#anyone else enjoy watching the way he just slightly raises his eyebrows like the little devil boi he is

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

🥚egg head🥚

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ꜱ ᴘ ɪ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How is your relationship with batfam in general?

Notes: Reader is a pervert. Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. Again another silly fic that should not be taken seriously. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

At 22, you were a far cry from the scrappy little thief Bruce and Dick had caught all those years ago. Sure, you were still crass, still brutally honest, and still had a penchant for letting your intrusive thoughts win, but now? Now you were hot.

Like, objectively hot. Your tight black spider suit left very little to the imagination, clinging to every curve and muscle as you swung through the city. And you loved every second of it. The attention? Oh, the attention was your lifeblood. You basked in it like a lizard in the sun.

Dick was still wearing those tight pants, wasn’t he? You couldn’t help but stare. I mean, seriously, the guy had a killer ass. You were supposed to be on a mission, but all you could think about was how the suit hugged his figure in ways that made you forget everything except your growing thoughts. You even compared your ass to his when he wasn’t looking—just to make sure you were still in the running for the Best Butt in Gotham.

“Hey, Grayson,” you called out, voice dripping with amusement. He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Nice ass.” You grinned, winking.

He blinked. “What?” He stopped walking and spun around, completely thrown off by your bluntness.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” you shrugged, taking a step forward and pretending to actually pay attention to the mission. His cheeks turned red, but you didn’t care. You were busy eyeing his backside like it was a prize you were about to claim.

You convinced Dick to teach you yoga, but it wasn’t for flexibility—it was so you could watch him stretch.

“Wow, Dick,” you said, laying on the mat and pretending to follow his moves. “You’re really… bendy.”

He flushed. “It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased, snapping a quick photo of him in a compromising pose. “This one’s going on the Batfam group chat.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare!”

You were bleeding out. Your side was burning, your vision blurry, and yet you were having the time of your life. Why? Because Jason Todd—walking sex god and part-time vigilante—was carrying you in his arms like you were a damsel in distress.

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, sprinting through an alley as explosions sounded in the distance. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

You stared up at him, dazed but grinning. “You’re so pretty.”

“Y/N, stay awake,” Jason barked.

“I’m awake my angel,” you slurred. Your eyes drifted downward to his broad chest, the tight shirt doing little to hide the muscle underneath. You reached out, resting a hand on his pec. “You got...man boobs.”

Jason groaned. “You're hallucinating, stay awake please.”

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, leaning closer. And then—because you were you—you bit him.

Jason skidded to a stop, staring at you in disbelief. “Did you just—”

“I couldn’t help it,” you said, grinning despite the blood trickling down your chin. “They’re so biteable.”

You discovered Jason was ticklish purely by accident, and you never let him live it down. Anytime he annoyed you, you’d jab him in the ribs or poke his sides until he squirmed.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he growled, swatting at your hands.

“You wish,” you said, chasing him around the room.

The rest of the Batfam watched in stunned silence as Jason “Red Hood” Todd ran from you like a child.

You declared the Batcave chair yours one day and refused to let anyone else sit in it.

“It’s my throne,” you said, lounging dramatically as the others stood around, glaring.

“Get up,” Jason said, crossing his arms.

“Make me,” you replied, sticking your tongue out.

He grabbed you, but instead of throwing you out, you ended up on his lap, smirking. “Guess this works too.”

Anytime you were in the middle of a Dick and Jason argument, you somehow always ended up physically between them. And, oh, you weren’t complaining.

“Move, Dickhead,” Jason growled, pushing into your right shoulder, his broad chest pressing into the side of your face.

“Not a chance, Hood,” Dick snapped, leaning in on your other side, his own muscular frame trapping you against Jason.

You? You just stood there, smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Ooh, I love this. It’s like being sandwiched between two very attractive brick walls.”

“What?!” they shouted in unison.

Jason shot Dick a death glare. “See what you did? You’re giving her ideas.”

“Me? You’re the one pressing into her like some kind of Neanderthal!”

You just smirked, leaning back into the tension. “Don’t mind me, boys. Please, continue. This is very entertaining.”

Dick was your favorite pillow, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime you were hanging out in the Batcave, you’d just casually rest your head on his shoulder or lean against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“Very,” you replied, closing your eyes.

He smiled, wrapping an arm around you. “Good.”

You peeked up at him, grinning. “You know, you make a great pillow. Very firm, but also soft in the right places.”

Dick laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” you said, smirking.

Dick’s ass was basically your personal stress ball at this point. It didn’t matter if you were on a mission, in the Batcave, or just walking through Gotham—if the opportunity presented itself, you’d take it.

