#and now someone ELSE is offering to draw him????????????? im so touched and like i cant even put it into words

[eevees-hobbies]

i can NOOOOT get *your* suo out of my head like, i gotta ask a question abt him,, ok so we know he likes to share his yummy gfs pussy but does this include without permission 👀 like say she comes home and surprises him with her pussy already creampied by someone else (and making him guess who by the taste ughhhh), would he be more upset or turned on? Im just wondering where they draw the line bc we know suo has all the power 😍. Or like how did he even bring up sharing her first, what a conversation to be had lol!

I sent a rq under this name but im 🍒 anon btw!!

Hi, 🍒 Anon! I love your mind and that you can’t stop thinking about Suo because that’s precisely how he’d like you–as obsessed with him as he is with you! And, yes, I’ve seen your other ask! I’m hoarding it until I can give it the attention it deserves! I may have written a scenario below to answer your question. I am so sorry!! I am sometimes not good at being brief, but I always get super into anything involving Suo because deep down, this man has me in a-.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Hayato Suo. Togame remains the villain in my fics (sorry, sweet boy!). Cheating by anyone else standards but consented infidelity by Reader and Suo’s (they match each other’s freak), cuckolding for Endo and Sugi, one instance of a smack to the thigh, dirty talk, degradation, dacryphilia, Suo knows you better than yourself, be prepared to hear Suo's inner thoughts because he is stressed, obsessive/worshipping kind of love, pussy inspection with fingers, cum eating, mentions of threesomes. Tis smut! Minors Do Not Interact. 

Word Count: 2K

Story banner by me. Divider by Saradkia

Now, let's get into it, myes? You have some great questions about Suo and his girlfriend, who are an interesting couple. I think that some Wind Breaker men are built so differently that eating another man’s cum out of their girlfriend’s pussy would seem appealing or something that they would consider.

Endo, for example, is spreading you open and wide to lap Takiishi’s cum out of your sloppy, abused cunt without a second thought. In fact, he thinks you’re at your most delicious when Takiishi has already had his fun with you, and he eagerly takes his seat between your thighs to taste his favorite person and his girlfriend.

Sugishita isn’t necessarily into sharing, but he wouldn’t fault you if you were enamored by Umemiya—because, duh, why wouldn’t you be? It doesn’t strike him as odd that you let Umemiya hit it raw, and of course, Sugishita would be more than willing to help clean you up with his tongue.

But Suo? Yeah, sharing you doesn’t bother him in the slightest—your pleasure is his pleasure after all, but he’d much prefer to take a supporting or leading role in your sexual liaisons with his friends. That’s why I have always written them as engaging in the pleasures of the flesh together because Suo needs to be with you as you experience every ounce of pleasure–you two, after all, are simply one-half of the same beating heart.

The idea of you getting fucked by anyone and him not being present to watch does not sit right with his soul. 

He needs to be there to provide instructions to your lover because he knows your pleasure better than anyone else–including you–ever could. He needs to be there to deliver quick quips aimed at you so he can see how your flustered eyes dart away from him. He needs to be there to offer whispered words of praise and gentle touches to build you up as he guides your hips in a rocking motion while you ride your temporary lover's cock like the goddess you are. 

He wants to see the way your eyes roll back into the back of your skull when the tip of Umemiya’s cock pushes past the entrance of your tight cunt with a pop, his length bottoming out in you immediately.

“Aw, come on, sweet girl, don’t get that fucked out expression just yet; we’ve only just started.”

Suo wants to see the way you blush when Nirei moans desperately into the sweat-slicked skin of your back as he takes you from behind.

“Isn’t that cute, pretty girl? Nirei really can’t help thanking you for getting to try out your sweet cunt. I bet it’s the best he has ever had.”

And Suo wants to watch you swallow and lick up every single drop of Sakura’s cum no matter where it lands: on the bed sheets, on the floor, or even on Suo’s cock. Wow! How did it land there?

“Looks like you better get on your knees, dove, and clean up the mess you both made.”

To imagine himself absent, not being the one to finish you off, and not being the last one to leave his mark inside of you makes him feel like he just might lose his grip on reality.

Because you need him, don’t you? Your temporary lover can only do so much for you, but the one who makes you scream until your throat burns and your voice cracks isn’t Nirei, Umemiya, or Sakura. No, the one who makes you quiver and shake while he holds you in his arms as he strokes your hair after a particularly intense session is Suo. 

Truly, it’s how you bond, so how could you do it without him? It’s like if you were binge-watching your favorite TV show with your partner, and then you come back the next day and they had continued to watch without you! That shit fucking hurts! It’s a betrayal to Suo–just not for the same reasons as it would be to those of us who are more “traditional” in our way of thinking.

So if he comes home to find you with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you tell him you have a surprise for him, he’ll be delightfully curious—were you thinking of him enough to plan a surprise? You shouldn’t have, but of course, he’s glad that you did! 

At first, he’d smirk, approaching you while already unbuttoning his pants. As you spread your legs, his eyes would travel down to the thick, white seed that would be oozing out of you, and despite his usual stoic demeanor, you’d notice the unmistakable but slight clench of his jaw. 

Suo knows what reaction you’re trying to get out of him, and he’s more than willing to give it to you. You want him to lose control, to let his well-placed and perfectly maintained mask slip.

All because you’re a brat.

All because you want to be fucked within an inch of your life.

All because you seek discipline and a firm hand to remind you who is genuinely in charge.

Well, sorry, but this simply isn’t the type of behavior that Suo plans on rewarding. And tonight, your self-imposed limits on your body's ability to receive pleasure—and for how long—are not his problem or concern. Tonight, he plans on pushing you past what you think you can handle. Do you think you’ve seen the brink before? Tonight, the brink is the starting point. 

“I’m not hurt, just disappointed,” he’d start as his fingers would wrap around your ankles, his grip tight as he’d pull your entire body down the length of the bed and toward him.

“C-cliches, Hayato? You’re so much better than that-OW!” A sudden swat to your thigh gives you pause as you lift your ass a few inches off the bed in response to the sting, but that damn grip of his keeps you anchored.

“The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth unprompted is an apology. Now, who was it?” 

As you divide your plush lips to speak up–probably to say something that’s not in your best interest–you hesitate at the sight of Suo narrowing his eyes at you. Nothing but dangerous intent swirls behind ruby-toned irises, sending a shiver down your spine. But you know Suo, and he’s dangerous to everyone but you. To him, causing you pain would be akin to causing himself pain and he isn’t in the business of torturing the other half of his soul.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t plan on putting you in your place. Suddenly he’s hovering over you, his tassel earrings dangling in your face and tickling the gentle curve of your cheeks.

“W-who? Well…” you stammer, your eyes avoiding his sharp gaze.

While you’re wrestling with how honest you should be, he’s pushing two fingers deep inside of you, twisting his fingers to churn the cum in a way that feels violating. The sound of his fingers swirling the cum makes you blush because, between your heavy breathing, it’s the loudest sound in the room. 

“I knew she was greedy, but I had no idea you lacked self-control.” He pauses as the pace of his fingers pushing in and out of you quickens, and the squelches get more obscene. 

“Let’s see if I can figure it out. I know exactly how she feels after being ruined by each of our friends.” 

He’s not bluffing.

“Look how loud she is for me already. Was she this loud for…” he pauses as he goes down a mental list of who could have done this to you–and the duration of his pause makes your eyes narrow, and the tip of your ears heat up because now he’s being petty.

“Sakura?”

The way you snort lets him know he’s off base. Part of him is relieved it isn’t Sakura; his crush on you is borderline pitiful, and he wouldn’t want his friend to get the wrong idea. But if not Sakura, then who? Who would be brave–or stupid–enough to bypass him to get to you? 

As he twists his fingers inside of you, pulling a groan from your lips, his eyes linger on the way your nose scrunches up in pleasure and slight embarrassment. He leans in closer. “Tell me. Now.”

“I-it was Togame!”

Suo pulls back and looks at you like you just spat at him, making your heart speed up. His reaction is so visceral that you hold your breath in response. 

“Shishitoren trash?”

You wince; surely that beef was squashed long ago, you think. In some ways, it was, but there’s a bit of tension between Suo and Togame when it comes to you. 

Suo notices how Togame’s eyes sweep over you–as though he’s devouring you in his mind. Suo doesn’t mind the looking too much, but it’s the way Togame eye fucks you mercilessly and the way he somehow always manages to find excuses to touch and brush against you. 

He’s not threatened by his presence exactly, but the audacity of Togame pisses him off because not once has he asked for permission, not once has he approached him in the way that a gentleman would inquire about tasting what Suo considers his, not once-

Suo is snapped out of his spiraling as he notices your breathing has grown more rapid and your eyes glazed over long ago. Because, fuck, of course, he was still finger fucking you during his descent into madness. As you approach that oh-so-familiar edge, your toes curling in the way that tells him you’re close, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty and anything but sated.

Your eyes snap open, their ferocity almost enough to make Suo forgive you right then and there and make you chant his name as he gives himself over to you–but lessons must be taught.

He holds the fingers up to your lips, the scent of Togame and yourself wafting into your nostrils and serving as a reminder of the intimacy you shared with him. Your bottom lip quivers ever so slightly and Suo drags his cum slicked fingers against your bottom lip, the sheen it leaves making you look so delicate, beautiful, and worthy of worship. His eyes flick down to your pout, lingering with an insatiable hunger that makes your core flutter. 

You can see his adams apple bob as he tries desperately to hold onto the thin thread of restraint threatening to snap. He can’t help but wonder if Togame got to see this side of you as he pushes his digits into your hungry mouth. You groan at the mixture of salty and sweet cum that coats your tongue and you can’t help but hollow your cheeks as you suck Suo’s fingers clean, your eyes never leaving his.

God and the way you twist your face in pleasure makes him want to lean in and taste your lips, allowing his tongue the privilege of experiencing what you taste like with another man’s essence on your tongue. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and it’s a toxic mixture of possessiveness, fixation, and lust that makes him ache and throb for you.

He should have been there to watch you take Togame’s cock. He should have been there to revel in the way your hot, fat tears flowed down your face as he encouraged Togame to stick a thumb in your other hole. He should have been there to stifle your loud moans and gasps with his cock as Togame gave your greedy pussy deep, deep strokes. “Didn’t know you liked the dirty, skeevy appeal that Shishitoren offers. How did he fuck you? Tell me every single detail; I have all fucking night.”

And Suo does have all fucking night, and suddenly, so do you.

“You like being stretched out by Shishtoren cock? Maybe I should drop you off at the Ori and let the “Devotees of Power” have their way with you. How about Choji, hm? He’s a bit of a biter, you know, and I know how sensitive you are, darling; I don’t think you’d last very long” He grips your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“I want to see every place where he touched you. I want to see where he touched what’s mine, so I can make you forget all about Jo Togame.” 

His eyes trail down, amused and pleased that you’re already obeying. Your fingers slip between your thighs as you watch his hungry gaze take in the way you spread your folds, and you know you have him exactly where you want him.

Anyway, 🍒 anon, this might be how it would go, but I wouldn’t make a habit of it because Suo has his limits, and I can’t promise he’ll be merciful next time. 

@pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch @interstellar-inn

[another-lost-mc]

really im begging for a sirius degradation thirst with afab reader because damn that man is something else 😩😩

a/n: he is indeed a horrible man and I hate him (affectionately)

➤ intermission | sirius x reader

1.3k words | nsfw | afab!reader

cw: sirius is his own content warning. jealousy and possessive behaviour; degradation.

Hot puffs of air fan across the delicate skin of your neck when Sirius murmurs into your ear, his lips brushing against you just enough so that you shiver in his grasp. he leans in close when he wants to speak: the sound of his hips slapping against your ass and the vanity in his dressing room creaks under your palms as you brace yourself against each deep thrust drown out everything else.

There's a commotion outside as actors and stagehands rush to prepare for the play's second act, and any minute now they'll be announcing for attendees to return to their seats since the intermission is almost over. You won't be joining them, not yet—not while Sirius is fucking into you from behind like a beast in heat.

When intermission started earlier, he surprised you. You looked up from the program in your lap when you sensed someone standing beside you, and there he was in his tall, sweat-slicked glory. He hadn't even changed out of his costume, but simply removed the heavy ornamental robes so he would look less obvious mingling among the crowd. In the dim, shadowy light of the theatre, you could still see the flicker of vibrant green and icy-sharp blue in his expression. He barely spared a glance for Vega who sat in the seat next to you, your guest for tonight's play since Spica was called away on urgent business and you didn't want the extra ticket to go to waste.

Something about the arrangement irked him because the smile that curled Sirius' lips lacked the humor and warmth he normally showed you. "There's something backstage I'd like to show you, if you don't mind." You didn't hesitate to take his offered hand—you never have, and probably never will—and he practically pulled you out of your seat and through the auditorium and busting halls leading to the dressing area. 

He said nothing when he led you to his private dressing room and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against the door, arms crossed behind his back, and the metallic click of the lock made you jump. His expression was softer now than it was before, but it was still unreadable. You fidgeted nervously with the sleeves of your dress, self-conscious under his inscrutable gaze.

"Don't do that," he admonished you quietly. He could see the self-doubt building around you like a fog. "You look lovely tonight." He stepped closer and brushed his fingers along the neckline of your dress, tracing over the exquisite embroidery. He smiled a little when you shivered until the gentle touch and he explored even more, gliding his hand over the heaving curve of your breasts and down further still. He followed the dip and slope of your tummy and waist until his fingers teased at the high slit that exposed your leg when you moved. 

"It was a gift from my boyfriend," you teased softly, reaching out to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind his ear. "He has excellent taste."

He hummed and leaned forward, inching his fingers across the top of your thigh and between your legs. "But he's stuck on stage, starving for you, while your dear friend Vega gets to enjoy your delightful company." His fingers slide along the silky material of your panties, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips when he slid his fingers gently over the material and applying barely-there pressure to your clit.

The world spun and suddenly you were pushed forward against the dresser. You braced your hands on the tabletop while his hand continued exploring between your thighs, pushing harder against your underwear so that the slick starting to coat your folds made the thin fabric sticky and wet. 

"I wonder if he thought of doing this to you every time he glanced over at your lap. I bet he got a nice view of your bare thigh and wondered if your skin is as soft as it looks," he whispered into your ear. The implication of his words burned your cheeks with shame, but you were distracted by long, nimble fingers sliding the damp fabric aside so he could trace circles around your entrance. "You'd have to be stupid not to notice the way he looks at you, my dear."

You gasped and bucked in his arms when two fingers buried themselves inside you. It didn't hurt—you were sopping wet and slippery for him—but you didn't realize how needy you were until you were suddenly full. "He's only a friend," you whimpered, grinding your hips down against his hand to encourage his fingers to go even deeper. "I wore this for you." You bit your lip and whined through your teeth when his fingers pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and throbbing and desperately unsatisfied.

He moved behind you, his hands brushing against your back as he fumbled with his belt. There was a soft clink and a zip and then his cock slid down between your cheeks and through your messy folds. He thrust lazily between your thighs as he coated his cock with your slick and bumped the fat tip teasingly against you clit. He bunched your dress roughly around your hips and kissed your shoulder with a sigh. "Such beauty deserves a little appreciation, don't you think?" He buried his snarling groan into your neck when he plunged in deep with one sharp snap of his hips. "And who could possibly appreciate a little cock tease like you better than me?"

He fucked you with rough, erratic strokes. he didn't have the patience or time to draw this out for fun. This was a tease, a reminder, a claiming. He sucked little marks along the column of your neck with a grin, watching your eyes close and your head tip forward in the mirror's shaking reflection. He found the slit of your dress and rubbed against your clit with his forefinger, startling a broken moan from your lips when the sensitivity and pleasure took you by surprise. Your body fluttered around his cock when he teased you towards your release. His hips finally stuttered to a halt when he came moments later, groaning your name against your shoulder and filling you with cum.

You were both panting loudly in the otherwise quiet dressing room, and you heard the muffled announcement that the show would be recommencing shortly and that guests should return to their seats. Sirius had more than enough believable excuses for his sweaty hair and sloppy stage makeup; you had no reasonable explanation for your own well-fucked state. 

"There's a washroom down the hall where you can clean up," he suggested, eyes glowing amber as he kissed your temple. He let the crumpled dress fall back into place and he stepped back to admire you. You were flushed and warm and glowing. He adjusted his pants after tucking his softening cock away. "I'll take you there and then you can go back to your seat for the rest of the play."

You took a hesitant step on still-trembling legs and leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. Your thighs were tacky from slick and cum soaking through your panties and dripping down your leg. You weren't sure perfume would be able to make the way you smelled now, musky with sweat and lingering notes of Sirius' cologne wafting around you like a cloud.

"Vega's going to guess what we were doing if I sit next to him like this," you whined with embarrassment when you dabbed at your warm cheeks with a cool cloth. 

Sirius's smile turned cocky, and he looked far too pleased with himself when he glanced at you in the mirror and caught your bashful gaze with his. "Exactly."

[hxnneydew]

JAGJABBSJASJA- SCREAMING. God, I love this so much!! Knight!ghost is another level. This entire thing might just be next to shakespeare. Speaking of...some of my fav parts cus this is my fav now!

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You watch the crackle of the fire, your finger tapping against your cheek. If you are truly to be a thorn, then you’ll need more than a simple favor to gift your knight. There must be a grand gesture, or some higher level of humiliation. 

I love this. The acceptance that if she is gonna be a thorn then she might as well make it sharp. She's gaining confidence in her own power and i loveee that!!

“If you haven’t, then you have nothing to fear.” You smile at her, “Just see that he gets the letter, and sleep well knowing you would not betray me.”

Honestly. Girlboss. Such a power move I love her. I'd be shaking if I was the maid and rightfully so

But he should have known. His lips find their corners quirked into a smile at the orders written on the front. “Should this seal be broken, take the hand that delivered it.” He only wishes it was. Carrying out your orders is such a joy. Why would your hands ever need to touch a blade when you wield his so well?

Okay ik there was a threat but dam?? The right to be scared is there. Scary princess = best. Queen. AND THE LAST LINE?! WHEN YOU WIELD HIS SO WELL??? DEAD. HAJABNAA. MASTERPIECE OF A LINE.

Ghost jerks his head down the hall towards Keegan's room. Special privileges afforded to the Princess's guard. The maid turns to look in the same direction. “Two doors down on the left, I'll send ‘im your way.” He offers. The easiest way to get rid of one problem is to solve another, he'd have to be blind not to see the way those two looked at each other.

Oooo keegan and his angel snippetsss yesss. Yes Ghost. Set them up.

God. God. He’s never seen anything like you before. Divinity in the flesh. Perfection in every dip and curve, in the flicker of candle light over your skin, in the press of your fingers against his chest plate. He must have been born a sinner to be tested like this, to be shown what he can’t have, dangled like a carrot while he waits for the stick. He would ruin you.

The "he must have been born a sinner to be tested like this" ?? GHOUL. This entire thing was already so good and then you add that?! Idk but i love that sooo much.

He would break you, pluck every petal until there were no flowers left in the garden, leave your skin scarred with his bites. He could eat you whole, and you’d let him. You’re asking him to. Aren’t you? There’s fear in your eyes, trepidation, that batters him. Aren’t you standing here because he’s led you to believe he would? Because he told you he loved you. Because he kissed you, and held you, and comforted you. Because he’s kept you from seeing that there might be someone else, someone more worthy of you.

UGH. JUST UGH. LITERALLY SO GOOD. I DONT EVEN HAVE WORDS BUT I LOVE THIS TOO.

“I’m afraid I ask too much of you,” You swallow. Ask anything of me, he wants to beg, grant me some kind reprieve from the wanting, give me a task to occupy the hands that want to grab for you. “I’d like you to wear my crest for the tournament.”

Omg princess just give him everything and he'll do it. ALSO CREST?! YES. WHATEVER PLAN I HOPE YOU DO AMAZING PRINCESS.

That roots him in place. A slap in the face to your father, a renouncement of his allegiance to the throne, proclaiming him a dog to only one master. There’s a determination in your eyes, buried beneath the swell of fear, that he’s never seen before. He nods once, of course he will, he’d strip naked in the palace garden if you asked it of him. Strip you bare here and now if you called his name properly. 

God, the willingness 😩🥵

There’s something weighing behind your eyes, some scale that’s tipped, a decision made. He’s never seen you look so serious. Where did his soft girl go? Ghost’s brows draw together. His thumb brushes over your cheek, trying to find some comforting action to settle the determination in your eyes. Whatever needs doing he’ll do it, you only need to ask.

Jagajbqjanw. I love how he knows that she's got something planned and that she's more determined.

"I need you to win the tournament.”

OKAY. GHOST BETTER WIN THIS FOR HER.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

No but really this is a masterpiece and i love this.

Your Strength Tags: Knight!Ghost x Princess!Reader, politics, Ghost having dirty thoughts, threats of violence, period typical misogyny, knight!Keegan, König mention Summary: You're nothing more than a doll to be sold and traded, and for too many years you've been content with that knowledge. Now, with Ghost on the line, you can no longer stand by and let your life be dictated for you. It's time to cement yourself in the monarchy. It's time to start acting like a Queen. Prev Part art is "Strength" by Alexander Groznov A/N: This chapter will not make much sense without reading the rest of the Knight!Ghost au. We're in the meat of the story now, and rapidly heading towards the end of the second act, I anticipate maybe 2 more chapters before we get into Act 3 and the end of our story.

You are not strong, not the way knights are. You’re not brave, you’re not clever, you’re not even trusted to leave the castle on your own. Your whole life you’ve been told exactly who and what you are, exactly the purpose you must serve. You are a princess, and the best you can do is pass on your father’s divine right to the next generation. You made a mistake, miscalculated the sway that you had, the power you had over your match making. You pushed too hard-

No. You didn’t push hard enough. The divine right which is your fathers, which is yours by blood, was underestimated. Your faith in your own power led you to weakness, led you to your own ruin by the hand of your heart. You are to blame for your misery as much as your father. No more. As König's pointed out, you're running low on time. You hate to admit that rabid dog might be right, but he is. If you don’t begin acting like a proper monarch you’ll lose everything. 

