

-Bruno Bucciarati: (Bruno is so hot when he gets protective oml-) He’s a mature man, and doesn’t often give in completely to his unpleasant feelings and emotions, and jealousy is no exception. You will Not catch this man embarrassing himself by causing a fuss over something small. Someone flirting with you at the bar and even buying you a drink? Not a big deal. He trusts you, and he knows your heart belongs with him and he would never want to be one of those jealous lovers constantly smothering their partner.

When it does get to the point where he steps in, it’s when someone starts getting too handsy and cozy with you.

You still remember the first time Bruno intervened out of jealousy.

It hadn’t been a big deal at first, some inexperienced guy somehow let his friends convince him to try and talk to you at a restaurant. Bruno had stepped outside for a minute to take a work call, and either this guy hadn’t realized Bruno was your husband, or saw Bruno leaving as the perfect opportunity to swoop in and make his move.

You sip your wine, minding your own business and waiting patiently for your busy man to return, when your peace is rudely interrupted by some guy who thinks he can just come up and talk to you. You can’t help but find it a bit funny…surely this guy just didn’t know who you were? You let him make a fool of himself for a bit.

First there was his pathetic attempts at complimenting you, telling you your eyes were mesmerizing and you were like the sun and-well you didn’t pay much attention for very long, just nodding along with what he said.

You hadn’t noticed Bruno had walked back into the room. He was waiting, watching for a moment, knowing you were eventually going to send that guy away, but at first he thought it was a bit amusing too. Yes, that guy definitely didn’t know you were mafia, and that Bruno was your husband.

When you notice Bruno’s presence, you relax a bit, and this guy who couldn’t take a hint for some reason thought it was because of him and tried to shoot yet another shot.

He dares to invite you to dance with him.

You say you have two left feet.

He insists.

You say no.

This time he laughs and says that you were just being shy, and he reaches down and grasps your wrist and you realize this brat is gonna try and drag you into a dance.

Your attention had been so focused on the stranger, that you hadn’t noticed Bruno getting increasingly irritated at the audacity of your fanboy.

Before you make a move to break free from him, the sound of Bruno’s open palm slamming onto your table immediately focuses your mind on the man you’d much rather be dancing with.

Bruno wasn’t a PDA type of man, with the most he’d usually give you being just some handholding, or your arm wrapped around his, but now-

He had angled himself in such a way that your face was practically pressed into the exposed parts of his chest while he was turned just enough to shoot daggers at the man who had the nerve to try to drag you out of your seat.

You could feel the eyes of the patrons in the restaurant, the ones who knew Bruno watched carefully. They knew it took a lot to get Bruno to cause a scene in a restaurant, and some were morbidly curious to see where it might go, now that he’s finally been pushed there.

It was a moment’s lapse in his usually controlled demeanor, but his eyes remained sharp against the man, who backed up instinctively at Bruno’s interference.

“Mind if I cut in?”

You know Bruno better than anyone, and right now you can hear the irritation in his tone, and you realize this is the first time anyone’s been quite so bold trying to get your attention in front of him.

“Well, I, uh…we were gonna dance…” the guy stammers out. Despite not knowing who Bruno was, he could tell he should feel intimidated right now.

Bruno is already holding his own hand out to you, and when you take it, he helps you to your feet gently, keeping a much closer proximity to you than he usually would.

“You’d better get in line then,” he replies, not hiding the displeasure in his voice, but you can already tell he’s calming down a bit now that he’s got your hand in his.

This guy doesn’t even know what to say, just kinda stands there stammering like a fool while Bruno slides his hand down to your lower back, eliciting a small shiver and gasp from you, very effectively displaying the intimacy of your relationship.

He lifts your left hand up with his right, almost like the two of you were going to dance right there, but you recognized he was very purposefully just emphasizing his wedding ring on your finger.

“Bruno,” you hiss when the man awkwardly scurries off. He really was making a scene and it was embarrassing, despite how much you loved this side of him you rarely got to see.

You can practically see Bruno snap out of it, and he clears his throat and finally untangles himself from you and calls for the check, but he doesn’t apologize for causing a bit of chaos, because he doesn’t regret it.

-Guido Mista: He’s quick to jealousy, and his disposition means his jealousy is gonna be the problem of everyone in his vicinity.

At first it’ll start with intense glares at whoever he’s concerned about, and even you, kinda trying to goad you into telling whoever’s getting too cozy to piss off.

You’ll notice Guido lays on the physical affection very thick to try and leave a message. His hands are on you, practically pulling you into his lap, very intentionally placing his hands in positions to suggest the romantic nature of your relationship.

He whispers in your ear and rubs your shoulders and back and doesn’t even hesitate to badmouth whoever’s bothering him.

He might even start fights, usually never hurting someone too seriously, but not shying away from giving them a scare at least. (The proper way to handle someone making moves on your sweetheart is to inform the offender that you have a firearm.)