SMACK!

“Jesus, Y/N!” Dick would jump, spinning around, his cheeks flushed.

“What?” you’d say innocently, shrugging. “It’s just so perfect. You work hard for that, right? I’m just appreciating the effort.”

He’d sigh, rubbing his neck, but you knew he secretly loved it.

Jason’s chest was another favorite of yours, especially when he was shirtless (which, let’s face it, happened a lot). You’d walk up to him, your fingers twitching, and—pinch!

“Damn it, Y/N!” Jason would glare at you, rubbing the spot where you’d gotten him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” you’d say with a cheeky grin. “Just checking if these are real.”

He’d groan, shaking his head, but you’d catch the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

You loved teasing, and nothing was off-limits. During a mission, your suit "mysteriously" ripped—right in front of Jason and Dick.

“Oh no,” you said innocently, looking over your shoulder at the tear just below your back. “Guess I’ll have to fix this later.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, stop.”

Dick looked away, flustered. “Maybe cover it up or something?”

“Why? You guys can’t handle a little skin?” You smirked, adjusting your suit to make it worse.

Jason grumbled, “I’m about to shoot that suit off you if you don’t stop playing.”

You had zero shame. Once, during a stakeout with Dick, you leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his report to Bruce.

“Nightwing, report—” Bruce’s voice came over the comms, but you cut Dick off with your lips, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Y/N!” he protested, his face red as he tried to pull away. “Bruce can hear us!”

“So?” you replied, shrugging as you went in for another kiss.

The first time you met Superman, you were not prepared.

“Y/N, this is Clark Kent,” Bruce said, his tone clipped as ever. “He’s Superman.”

You blinked up at the man of steel, all 6’4” of farm-boy perfection, and immediately zeroed in on one thing: the bulge.

You weren’t subtle about it either. Your eyes widened slightly as you stared, your head tilting to the side like you were trying to calculate something.

Clark, oblivious, smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you. Bruce has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, still staring. “Damn, you’re packing. Your wife must be so lucky.”

The room went silent. Bruce closed his eyes, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clark cleared his throat, cheeks turning bright red.

“What—what does that mean?” Superman asked, clearly flustered.

“Oh, nothing,” you said, shrugging. “Just making an observation. By the way, you ever need help with Lois, let me know. I’m excellent at teamwork.”

Bruce groaned audibly in the background.

“Anyway,” he stammered, shifting awkwardly, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Damian and Jon.”

You didn’t hear a word he said.

Poor Tim. Sweet, awkward Tim. He didn’t deserve you, and yet you tormented him at every opportunity.

You were taller than him, which you used to your advantage constantly. One day, after a successful mission, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pulling him into a tight hug. Your boobs pressed against the back of his head, and you could feel him stiffen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Good boy,”

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hmm?”

“Let go.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“LET GO!”

Tim was your little puppy, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime he looked stressed (which was, like, always), you’d grab him by the shoulders and pull him down onto your lap.

“Shhh,” you’d coo, stroking his hair while he sat there stiff as a board. “You’re working too hard, Timmy. Just relax.”

He’d blush furiously, stammering out a protest, but you’d silence him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy,” you’d whisper, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re doing great.”

Poor Tim would be a mess, his face redder than Jason’s helmet, but you didn’t care. It was adorable.

Jason walked in once and nearly gagged. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”

When you first met Damian, you were charmed. Not by his skill, or his intellect, or his reputation as the Demon’s Son. No, you were charmed because he looked like an angry little bird.

He’d just finished beating the crap out of Tim in the training room when you walked in.

“Who is this?” Damian demanded, glaring at you.

You clasped your hands together, grinning. “Aww, you’re so cute!”

Damian bristled. “I am not cute! I am an assassin!”

You squealed, bouncing on your heels. “Look at him! He’s like a tiny murder pigeon!”

Tim, still lying on the mat, muttered, “Please kill me.”

“So adorable,” you said, holding your hands together in a “squee” motion, jumping up and down like a fangirl. “I didn’t know you were so mad! Look at you, little angry pookie!”

Damian, of course, was not impressed. “Shut up, woman.”

But you? You couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re, like, a pocket-sized villain. So cute.”

Since then, you’d taken to treating Damian like a literal baby. You’d sit him on your lap, spoon-feed him during meals, and ruffle his hair at every opportunity.

Damian was your baby, no matter how much he tried to argue otherwise. You gave him the most attention—whether it was ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, or straight-up kissing him on the forehead during missions.

“Y/N, cease this nonsense!” he’d shout, trying to push you away.