You just- you just have to figure out how to do that. You’ve never coveted the throne, always assumed that whoever you married would have more ambition towards it than you do. You’ve been groomed to be nothing more than a pretty figure, a prize to any man brave enough to claim it. You’re a bird in a cage, meant to be traded for a crown.

Ghost is the only person that’s ever treated you like a human being. The only person that’s ever looked you in the eye, ever spoken to you like you were royalty. You love him too dearly to lose him. At least to lose him like this, without even trying. You can only hope he won’t hold it against you that it took this long to realize he was slipping through your fingers.

Ghost makes you want to be better, be stronger. You shouldn’t have to rely on him, though you know he’d argue otherwise. “Let me,” was a constant refrain with him. You wonder if you took it for granted, or if it was pride in your knight that made you so weak. God. König is right, your compliance, your despair, has ruined you. Your weakness is Ghost’s weakness, and you can’t afford him that.

You take your breaths with purpose, each one a bitter taste of the gilded cage you’ve been enjoying until now. 

You take stock of the things you know. There’s going to be a tournament. Ghost is going to participate and you expect he’ll win. The “prize” will be getting carted off to a different kingdom and broken in like a dog. You know that your father is determined to get rid of Ghost, which means Ghost is a threat to him. You know that Ghost is a threat to any man that would harm so much as a hair on your head, which puts your father in that category as well and you can’t mourn the loss of two men.

You know that Ghost loves you, or you think he loves you. He said he did in not quite so many words, and you have to trust that as much truth as your knight hides from you he’s never told you a lie. You know that even if you didn’t love him, allowing anyone this power over your life will never bode well for you. If your father can send away one man he deems unworthy, and dangerous to his crown, what’s to stop him from sending away another?

You worry your thumb nail between your teeth, pacing your quarters as your lady’s maid sits beside the fire with her embroidery. You recognize the soft threaded pattern as your own crest taking shape on a handkerchief. A favor for the upcoming tournament. Your brow furrows. Ghost no longer wears your crest on his coat, but that doesn’t mean he can’t carry it with him. If you bestow it upon him, then there’s little argument your father can kick up without losing face.

“Your pacing will wear a hole in the carpet,” Your maid tells you over the soft pull of her thread. It doesn’t matter if your pacing wears holes in the stone floor, you would take a chisel to the castle walls if that helped your cause. Still, you pad over to her, and she glances up from her sewing as you settle on the chair across from her. You lean against the arm of the chair, push your cheek against your balled fist. Ghost would scold you for your slouching, but your maid only raises her brows. She didn’t used to stay so late in the evening with you. You wonder if your father asked her to keep an eye on you. If he did, you were a fool taking her with you to see Ghost.

Is there truly no one you can trust to be on your side? No one that serves you alone? This castle is full of eyes that watch you as if you were nothing but a thorn in the monarchy’s side. Perhaps you aren’t. You suppose nothing you wish for is in line with your father’s interests.

You watch the crackle of the fire, your finger tapping against your cheek. If you are truly to be a thorn, then you’ll need more than a simple favor to gift your knight. There must be a grand gesture, or some higher level of humiliation. 

“Do you know Sir Riley’s family crest?” You ask your maid, turning to gauge her reaction for yourself. She blinks at you in confusion. “They’re a small family I believe,” You reiterate, “I haven’t seen them in our genealogy books.”

“I’ll look into it my lady,” You maid acquiesces.

“See that you do.” You nod. She hesitates before looking back at her sewing. “Now.” You order, forcing the command from your chest. She startles, looks at you again and settles her hoop to the side. She stands and curtsies.

“Of course my lady.” She turns towards the door and your stomach twists uncomfortably at the use of your power. No. No, you must get used to exercising your authority. Divine providence, you’re meant to give orders. You stand as well, and take a few quick steps towards your underused desk.

“One moment,” You stop your maid, scratching out a quick letter. You fold it neatly, and tip a nearby candle over the edge to seal it. Another quick note over the wax seal, and you hold the letter to your maid. “Deliver this to Ghost.”

She takes the letter, her eyes darting to the threat you’d scribbled on the top edge. The color drains from her face and she looks at you with fear in her eyes. “My lady, have I ever given you reason to believe-”

“If you haven’t, then you have nothing to fear.” You smile at her, “Just see that he gets the letter, and sleep well knowing you would not betray me.”

She curtsies, her head bowed, and scurries from the room.

-

The hand that knocks on his door is trembling, Ghost knows that much by the softness of the pattern. He barely hears it, the slide of cloth over his sword feels deafening when his mind is so full. His senses are on high alert though, and when he tugs the door open he’s faced with one of your maids. Whichever is closest to you. He’s never found it necessary to learn the woman’s name. At best she’s a nuisance, and at worst she hovers when he wants nothing more than a moment alone with you. She holds up a letter.

“My lady bade me to deliver this,” She explains. Ghost nods his head, a short half-thanks as he takes the folded paper. The wax is white, no seal impressed upon it, if he hadn’t been told it was yours he might not have been able to tell from handwriting alone. 

But he should have known. His lips find their corners quirked into a smile at the orders written on the front. “Should this seal be broken, take the hand that delivered it.” He only wishes it was. Carrying out your orders is such a joy. Why would your hands ever need to touch a blade when you wield his so well?

The maid hesitates in the hall. Ghost pays her no mind, breaking open the seal and scanning the letter's contents. He can see why the threat was needed. A request of his presence in your quarters is more than treasonous. The King would execute Ghost himself if he knew. An order is an order though, and Ghost follows your tug on his leash with the strictest obedience. 

“Keegan on duty tonight?” Ghost asks. Your maid stiffens.

“He is.”

Ghost jerks his head down the hall towards Keegan's room. Special privileges afforded to the Princess's guard. The maid turns to look in the same direction. “Two doors down on the left, I'll send ‘im your way.” He offers. The easiest way to get rid of one problem is to solve another, he'd have to be blind not to see the way those two looked at each other.

There's a long moment of hesitance, the maid covering her face as she considers his offer. She nods shortly, one tight movement of her head. “Alright,” she says quietly, “but be quick.”

Ghost waits only long enough for the maid to step aside before stalking down the hall towards the castle. Quick… If Keegan has any brains at all he'll keep occupied as long as possible. You requested Ghost to your quarters, and he can only suspect one thing. If he's going to have you, he's going to enjoy you.

Keegan is smart enough to stand aside when he spots Ghost stalking towards your quarters. Smarter still to offer a nod and a, “standing watch, Sir.” He'd like the man if he wasn't on your guard, but circumstances are as they are.

“I'll take over,” Ghost offers, “left you somethin’ in your room.”

“Sir?” Keegan raises a brow over his mask.

“Don't keep ‘er waiting.” Ghost pushes. A moment of hesitance before Keegan salutes and turns to make his way back to the barracks. Should keep those two occupied for a while. He turns his attention back to you, to your quarters. His hand rests on your door, his mind debating his body. If this is the right path to take, if he's damned to suffer for this simple action. If he can live another night without seeing your face.

Ghost doesn't wait to be let in, wouldn't dare have you rushing for the door. Ghost gives your heavy wooden door a knock before pushing it open. You rise from where you'd been sitting by the fire as he turns to check the door's lock. You're too close when he turns back, your skin illuminated by candlelight and your eyes so blessed to be laid on him again. You're far, far more bare than he's ever seen you.

“I hope I didn't wake you,” your voice is so sweet it's cloying, drowning him in the syrup that drips from your lips. What he wouldn't give to taste it.

His jaw clenches, words trapped in his chest. What can he say in the face of such a beauty? In the soft glow that seems trapped under your skin, warming you as well as a fire ever could. Distance truly does make the heart grow fonder. He’s never wanted you more than after being deprived of you. You're fidgeting. He wants to correct you, aches to correct you, to remind you that a princess doesn't fidget, just to see the way your motion stops. You're so obedient, so good for him. His perfect girl.

You twist your fingers into the lace netting over your hair, your elegant arms raised to lengthen the lines of your body. Ghost tightens his grip on his sword, his jaw clenched tighter and his teeth creaking under the weight of his nerves as he tries to keep his eyes on your face. You may as well be naked for all that you're wearing. His eyes dart to the gold that seems to be painted onto you, buttery silk that clings to your every curve. Fabric that surely cost more than his life if only for what it so barely covers. Your shy confidence is almost more enchanting than your exposed skin. Give the word and he will ravage you.

You teeter on the edge of self assurance, your hands dropping from your hair to brush shyly over your slip, unused to being so bare around a man, before you reach for him. Nerves root Ghost in place, his muscles tensing as your fingers press gently to the steel plate over his chest. You take a step closer, and his breath stops. Every inch of him constricting to keep him from pouncing on you. Never has a man been so conflicted than when offered everything he ever dreamed of.

“Ghost,” you start, your voice as soft as rain(as soft as he's sure your skin must be). He wishes you'd call his name like this, that your eyes would shine at him from the bed and not from where you stand, so unsure. He’s sure he must be choking on whatever words his throat attempts to force.

God. God. He’s never seen anything like you before. Divinity in the flesh. Perfection in every dip and curve, in the flicker of candle light over your skin, in the press of your fingers against his chest plate. He must have been born a sinner to be tested like this, to be shown what he can’t have, dangled like a carrot while he waits for the stick. He would ruin you.

He would break you, pluck every petal until there were no flowers left in the garden, leave your skin scarred with his bites. He could eat you whole, and you’d let him. You’re asking him to. Aren’t you? There’s fear in your eyes, trepidation, that batters him. Aren’t you standing here because he’s led you to believe he would? Because he told you he loved you. Because he kissed you, and held you, and comforted you. Because he’s kept you from seeing that there might be someone else, someone more worthy of you.

It only makes the truth more bitter on his tongue when he thinks of what the kingdom would be told afterwards. Love isn’t the story that the King would go with.

They’d say Ghost forced himself on you, that his jealousy, his own lust for you, drove him to take you. They’ll say he wants the throne. They’ll say you were too weak to fight him off, too trusting, that he took what he wanted and convinced you that you wanted it too. They’ll hang him, behead him, draw and quarter him. You’ll be left alone, sold off to whoever had enough pity in their heart(enough ambition in their cold soul) to take you.

Ghost holds you tightly by your shoulders. Your warmth soaks through his gloves, poisons his resolve. You look at him, wanting, pleading. Scared. He knows you too well.

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, your lips parted on kindness rather than damnation, “You’re in this mess because of me and I-” You press your fingers to your lips and Ghost can’t stop the way he brushes his fingers against your cheek. The soft swell of your lips, the tug of them under your teeth, the gentle sparkle of held tears behind your eyes, what could he do in the face of you? He’ll fold every time, all you need to do is look at him.

“I’m afraid I ask too much of you,” You swallow. Ask anything of me, he wants to beg, grant me some kind reprieve from the wanting, give me a task to occupy the hands that want to grab for you. “I’d like you to wear my crest for the tournament.”

That roots him in place. A slap in the face to your father, a renouncement of his allegiance to the throne, proclaiming him a dog to only one master. There’s a determination in your eyes, buried beneath the swell of fear, that he’s never seen before. He nods once, of course he will, he’d strip naked in the palace garden if you asked it of him. Strip you bare here and now if you called his name properly. 

Simon. Simon. Simon. He wants to carve it into your skin, trace it onto your cunt before he buries himself in it. There’s no singular wanting, only the desperate howling of a beast denied too much for too long.

His eyes settle on your breasts, his mouth watering at the soft swell of skin. He’s only a man, isn’t he? A man in the presence of a woman he’s wanted since he met her. A man who still fists his cock to the wayward touches you once caught yourself against him with. The press of your body so rarely felt, the soft fat of your hips under his hands as he lifted you onto your horse, your soft sigh over a cup of tea, his brain conjures terrible images with the mundane and yet here you are like a wife greeting her husband. It’s improper to want to lay his head against your chest, to want to feel the shudder of your breath as his hand slots between your legs. 

Dreams above his station, thoughts which will never be acted upon, a maiden who so trusts he will never touch her that she would bare herself to him like this.

“-and I can’t lose you,” You swipe your fingers against your eyes, your tears bringing him back to reality.

Can't lose him? Why would you lose him? Even with your father's meddling he couldn't leave you entirely, wouldn't retreat further than the barracks, wouldn't stand where he could never hope to see your face. 

“I'm not goin’ anywhere.” He reassures you, gloved hand cupping your cheek. His thumb swipes to catch the tear that slips past your lashes, and you press into the touch. Greedy for it. He wants you to be greedy for him, to succumb to even a quarter of the greed he holds in his heart, the clawing darkness that begs to dig its teeth into you. 

“No,” you agree, “you’re not.”

There’s something weighing behind your eyes, some scale that’s tipped, a decision made. He’s never seen you look so serious. Where did his soft girl go? Ghost’s brows draw together. His thumb brushes over your cheek, trying to find some comforting action to settle the determination in your eyes. Whatever needs doing he’ll do it, you only need to ask. 

“What do you need me to do?” He asks. You turn your head to kiss his palm, the plus push of your lips against well worked leather a small comfort. Still, you hold yourself there, breathing in the softened material. Something seems to soften in you as well, your shoulders drop, your eyes close, and you look yourself for a brief moment before you return to your determined tension. Ghost wishes it wasn’t cold steel he’d be pulling you against if he wrapped his arms around you, wishes he could offer more than this small comfort.

“I need you to win the tournament.”

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

just remembered the anon from the other day that said they were gonna draw demon!h and I started crying and can’t stop

[thesunshineriptide]

hello!! how are you doing? im interested with your writing and i want to request if you don't mind!! also, im sorry if this goes against the rules :"(

can i ask for any character from twst (you can choose the character freely!) x reader, that very insecure about their artwork? and they always feel like they're not good enough, and always push themselves. because lately I've been struggling with it. tysm!! have a lovely day/night, and don't forget to drink water!! i love your writing so much, keep going <3

Hey you okay anon? Also I totally get it and absolutely yes I can fulfill this. I hope you have an excellent day/night too, and don’t forget to take a break buddy. This one took a while because i think there’s a lot of characters who, in a sense, “have a lot to say to you” also, since you didn’t specify what kind of art you meant, I kept it kind of vague

F*****’ Perfect

Characters: Riddle, Silver, Deuce, Jade, Floyd, Azul, Idia, Lilia

CW// low self esteem, bad self talk, depression, anxiety, mental health discussion, food, angst, hurt/comfort, potential out of character behavior

Octatrio

Azul blinked owlishly for a moment at you before coughing and adjusting his glasses to recompose himself. Even the twins hovering in the doorway seemed to be shocked at your admission, though untrained eye would never have noticed.

As you stared at him, face set in a way that made it clear you weren’t joking, Azul began to feel something he hadn’t in a long, long time. Guilt.

“Prefect, surely you jest?” He said, voice lilting upward in what may have sounded like a question, but was more so a suggestion, “It seems as though you would have nothing to gain from that.”

People in the halls were beginning to watch because - well, Azul almost never said no to a deal, even one that fucked someone else over. Especially one that that fucked someone over.

“I don’t want it anymore, Azul. I can’t - it’s never good enough. I’ll never be good enough at it, so better to give it up now, right? Besides, you’re crafty, I’m sure you could use it somehow.”

“Keobi-Chan…” Floyd began, leaning toward you, eyes astonishingly sympathetic.

“Ah, right,” you laughed, a tired and desolate sound, “I almost forgot. ‘I don’t have any exceptional talents. No beautiful singing voice, no magic, the only thing I have to offer is Ramshakle’…” you trailed off, looking away from the trio, “Disregard what I said, then. I won’t bother you anymore.”

As you began to walk away, it was Jade who grabbed your wrist to pull you back, “Prefect, wait a moment, please.”

Azul and Floyd both looked at him in surprise. He rarely went to touch anyone, much less to pull them to him.

You turned to look back at him before relenting, inching back toward the group.

Jade paused, mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say. The entire hall of people had their eyes trained on you two, and he finally settled on, “Why don’t the four of us take this somewhere private?”

When you shrugged and mumbled an ‘alright’, Floyd practically snatched you into his arms and began running toward Octavinelle, causing Jade and Azul to follow at a somewhat quick pace (Azul refuses to run, Jade refuses to chase Floyd in public)

As you and Floyd were the first to arrive, he busted into Mostro Lounge, grip still firm on you, and plopped you down into a booth seat by the window wall.

“You look sad, Shrimpy. Imma get you something to snack on.”

And with that, he gave you a head pat and wandered away to the kitchen.

Floyd is a terrifyingly fast runner, which means that even though he was gone for a full five minutes, Jade and Azul still hadn’t arrived. This wasn’t a problem, though, because Floyd came back with a specialty butterfly pea iced tea and some onigiri, plated with a drawing of a happy eel made with sriracha.

He sat down across from you, plucking one onigiri ball off the plate while staring at you expectantly. When you hesitated to take one, he nudged the plate at you with a firm expression, “Eat.” As you took the rice ball and bit into it, he finally smiled and leaned back, “So…you wanna trade your art talent over to Azul? Why?”

For a moment you had convinced yourself that maybe he wouldn’t ask, but it was clear that you wouldn’t be so lucky.

“I’m tired of it. It just makes me feel shitty. I’m…everything I do isn’t good enough. I’m not good enough. So, if I can’t use it, and other people seem to like it, why not give it to someone who wants it?”

He watched you for a moment as he chewed. Once he swallowed he hummed, “That’s kinda stupid, Y/N.”

Jesus, has he never heard of sugarcoating?

“If other people like it, then maybe it’s because you’re good at it. And if you think it’s worth trading, then clearly you know that somewhere too.”

You stared at the eel for a moment, who stared back looking completely serious. He grabbed another onigiri and began to eat that one too.

“You don’t think you’re good enough?” Came a voice from behind, and, oh yeah, those two were coming too.

Jade sat beside you, forcing you to scoot over as Azul sat beside Floyd, and based off his raised eyebrow it seemed he was the one who asked.

Neither Jade nor Azul took the food, but Jade did scoot your drink toward you with a somewhat worried look, and rested a hand on the booth seat, nestled between the two of you.

“‘M not good enough,” you mumbled around the food, “No matter what I do, the picture in my head won’t come out when I try and make it. And - I’m just so sloppy with my tools, ‘n it just feels like nothing I do will make me better at it. Besides, it’s not like people think it’s good.”

Azul’s façade faltered, eyes brimming with mercy. He whispered, “I think it’s good, Y/N.”

Every one of them looked genuinely concerned when you laughed, putting down your food. You took a sip of the drink Floyd made you, trying to choke down tears welling up. “You don’t have to flatter me.”

The twins looked to Azul with a severe look. The leaders eyes flicked between Jade and Floyd as he said with a surprisingly amount of confidence, “I was wrong about you, Y/N. You aren’t talentless, I simply hadn’t paid much attention to you prior to our meeting. Now, after knowing you, I’m able to see just how wrong I was.” He looked away, toward the water for a moment before Floyd nudged him lightly with his elbow, prompting him to keep talking. Azul sighed softly before looking back to you.

When you locked eyes, he was startled a moment before he began talking again. “I…I understand your pain. I may not be an artist-“

“‘Cept a con artist!” Floyd helpfully supplied, eliciting a giggle from you.

Azul smiled fondly at your reaction, even though it was at his expense, before he continued, “I may not be an artist, but I do know what it’s like to feel…inadequate.” He looked at you, then to Jade, who nodded at him to keep going. “As you know, when I was younger, I was…well, I…” he looked at a loss, “When I was younger, I was bullied. Back at home. I’m where I am now because I forced myself to work five times as hard as everyone else…”

Floyd nudged him again, then butted in, “What he’s trying to say is that you two are the same, ‘cause you both don’t think you’re good enough.”

Jade hummed, “And much like Azul, you’re actually quite competent in your craft, prefect.”

You looked to the sudden comment at your side and found Jade smiling at you.

“You’re both quite talented. It would be a shame for you to give your gifts up to Azul before you’ve had time to, ah - blossom, so to speak. You’re still quite young. And even if you weren’t so, the human lifespan is around…hmm, 80 years?”

“Yeah! So you could become the best ever at like, 79! But you can’t be the best old person artist ever if you give up now, Keobi-Chan!” Floyd chirped.

Azul seemed to gather himself and nod in agreement, “My friend,” he began. Both eels gave him a surprised look. He waved it away, “My friend, I can’t rob you of something so precious. It would take away your very essence, and I quite like you the way you are.”

As tears began to shed from your eyes, and a sob threatened to escape your throat, it was Jade who leaned over to pull you close, letting you cry into his jacket’s lapels as you broke down.

Evidently, the octatrio was having a very surprising day, but it’s not every day when your emotional support Shrimpy breaks down.

When Jade noticed you finally calmed down, he tilted your head up, only to find you asleep against him. He let out a sigh and lifted you in a bridal carry, “They appear to be asleep. Shall I take them to Ramshackle?”

Azul hummed and shook his head, “We have spare rooms. I’d rather keep them close, for now. I don’t think they should be alone.”

Floyd bounded behind Jade, “I’ll go get baby seal! We can have them in one of those land sleepovers!”

Azul walked with Jade to deposit you in a spare room.

“I’m surprised you’re being so kind today, Jade.”

“I could say the same of you, Azul. I’m quite surprised you opened up so to them.”

“It’s hard to stay closed off with them.” He murmured, unlocking the door and stepping inside, holding it open to let Jade inside. “They just have something about them…”

Jade nodded as Azul hurried to the bed to pull back the covers. “I feel quite the same way. They are truly fascinating, aren’t they?”

Azul chuckled a little as Jade laid you down, quickly removing your shoes before readjusting you to lay in the bed properly.

As Floyd bounded in holding a disgruntled Grim, he grinned, “”m glad we finally get to keep Shrimpy for a bit.”

“Oya~? And why’s that?”

“‘Cause eel’s gotta protect their shrimps, remember?” He grinned, letting grim down on the bed who was quiet due to the fact he was allowed to have your leftover Onigiri.

Jade laughed softly, “yes, yes we do.”

Riddle

A pristine white piece of paper rests on Riddle’s desk, ink penned perfectly into cursive swirls.