You find it embarrassing, but you’re flattered he feels so strongly about you. And you know it comes from a genuine protectiveness, but also a bit of possessiveness, given his unfamiliarity with serious relationships and his anxiety that he might lose you.

A guy who can learn to mellow out a bit as you become more comfortable in your relationship, but he’ll always be a bit fiery, and quick to act, especially when you’re involved.

-Leone Abbacchio: Probably at first bottles up any jealousy he feels. Just add it to the insecurity pile. He already has such low self-esteem.

He feels like he’s not good enough for you…you deserve a man who can actually give you that emotional intelligence and kindness you deserve…honestly you’d be much better off with a guy like Bucciarati than him, and he cannot help but feel that every time he hurts your feelings or makes you frustrated, or even when he swears you seem more relaxed and comfortable around Bruno instead of him. You’re probably just settling for him.

For some reason you’re pursuing a relationship with him, probably for some superficial reason he can’t see yet. Maybe you just liked his body, or you enjoyed how pathetic he was. No matter how much the two of you fought, he would Always come crawling back to you, a desperate man who couldn’t give up the only person who let him into their bed and showed him some genuine compassion, even though he couldn’t fathom why. Jealousy from him translates into irritability, a lot of it internally, mentally tearing himself to shreds for being so pathetic. But also externally, more likely to say something like: “THEN JUST LEAVE,” or “find someone else,” when the two of you have an inevitable argument. And sometimes it’ll result in an unfounded accusation, something like: “I know you’d rather have literally anyone else, but for some reason you think you’re stuck with me.”

It says a LOT more about him than you, but it still hurts your feelings that he might actually believe that.

Of course you want to be with him. He matters so much to you, he just doesn’t let himself see that. But deep down, he knows if you really didn’t want to be with him, there was nothing stopping you from moving on.

You need patience with him, but also firm and honest. He’s Really bad at opening up himself, but if you do it, he’ll try to do the same. Only because it’s fair.

It’ll eventually get through to him how you feel about him, and someday he’ll come to terms with how much he genuinely cares about you, and how he wishes for a future with you.

[starlost-mochi-x]

lonely st. ✧ chapter vi : broken mirrors

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: introducing a new character! jisung is the bestest ever and the biggest babygirl, sweet hyunjin, my nervous shy boy, very very fluffy, very soft, hyunjin keeps being clumsy

a/n: writing jisung is so ridiculously fun you have no idea

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Y/n glanced across at Jisung, trying not to smile. He was busy bopping his head to the beat of whatever was playing in his headphones. His textbook was open in front of him, his laptop propping it up. His headphones were plugged into it, the excess cord wrapped loosely around his wrist.

Y/n put her pen down and leaned back in her chair, trying to see what he was listening to. She'd been finished with the assigned math work for the double lesson and she was watching Jisung. He was perfect entertainment.

Leaning back just a little further, she noticed his work was half-done. He was doing it at least; for the past couple of lessons he'd done nothing but bother her; asking for help on miscellaneous questions, not listening when she explained them to him, whispering rude jokes to her, doodling on her hand. Or all three of them if he was hyper enough. Y/n had learned to identify when he'd been gulping those sugary energy drinks Hyunjin refused to touch under any circumstances.

Now she knew why.

Not that she minded. It was fun to finally be able to sit next to someone. And Jisung didn't seem to mind that she wasn't much of a talker, excitedly filling the space between them with whatever happened to be occupying his mind at the moment.

Y/n failed to keep the smile from twitching at the corners of her mouth. His Spotify was open, a half-window, playing some song on full volume.

Queencard, she thought, smirking. Isn't that some popular (G)-IDLE song?

She leaned forward and tugged loosely on his sleeve. He pulled one tangled earphone out of his ear and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Whatcha listening to?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, this one really good girl group song. Here," he shoved one of his earphones at her and she took it, grinning unconsciously as the beats filled her ear.

Jisung was doing the dance to the song in tiny, haphazard movements, completely focused. His eyes were trained on his math notebook but Y/n figured his head was somewhere else entirely. If she listened, she could hear him singing under his breath in the low chatter of the classroom.

Y/n huffed out a tiny laugh. A boy with freckles and blonde hair turned back from the seat in front of them to face Jisung. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Jisung, I know you love that song, but Mr Yang said he'd give you a detention if you didn't finish the classwork."

Jisung swore and hunched over his math book. There wasn't much class time left, and Y/n saw his pen scribbling messily over the paper, scrawling equations and diagrams. Her eyes widened. She'd never seen him write that fast in her life.

"There," Jisung said, clearly satisfied as he put his pen down. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a grin.

The blonde boy deadpanned. "And we have to show Mr Yang that we finished it before we're allowed to leave. Why do you think Y/n got up, like, half an hour ago?"

Groaning, Jisung tugged out his headphones with a sigh and snatched his book from the desk, marching up to the front of the classroom. Y/n watched with an amused smile as he practically shoved his book in their math teacher's face, clearly eager to show his finished work.