“Aw, but you’re so cute,” you’d tease, holding his face in your hands.

Damian would glare, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. You knew he secretly loved it, especially when you called him your “adorable angry bird.”

Jon Kent adored you. But when he let it slip in front of Damian?

“Y/N is… well, she’s amazing,” Jon had said shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Damian froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

“Uh, nothing!” Jon backpedaled, but Damian was already chasing him across the Batcave, sword in hand.

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE?!” Damian yelled as Jon flew for his life.

Bruce wasn’t immune to your antics either. You’d long since dropped the “old man” or “Bruce” in favor of something much more fun: “Daddy.”

“Good work tonight, Y/N,” Bruce said one evening, his tone professional.

You leaned against the Batcomputer, smirking. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Bruce froze, his eye twitching slightly.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You always been my suger daddy, it's only make sense if I call you daddy.”

He walked away without another word.

You made it your life mission to annoy Bruce whenever possible. During one of his infamous brooding sessions in the Batcave, you casually walked up to him, poked his nose, and said, “Boop.”

He froze, slowly turning to glare at you. “Don’t.”

“Boop,” you repeated, doing it again.

Dick and Tim were in hysterics in the background, and Jason muttered, “She’s got a death wish.”

Bruce, exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised?”

It started as a joke. You stole one of Bruce’s button-up shirts and wore it around the Manor. Now it was a regular occurrence, much to Bruce’s annoyance.

“That’s mine,” he’d say.

“Yup, and it’s comfy,” you’d reply, lounging on the couch.

Once, during a mission debrief, you leaned on the table and purred, “What’s the plan, Daddy?”

Jason choked on his drink, Dick coughed awkwardly, and Tim turned bright red.

Bruce didn’t even look up. “I will ground you.”

“Kinky,” you replied with a grin.

You had a thing for flirting with dangerous villains, and the Batfam hated it.

“I could totally take Deathstroke,” you said once after a fight.

“He tried to kill you!” Jason snapped.

“Yeah, but did you see the way he looked at me? Sparks, I tell you. Also who said I was talking about fighting?”

“She’s insane,” Damian muttered, but you just shrugged.

During a fight with the Joker, you’d stopped mid-battle to tilt your head and give him an appraising look.

“Y’know,” you said, webbing one of his henchmen to the wall. “You’d be kinda hot if you didn’t look like a corpse. Ever thought about skincare?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dick had yelled, dodging a swing from Harley Quinn.

“SHUT UP!” you shot back. “I CAN FIX HIM!”

Despite all the chaos and teasing, there’s a hidden, vulnerable side to you that craves attention—not just the kind that’s lustful, but the caring kind.

After a long night of missions, you’ll often crash in the Batcave. The family can be in the middle of an intense discussion or debriefing, but you’ll barge in, throw yourself onto Tim, and use his lap as a pillow.

Jason will grumble and say something about you “acting like a child,” but then you'll casually climb onto his back, burrowing your face into his shoulder as you cling to him.

Of course, Bruce just looks away like he’s done with all of you, but deep down, he knows that if he even tried to stop it, the whole family would turn on him. You're the glue holding them all together.

Main Headcanon

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀ�� 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[reidmania]

opposites attract | s. reid

summary; spencer would give the world to be your person, even after you argue that you two are too different.

warnings; fem reader, pining!spencer, lowkey pining!reader, bombshell!reader, rejection, reader is described as confident and more of a black cat, insecurities, doubting, a bad date mentioned, happy ending, spencer lowkey gets frustrated, reader has tattoos.

an; messy and switches perspectives whoopsies. Idk how many words, a lot. Too many.

Two years. That was how long Spencer had been a complete and utter mess. Two years since his brain didn’t quite function the same, he remained intelligent, sure, but god so incomplete. Two years since you started at the BAU, two years since he met you.

You were out of his league. He had decided it the moment he laid eyes on you. You were stunning, absolutely perfect in anyones gaze. You were everything he could ever want and more, not just physically. Your laugh, your voice, the way you spoke to everyone around you, gentle, warm. The way you sat quietly in the corner most days, not because you felt out of place, nor shy, not because you didn’t enjoy being there, but just because no matter where in a room you were, your presence was known. Especially to Spencer.

He tried to pretend that he didn’t fall completely in love with you the first time the two of you ever had a conversation and you spoke to him with a smile, listened to him, he tried to pretend the scent of your perfume didn’t make him lightheaded, and the sight of your tattoo that he only saw on occasion’s didn’t make him wonder if you had more, what made you get it, was there meaning?