To my dearest friend,

I am not good with talking about issues such as these, but I believe it is important to speak about. Lest my tongue betray me and hurt you, I’ve written this down, to save both you and I trouble.

Your dedication to your craft is admirable in every regard, but I worry over you. It seems as though no matter the masterpiece you create, you are unsatisfied with the result, and rather than appreciating the skills and a talent you have cultivated and the artistry of your work, you are upset with any shortcomings.

An awareness of one’s weaknesses is necessary for improvement, but I believe you have stepped over the line, so to speak, and have instead become deluded that it is all weakness.

I remember a time when I believed the same of myself, and you were the one to show me how harmful it was to myself and others. Please, allow me to do the same for you.

As you know I do not sugarcoat my words, nor do I have appraisal for work I do not find to be good. Believe me when I say this, with all sincerity - you may be one of the most artistically talented people I have ever met, and ever will meet. I look forward to seeing you cultivate and refine your skills further, but please, my friend, you have time. Do not burn out over such things so young. A candlelight snuffed out before the night is a tragedy to the matchbox.

With well wishes and care, your loyal friend,

Riddle Rosehearts

He sat at the desk for a moment, rereading his letter nearly twice as much as he rereads his notes, before neatly folding into thirds.

His chair makes a scuffing sound as he pushes himself back from the desk slightly in order to reach a draw beside him. In he reaches, pulling out a small box containing a tea light, a spoon, wax beads, dried flowers, and a small stamp with a rose design embedded.

He carefully snaps his fingers, calling on a small amount of fire magic to light his candle, letting it get hot before changing tasks to fill the spoon with wax beads. He focuses on his breathing as he holds the spoon carefully above the fire, watching it slowly begin to melt. His hands are shaky from nerves, his mind a flutter with everything he wanted to say, tongue moving silently in his mouth as if opening his lips would let every thought would pour out from him.

When the wax appeared to be melted all the way, he blew out the candle and reached into the box, pulling out a dried sprig of forget-me-nots. He carefully pressed the letter shut, then rested the flowers across them before pouring the hot wax down onto it. He raised his stamp, closing his eyes and huffing a breath before pressing it down firmly into the red wax pool, holding the pressure firmly as it cooled. When he was sure it was no longer tacky, he removed the stamp to reveal his signet, accidentally turned slightly to the right.

His fingers itched to rip off the seal and try again before he remembered exactly what it was attached to, and who it was for.

He left it, smiling a little. Perhaps something imperfect from him was the perfect example for you. Besides, he reasoned, it seemed you loved the world the less perfect it was.

Idia

It’s been a long day of work, hunched over a table in the cafeteria. It’s a rainy Saturday and there’s nothing better to do then snack and let creativity do it’s thing.

Hours have gone by and you seemed completely dead to the world, working and reworking tirelessly to get the product you intended, and it seemed almost completely fruitless.

This piece has been months in the making, all of the planning and plotting and working out kinks, and now that it’s almost done it, it seems to you like it’s all wrong.

You looked up and rubbed at your eyes, only to make eye contact with the campus cryptic himself.

Idia looked nervous, holding his tablet with a delicate grasp as he stared at you. A moment later he yelped, eyes going wide.

“A-ah, Y/N, I’m sorry, I just- Ortho came through here earlier? And I-I, I, um…” the tips of his hair began to blush like pink as his eyes darted everywhere but your face.

A moment of staring at him too long made him look ready to run before you snapped out of it. “It’s alright. Idia, right?”

He looked slightly more panicked, “Uh- uh, yeah, I am. You know me?”

You nodded with a light smile, “I know we haven’t met in person before, but I hear a lot about you from Ortho. You know me?”

He hummed, tight and high, and nodded jerkily, “You fought the overblots, everyone knows about you.”

You smiled easily, though there was a bit of sadness, “A shame. I’m sure you’ve heard terrible things about me.” You teased.

“Only good! I promise.” He said slightly too loud before sitting down across the cafeteria table from you. “I hope you don’t m…mind. Ortho told me that there was someone doing art over here and- I, uh, I wanted to know more.” He finally broke into a soft smile, though he was overall very stiff.

You laughed and shrugged, “I wouldn’t say it’s art, but you’re welcome to watch. This has been taking me forever and it just looks…awful.”

Idia looked between you and your work for a moment, “I think it looks nice.” He said earnestly.

You laughed a little, but when you looked to him it died. “Really?”

He nodded eagerly, “Yeah! I mean, I watch a lot of anime, a-and I have a really strong, uh, appreciation for stuff like this, yknow?” He said nervously, fiddling with his tablet.

He looked nervous s you admitted, “I don’t like it. It’s…wrong. I as going for a different vibe and it just…missed its mark.”

You smiled as he typed at lighting speed and the tablet spoke for him, launching into a passionate soliloquy about art in all forms

“No matter what, art is really important. I think all art is important, good or bad. Picasso’s art was kinda shit, yknow? But it spawned a whole art movement, so clearly it’s worth something to someone. So everything has its place. I really like gothic cyberpunk art but there’s people out there that like minimalism, so I guess…” Idia looked up from his tablet, thinking, “You might think your art is bad, but maybe you’re looking at it wrong. Maybe the boundaries you’re setting on yourself is the issue, not the art.”

Lilia and Silver

Silver rested under a tree next to you as Lilia say behind you, braiding flowers into a flower crown, occasionally holding it up to your head to make sure it would fit.

“You have to rest,” they said, “You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.”

Lilia hummed a song he heard a lifetime ago as he worked, being careful not to tug your hair or get too loud as he smoothed your hair and gently placed the flower crown on your head. It was relaxing like this, even when your hands itched to get back to work.

Lilia must have noticed, leaning down to guide your fingers from where they were fidgeting to lay them flat in the grass.

“Y/N, it’s time to rest. You can work when we get back, but you must take a break.”

You frowned and turned to face him, “I don’t want to take a break, I want to finish this project.”

He tutted and shook his head, “Raise your chin and look around. Tell me what you see.”

You sighed and looked around, beginning to list everything you could see, “I see trees, the sky, clouds, grass, Silver sleeping under a tree, some flowers-“

Lilia began to laugh heartily, “You don’t need to tell me, I can see too.”

You huffed, “So what do you want me to do then?”

He sighed, “You’re running yourself ragged. Humans don’t live long, how will you enjoy your time alive if you spent it tucked away on your lonesome?”

You shrugged, “I’m not exactly enjoying a lot now.”

Lilia pet your hair, “That seems to be the issue, my dear. Now, look around again if you’re so persistent to work,” he leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder, “What do you see?”

“I already told you,” your groaned, exasperated.

“What does the world look like right now?”

You sighed and began to contemplate it.

It’s a lovely 68 degrees (Fahrenheit) with a light chill that stung the face slightly. The sun was shedding golden rays that danced through the treetops, tiptoeing playfully along the long, reedy grass. Soft moss grew up the side of the tree Silver was (previously) sleeping under, cradling his head like an earthy pillow. Several patches of grass were flattened into circles that were surely made by an animal, but looked like the soft fur of the forest herself. Ravens above head cawed as they took flight. The cicadas buzzed their merry tune as ants carried away pocket crumbs. A deer was just on the edge of the clearing, watching while munching on some shrubbery.

The flowers that surrounded them were stunning. Growing freely were dandelions, clover, chickweed, violets, black eyed Susan’s, Queen Anne’s lace, wildflowers, chicory, buttercups, and milkweed. Nearby were cattails, elderberries, wild strawberries, button mushrooms, and alliums of all kinds. The air was sweet with the scent of honey and fresh air.

As you took a deep breath, you turned to find Lilia and Silver smiling at you.

“Back to twisted wonderland?”

You smiled and nodded, “Yeah, thanks Lilia.”

He nodded and the three of you sat there for longer, chatting about random everyday nothings, eventually falling into comfortable silence as you watched the sun begin to disappear and night begin to fall.

“It’s time we get back,” Silver stated, “It’ll be easy to get lost in the dark.”

You nodded and began to pack up everything (which was like, a blanket and some snacks) and make your way back to campus.

“Hey,” Silver said softly, wrapping a protective arm around your back, “I know what you’ve been feeling.”

“Hmm?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I often feel like I’m not doing good enough. Like I should be able to do more. But it’s a lot like Lilia said, you can’t get caught up in the ‘should’s. Be proud of what you can do, Y/N. You’re insanely creative and massively talented. You’ve persevered through so much. And aside from that, you can’t improve if your well-being is put to the wayside. It’s like…” he paused, “it’s like asking a horse to race when it hasn’t been fed in a while. It may be able to do it, but it could also simply harm the animal, and it’s unlikely they will do well regardless. Take care of yourself.”

You looked at him with tears in your eyes before nodding, and tugged him into a side hug. “Thanks, Silver. You always know just what to say.”

He nodded and gave a little smile as you walked back to campus. Lilia trailed behind quietly, proud of both of you.

Deuce

“Prefect! Look!” Deuce yelled as he ran up to you excitedly, tugging you along toward a throng of students.

“What’s going on?” You asked, trying to keep up with Deuce.

“Test rankings are up, I’m so excited.”

You hummed as you made your at through the crowd to where you could see the results.

43rd on the list with 87% was Deuce Spade.

He cheered wildly, grinning at you, “Look! I’m on the list!”

You smiled back, only to hear some snobby comment about how “it’s not even that high up, dude.”

You turned to face the person, ready to light into him when Deuce grabbed your shoulder and pulled you away.

“Don’t.” He said softly, “it’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” You argued, “nobody gets to talk shit about my friend and get away with it.”

He shrugged and gave you a smile, “it doesn’t matter to me. I’m happy I made it in top 50. I can’t wait to tell my mom!”

You looked confused for a moment, “it…it doesn’t bother you that you’re not higher up?”

He looked confused in turn, “No? This is higher than I thought I would be. I’m just glad to know I’m improving.”

You hummed and thought for a moment, leaning in to hug him.

He accepted it happily, though still confused, and hugged back tight, “Prefect, what’s up with this? Not that I’m complaining, but…”

You shrugged, “I think I just…I’m always thinking about what other people want from me. It makes me miserable. But to see you so happy about just getting what you want…” you looked back toward the list, “sorry if that sounded insulting, I meant it genuinely.”

He shrugged, “It’s good. But yeah, you just gotta block out those guys. I remember when I thought it was cool to be an asshole and tear down other people and just hate everything and…it really didn’t make me happy. But I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do. And then I stopped, and I went for something I want. Something I can be proud of, and I can make my mom proud of too. It’s not easy, always, but…it makes me happy. So I think it’s worth it.”

You stared at him and nodded, “yeah, that sounds nice. I wanna try some of that.”

He laughed, “want me to tutor you? I’d be glad to.”

“I think my study is gonna take a long time, but, it’ll be worth it. Especially if you’re there to help.”

He looked a little surprised before grinning, bumping your shoulders together, “We can be study buddies! Start a club. The ‘getting better together’ club.”

“Sounds perfect.”

[starvember-moved]

no guys u dont understand :(( this makes me so emotional but also imagine you comforting hawkeye even when you feel small

tw: hurt/comfort (technically?), definitely angsty, mention of death/dying, negative regression mention(?) — getting stuck being little even in a bad situation or one you know you should deal with big (badly explained i think). also mentions getting stuck between big and little. theres a war happening in the show, so similar themes as to MASH. im kinda little right now so if i missed something let me know

context: i realized while writing this and watching the episode, theres a few reasons i personally enjoy being little in 'grown up' things (like the army) is 1) it was my childhood. i always watched what my mom and dad watched. mash was on every night at dinner time. it reminds me of home and family. and, also, it connects me to my regression. i slip involuntary sometimes in big situations. i have to navigate my big grown up world as if im six years old a lot of times. it reminds me it's okay to be little or be big or somewhere in between. regression isnt black and white, just like the big world. its really therapeutic to explore and picture using myself using my regression AS a coping skill. it helps me not be so ashamed of my regression in the real world, too.

youre so distraught because papa's so upset and bubba's busy in the or. you feel so small and so unhelpful and you have no idea what to do. everyone you could go to is busy tending to wounded or helping those tending the wounded. and, even when you try, you cant stay big for very long.

but you are tired of sitting around doing nothing. everyone is pretending papa is okay, even when he isnt. even when he just spent a week at the hospital. you have no idea what to do except offer what helps you. so, you gather up your coloring pages and your crayons and pad up to hawkeye.

before he can even say a word, youre putting a blank coloring page of a landscaped hill in his hands. "papa, color."

your command startles him, but so did the way you walked in here all determined. he eyes the coloring page, then the crayons, then you, and pieces it together. his expression softens immensely and he's too tired to argue with you.

"okay, okay. i'll color with you. papa knows youre bored." but you frown and shake your head. you spread the crayons out in front of him and repeat, "papa, color." while tapping on the page.

you can't be very big right now, but you dont have to be big to listen. you sit criss cross on the floor and look up expectantly.

"papa sad, so papa color. color make me feel better. make papa feel better, too." and you'd never force him to talk if he didn't want to, but you add, "talk make me feel better, too, papa."

it touches hawkeye so much that he's a little tearyeyed when he pats your head and complies. after a few minutes, he sets a page out for you, too, and says, "i know you feel icky inside like papa does. we can share your crayons. sound good, kiddo?"

and you had definitely been wanting to color, too, so you start coloring too. you're a third of the way done when papa says, "it was terrifying. i was scared you, or bj, or margaret, or everyone else were going to die. i was scared i would die."

when you glance at papa's coloring page, you notice the mash bus on the hill. a black spotted chicken next to them. you see a drop fall on the page soak through.

your papa is crying, and big or little, you werent sure you ever saw him cry before.

you stay quiet and wrap one arm around your knees under the cot. you see papa compose himself and look back at your drawing.

"i'm scared of what i can make people do."

and, you know what happened — and you had been grateful you were big — but you realized you brushed it off.

you slowly pick up your crayons and place them back quietly and neatly. your papa takes a shuddering breath.

"i'm really scared i'm going to hurt someone again."

hawkeye's words are sobering. they leave you feeling icky — and hovering between big space and little space, you realize its a little bit of guilt and sympathy — but that's okay. because he trusts you enough to tell you and confide in you.

and he trusts you enough to sob infront of you. it hurts seeing papa crying so hard, and you still want to make him feel better. slowly, you place the coloring pages on the floor and climb up on the bed. wordlessly, you wrap your arms around papa's waist and lay your head in his lap.

"thanks papa," you whisper, feeling him tense in surprise. you close your eyes, not putting to much attention on his words. all hawkeye needed to know is that you heard him. "if it'll make you feel better, papa, i don't think you'll hurt me."

hawkeye sniffles in a way that you know he's also smiling. you know it isnt big, or the happiest looking, but its enough. because you know you succeeded in helping him feel better.

its quiet and comforting, and that's the first time papa hawk has slept since coming home. when bubba bj comes in, you're quick to shush him. you point at papa, whose started to snore softly, and bj holds his hands up as an apology. silently, he covers both you and papa up, and you soon fall asleep with papa.

sometimes caregivers struggle too and they can't always be happy and attentive. theyre human just as much as their littles are, and they need comforting too :((

with that being said...

i just watched part of the mash finale for the first time since i was eight and i have some thoughts,,,

thinkin about hawkeye being in the psych ward struggling with what happened and visiting him :((

thinkin about how, when he gets back to the unit, i could sit with him and comfort him :(( we could quietly draw together. or, if he's unsure/uncomfortable, we just sit together. or go for walks.

thinkin about how he isnt sleeping because he's scared and bringing him enough safety that he could sleep, even if it wasn't for a long time. alternately, if he's too afraid to sleep, i could keep him busy.

[watchmegetobsessed]

SLEEPLESS

a/n: omg! it's been so long since i last wrote something for harry so it feels a bit weird but in a good way to be back. i've been spending more time offline so writing hasn't been going that fast like before, but im working on a few other stuff too! just please be patient with me, im trying my besti swear! so now enjoy this oneshot of two oblivious and stupid roommates who start sharing a bed...

pairing: Roommate!Harry x reader

word count: 8.1k

masterlist

Living with three boys has its perks but also a lot of downsides too. It’s not how you planned, you were set to move in with one of your friends from second year, but she bailed on you last minute, leaving you with no place to live when most of the houses were already taken for the next at least one year. You were bracing yourself to sleep under a bridge or something already when your heroes came along.

You went to high school with Harry Niall and Louis, but you weren’t exactly in the same friend group, just knew about each other. Then you ended up in the same Lit class freshman year with Harry and he was basically your pass into their little group. You hit it off pretty easily and you always wondered why you didn’t become friends before college. Later you had two more classes with him in the second semester and it was just all a coincidence that he found out about your living situation.

“Why don’t you move in with us?” he prompted one afternoon when you were studying together in the library.

“I’m not sharing a room with any of you, Harry,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“You wouldn’t have to. We had a fourth mate living with us but he dropped out about a month ago. You could take his bedroom.”

“Are for real? You should talk about it with the boys first, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind it. They like you too and if I’m being honest, the place could use the touch of a woman,” he smirked and you just rolled your eyes, but you were incredibly thankful for the offer.

So after talking with Niall and Louis about it and once they gave their amens on the situation, you officially moved in with the three of them.

You’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been times when you thought about choosing the bridge, living with boys is not exactly a dream. They are messy, sometimes loud and oblivious about certain things women do and need. You’ll never forget Niall’s face when you packed the shelf above the toilet with your tampons and pads. The horror in his eyes as he examined all the different sizes and types.

“But why so many? I don’t get it why you need the large ones and the mini ones too,” he huffed.

“Because I vary them according to the strength of my flow.”

“Bless you,” he scoffed and just walked away.

They tend to leave their clothes around the house and they don’t always realize when it’s time to let some fresh air into the place either. Harry has a sixth sense wanting to use the bathroom when you’re in and Louis always forgets to get rid of his spoiled food from the fridge. Tini things that surely got you thinking if it was a good idea to move in with them. But then there are times when you can’t even imagine sharing a home with anyone else than these three idiots.

The way Harry always leaves you a cup of coffee on the counter when he has an early class on mondays and wednesdays, how Niall always waits for you to get home after your night shifts at the restaurant you’ve been working at, but he always just says he was watching Supernatural on TV. You love that Louis goes out of his way to get you your favorite pastry for breakfast on sundays when he goes for his morning runs. But the absolute best is that you never feel alone or bored with these three around. Something is always happening and they make sure to involve you in everything, making you feel like part of their little pack.

Tonight is Thursday and Thursdays are movie nights in your home. It’s been a tradition since the first week and you haven’t missed any of them. Sitting on the couch at your usual spot, you laugh as Niall growls in annoyance when you suggest to watch another rom-com.

“Not again!” he protests, sitting on the floor by the coffee table you and Harry thrifted a few months ago after the previous one was broken at a smaller party held in the house.

“Why? I bet Harry would love it!” you grin, glancing at the guy in talk who is now entering the room with a big bowl of popcorn.

“Of course he would, because he is a pussy! And the two of you always team up, dragging Louis with you so I can never watch something I enjoy!” Niall whines as Harry sits next to you, not too bothered by his friend’s cries.

“Come on, I bet you enjoyed Crazy, Stupid Love last week!” you laugh, remembering how he whined for the first part, then fell asleep at the end.

“Love, if you think that was enjoyment, I wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend,” Niall scoffs and you gasp at his reply.

“Hey!” you snap at him, but can’t help laughing. This is how it always goes with you and Niall, the non-stop bickering can sometimes drive Harry and Lou insane.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” Harry asks, throwing some popcorn into his mouth as he gets comfortable, an arm resting on the back of the couch behind you, the other one busy with the snack in his lap.

“There is this new horror I’ve been dying to see!” Niall’s blue eyes light up right away, but you’re fast to break that shine.

“Nah, no way. I’m not watching a horror movie.”

“Why not?”

“Because I fucking hate them and they scare the shit out of me.”

“That’s like the whole point!” he protests, but you shake your head no again.

“What are you fighting about again?” Louis asks, walking into the room after his quick shower, the smell of his body wash filling the room for a few moments.

“I want to watch a horror movie, but Y/N is a little baby and she doesn’t want to.”

“I’m not a baby! I just don’t enjoy watching people get killed or demons sucking the life out of someone!” Niall just rolls his eyes at your response.

“But it’s always what you or Harry wants to watch, why can’t I choose just this once?”

“That’s not true, we watch movies you like too!” you retort, but Niall gives you an unimpressed look. “We watched that crime thing, that was your choice!”

“That was three months ago, Y/N,” he sighs and as you do some quick math you realize that he is right.

“Hey, he has a point. Let’s just watch what he wants this one time, yeah?” Harry curls his arm that’s been on the back of the couch around your shoulder and he pulls you to his side, squeezing you gently.

“But I hate horrors,” you pout, knowing well that it’s already kind of settled, you lost this battle.

“It’s just a movie. And if you get scared in the night, you can sleep at mine,” he offers with a wink that surely makes your heartbeat fasten a bit.

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a tiny crush on Harry, even back in high school, when you didn’t really know him. He was the cool guy, but not the douchebag type, more like the one that was nice to everyone and earned their respect and liking. Getting to know him just proved that he really is a great guy, but you figured he would never feel the same way about you. These three guys only saw you as their sister and that was in a way kinda worse than being friend zoned, but there’s nothing you can do about it, so you just decided to come to peace with your situation. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered when you see him wander around the house in just his boxers or when he gets a little touchy with you, which happens a lot, because that’s just how he is. Hands on your shoulders, a little squeeze on your hips, the gentle touch of his fingers on your back, they happen all the time and they get your pulse up every time. You can only hope it’s not that noticeable.

Niall finally gets what he wants and you agree to watch that stupid horror movie. It doesn’t start off too bad, but it quickly escalates and makes you shudder every time the screen gets a little darker or the music is foreshadowing that something is about to happen.

“Jesus fuck!” you jump a little when the killer appears out of nowhere in the scene.

“You alright?” Harry asks, peeking down at you.

“I fucking hate this dude,” you mumble, rubbing your face with your hands, to get your shit together. Harry chuckles lightly next to you, his arm pulling you to his side close and you gladly sink against him, the warmth of his body giving you some comfort and a sense of safety.