The blonde boy turned to Y/n. "I was lying to him about the detention part. But I get tired of having to explain everything to him when he could just do the work in class," he grinned.

Y/n brought her hand up to cover her smile. He had a point; Jisung never finished his work, no matter how much the teachers nagged him.

"Clever tactic," she mused.

The boy huffed out a laugh as Jisung came back down the desk aisle with a self-satisfied smile. He pushed his bleached fringe out of his eyes, his freckles changing positions as he smiled at Y/n again.

"I'm Felix, by the way."

Y/n laid her head on her folded arms, trying not to fall asleep. Breaktime seemed so long ago, and Y/n glanced at the clock above the board, wondering when the bell for lunch would go. It currently read 5:33 PM. It was midday.

They should really get that replaced, she wondered idly.

She'd sat through three mind-numbingly boring lessons, having already gone ahead and finished most of the work for the classes. Not that she found the content very riveting anyway. It was amazing how boring the teachers could make a curriculum.

She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and let them droop shut, fighting the urge to close them completely and succumb to a deep, dreamless sleep. She let out a little squeak as someone poked her in the side.

Turning her head and prepared to snap at whoever it was that had disturbed her, she locked eyes with a familiar, smiling face.

Hyunjin.

She huffed at him anyway, glaring at him in mock disapproval.

"What?" she whisper-shouted at him.

Hyunjin bit the corner of his lip and leaned forwards, eyes flitting to the front of the room to check that the teacher was occupied. Which he was, scrawling unintelligible diagrams on the board.

Hyunjin grinned at her and passed her a slip of paper, folded over three times. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n turned back to her desk and unfolded the paper. He'd written a single sentence at the top.

It's been a while since we talked.

Y/n side-eyed him and picked up her pen. She scribbled a reply and handed it to him, eyes not leaving the teacher.

It's been a day, Hyunjin. You're such a drama king.

Y/n saw him fight a laugh in her peripheral vision. He wrote his reply and held it out to her.

So? I missed you.

Y/n felt her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach. She wasn't really sure what that meant. Did he miss talking to her? Or being around her? What did he mean?

She knew one thing for sure. Tapping her pen against her knuckles, she paused, hesitating, before writing out a shaky reply and passing it back to him, biting her lip nervously.

I missed you too, Hyunjinnie.

Y/n didn't dare turn her head, fighting to keep her gaze locked on the much-less-interesting view of the diagrams on the board. Which she had no intention of copying down, by the way.

Would Hyunjin think she was weird for saying it back? Maybe it had just been a casual, chill sort of thing, not a sentimental 'oh, how I missed you so much' thing. She began to panic, her knee bouncing rapidly under the desk. She ran her fingertips along her pen, feeling the ridges and bumps of it as she fretted silently.

Y/n didn't know how long she sat with her eyes locked on her work, though it was finished. She didn't dare look across at Hyunjin, though all she wanted to do was gaze at his stupid face and gauge his reaction to her reply.

Maybe he would think she was just saying it out of pity. Or for the politeness of it. Or maybe he would think that she was a weirdo for calling him a nickname. Shit, she hadn't even asked him for permission to call him Hyunjinnie... Would he mind?

But we've been friends for long enough, right? I mean, we pretty much spend time together, alone, just the two of us, in the library every day. Maybe he won't mind. Oh no, maybe he might. Shit, why did I write that? He might think it's weird...

Hyunjin held the note out to her again between two long, slender fingers, not looking away from the front. Y/n kept her gaze trained on the front of the classroom too, reaching blindly across the aisle. Her fingers brushed his and a sudden chill ran down her spine. Taking the note, she pressed her fingers together around it. Like she could make it disappear if she just squeezed her fingertips together on the paper hard enough.

Biting the inside of her cheek, and trying to calm down her heart, which was racing suddenly for no foreseeable reason, she unfolded the note.

I passed by your math classroom on an errand for my teacher earlier. I saw you sitting with Jisung, listening to his music.

It was cute.

Y/n felt her cheeks tingling, her heart thudding so loud she was sure he could hear it. She swallowed, the action almost hurting, her throat was so dry. Like she'd been wandering for days in a desert.

Glancing down at the note, she noticed his handwriting had changed on the last sentence, like he'd paused before writing it. Her mind became a mess of jumbled, mushy thoughts.

Does he mean Jisung's cute? Or I'm cute? Or the fact that we were just sitting together...? I feel so hot of a sudden. Is the AC on? Wait, he probably wants me to reply...

She thought hard for a second, pen flicking between her fingers, palms unusually clammy. She let her tongue push into the hollow of her cheek, wondering what would be a reasonable, rational response to his reply.

Before the tip of her pen could touch the paper, Hyunjin outstretched his hand, letting it hold in the space between them. They were at the very back of the classroom, so he clearly wasn't concerned about anyone noticing.

Y/n's mind short circuited as she saw the movement, his fingers flicking back and forth in a 'give me' motion. Wait, what did he want? Something from her pencil case? Her pen? Maybe her book?