Spencer wanted to know everything about you, he wanted to live in your brain and know your every like and dislike, what made you smile a little wider, what made you unable to stop laughing, what your favourite drink was, what colour you liked the most, where your family was from, your middle name.

Spencer would stop the world to know you.

That was impossible to hide, even two years later. He tried, so many times to get your attention, to be the subject of your fascination. It didn’t help that every-time you looked in his direction his skin grew ten temperatures too warm and his head spun.

He tried asking you out, twice. Sort of.

The first time was too subtle, too rambling and hidden in the mix of stutters and hot cheeks, fidgeting hands. Because you were looking at him, with a gaze so intense and caring, patient.

How was he ever suppose to talk when you were looking at him like that? Like there was something that made him worth the gravity the warmth in your eyes held.

“Would you date me?” It was blurted out on a Tuesday afternoon, you were standing beside him as the buzz of the bullpen had calmed down, your gaze was focused on reorganising the files on his desk, his gaze was on you. You were reorganising because you didn’t like the way he had done it, and it had been ‘bugging’ you for weeks.

Spencer loved the way his files were organised, but he loved you more.

It was stupid, he didn’t even mean to say it. It was out of place leaving his lips and he knew it the moment your head turned towards him and a sweet laugh left your lips, not mocking him, god you would never. It was a laugh of shock, confusion, maybe even surprise.

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, raising your eyebrow slightly as you met his eyes. His cheeks heated before he could help it, eyes went wide because he had no idea what he was doing.

“What- I- no.” His voice was an octave higher, a tell sign he was nervous, if you needed any more tell signs between the fidgeting of his hands, his bright pink cheeks and his avoidant gaze. You smiled as you shook your head, looking back at the files on his desk, he watched your hand as your ran your finger along them once they were organised neatly, anyone else he might’ve cringed at the sight, but it was you.

“I don’t think so” You had mumbled in response and Spencer felt the world shift into an imbalance. You said it so casually. He didn’t know if his heart was beating too fast or if it was breaking. You turned your head back to look at him, a frown on your lips when you saw the frown that had snuck its way onto his features before he could even realise.

“Not because you aren’t great. Or attractive. You are — You definitely are. I just think we are too different.” You said. His eyebrows knitted together as he met your eyes. He hated the fact you were frowning, he hated the fact he was frowning. He hated what you had just said, god he loved you.

“Right” he didn’t know what to say.

“Spence” You spoke through a warm huff of laughter, shaking your head as you twisted your body to face him fully, your hip leaning against the desk as you crossed your arms over your chest. He watched your hair fall down the sides of your face, over your shoulders. He wondered if you had changed your shampoo since the last time, the only time you had hugged him a few weeks ago, when he had gotten the chance to breath it in, and then it was all he thought about for weeks.

You smiled at him and it was contagious, despite the ache in his chest and overwhelming sense of illness in his stomach, you were smiling. “I think you’re amazing, i always have” you started and his cheeks warmed more. “But we are complete opposite’s.”

He wanted to argue you. Say that he could change and be more like you, more like the guys he had seen pick you up after work, he could be whatever you wanted. He could be someone. Someone to you.

But he didn’t.

That was the last time Spencer had attempted to ask you out, you never bought it up. You never questioned it again, you didn’t push you ask why he wanted to know. Spencer remained sickeningly in love with everything about you, you remained pretending to not notice.

Why were you here? You couldn’t quite remember or find the time to think about it properly between the noise surrounding the fancy restaurant you were in and the sickening long rant the boy in front of you was going on. Something about a business, something about saving it, something egotistical and sickeningly boring.

The date starts out fine. It’s all small talk at first—work, hobbies, the usual pleasantries. But soon, you realize that Mark has a lot to say. About himself. A lot.

“And then I closed the deal,” he says, recounting some work story about how he single-handedly saved his company from financial ruin. He leans back in his chair, smiling like he’s just told you the most fascinating thing in the world. You nod politely, but your mind starts to wander. His voice fades into the background as you think about something else, someone else.

Spencer.

You wonder what he’s doing right now. Probably at home, curled up with a book, or maybe he’s watching a documentary. You can almost picture him, pacing around his apartment, muttering facts to himself about some obscure topic that no one but him finds interesting. But you love that about him. He’s so passionate about everything, even the things that most people would overlook. And he’s never trying to show off. He just loves sharing what he knows.

You try to pay attention to the guy in front of you, you really really do. But god he is so boring. You wonder how quickly you could get one of your friends to come save you from this horror of a date. You wonder how long you would have to hide in the bathroom for before he disappeared.

Mark’s voice pulls you back to reality. “So, what do you think?” he asks.