Your eyes are on the screen, but your mind is dancing around how his fingers are delicately running up and down your arm, drawing circles and little shapes on your skin. It could put you to sleep easily, even with the woman screaming on the screen after seeing her husband get killed.

“Just imagine the guy with a funny mustache,” Harry murmurs, leaning closer to you so he doesn’t bother the other two guys with his comment. “Or maybe in a ridiculous outfit.”

“Like… in a onsie?” you ask, squinting your eyes at the screen.

“Could be, yeah,” he chuckles quietly. “Just imagine him running through the woods in a onsie with bunnies all over it.”

You can’t push your laughter down, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t bother the others. Harry just smirks, giving you a squeeze as you’re still melted against his side on the couch, legs pulled up to your chest, while his are spread out in front of him.

“Definitely not that scary,” you giggle and Harry hums in agreement.

“Would you mind getting a fucking room, you guys? You have two, in fact!” Niall snaps at you playfully, when you start laughing again.

“Sorry, sorry!” you clear your throat, your cheeks heating up at the comment, but luckily it’s dark enough to hide your embarrassment. Niall is always quick to make dirty jokes and tease you in a way that makes you nervous, especially when it involves Harry as well. He has made plenty of comments about you and Harry since you’ve moved in, implying that the two of you sometimes act like a couple or that you should hook up. Harry is always quick to shake them off, that’s how you know he couldn’t even take the thought seriously.

At the end of the movie you feel like it wasn’t bad, not with Harry holding you close at least.

“Will you be screaming tonight, Y/N?” Niall teases you, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Either way it’s gonna be your fault.”

“I can live with that!” he laughs, bidding his goodbye before he shuts the door of his bedroom behind him.

You do your usual evening routine, get ready to bed and by the time you’re done in the bathroom all the boys have retired into their rooms. The hallway stands dark in front of you, only a tiny bit of light coming from your bedroom since you left your bedside lamp on in there, but you still can’t help the eerie feeling that washes over you. That movie didn’t sit right with you and now you have to face the aftermath of it.

Switching the lights in the bathroom off you sprint into your bedroom, pictures from the movie flashing in your mind of the killer just jumping out of nowhere. You shut the door and lean your back against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. Tonight is going to be long.

No matter how hard you try, you just can’t fall asleep. You’re way too alerted, opening your eyes at the tiniest of sounds around you, which is unfortunate, because your window is looking over the main street, unlike two other rooms in the house, that are facing the small backyard. Harry and Louis have the luck to have those rooms.

Every time you’re about to fall asleep something from the movie sneaks into your thoughts and you get scared to death. Soon, you realize you won’t be able to sleep on your own tonight.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you wonder if Harry really meant that offer that you can sleep with him or not. Part of you is convinced it was just a joke, but when you hear someone shouting down the street you push your doubts aside and you quickly find yourself making your way to Harry’s room.

You knock on the room lightly, not wanting to wake anyone else up. The last thing you need is Niall seeing you go into Harry’s room in the middle of the night.

No answer comes from inside, but you won’t just leave it at that. Opening the door you’re facing another dark room, barely making out the furniture, but you already know the route by heart. Making it to the bed your eyes finally adjust to the darkness and you can see Harry lying on his side, sleeping peacefully. Squatting down you place a hand to his shoulder and give him a tiny shake.

“Harry?” you call out quietly, but his answer is just a huff. “Harry, it’s me,” you try again, squeezing his arm. He furrows his eyebrows before slowly blinking his eyes open, finding you in his sight.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks in that groggy, low voice you love hearing in the morning so much.

“I can’t… Did you mean that I can sleep here if I’m scared?” you ask, afraid that he might just have a good laugh and send you back to your room. For a long moment, he just blinks at you before nodding his head and you feel relief washing over you.

“Sure,” he hums.

“O-okay then I’ll bring a blanket and take the floor and--”

“Shut up, you are not sleeping on the floor,” he growls, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into bed with him as he scoots over, making you space on the mattress.

It’s a bit weird at first, lying in bed with Harry, especially because it’s just queen sized, so there’s not much space between the two of you, but it seems like Harry doesn’t mind it so why should you?

Your nerves are a lot calmer with Harry next to you, but maybe it’s still because of the movie or because you’re a bit anxious about the whole situation, you just still can’t relax enough to fall asleep.

“Y/N, no one is gonna kill you here,” Harry speaks up surprising you because you thought he has already fallen back asleep.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, trying to sound convincing, but you can’t fool anyone, especially not him.

He huffs deeply and before you could realize what’s happening, Harry’s arm is curled around your waist, pulling you against him, spooning you from behind, the warmth of his body wrapping your figure almost entirely.

“If a murderer comes, they will have to fight me first, alright? Now sleep,” he mumbles against your hair, squeezing you gently. All at once, you couldn’t care about killers and dark shadows around you, because Harry was right there, holding you tight and there was nowhere you wanted to be more than right there.

You slept like a baby. Harry’s closeness kept every nightmare away from you and the morning came with ease. Harry’s phone wakes the two of you up at eight, because he has a morning class at 9.30. The two of you are completely tangled up in each other, lying on your side facing each other, Harry’s arms are wrapped around you, while yours are hugging his waist. Groaning at the sound of his alarm, he rolls to his back to reach for the phone on the nightstand and then he finally turns it off. It’s bright outside, the darkness of the night finally long gone. You’re still groggy when Harry rolls back, his arm coming back around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world and in a sense, it feels like that. But as you both slowly wake up, you realize that you might be a little too close. Slowly but surely you let go of each other, rolling to your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hope I didn’t kick you in my sleep,” you smile at him, peeking over at him, hoping to break the awkwardness of the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, rubbing his eyes, before pushing himself up and off the bed. You follow him with your gaze as he steps to his dresser and grabs a pair of clean underwear. “I’ll put on a coffee while I shower, want one too?” he asks, though you know he could make one for you anyway.

“Sure, thank you,” you nod and he nods back, yawning as he walks out of the room, leaving you lying in his bed, a bit confused and kind of aching to be held by him again.

Two days pass by, everything is going as per usual, neither you nor Harry brings up that you spent the night in his bed that one particular time. Now it’s saturday and you all were planning to go out, but a sudden storm has cancelled your plans, so the evening turned into a cozy, lazy hangout instead of a wild party at some frat house.

Louis decided to work on a paper that’s due in two weeks, Niall has been relentlessly swiping on Tinder while you and Harry are spawled out on the couch, watching some shitty action movie that was on TV, since you both were too lazy to choose one and put it on. Deep down you’re a little happy you don’t have to spend the evening in a crowded, smelly house, drinking cheap alcohol.

Harry gets up from his seat to grab himself a drink just when Niall growls in annoyance.

“What is it?” you ask.

“They keep unmatching with me after we’ve talked a little!”

“Have you thought about the reason?” you smirk at him, knowing well that Niall probably isn’t the easiest to talk to, he surely takes it too far too soon.

“Well they probably don’t like that I ask them if I can go over,” he shrugs, making you laugh.

“You’d go over in the pouring rain?” Harry asks, returning to his spot on the couch. He puts his drink to the coffee table and instead of sitting into his previous position, leaning against the arm of the couch, he lies down, laying his head to your thigh, making your breath hitch for a moment.

“Of course not!” Niall rolls his eyes. “But I thought it would make them think I would do anything for them.”

“It makes you seem desperate,” Harry retorts, earning a questioning look from his friend. “What? It does!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does,” you nod in agreement. “Going over in the middle of a storm just to fuck? Sounds like you’re having a hard time finding someone.”

“Women are so fucking complicated, and for what?!” he growls, before storming off to his bedroom, like an angsty teenager, leaving you and Harry alone.

He doesn’t move, his head stays on your thigh using it as a pillow. His curls are tickling the soft skin on your thigh and you have to fight the urge to play with his hair or scratch his scalp. You stay like this for the rest of the movie and when he gets up you almost want to pull him back.

“Alright, I’m fucked, I’m gonna go to bed,” he yawns, stretching his arms out into the air as he heads into his bedroom. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Harry!” you call after him as you watch his frame disappear down the hallway.

Sighing, you slide down on the couch, cursing under your breath that you’re still so hung up on Harry. You really thought that you had it under control, but lately those damn butterflies are acting up in your stomach at everything he does.

“I’m pathetic,” you mumble under your breath just as the sky rumbles outside with a blinding lightning, making you jump with a squeak. “Shit,” you huff, already knowing that falling asleep will be a pain in the ass. Again.

You’ve always hated storms, they make you think that something bad is about to happen, a tree is about to fall into the window or a lightning will blow up the building. It’s kind of stupid, you know it, but you just can’t help it.

Tossing and turning, you jump every time a lightning flashes somewhere outside and a few seconds later the thunder rips through your whole body, almost making you fall off the bed.

“Oh God,” you let out a shaky breath. You have no idea how long it is until the Storm finally stops and you’d really like to have a good night's sleep. So pushing your anxious thoughts to the side, you get out of bed and head over to Harry’s room once again.

It’s such a deja vu from a few nights ago, as you gently knock on the door you wait again, but this time you actually get an answer.

“Yeah?” you hear him call out from inside and you slowly open the door, peeking your head inside. Harry is lying in bed, his head propped up against the headboard as he is scrolling through his phone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks, putting the phone aside as he sits up.

“I just, I-I know it’s stupid, but I was thinking… I don’t know--”

“Y/N, just tell me, alright? Come on in,” he gestures for you and you slip into the room, closing the door behind you before sitting to the edge of the bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep during storms…” you admit, looking into his eyes, hoping he gets the hint where you want to head with it. He stares back at you for a moment before he scoots over, lifting the covers up, giving you the green light to join him.

Relieved, you climb over to him, making yourself comfortable as he wraps the blanket over you, his arm immediately coming to cradle you, this time pulling you to his chest so your head is laid upon his shoulder, a hand gently placed onto his hard chest, probably right above where his butterfly tattoo is adorning his abdomen.

This is now easily your favorite place. Safe and tight in Harry’s arms, protected from anything and everything, like you’re in a little bubble as soon as you get on his bed.

Lightning strikes outside again and you shiver a little. Harry probably notices it, because he tightens his hold around you, as if it’s his way telling you that he is here and nothing bad is gonna happen. Eventually, you’re able to shut the outside out and only focus on Harry’s warmth, the touch of his hand on your arm and his even breathing. And then finally, you drift off to sleep.

This morning is different from the previous one you spent here. There’s no alarm since it’s Sunday, neither of you have anything in particular to do, so you wake up feeling rested, the Sun shining through his half drawn in curtains, no trace of last night’s storm can be noticed from where you’re lying in bed, the sky is as clear as ever. Sometime during the night you got tangled in a way where Harry is the one now cuddling you, his head lying on your chest, hugging you as if you were a giant teddy bear, his leg thrown between yours, lightly snoring against your sleep shirt. You can only see his mop of hair and the urge to play with them is back, but this time, you give in.

Leaving one hand on his back, you move the other one to his unruly locks, gently playing with one before you comb your fingers through it, lightly scratching his scalp. Harry hums in pleasure, shifting from his dreams back to reality, but he doesn’t move, just keeps humming as you massage his scalp.

“It’s not a good morning, it’s the best,” he mumbles groggily, making you chuckle at his words.

One of his hands is flat against your ribcage and the damned butterflies start dancing when you feel his fingers gently stroke your side as you keep playing with his curls. This feels so idyllic, as if you’ve been like this forever. You wish that was true.

Groaning as he stretches, Harry rolls to his back, making you instantly miss his body pressed against yours. He rubs his eyes, sighing deep as he blinks up at the ceiling a few times, then he turns his head to the side, looking at you.

Just when he is about to say something, outside his door it sounds like someone just broke a pile of plates and it’s followed by Niall’s usual annoyed growl. You both get out of bed to go and check what happened, not even thinking about how it might appear that you both are coming from Harry’s room in the morning.

Harry flings the door open and there is Niall, collecting pieces of a plate from the floor, his breakfast scattered down the hallway as well while he curses under his breath.

“What happened?” Harry asks, picking up a bigger piece from the plate.

“Fucking tripped,” he growls back, glancing up just for a moment, then back down, but then he processes that you’re standing behind Harry, in his room, in the morning. “What the fuck are you doing in Harry’s room?” he bluntly asks, quickly forgetting about the mess he just made.

“What?” you ask nervously, your pulse quickening in an instant. Harry stands up, seemingly not too bothered by Niall’s question.

“You slept in his room?!”

“She did,” Harry answers, leaning against the doorframe.

“Wait, are you two fucking?” Niall’s eyes widen, snapping back and forth between you and Harry.

“Just because two people sleep in the same bed, doesn’t mean they are fucking, Niall,” Harry chuckles, seemingly amused by the situation that’s got your stomach knotted. Louis’ door opens and he walks out, his hair a little messy, but already dressed, a mug halfway filled with coffee in his hand.

“Wha’s this circus out here?” he asks, looking around, his eyes scanning over the mess on the floor.

“Did you know these two are fucking?” Niall asks him and Harry lets his head drop back at his words.

“Are you?” Louis simply questions and you shake your head no.

“We are not. Y/N can’t sleep in a storm so she came over to mine.”

“Funny, she doesn’t come to me when she’s scared,” Niall scoffs.

“I never came to you because you don’t understand that sleeping together doesn’t mean sex,” you retort, though your ears are practically burning from the rising anxiety inside you.

“Wait, whoa. This wasn’t the first time you two slept together?”

“She was scared after your stupid horror movie too,” Harry shrugs.

“Wow, so are you guys a thing now or what?”

“Niall!” Harry growls and you’re not entirely sure what bothers you more. Niall’s shock and interrogation or the way Harry seems so cool and unbothered, like it’s no big deal. Maybe because for him it really isn’t, it’s only about the sleeping, nothing else, even though the cuddles are a little beyond the lines of friendship.

“What? I’m just asking the important stuff! Am I not allowed to tell dirty jokes to Y/N because you’ll cut my prick off?”

“You shouldn’t tell those anyway,” Louis chimes in and you nod in agreement.

Seeing that the conversation is just getting more and more awkward with each passing moment you decide to pull yourself out of it. Pushing yourself past Harry you mumble an excuse me before rushing back into your room, the three boys eyeing you curiously as you shut the door behind you, finally putting a physical barrier between you and them.

You shouldn’t be this offended, it’s not like any promises were made and you should have known better and not fall for him more than you already did. It was silly of you to think that there was anything more behind these nights spent curled up against each other, or when you woke up tangled and melted together. It was never what you hoped it to be.

Then and there you decide it’s better if you distanced yourself from him, or at least go back to how it was before. No bed sharing, no cuddling and preferably no bitter feelings.

It all goes well, because you have a pretty busy week after that day, you always have something to do and it’s not like you spent the night with Harry randomly, so it was evident that you stayed in your room so far.

But about a week later another storm was threatening to strike. The sky was gradually darkening all afternoon and now it’s only five o’clock, but it feels like eight. It’s Sunday, you’re quite exhausted since you were working until three. Niall was out somewhere with some of his coursemates and Louis went home for the weekend, won’t be back until Tuesday. It’s just you and Harry, who’s been sprawled out on the couch in only his sweatpants while you’re making yourself an early dinner so you can go to bed soon and have a good night’s sleep.

It doesn’t take long for the rain to start pouring, you’ve just gotten out of the shower when the first thunder rips through the place, making you gasp in fear. Harry’s head snaps around, looking in your way where you’re standing at the bathroom door, a questioning look in his eyes, but he doesn’t say a word. Ignoring his gaze, you just make your way into your bedroom, not even thinking about what could be on his mind. Is he thinking about whether you’ll ask to sleep with him again or he doesn’t care about it at all?

By the time you are ready to go to bed, the storm is fully raging outside, making your insides tremble every time you see a lightning or the thunder breaks the quietness in the house. You make one last trip to the kitchen, finding Harry leaned against the counter as he eats an apple.

“Going to bed early?” he asks as you pour yourself some water.

“Mhm,” you nod, avoiding looking at him.

“Everything alright?”

“Sure, I’m just tired,” you force a small smile onto your face just when a thunder rumbles outside, making you jump. Harry is watching you curiously and kind of expectantly, but you’re doing your best ignoring it. Instead, you just grab your water and head back to your room. “Good night.”

“Night, Y/N,” he calls after you, and you can feel his burning gaze on your back right until you close the door behind you.

Your plan to sleep a good ten hours goes right out the window. It doesn’t seem like the storm is about to calm anytime soon, so you’re stuck to suffer through it on your own. You’ll be damned to go to Harry’s, that would be an instant heart break and you just can’t take that right now. Long, torturous hours pass by with you lying awake in bed and part of you wants to go running over to Harry, but you force yourself to stay. It’s not happening tonight.

You fall asleep sometime after two in the morning when the thunder and lightning have stopped. Unfortunately, you need to wake up early in the morning, so when your phone’s alarm shakes you out of your sleep, you feel like absolute shit. Dragging yourself out of bed appears to be the hardest thing right now. As you make your way out, you are met with an all too familiar figure sitting at the small dining table, two cups of coffees in front of him, one obviously made for you.

Harry’s eyes snap up at you curiously, taking in your terrible looks as you head to the bathroom.

“Morning,” you mumble under your breath.

“Good morning’,” he nods in your way and though he doesn’t say anything else, you can tell he has a few thoughts about your current state.

Once you’re done with your morning business in there you join him at the table, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Rough night?” he asks, eyes examining your face.

“Kinda.”

“The storm?”

You don’t answer, just nod your head. He remains silent, but you can feel that he is dying to ask another question.

Why didn’t you come over?

You’re glad he doesn’t actually asks you, because you wouldn’t be able to give either a normal answer or say anything without starting to cry. Instead, you just grab your coffee and head back into your bedroom to get ready for the day.

That week on Friday all four of you are invited to a party. At first you want to cancel, but some of your friends from classes will be there too and it’s been ages since you’ve been to a great party, so you decide to tag along with the boys.

For the first half of the evening you go your separate way, spending time with people you don’t actually live with and see every day. One drink follows the other, though you make sure you don’t go farther than getting tipsy. You’re not in the mood to deal with a nasty hangover in the morning.

Sometime after your third or fourth drink you run into Niall and he pulls you into their little circle that also involves Harry. When he sees that you’ve joined them, his eyes light up and goes out of his way to get next to you.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” he whines, slurring his words as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to keep you at his side. He is definitely drunk, that you’re sure of.

“It’s been just about two hours, Harry,” you roll your eyes, but can’t push your smile down. You’d be lying if you said you’re not enjoying having him so close. Your dynamic hasn’t been the same since you stopped sleeping in his bed. Not that it was such a regular activity, it only happened two times.

“But I missed you, I feel like we haven’t… haven’t talked in so long!” he huffs, knitting his eyebrows together. “Have you been avoiding me?” he asks leaning closer, so your conversation can somewhat be private.

“That’s silly. Of course I haven’t!”

“But it feels like that,” he pouts with glossy eyes. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Sure,” you nod, the bitter taste of lying filling your mouth.

“Alright, cool,” he smirks and pulling closer he kisses into your hair before he engages with the rest of the group again, keeping his arm around you as if it wasn’t a big deal.

For the rest of the evening you simply don’t leave his side and not because he doesn’t let you, but because you don’t want to. Harry is not the only one missing the other, this week you’ve noticed that even though you’ve been keeping yourself busy, your thoughts always took you back to one particular, curly haired boy. Despite everything that’s been going on, he is your friend first and foremost who you love spending time with and talking about anything and everything.

Both of you are intoxicated, Harry a bit more than you, but you’re having a blast playing beerpong or ruining Niall’s chances with girls he is trying to pick up. You’re genuinely having an amazing time and it wouldn’t be the same without Harry.

Arriving back home your little group splits, everyone using the bathroom after the other and you’re the last one in line, because you always take the longest. By the time you’re finished, Louis and Niall are both locked up in their rooms, but Harry’s door is still open, some dim lighting illuminating the hallway. As you approach it, you find him throwing his dirty clothes into the hamper, but his head perks up when he sees you.

“Good night, H,” you sigh, quite tired and in need of a good sleep, but before you could head into your own bedroom, Harry grabs your wrist and pulls you into his. “What is it?”

“Sleep here,” he simply prompts, already leading you to the bed.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

“I-I… I don’t--” you stutter, feeling flustered from his offer.

“Come on, you can’t say no,” he tells you, already crawling under his covers and then he holds them up as the invitation.

Taking a deep breath you follow him and make yourself comfortable in your almost usual spot. Harry’s arm falls over your waist in an instant, spooning you from behind as he hums pleased. But a few moments later he lifts his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“You know you can say no, right? I was just joking.” Looking back at him you give him a small smile. Even drunk he makes sure you aren’t doing anything you don’t want to, but how could you not want it? You’ve been aching to sleep next to him all week, especially after the last storm when you suffered alone in your room.

“I know, Harry.”

“Alright, okay,” he nods, his head dropping back to the pillow. “I missed this,” he mumbles with a sigh.

“Yeah?”

“Mm, sleeping alone sucks,” he hums and in a split second, your heart breaks.

Harry didn’t want to sleep with you, he just wanted to sleep with someone and you were the one there. It has nothing to do with you.

You want to blame him, you want it to be his fault that your chest is now aching, knowing that it truly doesn’t mean the same thing to him it does to you, but you know you can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, so once again, you’re left with a sinking heart wrapped up into Harry’s embrace that suddenly feels burning.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry.”

When the morning comes Harry is still sleeping deep beside you, an arm thrown over your waist, puffing warm air against the side of your head with every breath he exhales. Seeing him so peaceful warms your heart, but then you realize everything that happened last night, how he only used you because you were available and not because he wanted you.

You don’t want to wait for him to wake up and face him, your emotions would surely bring the best out of you. So carefully, you unwrap yourself from his hold and sneak out of his room, back into yours.

There’s no way you can face Harry right now, so before he could wake up you leave, planning on spending the day in the library, working on your assignments, hoping the school work will take your mind off of how badly you’ve been friendzoned.