There was only one conclusion.

Reaching out her hand, Y/n shakily interlaced her fingers with Hyunjin's in the space between their desks. He froze for a second, hand limp in the air, before his fingers closed around hers.

All of the breath whooshed out of Y/n's lungs, leaving her surprised and breathless. She couldn't think; all she could focus on was the warm, dry feeling of Hyunjin's palm, and his long, slender digits lacing with hers in what felt like the perfect solution to a puzzle. The missing piece.

Hyunjin squeezed her hand softly before letting go. He made the flicking gesture with his fingers again. Y/n was looking at him through her peripheral; all she could see was his hand. He was doing the same.

The realisation hit Y/n like a slap in the face as her eyes locked onto the unfolded note on her desk.

Fuck.

He wanted the note.

Feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment, Y/n quickly withdrew her hand, taking the note from her desk with fumbling fingers and shoving it into his hand. Her heart sank.

You idiot.

She'd just held his hand. Hwang Hyunjin, the star basketballer, the school's it boy with his perfect charm and stupidly handsome face.

Wait, handsome?

Unable to stand being within a metre of him any longer, and feeling increasingly confused about her sudden change in attitude towards her friend, Y/n raised her hand, asking some question about the nature of the umpteenth diagram currently being drawn by their teacher on the board.

The action reset her mind a little and she focused intensely on her teacher's reply, trying to block out everything else. And her mind, and her swirling mess of emotions and thoughts, and the strange tingling sensation in her palm where Hyunjin had held it. Her stomach felt all swirly and fuzzy too.

The teacher finished answering Y/n's question and turned to flip through his textbook. Y/n's heart jolted as Hyunjin held out the folded note to her again, not looking at her.

Her heart sunk even further and she braced herself for an insult or a rejection as she took it, making sure not to brush his fingers again.

She unfolded the note again, eyes flicking across the row of numbers he'd scribbled down.

Jisung told me he gave you his number. Thought I'd do the same.

He'd doodled a stupid drawing of some cartoon ferret next to it. Y/n peered at the drawing, noticing how he'd added a little mole under its left eye, just like his real one.

Y/n kept inspecting the drawing, tilting her head to make sense of the doodle. It was sort of cute. She liked it.

She didn't notice the way Hyunjin's cheeks were dusted in pink.

Y/n made her way down the hallway, eyes fixated on the beams of sunlight spilling into the corridors from the large windows. The sun was always nice at this time of day; all warm and golden. She hoped she'd get home later just before the sun turned to its usual setting; blistering, bright, and glaring.

She didn't feel like going to the library today. Her routine with Hyunjin wasn't definite; sometimes she would sit down at the usual table and he'd already be there, or he'd come in a few moments later, setting down his belongings and scooting his chair a little closer.

Today, he wasn't there.

Y/n was beginning to feel a little braver in not going to the library during all of her breaktimes. It still felt strange to wander around the hallways, hands in her pockets, but it somehow felt more appealing than spending another forty minutes in the dim bookshelf corner by herself, like she used to.

She felt a little guilty for some reason; the library had sort of been her home for most of the year, and now that she wasn't showing up there as often, she worried the place might lose some of its charm.

Pondering this as she passed by the lower levels of the school, her thoughts were sidetracked by the faint sound of thumping basketballs and squeaking shoes.

That's right, she remembered. Hyunjin is practicing today.

Peeking inside, she noticed first the brilliant sunlight streaming in from the high rafter windows, reflecting off the walls and casting a lovely, warm glow across the polished court floor. She noticed Hyunjin's smile emitting the same radiance.

She spotted Jisung and Felix with him too, the three boys the only occupiers of the space. They were tossing a basketball between them. Jisung's tie was undone, his shirt untucked, and so was Hyunjin's. Both boys were missing their sweater vests. Only Felix was wearing his, though it was slipping off his left shoulder as he tossed the basketball back to Jisung.

The boys weaving their way down the court with such precision and fluidity that Y/n could do nothing but watch. She stood, transfixed, hands pressed against the wall, fingers gripping the threshold.

They were amazingly, breathtakingly good.

Y/n watched as Jisung took a shot, but he was too far away to make it. The ball rebounded off the hoop backboard, sailing through the air, and rolling to a stop near the door, right near Y/n's feet.

She peeked through the gap in the double doors before timidly stepping into the gym and picking the ball up. It felt textured and unusually heavy in her hands.

Felix waved a hand at her, grinning ear to ear. Jisung let out a happy shout and Hyunjin smiled.

"Yah, Y/n!" Jisung shouted at her, beaming almost as bright as the sunlight filtering into the gym. "Pass it back!"

Y/n blinked at him, then back down at the ball, feeling awkward and unsure. She tilted her head at him, confused. She glanced at the ball again. Did he want her to throw the ball to him?

"Yeah, come on, throw the ball back!" Felix called kindly, clearly sensing her uncertainness. He held his hands out.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n mustered her strength and tossed the ball back, her wrists flicking out. It was a short throw, much to her embarrassment, and Felix jogged forward, catching the ball effortlessly, seemingly not minding.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

Felix smiled at her kindly. "It's okay. Throwing takes some time to get right. You need conditioning."

Jisung jogged up too. Peeking behind him, Y/n felt a pang of disappointment as she saw Hyunjin walking away, moving to his bag that was shoved up against the far wall next to his friends' bags. Maybe he was upset with her for some reason... or maybe it was because of how she'd mistakenly held his hand during class earlier.

"Did you wanna play?" Jisung asked her eagerly. Felix looked at her expectantly, and Y/n took a step back, not wanting to make herself look stupid in front of these stupidly talented players.

"No, I'm okay-"

"Nope! Come on," Jisung took her upper arm and marched her to the middle of the court. Y/n weakly protested, Felix pushing the ball gently into her hands as Jisung positioned her right before the hoop.

"I don't think you have a choice," Felix whispered to her apologetically before smiling cheekily. "We could do with the teaching practice. It'll be fun."

Y/n sighed as Jisung stood several metres away from her, holding out his hands with a cheeky grin.

"So, you push the ball forward and then flick your wrists out," Felix stood beside her, making gestures with his wrists.

"Like this?" she copied his motion, tossing the ball about half a metre.

Felix nodded. "Yep! Then put some force into it."

Y/n glanced at Jisung before doing as Felix said. The ball flew in a perfect arc and Jisung caught it easily, cheering. Hyunjin watched with an amused smile from the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Felix clapped her gently on the back.

"Now you just gotta do that while dribbling. You know how?"

Y/n nodded. Hyunjin had regaled her with training tactics and basketball tricks during their library sessions, so she knew how.

In theory.

Fifteen minutes later, Y/n let the ball fly from her hands, tossing it to Jisung. It made sense now, and the feeling of the basketball's textured material felt natural and familiar under her palms. She liked the thumping sound the ball made as it hit the court, again and again and again.

She felt slightly sweaty, but exhilarated. She understood why the boys always seemed so alive whenever they played. There was something exciting about being on constant alert for the ball, catching it and passing it, and feeling the anticipation hanging in the air as the ball skimmed the hoop before dropping inside with a soft whoosh.

They'd been playing what was called 'two-on-two' for around fifteen minutes. Felix and Hyunjin were on one team, Jisung and Y/n on the other. Felix had proposed they flip a coin to decide the teams, but Jisung had seized her arm as soon as the words had left Felix's mouth with a frenzied, eager shout. That had settled it.

Y/n felt tired and her arms were beginning to ache, but it was the satisfied kind of ache that comes from doing something you enjoy. Grinning at Jisung as he shot a hoop, she moved to sit down, attempting to catch her breath.

She felt so free. Like a bird that had lived its whole life in captivity, the cage door had unlocked and she was allowed to soar through the sky, no limits, no rules. Just her wings airing her up against the current. She wondered if the boys felt the same way.

Felix flopped down next to her, and Y/n panicked briefly. Had Hyunjin told him and Jisung about what happened with the note in class? She subtly pressed a hand to her blazer pocket, where she'd tucked the note inside it. She glanced at Felix, but his eyes were trained on the court, where Hyunjin was currently dribbling down the side, trying to stop Jisung from taking it from him.

"Hey," he panted.

"Hi."

Felix grinned at her, sweaty and gasping. "You're not bad at basketball, you know? Pretty good for a first try."

Y/n flushed at the praise. Coming from someone as talented as Felix, that meant the world. And it felt genuine. She tried convincing herself that maybe he was just saying it to make her feel better about her awful skills but the thoughts wouldn't come, and somehow she refused to believe it. The thought made her smile, a hand coming up out of habit to cover her mouth.

"Thanks."

Felix batted her hand away. "Don't cover your smile."

"W-what?"

"Don't cover your smile," he repeated. "It's nice."

Y/n was sure her face was scarlet by now, but she appreciated his gentle honesty nonetheless. She lowered her hand.

"There you go," Felix grinned. "Just like the sun."

Y/n huffed a little, shy laugh and looked away, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Fortunately, it didn't last long, because she was disturbed by a shout from the court.

Hyunjin was on the floor, Jisung straddling his waist. Both of them had their arms wrapped around the basketball, tussling for ownership amidst accused shouts and loud whines.

Felix slumped back against the wall, rolling his eyes. "This happens every single practice."

Y/n chuckled. "Must get old, huh?"

Felix smiled. "Nah. It's a bit irritating sometimes, for sure, but they're my best friends, so I don't mind that much. And it's funny, to be honest."

Y/n glanced across the court just as the ball slipped from Hyunjin's grip, rolling away. Jisung let out a shout and scrambled for it just as Hyunjin did. There was a brief kerfuffle.

She chuckled. It was funny.

The bell rang.