Sometime after eleven Harry actually texts you asking where you went and you just tell him you have a shitload of school stuff to deal with. He asks if he can join you, but you tell him you’re with a group of your classmates, even though you’re sitting in an almost entirely empty library. He luckily doesn’t push it and leaves you to be. Hopefully he’ll be fine when you take another step away from him for a while to get your head straight and sort your emotions out.

You get home quite late, but not late enough, apparently. Because walking into the house you find the boys clearly getting ready to watch a movie.

“Just in time!” Niall beams. “Join us, Princess!” he laughs, grabbing himself a cola from the fridge.

“Oh, no, I have some things to work on--”

“Come on, you’ve been in the library all day, you can have a break!” Louis tells you and you know you won’t be left alone, they are just so persistent.

So you join them in your usual spot, which is of course next to Harry, though you’re trying to avoid his gaze that hasn’t left you since you arrived and by now you’re certain he knows you’re avoiding him. There’s a reason why he asked you last night if you’ve been doing it lately, he is not stupid, but this is not the time to deal with it.

With your inner crisis bubbling inside you, you completely forget to ask what you’re watching. A few minutes into the movie it becomes quite clear however.

“Is this a fucking horror movie again?” you ask, snapping at Niall, who just starts laughing.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Harry will gladly let you sleep in his bed tonight,” he teases, making your whole face heat up at his comment. Harry slaps his chest before he turns to you with concern filled eyes, but you pretend like you see nothing, turning back to the screen with your jaw clenched.

You’re fucked.

The movie is a fucking shitshow and leaves you traumatized. When it’s over, you think about why didn’t you just stand up and go into your room when you realized it’s another horror. For a change, this one was filled with demons and monsters that hide in the shadows, just what you need before going to bed. In the night. In a totally dark room.

Exiting the bathroom you’re already planning on watching something lighthearted and cheerful in your room, hoping that would make you forget the movie you just saw and give you the chance to actually sleep.

Walking past Harry’s room you see that it’s still open and you catch him expectantly looking at you when you appear in the doorway as you walk down the hallway, your eyes meeting for just a split second before you disappear from his sight and shut your bedroom door without a word behind you.

No matter how many random videos you watch on YouTube, some scenes from the movie are just imprinted into your mind and they have you trembling in fear. Every shadow looks like a demon or ghost, hiding in your room, ready to haunt and kill you and you’re on the verge of actually crying. It might not be only because of the movie, more like everything else that’s been bottled up inside you, added to the fear the movie has brought to you.

Shutting your eyes closed you try to take deep breaths and for a bit it actually seems to help, but that is until you hear the door opening. It gives you an instant heart attack and you can’t keep your tears back anymore.

A whimper leaves your mouth as the door opens and you can only see a shadow entering the room, totally not recognizing Harry in the dark.

“Y/N, hey, it’s just me! It’s okay!” he quickly clears, seeing how shaken up you are. He rushes over to the bed, one hand cupping your cheek, the other one finding your hand and before you could think, you grip it hard.

“You scared the living hell out of me!” you cry out, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to check on you.”

Silence sets between the two of you that’s only momentarily broken by your shaky breaths as you try to calm yourself down.

“Why didn’t you come to mine after the movie if you were so scared?” he then asks, surprising you with how straightforward he is.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you mumble, blinking the remaining of the tears away as Harry stares down at you intently.

“Why would you think you’d bother me? I like having you there.”

“But it’s… Doesn’t matter,” you sigh in defeat, but it just concerns him even more.

“No, tell me!”

“Harry, just go back to your room. I’ll be fine.”

“You definitely won’t and I’m not leaving until you don’t tell me what’s going on,” he protests firmly and you lose your patience to keep lying to him.

“You just wanted someone to sleep with yesterday, okay? You didn’t need me. And… I don’t want to depend on you more than I should.”

Harry stares back at you with a blank expression and you feel like this is going to be the end of your friendship. You have to come clean about your feelings and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t feel the same way. But then he speaks up and the tables turn faster than ever.

“Y/N, I wanted you to sleep with me last night. Not just anyone. You.”

“What?”

“I really thought we have been on the same page, but apparently, we’re not even in the same book,” he sighs, confusing you even more. “Wasn’t it suspicious how things have been between us lately? The way we slept, the mornings, did you think these are normal things to do?”

“I-I thought that… it didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Well it did,” he replies and you breath hitches in your throat. “I was trying to take it slow, see how you’d react to everything and I thought you were feeling the same way. But then last time you didn’t come to my room when there was a storm and I thought that was your way of telling me that you want to pause whatever’s been going on.”

You’re just blinking in shock, listening to his words. This is nothing you expected.

“But then you seemed like you opened back up last night and you agreed to sleep with me, thought we were back on track, but then you were nowhere to be found in the morning, avoided me all day and now you would have rather spent the night crying here alone than to come over to me. What did I do? Just tell me, because quite frankly, I have no idea what we are doing anymore, Y/N,” he sighs, clearly tired of this insane game you’ve been playing without even knowing.

“So… you did all of this, because… you…”

“Because I like you, Y/N. But there’s a possibility it’s already way more than just a strong liking,” he admits with a soft chuckle that melts you in an instant.

“Oh god, I could cry again, but not out of fear this time,” you tell him, making him laugh as you scoot closer to him on the mattress. “I feel the same way, Harry,” you softly tell him, your hands finding the base of his neck while his hands have wandered to your waist so now he is pulling you towards him until he ends up in his lap. His face is now so close, and even in the dark, you can see the cheesy smile on his pink lips.

“You’re not saying this just to keep me here because you’re scared to be alone, right?” he asks, clearly joking, earning a wholehearted laugh from you.

“No, but I guess that would be a major benefit of it.”

“I’ll protect you from all the demons and killers under one condition,” he smirks, his face already inching closer, his nose is already touching yours.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“I get to kiss you.”

“Deal.”

You barely say this one little word, his lips are already on yours, kissing you in a way that almost knocks all the air out of your lungs. You press yourself up against him, his arms curling around you, holding you tight as if he is already protecting you from everything that scares you, though you can’t really think about the stupid horror movies now that you’re kissing Harry.

He pulls you down with himself making you lie on your back as he holds himself up above you, his lips parting from your just enough so he can look into your eyes.

“How about I kiss you every time you feel scared?” he prompts, pecking your lips gently as you pull your legs up and his hips settle between your thighs, while your hands dance down his back.

“Alright, I’m in,” you smirk at him and for a moment he just stares back at you, smiling wide, in complete awe that it’s finally happening. Then he cocks his head to the side before speaking up.

“Are you still scared?”

“Very,” you nod. “I’m shaking.”

“Good,” he grins before his lips press onto yours again.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[reidsnose]

spilled coffee

overview: spencer mistakenly spills his coffee all over reader's stuff on a case, but it turns into a happy accident (based on this request)

genre: fluff :)

a/n: ok so i think this is so cute and ive been meaning to write something ab coffee art for so long im so hapoy i got sent this request! as always lmk what u guys think of it :)

masterlist

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you sat at a raggedy table, spitballing with the team in a run down police station in the absolute middle of nowhere. your notebook was open wide in front of you, the blank page taunting your inability to make a good assessment of this unsub.

"hey guys, i think i've got something," Spencer announced, walking into the room.

"thank God," you murmured under your breath.

he began walking over to the board, setting down his coffee next to you. except he accidentally bumped the corner of the table as he crossed the room, consequently knocking over his cup and spilling coffee all over your paper.

he gasped, profusely apologizing and you assured him that it was ok as you wiped it off as best you could, urging him to say what he came to say about the case.

you left your notebook out to dry and the next couple of days went by very quickly, and you nearly forgot about it. it wasn't until you were all packing up that Spencer handed it to you.

"im so sorry again, ill buy you a knew one." he offered.

"no its ok! it just has some character now!" you explained, thumbing through the pages, now stiff and various shades of brown, "mmm and it smells like coffee."

"i'm gonna find a way to make it up to you." he stated as the two of you walked out of the room.

the jet ride was going to be long, and everyone was schlumped, meaning it would be void of fun commentary and be even more long and unbearable.

you sighed, flipping through your stained notebook before getting to the exact page the coffee had been spilled onto. it might have been the lighting on the jet, or maybe the sleepiness on your eyes, but the longer you stared at the blob, the more it looked like a person.

a person you knew... someone with wavy hair that stuck up in all directions, someone who had a cute button nose, someone with kind eyes and a bright smile. someone with an iq of 187 and a particular interest in halloween and chocolate frosted donuts with sprinkles.

the coffee stain looked just like Spencer.

you rubbed your eyes a couple of times but nope, he was still there, in the coffee stain.

you couldn't help but think you were going a little crazy. you had liked him for quite some time, maybe you were just seeing him in everything now. maybe to everyone else it just looked like a coffee blob?

regardless, you took out your pen and started sketching. outlining his perfectly messy hair. and his defined jaw and cheek bones. and his puckered up, oval, kissable lips, curled up in a smile. and his little boop-able nose. and his off center tie.

you weren't sure how long you had been drawing, or how many times you had looked over at Reid to make sure you were getting him down correctly. and yes you were.

all the other times you had secretly sketched him it never turned out right. there was always something that made it like someone looks like Spencer. but never quite him.

until now.

because somehow, this spilled coffee sketch had perfectly captured his essence. maybe because he was the one that spilled it? maybe it had to be done together to look right?

whatever it was you just couldn't stop staring at the wonderful accident that you and him had created.

you looked up again to see him walking over and quickly flipped your notebook to the other side, trying hard to hide your drawing.

"hey," he smiled sitting down across from you.

"hey," you replied, voices low to avoid waking up the team.

"what were you drawing?" he asked innocently.

"oh..uh nothing," you denied quickly.

"oh come on you know how much i love your doodles, show me!"

"you've seen my doodles," you face palmed.

"yes! and i love them! especially the little flower chains you border your paper with sometimes," he giggled.

"well this one..it um didn't turn out right, you wont like it."

"i doubt that."

you sighed, giving into his pleading eyes, "here."

he flipped it over, eyes going wide and mouth hanging open, "WOAH!"

"shhh!! they're sleeping!" you whispered, pointing at the rest of the team.

"y/n! this is absolutely incredible! how did you- out of a coffee spill- and it looks so- wow. i-" he looked up at you, a huge smile stretching across his face, "i'm honored that you chose to draw me. thank you."

"you're welcome, i've tried to draw you before but i could never get it right until now," you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up.

his eyes softened.

"nothing says Spencer Reid like spilled coffee," he joked, making you smile. "but how come you didn't add yourself?"

"what?" you chuckled.

"theres a second blob here. right next to me," he pointed.

"yeah but that just looks like... a blob."

"no! that looks exactly like you! look theres your hair, and your eyes, and even the height difference is right!" he explained excitedly, grabbing your pen, "may i?"

you nodded and watched him get to work, sticking his tongue out as he focused. his approach was much different then yours, he drew connected, long shaky lines, and even though it didn't match the style you drew him in it was still perfect. and it still looked just like you.

he finished up, adding his last touches before pushing the paper back towards you.

"spence, i love it!" you breathed, holding it up in-front of you as you felt your heart begin to swell. "look at us. Spencer and y/n"

"Spencer and y/n." he echoed, liking the way your name felt in his mouth.

you smiled, "we forgot to sign."

"oh, right," he stammered, taking the pen and signing at the bottom corner before passing it to you and watching you do the same.

"something is off," you frowned.

"no! i think we look good together." he countered, wondering if you would catch the hint.

"no.." you sighed, taking the paper and holding it close as you scrawled something else.

his heart sank. rejection. you were probably scribbling out his face. or drawing a line between the two of you. this was gonna hurt.

you dropped the notebook back in front of him with a happy sigh. he brought his eyes up, wishing you'd at least had the decency to not show him.

but when he looked he was surprised. pleasantly surprised.

a large heart floated above your heads in the picture.

he grinned at you, his heart making its way back up to his chest from inside his stomach.

"i think we look great together." you grinned back.

his fingers grazed yours on top of the table.

"i agree." he breathed, looking like the physical embodiment of heart eyes.

"hey lovebirds," morgan groaned, "i'm so happy for you but please shut up and let me sleep."

you two chuckled, both whispering an apology, grinning ear to ear.

-

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ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @takeyourleap-of-faith @vampire-overlord @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni

[aenaxes]

OMG ok for the 200 follower celebration (based on your smoking post) PLZZZ write sharing a spice blunt with cross or any batcher of your choosing I would simply die 😩💅🏻❤️

vapor trails

[crosshair & hunter x f!reader] you don't really run with the fett twins' crowd, but you find yourself at one of their parties anyway (in reference to this post lol)

warnings: college!au, recreational drug use, suggestive themes, but consent is sexy & mandatory & sober babes

w/c: 3.8k

a/n: anon, you ask for one batcher, but why not two? thank you for enabling me nonnie & @mallr4ts lol (im so sorry to all the previous requests for the event, this one has just been needling in my brain all day and i had to get it out hsdfs)

event details here! requests are open until july 4th!

You don’t know much about the Fett twins.

They’re something like campus legends even though they’re only a year your senior and at the tail end of their fourth years. But as much as you’ve heard their names slung around in weekend plans and excited chatter, you’ve never once met them, much less seen them yourself. Between idling class whispers and dining hall conversations, all you can piece together from the rumors is that: one, they’re from a big family (you’ve heard anywhere from two to twelve other brothers, yikes); and two, as much as they work hard (because the venture capital and pre-professorial tracks seem rigorous enough), they play even harder.

It helps that they apparently own one of the biggest apartments off campus, one in which you find yourself hopelessly and miserably lost. And overdressed.

Great.

It hadn’t occurred to you that your roommate, who is nowhere to be seen, had been dressing up for her girlfriend, and that most people who had half a mind would wear something comfortable that could withstand a few spilled drinks and ash. So seeing the rest of the room in rumpled tees and sweats has you and your little black dress seeking out the nearest wall as you fiddle with your questionably sweet cup of margarita mixer.

You feel like a first year, and it sucks.

But for once, with everyone too busy mingling amongst themselves over the heavy thrum of some mumble rap beat, you manage to slip by unnoticed.

Every now and then, you dart your eyes around the ever shifting landscape of faces in the dim room, looking for even the vaguest familiarity that might let you feign being tipsy and join a group for the night. But every time you try, there’s no luck.

Fuck, you haven’t even seen anyone here before.

But there might be a god watching out for you yet when the crowd shifts just enough that you catch sight of the couch, and on it, someone you suspect to be one of the twins as he greets a few girls with a disinterested nod.

Emboldened, but mostly nervous that in the crowd of bodies and red solo cups you’re still helplessly alone, you push off the wall and squeeze past huddled cliques of conversation to make for the dark couch.

By the platinum bleached hair and big-name consulting group quarter zip, Crosshair—at least you think it’s him—lounges over the couch. He isn’t the only body on the suede seats, but he keeps to himself, his head dipped low as he works one hand over a small metal canister in his other palm.

If you weren’t having luck with the other nameless faces around you, maybe the Fett twin would keep you company—at least until your roommate came back to find you (if she did). And worst case, you’d just slink back to your dorm and mope until your roommate apologized to you with your favorite overpriced smoothie bowl the day after.

Mustering every ounce of courage you have, you plant your feet by the couch and finally speak.

"Is your name actually Crosshair?" you ask.

The man on the couch pauses, his motions stilling over the small metal cylinder in his palms, and he lifts his chin just enough to flick his eyes up towards the sound of your voice.

You always thought the girls in your droning 9AM gen-ed were wildly exaggerating his hype for their own devices, squealing over his (apparently) brooding charm and sharp looks to nip at his stash for free. But for all the vague haze surrounding your perception of the twins, you never thought that they were telling the truth.

If you had been in broad daylight under the incandescent glow of your creaky lecture hall lights, you might have called him cocky, almost haughty, how he meets you with an unreadable look for having interrupted him. But in the purple LEDs and heavy haze of vape juice and shitty tequila, he’s captivating, all dark eyes and perfectly lit skin, marked only by the needle-thin design tattooed over the right side of his face and a worn wooden toothpick bitten between his teeth.

You swallow down the dry lump in your throat when you catch him flick his eyes from your face, down the short length of your dress, and back up again.

"Smoke with me; maybe you'll find out," he drawls, toothpick bobbing as he speaks. He twists the cylinder once and offers you a wry smirk. And when you stay, speechless but there all the same, Crosshair scoots to the side and pats the narrow space between him and the couch arm, inviting you close.

"I've never smoked before," you admit a bit shyly as you drop down beside him. Your dress hikes up your thigh, and you shiver when your skin presses up against the soft denim of his jeans.

"Not even cigs?"

You shake your head. And you tell yourself that when he leans close and brushes his shoulder up against your arm, that he’s only doing it because someone’s boosted the bass, and you can’t hear him over the reverb.

"Well, good thing I'm here, yeah?"

He gives the metal canister a final twist and sets it down on the coffee table before you. Swapping the canister for a small brown sleeve, you watch in a daze as he pulls a semi-transparent leaflet from the folder and tears a strip of cardstock straight from its flap. He has pianist fingers, you think wistfully, neatly kept nails and slender grace, and you wonder if he’ll entertain you if you ask to compare your hand to his.

“What’s your name?”

You scrabble back to the present at the sound of his voice. “Uh, y/n,” you offer.

“Well, y/n,” he says with a soft laugh, having caught on to your daydreaming. “Step one, you fold your filter.”

You nod along absently as Crosshair artfully crimps the thick paper into a neat roll. As if there isn’t thirty-some odd people crammed into his apartment, he quietly takes you step by step, offering you the filter, the paper, then the contents of the canister (a grinder, he explains) like it’s a game of show and tell. But with every piece he places into your hands, you gravitate closer, closer, until you’re flush against his arm and practically hanging over his side to watch as he gently taps a line of bud over the paper.

“Here, let me give you a better look,” Crosshair says.

You expect him to bring the neat line of bud to you, but when nothing comes, you look up and find him waiting for you, one arm open in invitation as the other pats once on the dark denim of his thigh.

“Uh—”

“Sit,” he says as if you haven’t just met him fifteen minutes ago. “Front row seats if you want ‘em.”

On one hand, you barely know Crosshair outside of the rumors you hear on campus. On the other hand, he’s a genuinely pleasant person, careful to accommodate for your boundaries and offering a snide playfulness that’s banished your nerves from earlier in the night.

He’s also really fucking hot.

“Okay,” you murmur, and you let him wrap his arm around your waist and tug you onto his lap. And he’s right. Perched over his thighs, you see with perfect clarity (and without the strain in your neck) as he gently folds the paper over the mound of bud and carefully twists. It’s the prettiest joint you’ve ever seen—though it might be because it’s the only one you’ve seen.

"Final touch," Crosshair's voice rumbles over your back, shooting straight into your core as he lifts the paper's vellum edge to your lips. “Lick it for me.”

Since you sat down with him, you’ve only been the passenger, nodding along as Crosshair’s long, nimble fingers creased over filter paper and patiently pointed out things like the stray pistils in his baggie and the keef gathered at the bottom of his grinder for if you really want to get fucked up. And even though you aren’t doing much (because licking paper doesn’t really seem too crazy), it’s a step forward from the comfortable rhythm that had settled between you, and you twist around in his lap to shoot him an uncertain glance.

“Just,” Crosshair flicks his tongue over his lower lip, flashing a brief glimpse of a ball piercing towards your wide eyes. And if you weren’t so flustered, you might have recognized the coy playfulness in his gaze. “Give it a lick, right over the edge.”

“I—uh, what if I—” you stammer.

“You’re not gonna mess this up, darling,” Crosshair chuckles. If his hand squeezing brief over your waist wasn’t enough to bring heat searing over the tops of your ears, his next words, crooned low and breathy into your ear, certainly do. “You’re a smart girl. You can do it.”

"My brother giving you trouble?"

Another voice cuts through the din of the party, sparing you your stammering nerves as you whip your head up in its general direction. You’re greeted with the sight of his brother, peering down on you as he takes a sip from his cup.

“You’re such a killjoy,” Crosshair mutters, drawing his arm tighter around your waist as he jabs the half-rolled joint to where Hunter sprawls down onto the couch beside him. “No, I’m not being a creep. I’m teaching our pretty underclassman here how to roll.”

Oh.

Heat rushes over your cheeks, and you can’t decide whether you want to shrink into yourself or bask in it and beg for more.

He called you pretty.

“With her in your lap,” Hunter snorts into his cup.

“It was your idea to invite your entire fucking rugby team. Where else would we do it?”

“I’m so sorry he’s like this,” Hunter laughs, tilting his head and looking up at you through his (unfairly) long lashes. Where you thought Crosshair’s tattoo was bold, Hunter’s practically blows him out of the water, a well-worn swath of ink on the left half of his face, curving into neatly stylized teeth right at the edge of his lips. “I’m Hunter.”

Huh, maybe you do have a thing for tattoos.

“Y/n,” you squeak. “It’s, um—it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he says as he offers you an easy smile. “Has my baby brother been treating you right?”

“God, two fucking minutes,” Crosshair snaps. You hear the embarrassment seeping from the vitriol, and it strikes you like a shot to the head that he’s trying to play cool in front of you. “I come out two minutes after you and—”

“We’re fraternal, and I got all the oxygen in the womb. Explains why he has awful people skills,” Hunter fake-whispers loud enough for Crosshair to hear, and you giggle as the other man groans from behind you.

“No, he’s been really nice,” you say softly once you realize that you’ve been laughing a little too loud. “He’s teaching me about weed.” It sounds juvenile when you say it, awkward and clumsy on your tongue. It’s a dead giveaway that has Hunter’s smile mellowing into something soft.

“Your first time?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Cross here’s high as shit at least four hours every day. Says it helps him do the math. I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands.”

“You try running a nonlinear regression sober,” Crosshair snorts. “Anyways, we were just finishing up this joint before you decided to kill the vibe.”

Crosshair lifts the half-rolled joint back up to your chin, and this time, he leans forward and presses his chest close against your back as the playful snark leaves his tone, in its wake, something patient and calm as his voice rumbles by your ear.

“You gonna help me finish the job, sweet girl?”

You surprise yourself when the initial trepidation vanishes as you tip your chin down and stick out your tongue. Maybe you’re showboating now that you have an audience, feeling Hunter’s dark eyes on your lips when you touch the tip of your tongue out over the edge.

Whether it’s your lip gloss or the fine crumbs of bud stuck to the roll paper that fills your mouth with something earthy and sweet, you can’t say. All you know is they’re both following you with that intense intent, the bass and blend of voices faded out around you; just you in Crosshair’s lap and Hunter pretending to care about the drink in his hand as you lift your tongue off the far corner of the paper and close your lips.

“Good job,” Hunter muses, and you’re pretty certain he’s not talking about the joint when you feel his gaze boring into you alone.

The smell of smoke pulls you out of Hunter’s gravity, and you look back in front of you to see Crosshair snap a scuffed metal lighter shut and toss it onto the coffee table. He brings the joint back down in front of you, blowing a neat stream of whitish gray smoke past your ear.

“You know how to pull?” Crosshair asks, and his chin brushes over your bare shoulder as he speaks. He’s so close. You can smell the burn, acrid and sour, but it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t smell like some bubblegum vape when you feel his breaths curling over your skin. You just want more.

Mutely, you shake your head.

“Mm, you know how to shotgun?” Hunter offers, and you hear Crosshair huff laugher from behind you. “Might be easier for your first try.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s,” Hunter pauses, and his brows knit close as he thinks for a moment. “It’s kind of like a kiss. But not really. I take a hit and you catch my smoke. That sound okay?”

You don’t think it matters that someone’s hit shuffle on the playlist, filling the room with a hard electronic beat that might have otherwise drowned out all sound. All you hear is your heart pounding in your ears as you nod and watch Hunter lift the filter to his lips and inhale deep, then pass the joint back to Crosshair.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, white trails of smoke curling over his upper lip as he lifts one hand to cup over the base of your neck.

“Open,” Crosshair whispers.

Wordlessly, you obey. Your lips part just as Hunter pulls close, so close you feel the heat of his skin spreading warm over your cheeks, and blows a soft stream of bitter smoke into your mouth. It can’t be more than a few seconds, but all the while, you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his.

“Breathe in, deep,” you hear Crosshair instruct as he begins to rub one thumb over the curve of your hip.

The smoke is thick, sluicing down your throat and filling your lungs like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not bad, just new, and pressed between the twins over the couch, you think it just might have been worth being ditched by your roommate earlier in the night. But your lungs ache, and you slowly exhale, watching as your vision fogs with a loose cloud of smoke until your chest feels clear again.

“And you didn’t even cough,” Hunter smiles. His calloused fingertips follow the slope of your neck, lingering one moment more before he pulls away. And you aren’t sure if the low buzzing in your fingertips is the weed or their combined warmth as Hunter rubs over your knee and Crosshair leans his head against your neck. “Good girl.”

“Wanna do it again,” you whisper as the buzz begins to crawl up your neck, fizzling around your temples as you lean your cheek over where Crosshair nuzzles into your shoulder.

“With him or me?” Crosshair murmurs, his lips brushing over your skin.

“You,” you say dreamily, and Hunter laughs, a sound that suddenly seems so far away as you tip your head and press close against Crosshair’s silver hair.

Crosshair leans into your touch, pressing his cheek up against your neck one last time before he’s lifting his head and bringing the joint to his lips. You hear the hiss of his inhale, smoke curling up through the narrow body of the joint as the charred end glows warm beside you.

And instead of Hunter’s approach, level with you, Crosshair looms above you, meeting your wide eyes with something of a fond smile. Dragging his hand up your chest, he follows the line of your neck and holds snug over your chin. He squeezes softly, and your jaw falls slack, lips parted in a soft ‘o’ as he dips low. He's closer than Hunter as you feel his mouth just brush over yours and breathe smoke over your tongue.

This time, it’s easier.

You swallow down the smoke and hold, just a beat longer than before. But both Crosshair and Hunter notice as your lips stay parted, and they share a soft laugh that has you exhaling smoke and pride all at once when you finally relax your diaphragm and breathe out.

“Fast learner,” Crosshair muses, nosing up under your jaw as you sink back against his chest.

You mumble incoherently, chasing his touch as the high creeps heavy and warm from your chest to your collar and settles at the back of your throat. It anchors you, molding you up against Crosshair who feels nothing short of perfect as he circles his arms loose over your waist.

You turn your head to thank Hunter when you distantly register him pressing a cool cup into your hand (water, you think you hear him say), but the words slip back down into your throat, your eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy and coarse over your blurry vision.

“You wanna lay down?” Hunter offers, and his voice comes to you like you’re underwater, warped and bubbling past the din of the party around you.

You're pretty sure you nod.

For a few moments, you catch traces of an unintelligible exchange between the twins, only aware of the rumble of Crosshair’s voice at your back, and then you’re being lifted up off the couch, the music and raucous laughter fading behind you.

A door opens, squeaking half-shut, and you wince as a light clicks on beside you. Whoever was carrying you sets you down on something soft and cool, and you sway as the light dims and you settle into your seat.

You’re on a bed, you think.

Crosshair’s, judging by the shock of light hair that you can make out through your lashes. He helps you into a worn tee that reaches past the short hem of your dress, and you wiggle into it with a soft whine, holding it tight.

But where you expect a familiar weight to dip down next to you and pull you close, your eyes fly open when you see his figure turn away from you and towards the neon lights of the party outside.

“You aren’t staying?” It's the most coherent you've been through your first high.

“Not tonight,” Crosshair says softly. He turns back towards you and reaches up to fix the strap of your dress as you sit on his bed. “Baby’s first tokes got you all dopey. Right now, what you need is this,” and he presses a plastic bottle of vitamin water he’s seemingly produced out of nowhere into your palm. “This,” he adds, pressing your phone into your other hand. “And a good night’s sleep.”

“And what if I say I need you, too?” you pout.

Some part of you—the conscious part locked away in the back of your skull—bangs up against the hazy high at the crown of your head because when you’re good and sober and when Crosshair inevitably turns you down, you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for the next semester.

But he breaks into a smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead. It’s just a split-second of warm, chapstick-soft lips on your skin, but it floods you with an indescribable good from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.

And as high as you are right now, you have a hell of a hunch that the flutter in your chest is going to stay, even when the room stops wobbling around you.

“When you’re all sobered up in the morning, we’ll make you breakfast, and we’ll figure it out from there,” Crosshair says after he’s pulled back, reaching up to smooth his palm over your hair. “Sound like a plan?”

You nod, probably with a little too much enthusiasm, but you’re rewarded with another low chuckle that’s practically music to your ears. His hand gentle and firm over your shoulder, Crosshair guides you down onto the bed and pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Now text your roomie so she doesn’t call the cops on us, get some sleep, and drink all of that, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond.

“Good girl.”

And when the lights click out, you curl into Crosshair’s pillow, breathing in cold, fresh notes of his cologne, and then you’re asleep.

You climb out of bed the next morning, your minidress rumpled under a long shirt. It's not like a hangover, no, you just find yourself a bit lightheaded and throat parched, and the disorientation makes your head spin as you’re greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and something savory—

Your roommate doesn’t wake up earlier than you, and she can’t cook for shit. And why were your sheets grey? Whose shirt were you—

Oh.

Fuck.

You practically burst out of Crosshair’s bedroom, and you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you hadn’t expected to see Hunter sipping mildly on a mug of coffee while Crosshair pushes something around in a pan over their kitchen range.

“Mornin,’” Hunter offers you a small wave, and reaches for a third mug on the countertop. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee so we just made it black.”

“What happened last night?” you gasp. If you weren’t so panicked, you’re certain the sight of them sporting nothing but grey sweats would have been your only concern, but you’ve just woken up with foggy memories and the slimy dread of anxiety that follows a blackout night.

“Easy, easy,” Crosshair assures you as he steps away from the stovetop. “Nothing happened after we smoked. You took, like, two hits, and you were so hazy you couldn’t remember your dorm number, so we put you to bed, and I slept out in the living room. Fetts are wild but we’re not scumbags, promise.”

And judging from the throw blanket sliding off the edge of the couch cushions, you’re fairly certain you can believe him. Relief floods your chest.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh, and your shoulders sag as the weight of panic sloughs off your back.

They both laugh softly, the sudden tension lifting from the bright morning light, and you can’t help but join in. And when that rosy relief gives way to silence again, it’s Crosshair who speaks next.

“So, you staying for breakfast?”

“Can I borrow some actual clothes first?”

“Done deal.”

[leyyvi]

I will now share my paychecks head-cannons because modern day levi is all I can think about and you portray him exactly how I imagined it

levi has a sweet tooth, and that's a fact, the man cannot contain himself around well-made pastries and will literally inhale any melty kind of cake in literal seconds.

I genuinely feel like he doesn't care about what defines masculinity and what doesn't? Like he would not care if his desire to be little spoon isn't masculine literally 0 fucks given, he will get reader to hug him.

He loves late-night talks, I picture he would feel the most comfortable at night, with only the two of you and the sound of the city's busy schedule in the background, it calms him to be able to let down his defense for the small amount of time the night has to offer, just pouring his heart out only for your ears to hear and no one else.

This man finds intelligence attractive, and you cannot change my mind. Knowing where he came from, having someone emotionally intelligent enough to sympathize and respect every single human being, someone smart enough to make their own decisions and not rely on somebody else 24/7, someone who will know what he needs with one singular look is the maximum turn on.

not to be biased (totally am) but he prefers tits just saying

if he had the time he would adopt a pet 100%, he is so starstruck by the fact that they love their owner no matter what, the fact that they never make a difference, he just cannot help himself but melt (on the inside ofc we must stay focused soldiers) at the sight of a kitten just being cute and fluffy.

he's the type of person who would say they would rather stay home and claim he did not have any fun at all while he was out, but really he did have a good time and now is just too embarrassed to admit it so he plays along until the topic is forgotten

mama's boy mama's boy mama's boy mama's boy mama's boy mama's boy

He would've done anything for his mother, the genuine respect he had for her is unreal and the way she impacted his view towards the world is going to stay in the back of his head until the day the world ends before him

levi really has a nice voice and this man just gets beet red and smacks you whenever you would tell him that, but it genuinely touches him knowing the pure sound of his voice is enough to get you asleep so quickly

he would never admit it but he just loves the way reader just gets that motherly, nurturing behavior around him, I think he really finds that comforting and he just cannot help himself but fall into your embrace and let himself get vulnerable for that quiet, short amount of time he gets to spend in your arms.

god he's such a comforting little drawing to me

lol sorry for rambling in your asks, I kinda got carried away but this goofy 5'2 old ass grandpa will not leave my mind rn and re-reading paychecks DID NOT HELP.

im in love with so many of these oh my god :( so many are spot ON with my own headcanons jsdkfhhjkg YES he is a mama's boy! 100% his respect for his mother is immeasurable he loves her to death and she means the absolute world to him :((

but agh the masculinity thing! yes!! you are so right. he doesn't care too much about that kind of stuff at all and doesn't have the energy to either. hed let reader peg him if she asked btw

Your headcanons are so cute ;; i really enjoyed reading these thank you <333

[uwurakax]

another day ♡

pairing: oikawa x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty // exes // mutual pining ♡

summary: after the constant fighting and bubbling insecurities, you and oikawa both decide that breaking up is probably for the best. too bad that it wasn’t what either if you had wanted ♡

♡ read part one ‘save your tears’ here ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: super tired, i should be packing but im not lol, 4am gang ayyy. as always not proofread because i cannot stomach the idea of rereading what i wrote. this was what originally ‘save your tears’ was going to be, but part one got too long so haha. spoils of part one, so if you haven’t read it go ahead, or don’t lolol it could be read alone ig hurr hurr ♡

♡ (inspired by save your tears - the weeknd/ariana grande) ♡

At one point in time, you would’ve enjoyed an atmosphere like this; the blaring lights, pounding music, and even the heat radiating off warm bodies in a cramped space. It was much more enjoyable when you had the familiar, comforting presence of him.

Yes him: Oikawa Tōru. Also known as the the guy who broke your heart less than two months ago. You hadn’t seen him since the week after, finally being able to pick up everything and go. It was scary how silent it was between you two. The unit the both of you had made a home, your first home with him, just a little more barren. Just a little more bare.

Just a little more empty.

Once homely rooms were now plain. To anyone else, it could be called minimalistic or modern. Sleek if you were to exaggerate it. To the both of you however, it was just stone cold. A lifeless corpse. One poor imitation of what it once was.

And seeing it like this was almost enough to have your heart break for a second time. It was a physical representation of your relationship. The feelings of warmth, comfort, admiration, any and every word any literary body could ever akin to love was once found here. It was sad to see it gone, almost like it was never there. However if you looked past the surface you’d see all the small details of things that once occupied the room. The once full drawers now easily fitting clothes with plenty of room to spare. A countertop with products only to one half of the sink. The minuscule dust imprints left behind on the shelves that once housed your books.

The lingering smell of your perfume that was once so prominent.

You couldn’t tell, but Oikawa could. In the week you were gone, it slowly started to fade. The first night Oikawa was drowning in it. It clung to, what once was, your pillow and on the blanket. Choking and suffocating him with the sweet smell. He couldn’t bear to see the bed without you in it, and hated the God awful smell. Opening the window and facing away, he had a dreamless sleep that night.

And as the week passed, so did the scent of you.

He couldn’t explain why, but the moment he opened the door, his body felt at ease. His eyes blessed, even if you had those dark circles and slightly red eyes with unkempt hair. It was as if it was instinct to feel relief at being near you.

It was the longest few hours of Oikawa’s life that day, and somehow it was still just too short. Helping you gather your things, putting them into boxes and loading them into a tiny hired truck until eventually there was nothing left.

You were gone from the apartment, and now Oikawa’s life.

It was awkward the second time, saying goodbye. The finality of it all dawning on the both of you. You at least had this excuse to see each other once more. After this, there was nothing. No more reasons to come back, to call, message or even see each other again.

This was officially the last time you’d ever get to see Oikawa Tōru.

You’d both stood there for a few moments, only the wind against leaves and the occasional car offering any sort of background noise. Neither of you wanting or willing for this moment to end. Despite it all, it wasn’t hard to see that you both yearned for each other. Just how cruel it was that you couldn’t see it.

Oikawa kept your pillow close that night. The smell of you was so faint, he was sure that it wouldn’t be too long before it completely faded. As he held the plush item near his chest he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he could’ve had with you if he wasn’t so prideful? All the fantasies and white picket fences surged in his mind, and so he finally drifted off to sleep, thinking of you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Here”

You turned to see your best friend handing you a glass of, well you weren’t sure exactly but anything to dull your senses at this point was okay in your book. Yes, almost two months since your breakup and you were still so torn. It was what he wanted right? Your lives are better this way. You’re sure his is. He wouldn’t have to hear you “nag” as he so put it, and you didn’t have to feel the exhaustion resulting because of it.

It was better this way. You knew it. Oikawa knew it. Your friends and family knew it. Heck even the old ladies down the damn street knew it.

So why did it feel so shitty.

You downed the drink quickly, not wanting to go through the spiral of emotions you were sure you were going to experience. You’d deal with the pain and hangover tomorrow like the adult you were. For now you just wanted to dance till your feet hurt, and then drink until they stopped hurting. A quick descent into self destruction that you’re sure you’d regret.

Or maybe you wouldn’t.

The moment you turned your head to get back to the dance floor you locked eyed with him.

For a moment you stopped breathing. The music faded out quickly and the patrons of the club disappeared. Suddenly it was just you and him.

He looked good this time around, nothing like the last time you saw him. His perfectly fluffed and styled hair that was just so effortlessly Oikawa had become messy bed head. His bright chocolate eyes that twinkled just a little with mischief when he smirked had become sunken. His whole demeanour had completely drooped into a depressive state. It hurt to see.

He wasn’t like that now. He looked like how he had been before. No longer were the remnants of a heartbroken man. Oikawa Tōru had gone back to his charming self once again.

A cute girl with silky, long black hair approached him and just as quick as they went, everything came flooding back; the music, people and you found yourself being able to breathe again.

She touched his arm and laughed. The look in her eyes filled with the glimmer coyness. Her body language oozed with flirty persona. It was all too familial.

You should’ve guessed that he’d date again. It wasn’t like he couldn’t. The moment you both severed the relationship he had every right to do what he wanted. You did too. Sure you were seeing someone, but it wasn’t like that.

All too, touchy-feely.

It hurt to see, you weren’t going to lie. Seeing the way he touched her, held her, danced with her. For a good portion of the night you saw it. Seeing him be with her, the way he used to with you. No longer being the main character in his story; you were in the audience, watching.

You didn’t want to stay until the ending.

Without a word, you briskly brushed passed sweaty bodies, being bumped a few times before you finally made it to the door and opened it.

You walked a couple paces to the middle of the footpath, deeply inhaling the fresh air. It wasn’t suffocating anymore. You fumbled with your purse, reaching inside to pull out your phone. With the glow of neon lights emanating behind you, you saw a stray tear on the blackness of your screen.

Fuck, when did that happen?

You wiped it with the palm of your hand, and went to unlock your phone. As you prepared to send a text you heard the call of your voice.

“Tōr-Oikawa?”

He mentally winced at this, the formal tone of using his surname struck something inside. He didn’t like it, not at all. It wasn’t right, it felt strange.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? You followed me”

“Right... I guess I just wanted to see how you were, that’s all” he looked away, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You softened at this. It just took you back to why you fell for him in the first place. The little things like this, that made you feel cared for and loved. Perhaps for a few minutes you could be delusional and pretend that Oikawa still cared for you.

“I’m fine, what about you? How is everything going?” Yikes. You cringed at how awkward you were being. You supposed that that’s how it was, not exactly friends and not complete strangers either.

“Yeah fine too...” he trailed off, and just like that you were brought back to that time before you left. Before the official goodbye. Not ready to end things just yet, but neither knowing what more to say.

Just for a little while, let me remember every trace, curve and detail.

You didn’t know what came over you, but soon enough you found yourself drawing closer to Oikawa. He looked at you with half lidded eyes, not daring to move a step, almost afraid if he did it would ruin this moment with you. Yes, it was selfish but...

You lifted your hand to cup his cheek, just like a memory from before. Using the pad of your thumb, you gently brushed over the soft skin. Ever so delicately, you traced down his jaw. The intimacy of your movements crossed a boundary between you. You knew it and he did too. You’d let yourselves be greedy though.

Oikawa raised his own hands to touch your face, perfectly ingraining it into his mind and body. His fingers slowly going over your features. He wouldn’t allow himself to forget any part of you.

It wasn’t long until you both wanted to overstep more.

The longing between you too great to try and stop. Eventually you both moved closer, faces and soul alike reaching for the other. Just a bit closer.

“Y/N?”

“Oikawa?”

You both frantically pulled away, heart racing now.

“Kageyama..”

“Tobio”

Oikawa tried to hide the venom in his voice, he really did, but when he saw Kageyama make his way beside you he couldn’t help but see red.

It didn’t seem like life was playing a very fair game.

“Oikawa are you alright?” He looked down at the petite girl beside him, now clinging to his arm. He threw on one of his brilliant smiles and told her it was okay.

“Are you cold? Here” Oikawa couldn’t keep up that smile for too long, not when he saw him putting his jacket around you. How you snuggled into the warmth. How it showed Oikawa that you were no longer his, and that you now found solace in another.

He couldn’t blame you, he knew that deep inside. He did the same, why shouldn’t you? It didn’t stop the burning hatred and envy he felt. The overwhelming sadness that enveloped him. All a heavy dump of emotions thrown on him within a few seconds.

You felt it too though. That girl hanging off his arm. Getting to parade around that Oikawa was hers. It was totally unreasonable to feel this way. You both ended things. It was mutual right? You would’ve told him and he would’ve told you if this breakup was a mistake right?

Right?

“Wanna go?” Kageyama whispered in your ear. You nodded.

“It was nice seeing you again T-Oikawa” you smiled sadly.

“You too Y/N...bye” you both turned away, walking in opposite directions. With every step, your heartache grew just a little more. Almost like your body needed to be near his, the memories it held being more truthful than your head could ever be.

Your heart, body and soul wanted Oikawa.

Your mind told you to let him go for his sake.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hey Oikawa?”

“Yes Kageyama?”

“Hmm?”

“He was your ex right? Oikawa?”

“That girl back there, is she her? The ex?

“Yeah he was”

“Yeah, she was”

“Do you still love him?”

“Do you still love her?”

There was a pause and you both stopped, mulling the question over.

Did you still love each other? It wasn’t hard to tell, everyone knew the answer. Ask any stranger but...

“No”

..

...

..

You both lied.

[dracowars]

Hii! So i have seen that your request is currently open! Also that you are kind of new here (i guess? Idrk)! I was wondering if i could request one? The story goes like draco pulls a prank on y/n (any kind really its up to you!) then later on showers her with his love (gift too because we all know he got the ✨ money money ✨ so thats it! (Its very fluffy im sorry) i hope you can do it totally alright if you cant tho!! I hope to see more of your works! God Bless💗

fun and games | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where draco takes pranking y/n too far

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! <3 since this is my first ever request i'm a little bit nervous >.< i really hope that you like it and that it lives up to your expectations! i feel honored that you trusted me with your request even though i'm still pretty new on here ♡

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

You can't remember when it started, you only know that it did and that it slowly starts to annoy the hell out of you. Not because you don't understand fun, you really do, but you can't even spend a quiet minute with your boyfriend Draco anymore since he started acting like Fred and George Weasley, always pulling a prank on you with every possibility he got.

Some of those were actually funny and made you laugh, but at some point it just got too much. Every time you are with him now, you expect something to happen. Whether it is that he calls you to him to show you fantastic beasts that do not exist, making you look like a fool while he laughs, or that he hides two of your belongings somewhere around Hogwarts, telling you that it is actually three objects that you then have to search for like crazy. He even gave you Veritaserum once, just to ask you an endless number of questions which you inevitably had to answer. All of that you already went through. But today was somewhat different.

Draco did not pull a prank on you for weeks now, which you can not complain about at all, in fact you are quite happy about it. After his last prank you asked him to finally stop and it seems like he listened to you. Still, something feels very weird.