*texting unknown number* y/n: hello? y/n: is this hyunjin? unknown number: oh hey! unknown number: i was worried you'd forgotten about me haha y/n: no, i just had tutoring after school so i didn't get time. sorry... y/n: but i have time now unknown number: oh, cool, all good unknown number: hey, so do me a favour y/n: ? unknown number: change my contact number to something really cool and awesome

Y/n chuckled and sat upright on her bed, letting her phone rest on top of the duvet as she thought hard. The sky outside was fading, streaking cotton candy across the clouds and melting into a deep shade of ocean blue to the left.

An idea popped into her head and she picked her phone up, clicking on the contact and editing the name.

*y/n changed 'unknown number' to 'hyunjinnie 🏀'*

y/n: i changed it hyunjinnie 🏀: alright, cool hyunjinnie 🏀 i like it :D y/n: well now you have to change mine so it's even hyunjinnie 🏀: hmmm hyunjinnie 🏀: let's see *hyunjinnie 🏀 changed 'y/n' to 'y/n 🌸💫'* hyunjinnie 🏀: there. how's that? y/n 🌸💫: a flower and a star? hyunjinnie 🏀: yeah, because i saw you doodling flowers in your book earlier during class hyunjinnie 🏀: and you always draw a star next to your name whenever we get worksheets

Y/n blinked at his message. He was right. She was doodling flowers earlier and she did always draw a star next to her name when she received class work. Flushing at his keen observation, she typed out a reply.

y/n 🌸💫: i like it hyunjinnie 🏀: i'm glad hyunjinnie 🏀: aren't i so smart? y/n 🌸💫: whatever makes you feel better hyunjinnie 🏀: ouch, okay hyunjinnie 🏀: fine, i see how it is... i thought you were my FRIEND

Y/n laughed and set her phone aside, momentarily getting up to open the window, since it was getting dark. It had been hot lately, humid and temperate, and Y/n wanted all the cold air she could get, even if that meant letting in some unwelcome insect visitors. Her fan was broken, so she had to make do.

Flopping back down on the bed, she picked up her phone, smiling cheekily.

* y/n 🌸💫 changed 'hyunjinnie 🏀' to 'drama king 🏀'* y/n 🌸💫: there y/n 🌸💫: now it's perfect

On the other side of the line, Hyunjin chuckled and shook his head. He brushed a strand of dark hair from his face and rolled to his side, resting his phone on the pillow and propping it up. He typed out a reply.

drama king 🏀: very creative. speaking of, it was nice having you playing basketball with us at lunchtime y/n 🌸💫: yeah, it was fun y/n 🌸💫: you guys are so unbelievably talented drama king 🏀: you're talented too, i've never seen anyone who can sketch like you can y/n 🌸💫: thanks, hyunjinnie drama king 🏀: maybe you could show me during class drama king 🏀: i mean, i do sit across from you drama king 🏀: so

Hyunjin bit his lip. Would it be weird if he asked her over text? Would she forget by the time she actually walked into class? Why was he so nervous? She was his friend, so why did his heart race faster at the thought of spending so much time next to her? Nothing had happened when they were both alone at the library.

So why did it feel so different?

He let out a soft groan, vying with his rationality.

Fuck it, he thought, eyes fixed on the screen as he typed out a message.

drama king 🏀: did you wanna sit together next class?

He waited anxiously for a response. How long had it been? Two minutes? Two hours? Why wasn't she replying?

Gritting his teeth, he chucked his phone onto the bedside. She'd just denied him and now he felt like an idiot. He went too far and now she might hate him for all eternity. Hyunjin felt somehow winded, like the one time he fell over during a tournament game and one of his opponents stepped on his middle for good measure.

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Hyunjin swung his legs up, pressing a hand to the firm, flat expanse of his stomach. He'd just have to explain himself to her the next day. The thought of having to see her disapproving glare at his clingy offer made him feel surprisingly disconsolate.

He laid back down and tried to occupy his mind, attempting to forget about the blameworthy device resting on the bedside table. Failing miserably, he huffed and swiped a hand across the table, sending his phone skidding under his bed with a thud.

He'd just try and forget about it for the time being.

A distant ting made him shoot bolt upright. His head spun and he pressed a hand to his forehead, hissing, before frantically checking the floor for his phone.

Dropping to his stomach on the floor, he scrabbled around under his bed and tried to reach his phone. His fingers brushed the device and he stretched, grabbing it with a sigh of exertion. Forgetting half his torso was stretched out under the solid wooden bedframe, he made to get up, hitting his head solidly on the wooden slats.

Hyunjin groaned, wincing, and opened his phone, shuffling out from the dark, enclosed space. Climbing onto the bed again, he opened the message bar and swiped into the chat.

y/n 🌸💫: sorry, the wifi's been cutting out here a lot so i couldn't reply straight away y/n 🌸💫: but if you want to sit together during class next time... y/n 🌸💫: sure

Hyunjin collapsed into the pillows with a sigh of relief.