You haven't seen Draco today, which is rather unusual for you and your relationship because neither of you can last longer than a few hours without the other. You have just come out of your Defense Against the Dark Arts class and look around the hallway, expecting to spot him somewhere, while your classmates walk past you to head to their break. Usually, Draco always picks you up after class so that you can spend time together until your next course. But you don't see him anywhere today.

At the end of the hallway you spot Fred and George trying to sell one of their newest and greatest inventions to a first-year. You shake your head and roll your eyes. These two are probably responsible that your boyfriend had his prank phase, even though he absolutely despises every Weasley. Of course Draco would never admit it, but you think that he copied a lot from them.

"Leave the poor child alone, Weasley's", you tell them while passing them, not wanting to wait longer for Draco to pick you up. Regrettably you shouldn't have opened your mouth because all of a sudden they apparate in front of you out of nowhere, making you flinch and taking a step back. "What, Y/N? Did I hear you correctly?", George says, wiggling his eyebrows at Fred. "You really want to test our new creation?", Fred adds with a smile.

"No, thank you. I've had enough of pranks lately", you assure them with a forced smile. Obviously offended by your statement, the red haired twins cross their arms over their chest, giving you a disapproving look before vanishing again. Shaking your head, you make your way to your common room, hoping to meet Draco on the way there. Unfortunately, that does not happen and you slowly start to have a bad feeling. Where is he?

Once you arrive in the dungeons, you say the password and enter the common room, which is cosy warm in contrast to the cold corridors outside. After all, it's winter; what else should you expect from the temperature? Several Slytherin's buzz around, sitting at the green fire or studying at the tables. But still, no sign of Draco.

You spot Crabbe and Goyle on one of the sofas, who have their eyes focused on you. As soon as they realize that you look back at them, they burst into giggles and look away as if nothing happened. Their weird behavior lets you frown in confusion. Before you can confront them about it, Pansy suddenly appears right in front of you and thus into your field of vision.

"Y/N! We want to go down to the lake in a few minutes. It's frozen solid for the first time this year! Do you want to join us?", she offers, her outfit already perfectly adapted to the cold temperature outside. "Do you know where Draco is?", you blurt out, not answering to her question at all. "No? Why would I?", Pansy responds irritated.

You loudly breathe out. "Nevermind. Enjoy your trip to the lake", you wish her and give her a small smile, then walk past her and towards your room in the girls' dormitories. You don't miss the look that Crabbe and Goyle give you as well as their giggles when you make your way out of the big room though.

While walking your gaze falls on something laying on the ground and you immediately stop in your tracks abruptly. You bend down and pick it up in amazement, a now much bigger smile forming on your lips. In your delicate hand you're now holding a rose petal. Looking in front of you, you notice more rose petals on the floor. They seem to show you the way to your room.

It must have been Draco, he definetely wants to surprise you after a stressful day, you are sure about that. Quickly and with unbelievable enthusiasm you follow the path to your closed door. You imagine how you will open the door and come into your room, there will be a romantic atmosphere with warm candlelight and Draco will lovingly greet you, hug you and kiss you until-

SPLASH

You have just opened the door when suddenly a huge mass of cold water falls down on you, completely soaking you from head to toe. Because of the shock and the sudden coldness surrounding you, you gasp for air. In front of you, you do not see your desired romantic atmosphere or any candles, but only your laughing boyfriend.

"I got you again!", Draco rejoices and praises himself while you can only watch him in shock. You look down at yourself and lift one of your feet out of the puddle beneath you which you are now standing in. Water drips from your hair and your uniform to the floor. Your boyfriend's cheeky laugh echoes in your ears. Slowly your whole body begins to tremble, although you are not sure wheather it comes from the cold water or from the anger boiling up inside of you.

Assuming that you find the successful prank as funny as he does, he keeps laughing, not noticing your anger yet. "Fred and George did the same prank with Weaselbee the other day, so I had to try it out as well. It worked! Crabbe and Goyle helped me set it up and-"

"I hate you so much!", you scream at him angrily, no longer able to keep your anger under control. Draco's expression falls immediately, obviously not expecting this kind of a reaction. You are still stiffly standing under the door frame, stretching your arms away from your body to somehow escape the extreme cold, water still running down, even under your clothes. "Why do you never know when it's time to stop?! I thought you wanted to surprise me!"

A little taken aback, Draco slowly approaches you while you are busy with wringing out your wet hair. "Don't you dare touch me now, Draco Malfoy!", you command and he obeys your words, stopping a few inches in front of you. "Love, it was just supposed to be fun..", he mumbles dejected, insecurely rocking back and forth on his feet, slowly realizing his mistake.

"Yeah, of course. For you it's always all fun and games until someone dies!", you angrily rebuke him. "I'm completely wet, I'm damned cold, as if it wasn't already cold enough outside, and all I wanted is to spend a relaxing and nice afternoon with my boyfriend who, as always, only got nonsense in his mind and not thinks about his girlfriend's feelings!", you complain, getting rid of your wet cloak while bumping into him with your shoulder as you walk past, throwing it onto your bed. You sit down next to it on the soft mattress and take off your soaking wet shoes as well. For a few minutes there is nothing but silence between you two.

"Y/N..", Draco breaks the silence, but you just shoot him a scathing glance, your lower lip now trembling from the coldness surrounding your body. "I don't want to hear anything, Draco. Really", you scoff and roll your eyes, standing up to finally get out of your uncomfortable clothes. "Can you leave, please? I want to change", you ask him reproachfully, but he doesn't move a single bit.

"I'm responsible for this so let me help you, okay? I'm sorry", he says, sincerity in his sad voice. You can't even answer him as he already pulls out his wand and casts a spell you don't recognize. The puddles on the floor disappear and your clothes are suddenly dry again. All that is left is the unbearable cold around you. Freezing, you draw your cloak tighter around you and give Draco a very small but thankful smile.

He looks at you thoughfully before spreading his arms to invite you into a warm hug, which you gladly accept. Even though you're mad at him, he still manages to make you soften again. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist and he gently strokes your back with one hand in hopes to warm you up at least a little bit, then places a gentle kiss of the top of your head and hugs you even tighter, pulling you closer to his much warmer body. He can clearly feel your body tremble against his. "I'm really sorry, love. I hope you can forgive me for my stupid behavior..", he breathes into your ear, loosening your arms around his waist to take your ice-cold hands in his.

He closely examines your face, searching for any hint of what your answer could be like. No longer able to resist his pleading stare and shimmering gray eyes, you slowly nod to assure him that you will forgive him. Of course you will; you love him way too much to let something this silly destroy your relationship. More than happy with your answer, he cups your cheeks between his hands, his silver ring coldy pressing against your skin, and gives you a loving kiss.

"I will make up for it, I promise", he speaks against your lips after you broke the kiss, his thumb caressing your lower lip softly. "As long as you stop those stupid pranks, idiot", you roll your eyes, still feeling a tiny bit upset about the incident. A little chuckle escapes his lips and he pulls you close against him again. "Let's warm you up first, hm?", Draco whispers and before you know it he has apparated both of you back into the common room. Because everyone left to go to the lake you're now completely alone in the big room.

Without your consent, Draco pulls you onto one of the couches near the fireplace so you can warm up. With the help of a spell, he increases the flame a little more. Out of nowhere he throws you a fluffy, thick blanket and wraps you in it, your body now slowly but surely heating up.

While you're still busy making yourself comfortable, Draco extinguishes all the lights in the room except for a few candles, which dip the quiet room into a soothing light, creating a relaxing atmosphere for you two.

"Are you feeling warmer already? Do you need something else? What about a hot chocolate?", he questions you, still feeling extremly horrible for what he made you go through. "A hot chocolate sounds very nice, actually", you accept his offer, deciding to take advantage of the situation, innocently smiling at him. It does not even take him one single second and he suddenly vanishes into thin air. Shaking your head but smiling to yourself you watch the flame in the fireplace while you wait for him to return.

To your amazement, it takes him a lot longer than you expected and that just for a simple hot chocolate. After about a quarter of an hour he pops up again in front of you all of a sudden, two steaming cups in his hands. He serves you your hot drink with a cheeky smile on his face. "As requested: one perfectly hot chocolate, but not nearly as hot as you", he winks at you before making himself comfortable next to you.

"What took you so long?", you ask and take a sip, skillfully ignoring his statement. "Had to.. run a few more errands, you know. I'm a very busy man", he smirks at you, holding the, in his hands much smaller looking, cup. You look at him in disbelief and then discover a few white spots on his uniform that make you raise your eyebrows in confusion. "It's snowing outside?", you question and point to the snowflakes on his cloak that are slowly melting in the warm room. "Care to explain why you were outside?"

"Uh, well.. I just wanted to please my lovely girlfriend", he explains and takes something out of his pockets. You immediately know what it is and sit up excitedly, but before you can grab it, you pull your hand back. "That's not another one of your pranks, is it?", you pout and look in his eyes for an answer, any sign that this really is just normal candy from Honeydukes and not some experiments he bought from Fred and George.

"Come on, Y/N! They are not poisoned. Eat now or I froze myself to death out there for nothing", Draco assures you and you decide to trust him, carefully opening the candy, revealing the actually normal, delicious sweets that you love so much. Happily eating them you don't even notice at first how Draco keeps staring at you, one of his fingers nervously tapping the rim of his cup.

"Y/N?", Draco finally clears his throat, sitting up straight while you look at him with big expectant eyes. The way he pronounces your name, how the letters roll of his tongue create goosebumps all over your skin, causing you to cuddle up more into the cozy blanket, waiting for him to continue. His gaze wanders back and forth between you and his warm drink, of which he has not drunk very much yet.

He opens his mouth to say something again but notices the goosebumps on your arm, the alarm bells in his head loudly going off immediately. "Are you still cold? Wait a second!", Draco tells you, without waiting for an answer, and jumps up, running to his prefect room and coming back a few seconds later to give you one of his green Slytherin sweaters. "Here. Put it on, it will warm you up", he commands and examines you carefully as you pull it over your head, the pleasant scent of his perfume clouding your senses instantly.

Your cheeks turn a little bit red, on the one hand because of the extreme warmth that now surrounds you and on the other hand because Draco gives you such a sweet and tender look, as if you are the most beautiful and precious being in this world; which, in fact, you definetely are to him. He moves closer to you and puts his arm around your shoulders so that you can lean against his chest and snuggle up to him. Draco gently runs his fingers over your hair, over your cheeks and to your chin, which he slightly lifts up, making you look at him.

Neither of you say anything for a while, you just look each other deep in the eyes. Draco brushes one strand of hair behind your ear that fell into your face and slowly leans in. You close your eyes, waiting for him to connect your lips, but he teasingly stops shortly before, his breath fanning against your skin. "I have something for you.. as an apology", he gently whispers and you open your eyes in surprise. "You don't have to give me anything, Draco. I've already forgiven you, you know that", you smile at him, cupping one of his cheeks which makes him smile.

He takes your hand in his and squeezes it lightly, kisses your knuckles and then shakes his head with a sigh. "I know. Still, I feel bad and want to give you something. Something very meaningful and significant", he declares, reaching into his pocket once again. Eventually, his secrecy makes you kind of curious anyway and you look at his hand eagerly, waiting to see what the gift will be.

Draco pulls out a small black box covered in velvet. Your curious gaze focuses on the box, which contents are still unknown to you until he finally opens it and reveals a beautiful, gold shimmering and, above all, quite expensive looking necklace. Small moons and stars hang on it, but the real focus of the indescribably lovely piece of jewelry is in the middle. The bigger splendid pendant attached to it is none other than his name, Draco, written in an artistic curved font. Overwhelmed, your mouth drops open.

"Actually, I wanted to give it to you for our anniversary this year, as a thanks for sticking around with me for so long, no matter how stupid and silly and annoying I was. Somehow it just felt like the right moment to give it to you now", Draco explains in a calm voice, no sight of the silly boy from a few hours ago, and takes the necklace out of its box, gesturing that you should turn around so he can carefully place it around your neck. He leaves a few butterfly kisses along your neck before you turn around to him again, immediately touching the pendant with your fingertips, slightly pressing it against your soft skin.

"I thought I would give you my first name as long as I can't give you my last", Draco smiles timidly, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye as you pull him into a tight embrace. "D-Draco.. I don't know what to say.. I love you so much", you sob into his neck, placing a kiss right there. His arms wrap around you and he breathes out contentedly and somewhat relieved. "I was afraid that you would reject me..", he whispers nearly inaudible, more to himself than to you.

"I would never even think about rejecting you! But do you really promise that you will make it come true, Draco? That you will give me the honor to receive your last name?", you ask seriously, retreating a bit so you are able to look at his handsome face. A smile creeps its way onto his lips at your so serious but also hopeful facial expression. "I don't want anything more in my life than that, darling", Draco clarifies honestly and then takes the pendant with his name on it between his thumb and index finger. "This is a promise", he repeats softly and gives you a quick but loving kiss.

Despite the short kiss, you feel a pleasant warmth inside of you and the butterflies flutter around in your stomach. You put your hands around his neck and can't help but grin brightly, trying to hide it by biting down on your lower lip. Immediately, Draco's thumb comes up to your lip and stops you from doing so, looking back and forth between your shiny eyes and plump lips.

The next kiss you share is so passionate and with so much love that you forget everything around you in a matter of seconds, fading out your surroundings. Now, there is only you and Draco. And a promise that you hold close to your heart.

[blushnote]

↳ requested | 1.6k words

↳ dom!wonwoo smut

a/n: HELLO. i’m sure everyone is wondering what’s going on and WHY i’ve been absent for a few months. put simply: things got hectic and i needed a break! i’m not saying i’ll jump back into being completely active again, but that i’m going to come on as often as i can! (which might be every few days or so! i apologize!!)

as a treat for everyone - this features rich girl wonwoo! <3 

wonwoo stands at the street pole, conversing with his friends. the bar is unusually crowded. mostly likely because it’s a friday and there isn’t much else the townspeople would rather do than get plastered, forgetting the atrocities of work. his friend extends a box of cigarettes to wonwoo, offers him one, but he shakes his head.

since getting involved with you, wonwoo has attempted to forfeit smoking. it has always been something he’s done to pass the time at the street corner. plus, he likes the idea of blowing a big, stinging cloud right into someone’s face when they give him attitude. 

instead wonwoo suckles on a lollipop that tastes like an artificially sweet strawberry, pushes up the bridge of his glasses, and folds some silvery hair under his beanie. he knows it’s about the right time for you to be returning from that dinner party your parents forced you into attending.

as wonwoo’s friend exaggerates a tale about getting into a fist-driven confrontation at a bus stop last week, someone strutting by on the packed street bumps wonwoo’s shoulder.

“choose a better place to stand.” the stranger rumbles, agitated.

wonwoo flicks up his middle finger indifferently. “fuck off.” he grunts, the fog of his breath appearing in the night air.

he’s feeling sort of agitated himself. your parents have tethered you to a leash lately, forcing you to all these fancy gatherings and opening ceremonies and dinners. to put it frankly – wonwoo misses you. your laugh, your eyes, the texture of your skin, your voice in his ear. he’s been wanting an excuse to get his hands all over you. every single inch.

that’s when he hears the ding in his jacket pocket. looking away from the dramatic enactment involving his friend driving a fist into his palm, wonwoo checks his phone to see a text from you. a series of images.

23:28 // JPEG.1034

23:28 // JPEG.1035

23:28 // JPEG. 1036

the three pictures load. he chokes on his breath.

23:28 // i know u don’t like when i spoil my lingerie but.

23:28 // don’t i look so cute :( so fuckable?? im srry but I had to :(

his teeth crack the strawberry lollipop into sugary shards in his mouth. that lace is squeezing your flesh in all the right places. the picture with your fingers splayed teasingly over your underwear, hiding your core, it’s enough to make him shudder, salivate even. he’s officially ignoring his friend’s story by tapping a reply, fiddling with the thin stick in his mouth.

(ww) 23:30 // u free now? head to my place.

he receives an answer immediately.

23:30 // hmmm why?

(ww) 23:30 // u know why. don’t act like such a brat.

already, wonwoo can sense the desire form inside him. pounding almost. like a second heartbeat. you’re usually compliant and bending to his carnal whims. maybe all this time away from each other has you forgetting just how well wonwoo can fuck that stubbornness out.

23:30 // it’s new. i don’t want u ripping anything!!

(ww) 23:30 // idc.

23:30 // so mean!! not even gonna let u touch me now :-)

(ww) 23:30 // yeah. ok. we’ll see about it then.

after sliding his phone back in his pocket, wonwoo glances briefly in through the bar window. he sees a bartender pour a glass full of ice cubes before sloshing in a surge of alcohol. at that, wonwoo gets an idea. when his friends question about why he’s leaving so suddenly, he smirks.

“need to teach someone how to behave.” wonwoo shrugs before jogging quickly across the street.

“i’m not gonna tell you again. keep your fuckin’ thighs spread nice and wide for me or else i won’t let you cum – not even once. you understand?”

a harsh dip in your stomach suggests the breath you just inhaled. after a moment of silence, he hears you comply, and watches with his hungry, intent gaze as your legs part open for him. wonwoo has been teasing you with a bowl of ice cubes. at first, he held them to your nipples, had you whimpering into his mouth while he simultaneously rubbed his tongue against yours. but the real fun began when he introduced the ice cubes to your lower region. it was a very different punishment compared to his past endeavours, a tantalizing one.

wonwoo returns the cube to the nook of your inner thigh, then creeps it slowly toward your core. you’re beginning to tremble with the restraint required to not snap your legs shut. the ice cube ghosts transiently up your slit, a contact you had yet to experience, and a beautiful gasp tears from your lungs. he swears that you leak even more onto the sheets.

he takes the cube away, then drags his warm tongue from the bottom of your pussy right to the top, delivering a slow, flat lick which tastes sweet and cold and makes him so unbelievably dizzy with how much he loves it.

“w-wonwoo, please, pl-please keep going.” you stutter, opening your thighs even wider to invite his tongue.

he shakes his head. “what else did i tell you? don’t ask me to do anything. you’ll lie there and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” smiling, wonwoo issues a tight grip on the ice cube and presses it right into your clit. you whine sharp and loud, your hands traveling all over your body in confusion, not sure if it’s more pleasure than pain, or a hot mix of both.

“or are you still interested in acting like such a brat, hm?” wonwoo utters in his deep voice. “ like a smug little princess who thinks she can tease me whenever she wants and she’ll still get my cock all the way inside her? nice and full, just how she likes it. is that it, babygirl?”

he feels the ice melt under his fingers. you can hardly piece together a response, just a very incoherent, “no wonwoo” as tears start slipping down your cheeks. wonwoo takes the cube away, then massages your clit with his thumb, warming you up slowly. a few jolts pass through your body. he can tell you’re falling apart inside with how badly you want to cum, though wonwoo had strictly told you to hold it. he rubs and rubs and rubs, barking at you to control yourself, your pussy so slippery with arousal that it’s running all down your skin and wetting the bed.

right when he feels you’re about to snap, wonwoo completely removes his touch. you wail at that, suckle in a shaky breath and cry his name.

“please, wonwoo! i-i’m sorry, m’soso sorry! i’m sorry for acting so bratty and sending those pictures, t-teasing you like that! but i just c-ccan’t take this anymore. treat me however you want, but please let me cum!”

he’s truly missed the sound of you begging for him. his cock twitches in his pants, reminding him of how hard he currently is. each time you cry the boy’s name in such a lewd manner, there’s another surge of pleasure and he aches even more, to the point where he could cum just from touching himself over his clothes. still, wonwoo must ensure you’ve really learned your lesson. so, he offers you a deal. he’ll get to watch you pleasure yourself with the ice cube until he cums.

and so wonwoo sits in a chair based at the end of the bed, a hand stuffed down his pants, watching you swirl an ice cube at your sensitive core. he guides you every now and then: “hold it right there, pretty baby. let it melt all the way down. that’s it, sweetheart. n-now rub it, okay? f-finger yourself too. nnrgh, f-fuck. fuck you sound so wet. m’gonna c-cum—”

his strokes lash faster until wonwoo’s head rolls back against the chair, his eyes blinking shut while he chases his high. he hears you continue to whine as he cums, his cock throbbing in his hand, still so hard and heavy. in fact, wonwoo requires a moment just to breathe and let the heat circulate properly through his body.

with his fingers covered in the sticky mess of his cum, wonwoo approaches the bed again, fingering it as deep as he can inside you. he’s unable to remove his gaze from the filthy sight. there’s something so raw and intimate about watching his own seed getting pumped into you that sets his whole body aflame. he decides to let you orgasm as well, stimulating your g-spot consistently, letting you clamp down tight and ride his hand until you’ve got a full fix.

wonwoo supposes he’s done his job.

“i don’t think i’ll ever be able to look at an ice cube the same way again.” you laugh, sitting back against the headboard, tucked into his t-shirt.

drawing a warm washcloth between your thighs, wonwoo blinks at you, a very sly grin forming on his mouth. he plants a kiss on your nose.

“good. means it worked.” the boy says.

he folds the cloth over and finishes the last of his cleaning, ensuring there’s nothing more of his fluids that are still leaking out or anything sticking from your orgasm. grabbing your overnight bag off the floor, wonwoo pulls out a fresh pair of underwear and helps you slide into them. your lingerie sits in a pile off to the side, a few lace straps ripped.

“sorry about your little outfit.” wonwoo apologizes, staring at you earnestly. “it was pretty. you look good in everything.” he squeezes your hip and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay.” you murmur. “i’ll order something even better. and i’ll surprise you with it. maybe for your birthday. sound good?”

“mmhm.” wonwoo purrs, pulling you down with him to cuddle up close for the night.

“as long as i can take it off you, sweetheart, i’m fine with that.”

[kewltie]

thinking of bkdk in their late 40s when all their friends have already settled down with a family, izuku muses a lil forlornly how he would like to have someone to come home and katsuki just stares him dead in the eyes and says, "marry me then. i wont let you be lonely in that empty apartment."

the thing is bkdk are super successful heroes, they're the ranking no.1 and 2 and everyone knows their name but because izuku put so much effort into his career he never give himself the chance to meet someone and fall in love because the next things he know he's already 48 yrs old and still very single. as soon as he got right out of UA he had put himself right to work and hasn't truly stop since so izuku feels like he misses out on his youth, the flutter of first love, and now he feels like it's too late to grasp that chance again because he's too old to be stumbling around at love BUT here is katsuki suddenly telling izuku to marry him as though that would solve everything, solve izuku's worries and fears that he'll never experience love the way his friends had or knows what it feels to come home to a waiting arms that will comfort him after a hard day at work.

izuku first tries to laugh it off because katsuki cant be serious right?? but katsuki doesn't crack a single smile. "Do i look like im the type to joke about this kind shit to you?" he asks, voice steady and true. it is then that izuku realizes katsuki had meant every word he said.

but izuku still cant wrap his head around why would katsuki want to marry him of all things?? it is because they're both bachelor and wretchedly alone standing at the very top of their career where nobody can touch or hope to nobody can understand them like they do to each other?? izuku thinks that's a very dry reason to marry someone for the sake of convenience and not love at all because even though he'd devoted all his time to saving the world and helping ppl and HE'S OLD NOW but he still earnestly yearn to fall in love the ways all his friends had.

"If you needed company, we don't have to marry each other. I'm here for you always, you know that," izuku offers instead. "We're partners."

katsuki is silent briefly, then, he says, "You think i want to marry because you're convenience?"

Izuku blinks. "is that not it?"

"No," he says, all grave and serious, and for a moment izuku is breathless with realization.

"Oh," izuku replies, looking down at the table like it has all the answer in the world. "how long?"

"Since our third year at UA."

izuku jerks his head up, eyes wide with shock.

"what—I, wait, you can't mean that right?" he shakes his head as he flounders for the right words. they're both almost hitting their 50s now, so if it started in their third year then it would be 30 years of katsuki waiting for him, of pining over izuku and all that time was lost because of it.

katsuki press his lips into a thin line. "I have never lie to you."

"I—I'm not—" izuku flushes, because this wasn't anything he had plan for. who would anyway? no one would ever believe that katsuki has been in love with him for almost 30 years and izuku only found out about it now. even though katsuki has revealed the secret he has been hiding for 3 decades, izuku has no answer for him. he didn't notice katsuki's feelings for this long not because he chose to willfully ignore it but because he has never thought of katsuki in that light and that is the sad truth of it all. katsuki must have realizes that too because he doesn't press for more from izuku.

"i'm sorry," izuku says, mind racing to come up with a proper reply to katsuki's feelings because he deserves that much. "it's not you—"

Katsuki scowls. "shut the fuck up, don't even start that with me."

izuku quickly shuts his mouth, floundering for another reply that with save both of their feelings.

"Six months," katsuki says instead, eyes firm and never once dull since izuku has known him. "give me six months to convince you and if it doesn't work out we can get divorce then."

"you still want to marry me?!" izuku asks in disbelief. "shouldn't we like date first at least? isn't that how normal relationship work?!"

katsuki roll his eyes. "we co-own an agency, you have your toothbrush at my house, and we spent 18hrs out of 24 together almost everyday. our friends joke about us being a married to each other as much as to our work, we're each other's first emergency contact if something were to happen," he continues, straightforward like he's listing their grocery for today, "and i cant ever imagine wanting anyone more than i ever want you."

throughout this strange turn in their conversation, izuku realizes not once has he ever heard katsuki said he loves him but the way katsuki had revealed his unwavering devotion that lasts 3 decades and the dry, bluntness in which he spoken of wanting izuku, it's heavy. this hefty thing that katsuki has carried with him for nearly 3 decades, and in those years what izuku thought katsuki was just disinterest in any romantic connection because not once had izuku seen him look at another person, but it's because he has eyes only for izuku and nobody else.

izuku should have known never to expect anything less then 120% with katsuki because if there's anything that means something to katsuki, he would give it all and then some. it's humbling really, to be loved so fiercely and with such devotion that 3 decades is worth every second of it but izuku doesn't know if he's worth it especially when he's hesitant about his own murky feelings. he loves katsuki undoubtedly. they're partners in more way then one, but he doesn't know if he can love katsuki the way he deserves to be love in return, to return that same level of intensity.

"and what if the six months went by and there's nothing show for it?" izuku mumbles, hands clasp together under the table. i dont want to ruin this friendship of ours, he doesn't say. "what if you get bored with me and realized this isn't something you want now. what happen then?"

"you're stuck with me for life even if we get a divorce. i won't let you ever get rid of me either way," katsuki says, lips twitching with the slightest hint of amusement. "and if you're worry about me getting bored of you, don't. i fucking wont." It’s firm, assured, and completely sincere.

izuku thinks anybody with a half a brain at all would see this admirable man right in front of them with his unwavering affection and devotion that he had nurtured for 3 decades would be half way in love already, but izuku neither race or skip a beat; it remains dull and unmoved. maybe he's really too old to love like this. maybe, it's not that he's too busy to ever search for it like everyone else but because he has all the love for everyone but none ever hold a special place in his heart. for all of katsuki's sharp edges, his feelings burn ever so brightly while izuku has since been numb to his own emotions. to give too much to the world, to his job that he has never let himself fall freely and unconditionally. it's terrifying.

"what if i hurt you instead?" he says, quiet and severe. "what if in the end i couldn't return what you've given me?"

katsuki doesn't answer right away. the air around them tenses, threatening to suffocate them in the waiting silence. then a hand grab his and draws it toward katsuki's chest. "don't fucking underestimate me, idiot. i can and will make you fall in love with me in 6 months. 6 months is more than enough to make you realize what a fucking dumbass you have been the entire time for not taking notice of me while i have been looking at you for almost half of our life," he says with the cocky assurance that propelled him to the no. 2 position and beyond.

for the first time since this exchange had started and taken a strange, strange turn that left him his world shaken to its core, izuku's heart feels lighten. He stifles a giggle. "i still think we should date at least. marriage is maybe jumping the gun a little too soon."

"No." Katsuki's eyes narrow, and he squeezes izuku's hand firmly. "i'm not giving you any chance to escape from this. we can do all the dumb dating things you could ever want but we're getting marry first."

izuku tries to draw his hand back but katsuki remains undeterred. "Kacchan, please," he says. half begging for his hand back and half pleading against his insane idea. who in their right mind would ever marry first then date each other?! That's just not how it work! yet, katsuki is an unmovable fortress against increasing izuku's distress.

"deku," he says, thumb running across izuku's knuckles in a soothing circle, "give me this chance. let me prove it to you that i can do it. take this leap of faith with me and i won't disappoint you. trust me with your heart like you trust me with your life and i promise i will keep it safe."

izuku draws out a long, lingering breath that leaves his head heady with a dawning realization. "o-okay," he finally acquiesces, shaken with the knowledge that his heart suddenly doesn't feel safe at all for the first time in a long time in the hands of the man in front of him. bakugou katsuki is dangerous, but to the tender beat of his heart.

Katsuki's lips stretch upward into a small, precious smile that rarely see the light of day, leaving izuku breathless just for a moment. "we'll go get the marriage license tomorrow."

"tomorrow?!" izuku shrieks.

maybe he has been wrong all along, maybe you're never too old fall in love and experience it for the first time and that sometimes the things that matter the most to you are always worth the wait even if take 3 decades and katsuki always been more patient then people give him credits for.

[ayanna-wild]

Like It Always Was

Word Count: 1005

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: mentions of nudity, fluff

A/N: not requested, just wanted to write it

Summary: Geralt can't always treat his own wounds, some times it requires a more skilled touch. The conversations were more one sided than anything, but you knew more about him than anyone else. And for years, this was how things were, so what's changed?

.................................................................................

It was late when he arrived at your doorstep.

As it always was. 

You had been asleep, or at least in the comfortable stage just before fully drifting off. He didn't knock, he never did, but you had learned to sleep lightly and listen closely. It was the sound of someone rummaging through your pantry that woke you from you near sleep.

You didn't bother dressing properly, the thin nightdress you wore was sufficient. The time of modest gestures had long passed between the two of you. You moved the curtain aside from the entry way of your bedroom. 

"I have just cleaned." 

The white-haired man turned his head to look at you out of corner of his eye. He was covered in blood, and gods only knew what else, dripping onto your floor. You couldn't tell how much of it was his, and how much of it belonged to the creature that had been unlucky enough to cross paths with the Witcher. A bottle of your ale was in his hand, and he took a long drink of the liquid.

"Did I wake you?"

A small smile graced your lips and you shook your head.

"I hadn't yet fallen asleep, I was getting there." 

He hummed in response and took a seat on one of the chairs at your table. You watched him for a moment, as he began to strip himself of his armor. His stiff movements weren't lost on you and you walked a few steps forward.

"Where?"

He didn't look at you as he answered, just continued to remove his black armor.

"My back."

His answer was enough, and you grabbed the bucket beside the door.

"I'll draw you a bath."

Geralt made no move to help you as he watched you bring in several buckets of water. Heating them over your stove, yet he made no effort to assist, you wouldn't allow him to, not while he was injured. The last time he had tried you had taken the bucket from him, scolding him for irritating his wound. He knew better than to attempt to help you now.

"I don't need all that." He said as you grabbed several bottles from a shelf.

Bath salts, and herbs to help him relax. You only sat them on the table in front of him as you began to carry buckets of hot water into your bedroom.

"We've known each other for many years have we not, Geralt?" 

He nodded, and you sat the empty bucket down, placing your hands on your hips.

"Then allow me to blunt, you smell like the inside of a goat's stomach."

That earned you a small chuckle, as you gathered the bottles from the table and motioned for him to follow you. Geralt ventured after you, into your bedroom, and you began sprinkling bath salts and various herbs into the steaming water of the bath.

"In you go."

Had it been the first time doing this, you would have flushed at the sight of Geralt of Rivia stripping, turned away in embarrassment. But you had been doing this for so long, it'd become something of a routine now, ridding you of any awkwardness. You thought nothing of the handsome man standing naked in front of you, it was almost normal to you.

You waited until he had sunk into the bath before pouring a bucket of water over his head. He grunted in response to the unsuspected action and you smiled smugly. As he began to clean himself of the blood and grime covering his body you walked around the bath to stand behind him. 

"Was it a Griffin?" 

Your fingers ran softly over the deep scratches on his back before you grabbed a rag. You cleaned his back and wounds with delicate strokes, careful not to cause him any more pain.

"Harpy." 

You smiled a bit at that and rinsed the blood from his back.

"A woman or a beast?"

He scoffed at your joke, but you caught the ghost of a smile that lingered on his lips. As you finished cleaning his wound and back, you lightly placed your hand over his cuts.

"This will sting."

It always did, and as usual he said nothing. The magic tickled your fingers as you willed his flesh to sew itself back together. Aside from his muscles flexing under your hand he gave no sign of discomfort. When you felt it was healed enough for his body to take over the recovery you pulled your hands back. 

Normally that would be the end of your interaction for the time being, you'd leave him to his bath, and you'd go to clean his clothes. However, you couldn't help but linger tonight, tracing scars that weren't there last time. They were jagged scars, ones that clearly hadn't healed right, or were left to heal on their own, without any assistance or care.

"Are you done?" 

Geralt's rough voice snapped you from your daze, and you pulled your hand back, standing to your feet. You wiped your hands on a nearby towel.

"I'll clean your clothes and mend your armor." You spoke quickly.

You moved past him to leave the room, but he grabbed your wrist at the last second.

"Join me."

You would have looked surprised, had this been anyone else but this was Geralt. He'd saved your life and in exchange you offered to spend the rest of it healing his wounds when he needed it. Of course seeing as that was many years ago, it wasn't that surprising that you and the White Wolf had shared a few, intimate moments, together. 

You removed his hand with a small smile. Normally you'd have agreed, but tonight something was different.

"Rest well, Witcher."

You left him alone, and gathered his clothes, walking out into the night air to wash them. This night was different from the others, you lingered just a little to long, cared just a little too much. 

For the first time, it wasn't like it always was.

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Tag List: @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @adira-secrets @beththedemonhunter @shywriting @emiwrites3reads @gingernarwal @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @sallyp-53 @officalfangirl @cptgryps @mizzezm @measure-in-pain

[butterfliesinmyguts]

A Helping Hand

summary: reader always helps around and levi wonders why.

warning : fluff, angst, and happy lovely stuff(may or may not turn into a series)

“ you did better today...” Mikasa breathed pushing my body off of hers. I finally was able to take her down. before dinner, she’s been helping me train to get better at combat.

a smile fell on my face, getting up and dusting myself off, “ keep it up and I’ll be more scared of you then those titans are..” I was able to keep up with Mikasa in ODM training, which was nearly impossible for everyone else. i felt at home in the air- as soon as my body begins to float, everything thing else zones out. my swords were just an my arms extended and I felt so powerful killing titans- scared yes- but powerful, but on ground I’m a clumsy wreck.

“ now let’s go eat before our meals fall victims to Sasha” letting out a laughed, I quickly remember a promise I made earlier today.“ could you save me a potato or something? I promised Jean I’d cover for his stable shift...” My friend sighed, “ again y/n?” quickly nodding, I set off to the stables.

I didn’t mind helping, if it was me I would want someone to offer to help me. sometimes I helped hange with mission plans, the days we go into town a lady sometime needs help carry supplies in her store, at the end of the week I help armin with reading, and at the beginning of the week I help captain levi organize his papers.

helping Levi is my favorite part of the week, if I’m in his office late enough he’ll set a cup of tea in my face with the words “ drink “ following after. while in my focused trance of replacing the water for the horses, and daydreaming about my captain Levi- two feet come into my line of vision. looking up my eyes were met with cold grey ones and then his trademark frown.

“ why are you out here, this is Jean’s punishment” dropping the buckets to the dirty stable ground, I wiped the sweat off my palms against my pants- fucking Jean, you told me this was duty.

“ just giving him a helping hand” my voice cracked, trying to laugh off the pure nevrousness that his presents brings me. I admit that im extremely fond of captain levi. he’s was the only guy that has ever made my stomach go crazy just by looking at me. the way he holds himself, short- yes- but never looked down on. he is humanity greatest soldier, during training I swear that he watches me. I feel his eyes burning my skin, the one time I did catch him Levi’s eyes widen and his breath hitched. I would kill to even be able to hug him, sometimes I imagine what it’s like to kiss him-but know that’ll never happen, hange told me that he thinks I’m silly and child like - he’d never feel that way about me.

“ - and now you’re standing there looking stupid, are you going to answer me y/n?” I realized that I’ve completely blocked out everything he said.

“ i.. please repeat the question- I’m sorry.” pinch his nose, my captain shook his head toward the ground. “tch, I asked you why your doing his punishment ?” shrugging, I began to brush the horses. “ I like being a helping hand, -“ before he got the chance to scold me I continued with “ it’s the only thing that makes me feel happy..”

looking up to catch him staring at me, our eyes locked together and for the first time ever I saw his eyes soften. taking him in, cause I may not ever be allowed to do it again, my heart ached. Levi is beautiful, breathtaking. his youthful glow made those dark orbs glow,if lips werent in the plain straight line- they would be puffy and pinky- so kissable. pulling my eyes away I finally breathed, trying to focus on the brush going through the horses hair while Levi still watched me. “ if that’s the case I need help mapping out the next expedition, hange told me your quite intelligent.” my cheeked warmed and a smile began to creep up on my lips- hange is getting so much praise next time I see them.“ I’ll find out for myself..” that smile dropped. “ come to my office after you clean and change from your filthy clothes.” nodding I watch the man walk towards the dining hall. On the inside, I was doing leaps. more time with levi, and we’d be talking to each other- I get too share my thoughts with levi.

“let the horse boy have fun with his siblings, and if I catch you doing other’s chores I’m making you run until the sunsets...” and you giggled.

during dinner levi couldn't help to think of you. why did you look at him like that, was there something on his face? maybe you were just scared, but no he’d always caught you looking at him. rather it been during training, in the dinning hall, and even doing expeditions.

Recalling back to when he first saw you, that smile you had permanently planted on your face- stupid what made y/n so happy? he was even more stunned when you got your ass handed to you by reiner during training and yelled “ again!” with that grin. that beautiful smile, y/n was beautiful- everyone knew it. levi heard eren, jean, connie, armin, and even hange talked about what they would do to have you in they’re beds, they all ranted about you body- Levi will admit that he has imagined your shy breath as his hand roamed your skin but It's more than looks with you, you care so much and you're gentle with him.

y/n would make sure that you take off your boots when entering his office ( which is tedious a job in itself ) but you did because Levi hated it when his floors were dirty and when on missions you squeeze all you cadets hands just to comfort them. no one ever has been gentle to him, it made him feel important but more importantly, why couldn't he stop thinking about you.

after showering, you changed into you nightclothes and headed to levi office. you knocked softly to quick “ come in..” I opened the door to Levi pulling two cups of tea. “ your late, I hope you didn't finish the stables...”

pulling your shoes off placing them beside his door you watched him pour, “ I didn’t” assuring him. moving towards the desk, examining the maps- Levi’s notes were so oragnized and neat. each note had so much detail about the surrounding area. while familiarizing with the map, Levi placed the tea cup infront of you. “ drink.” Brushing passed you, he set down in his chair.

why would he risking going in the open field for 740 meters, “ wouldn’t it be better to use this patch for cover?” expressing my concern, levi leaned up and listened to me rumble about the how it’ll be longer but it’ll save more cadets- every change I got I took a peek to see if he was still listening.

those sliver eyes watched me draw circles and point at the map, bottom lip between his teeth. i imagined how good it would feel to push my lips against them, the relief and pleasure that would rush through my body. I craved him “urh- but those are my thoughts..” finishing pushing away from the desk, distracting myself by sipping the tea.

“ where would we stop ?” Levi questioned, my heart warmed up, I stood over him to explain better “ over there would be a great rest point..” pointing to it, my neck completely in front of levi. I felt his breath hitched, clearing my throat i grabbed the pencil marking the on the map. “ I notice a cabin the last time we traveled...”

“ tch, impossible that’s a bit of the trail, with those tree you couldn’t have seen anything..” looking down in shame “ well while everyone was sleep I explored, even found a waterhole..”

I knew the risk of exploring, but I couldn’t help myself. while setting up for camp I saw a stream pulling down and I just had to see.

“don’t ever do that again...” nodding feeling ashamed, does this mean I have to go stay in the dungeon like eren? his eyes lighten a smirk playing along his lips.

“ just don’t go alone okay?” smiling at his words. sitting across from him I continued to tell him my discoveries - making sure he took notes of the waterhole and fields filled with berries. Levi forced me to write all my finding down, and he promised to even follow me on one of my ventures next time.

as time flew by tea cups were spilled, by me of course, and I was forced to re write the papers I ‘ ruined ‘ leaning my head on this desk my eyes flutter - wake up y/n - yawning I turned to levi still writing, how is he still writing? that tea was not keeping him up. so much energy, my eyes trailed his toned arms- the veins moving every in each stroke. blinking I distracted myself from my dirty thoughts.

“ you need to sleep levi” stretch my bones, the pop and crack give me a shot of adrenaline so I can actually wake up. “I’m fine” he muttered.

Levi eyes sunk from the lack of sleep, he was fighting it- too focused in his work to care that his eyes were burning and skin was red with an indention on his finger from the pen. “ they’ll be there tomorrow I promise..”

I reach to grab the papers, placing my hand softly on his bicip- he stiffened instantly and pushed my back into his bookcase. my ass landed on the ground,“ owe!” I cried, rubbing my back. fuck he is strong for a little guy, wow.

“y/n!”

levi rushed over and I swear his eyes were widen, like he was worried that he actually hurt me. Levi quickly leaning down watching me.“ I didn't mean to that y/n” a couldn't help but smile at him. were so close right now, my nose filled with his fresh scent- mint and tea leafs.

“ don't worry captain I-” levi’s hand pat my head. I could fucking scream in joy right now. did he just pat me? he never touches anyone. what does this mean, pulling away I watch his hand close as his finger tips carcassed his palms. as if he was trying to saver the feeling of my head, huh?

“your being gentle with me, why?” questioning him- levi set down in front of me. “ why not, your gentle with everyone else..” my eyes widen, he notices me In that way? planting his hand on my cheek, my heart stop, It felt so warm- his thumb wipe the tiny tear from the corner of my eyes. I’m blushing “I just flung you, and your still smiling why?”

shrugging “ I should have known that what’s going to happen” breathing out, I stared at his lips. “ y/n..” nodding not looking up at him. just kiss him, Levi is right there.

“ l'm going to kiss you..” he leaned and pushed my hair out of my face. repeating those words in my head, “ is that okay?” nodding quickly our lips came together as Levi took me in. I felt his chest against mine, and I couldn’t help but to grip his collar pulling him closer.

our lips begun to dance with each other, levi hands landed on my waist pulling me on top of his thighs. that smile still planted on my face between the kisses, while my hand combed his undercut.

my daydreams weren’t even a compare to the real deal, gently rubbing the back of his neck, Levi groaned into my mouth. With each movement we gained a slow rhythm,our body flowing against each other. I couldn’t help but to moan in pure pleasure I was feeling.

levi pulled bac slowly and watched me with my smiled in a drunken daze. replaying the moments in my head, Levi just kissed me, Levi my captain levi thinks of me- he thinks I’m gentle. a “ wow” left my mouth as he got up, leaning down quickly to steal one last kiss. my smiled never left my lips as I stood up leaning against the bookcase as finger tips brushed over my lips, hope the tingling sensation never went away. Im buzzing, I’m buzzing- all because of him.

watching the man, pick the fallen books up his eyes went to the window . “ it’s almost dawn, go get some sleep” Levi ordered coldly , point toward his bed.

fuck, “it’s dawn already!” I darted around Levi’s office trying to clean my area and while getting myself together. Levi stood there confused, as my actions all clicked in his head- arms crossed tightly along his chest.

“ I promised sasha that I’d help her with her hair this morning- I hope she’s not up already- oh no” slipping on my shoes on. opening the door to walk out, I give him a warm smile. “ I’m so sor-“

“ don’t worry, thanks for the helping hand..” leaning in to kiss him I was met by a closing the door. dumbfound I stood there, “what?”

part 2!