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[stars-n-spice]

Be healthy. What nicknames do Batchy and their partners give each other and for what reasons (Phee calls Tech brown-eyed because of the color of his eyes, for example)?

Hello! I just came off of having a cold, so I hope I stay healthy lol. But I hope you are healthy too dear anon! 🩵 Sorry it took so long to answer! This is such a cute question! I'd been meaning to do little doodles of them calling each other nicknames so here ya go!

Hunter's not really one for nicknames, so he rarely uses them and Jung really only uses a few as well since he doesn't speak much

Echo and Viram enjoy using sweeter nicknames for each other, with Viram using a few ridiculous ones that make Echo laugh every time she calls him one of them

Wrecker and Khea uses nicknames for each other constantly - sweet, endearing, cringey, silly - they use them all because it's fun but also because Khea is someone who is constantly using nicknames for everyone and anyone

Phee is like Khea where she is constantly using nicknames, but the ones for Tech are special and sweet - meanwhile, Tech typically uses very romantic and charming nicknames for Phee like some kind of Victorian lover

Crosshair thinks pet names are kinda stupid so he doesn't like using them - instead he'll use insults (affectionately sometimes) for Tay, with him rarely calling him something like 'babe' - meanwhile, Tay loves using any and all nick/petnames for Crosshair

The nicknames included are both in universe and in a modern setting!

Hunter calls Jung:

Cyare - 'beloved' in Mando'a because Jung is his beloved Taku taupuhi - 'darling/my chosen' one in Māori because he chose Jung to be his partner in the special dynamic they have

Jung calls Hunter:

Darling - because Jung likes the regal politeness of it Hun - short for "Hunter" and a play on words of 'Hon' (which is short for 'Honey') 여보 - means 'honey/sweetheart' in Korean

Echo calls Viram:

Cyar’ika, Love - sweet words of endearment to show how much he loves Viram E ipo - means 'darling' in Māori Taku whaiāipo - means 'my sweetheart' in Māori Nectarine - because Viram reminds Echo of a nectarine (sweet and colorful)

Viram calls Echo:

Love/Honey - sweet words of endearment to show how much she loves Echo Snookums/Cutiepie - silly words of endearment she uses to make Echo laugh Querido - means 'dear' in Portuguese Meu eco - means 'my echo' in Portuguese (because that's what he is)

Wrecker calls Khea:

Mesh’la - means 'beautiful' in Mando'a because Wrecker thinks she's beautiful and he knows she appreciates him using the language of her people Babe/Hon - classic terms of endearment he enjoys using Sunshine/Firecracker - cute nicknames that reflect her enthusiastic and hotheaded behavior Manu iti - means 'little bird/birdie' in Māori because she reminds him of a bird

Khea calls Wrecker:

Ori’cyare/Big Guy - reflecting on some obvious physical attributes of Wrecker, 'ori' means 'big' in Mando'a so she's calling him her 'big beloved/sweetheart' basically Ori’dral - akin to meaning 'big bright, powerful light' as 'ori' means 'big' and 'dral' means 'bright, glowing, strong, and/or powerful' to reflect on him being a guiding light and a source of strength to her Mi vida - 'my life' in Spanish because he's everything to her Mi corazón - 'my heart' in Spanish because he's her wants and desires Papí - basically 'daddy' in Spanish and she jokingly uses it 여보 - 'sweetheart/honey' in Korean

Tech calls Phee:

Honey, Beloved/My love/Darling - Tech loves using any and all super romantic and flowy words of endearment for Phee to show how much he cares and loves her Taku taonga - 'my treasure' in Māori because she's worth everything and more to him and because pirates

Phee calls Tech:

Brown Eyes - for obvious reasons we all know and love Babe/Dear - classic terms of endearment she likes to use because they never fail to make Tech smile Sweetcheeks/Pudding/Muffin/Cutiepie - silly terms of endearment that she loves to use because they make Tech blush and short-circuit

Crosshair calls Tay:

Idiot/Bastard - usually said with a scoff or roll of his eyes (Tay)-Babe - occasionally calls him the classic 'babe' name and will call him 'Tay-babe' either to get something he wants or because he's going, "Tay. Babe." after Tay says/does something stupid Taku whaiāipo - means 'sweetheart' in Māori because Tay is sweet to him but this is something he's only ever call Tay in private

Tay calls Crosshair:

Baby/Babe - classic terms of endearment that he uses a lot Hubby - after they get married, Tay uses this a lot just because he's grateful and proud to call Crosshair his husband Mi cielo - 'my darling/sky' in Spanish for reasons that can be found in this fic in the third chapter! Cariño - 'darling/honey/dear' in Spanish and something Tay likes using because he purrs it and Crosshair always blushes Literally any embarrassing pet name under the sun - Tay likes teasing Crosshair and will say anything to get him to blush or squirm

[thcophagy]

sully had chalked up to what had happened after the party as one big misunderstanding, something that he couldn't be mad at lana for considering the rest of the events of the night. if anything, he'd felt a wave of pity for her, assuming that she was only trying to come onto him because she thought had to thank him for defending her. if he were a worse man he might've taken advantage of her vulnerability in that moment and let her touch him as she claimed to have wanted to but he was trying not to be that man, especially at the cost of disrespecting lana. it was easy to turn her away then because she gave up so easily, however the same couldn't be said for the version of his nanny that sat in the passengers seat, seemingly desperate to grope at his cock like it was the air she needed to breathe. he was trying to be that noble man, the one who saw how inappropriate the situation was and put a stop to it but he was also too soft to properly put his foot down and say no. with each flickered glance sent in lana's direction, he was met with the sight of her big eyes glimmering with mischief as she giggled at her blatant objectification. not only was it almost too much to hear her using such language, to be the subject of her dirty talk made him hyper-aware of his body in a way he hadn't been for a long time. he opened his mouth to formulate some kind of reply but nothing came, there was nothing he could say that would make any difference to the situation, not when lana was set so in her ways. as much as he wished he was, sully wasn't immune to that sickly sweet lana put on as she cooed fake sympathies about his abstinence, that was until she began to dive head first into the absurd and sully was forced to bark out a laugh. "are you serious? lana that's- you're being ridiculous. i'm fine, i'm not- jesus christ." she was insatiable, for a brief moment he thought he'd finally managed in getting her to keep her hands to herself but like clockwork, another dainty hand reached out and gripped the heavy weight of his cock through his pants once more. parking did sound like a pretty good idea, though not for the reason that lana seemed to be rallying for. the last thing either of them needed was for sully to somehow manage to crash the car on the empty road because he was too flustered by her advances, he only had two hands and she clearly needed them both in order to be held back from groping him like he was a piece of meat there for her pleasure. unable to move her hand away without letting go of her wrist or taking one off the stirring wheel, sully let out a shaky sigh and took a sharp turn to the right, pulling onto the side of the road. the second the car screeched to a stop, he was forced to once again grab at the hand stimulating him and pull her away with a sharp yank, though his grip was harsher than before. if she wouldn't listen to him then he'd have to apply some force, physically restraining her wasn't ideal and made him feel a little crazy but it was the only thing that he thought could work. "listen to me. you need to stop this. all of it, alright? i'm going to take you home and you'll sleep this off and tomorrow we can forget this ever happened but i won't tolerate your misbehaviour any longer. understand?"

this side of lana wasn't exactly out of character, though for mr. landry, it was likely a jarring switch. she'd taken great pains to craft an alternate persona to suit the nanny gig; a more polite, carefully censored version of herself that wouldn't corrupt the kids or scandalize their parents, and she'd prided herself on her ability to seamlessly maintain that act the whole time she'd been living with the landry's. sure, the way she dressed left little to the imagination even after her attempts to tone down the sex appeal, and she had a bit of an unpolished manner of speaking, but she always remembered her manners, she hardly ever swore and, the biggest difference from her usual self, no sex talk whatsoever. by then she'd slipped up once or twice with an innuendo or two— never in front of the twins, of course— and then, most damning of all, her attempt to initiate something that night after the family's holiday party, but it was nothing that could've cost her her job, she thought. at least in that case she'd been mostly sober, and had the good sense to pull back when he challenged her. this time, her inhibitions were thrown out the window, and there was no stopping her as she felt his cock stir to life beneath her soft palm, gasping in response as her eyes widened. "oh shit!" she couldn't resist giggling uncontrollably. "i forgot you had such a big cock, mr. landry..." had she been in her right mind, lana would've at least attempted to go about things with a tad more finesse, but there was something about blatantly objectifying her much older, wildly unavailable boss that gave her a rush like no other, almost like another shot of tequila or a hastily snorted bump, and all she had to do was say and do exactly what was on her mind. now that she could feel him hardening, she was sure it wouldn't be long until he caved just as long as she kept applying pressure. "oh, but i am concerned... it's very concerning." her voice became an exaggerated coo, the front edges of her brows turning up and her eyes widening to give her a sympathetic look. for a moment after he grabbed her again, she didn't fight him, playing nice just to get his guard lowered a little. "it's not healthy for a man to be pent up like that mr. landry... you've gotta get what you need from somewhere. i mean, who knows? if you don't get that release now, you might just go buy a gun and release it all over the family in a fit of blind testosterone fueled rage! i'm just looking out for you. don't you think you deserve that?" her brief period of peace now over, lana went right back to trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp, only realizing after a bit of struggling that she had another functioning hand. she stopped fighting only to grope him with her free hand, a sly grin on her face like she'd just experienced a stroke of genius. "let's park somewhere, c'mon..."

[the-bi-space-ace]

I just found a bunch of old stuff I wrote literally over ten years ago and I know I'm supposed to be all 'I'm so embarrassed this is so cheesy it's so old oh no' but really I'm sitting here smiling so big bc little me just had so much enthusiasm and wrote things that she just really wanted to write and it is so damn cute all of it is precious