“Hmm?” You blink, realizing you’ve missed the last five minutes of whatever he was talking about.

“I was saying,” he repeats, a little slower this time, “I just think it’s amazing how people like me can juggle so many things at once. Don’t you think?”

You smile, but it’s strained. “Sure, that’s impressive.”

As the date drags on, you start to notice little things. Like the way Mark talks to the waiter, snapping his fingers for attention, barely looking up from his phone when the waiter brings the food. He doesn’t say thank you. Not once. It’s subtle, but it grates on you. You find yourself cringing, wondering if anyone else notices.

He was much more interesting when he asked you out a few nights ago at a bar, when you were drunk. Why had you agreed? Maybe drunk you saw something sober you didn’t. Or maybe drunk you just saw a male who was conventionally attractive and made you laugh. You wondered how low the bar was

You didn’t have a lot of time to wonder before you heard your name from behind you, your head spun and you almost cried with gratefulness when you saw Penelope standing there, a wide grin on her face, and then Spencer standing beside her, he offered you a gentle shy wave that made your heart warm.

“Oh my gosh! Do you guys want to come sit?” You asked, praying they said yes, praying that Penelope noticed the wide urgent look in your eyes and understood that you were begging. You were genuinely begging for a conversation about anything other than Mark’s biggest accomplishments.

“Oh- We don’t want to interrupt.” Spencer mumbled, looking between you and Mark, the two of you sitting opposite sides of the booth you were in. You noticed the look in Spencer’s eye, you knew what it was. He didn’t want to sit there while you were on a date with someone else. Clearly he misread the urgency in your gaze.

“No! Mark doesn’t mind? Do you mind Mark?” You asked, spinning your head around to face Mark who was confused on the two people and why they were talking to you. Why they had interrupted him. You had to hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Uh..” he started, you cut him off. “He doesn’t mind. Come sit.” You shuffled over to make room for the two.

Penelope slides into the booth beside you, while Spencer takes the seat across from you, next to Mark. He looks nervous, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table, but he offers you a small, shy smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask, trying to suppress the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Oh, we were just nearby, and I figured we’d grab something to eat,” Penelope says.

Spencer fidgets with his napkin, glancing at you, then back at the table. “I-I was telling Penelope about this, uh, documentary I watched the other night. It’s about the history of the subway system in New York. I think you’d really like it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nods, his eyes lighting up as he starts to explain. “Yeah, it’s fascinating, actually. They had to navigate all these geological challenges, and the engineering behind it is incredible. I know you mentioned once that you’re interested in architecture, and I thought you might appreciate how they designed the stations.”

You stare at him for a moment, surprised. You don’t even remember telling him that you liked architecture, but he did. And now, here he is, rambling about a documentary he thinks you’d enjoy, not because he’s trying to impress you, but because he genuinely thought you’d find it interesting.

Meanwhile, Mark is looking more and more uncomfortable, clearly not enjoying the conversation. He cuts in, talking over Spencer to launch into another story about himself, but you’re barely listening anymore. Instead, you’re watching Spencer, noticing how different he is from Mark. Spencer, who’s always so considerate, who listens more than he talks, who looks at you like you’re the most important person in the room, even when he’s nervous.

And then there’s Mark, who hasn’t asked you a single question all night, who’s rude to the waiter, and who’s more interested in hearing himself talk than getting to know you.

“I think I might head off..” Mark muttered, clearly annoyed at the fact you had not only been interrupted on your date, but also frustrated that you were paying more attention to Spencer than him. You couldn’t care less.

“Oh okay! Have a good night” You smiled, sickeningly nice as he shuffled his way past Spencer to leave the table. He glanced at you once, not saying anything before he walked away.

“He was an asshole!!” Penelope bursts out into laughter the minute Mark was out of earshot, you immediately joined her laughter while Spencer remained quiet, shuffling around on the now empty side of the booth.

“Those are the type of guys you go out with?” He asked, his voice was quiet, almost offended. You wish you understood why when you stopped laughing at met his gaze. You opened your mouth to talk as the tension around the table grew.

“Hey! Don’t judge!” She gasped out, pointing her finger dramatically at Spencer, clearly not noticing his underlying feelings and why he had even said anything, you did. “It’s slim pickings out here!!”

Spencer hummed, tapping his fingers against the table as he avoided meeting your gaze. You frowned slightly. Soon enough the conversation fell back into rhythm, flowing like it did any other time. They ate, you paid since it was your date. Then Penelope left.

You stood outside of the restaurant, looking around the busy streets. “How are you getting home?” Spencer asked, his gaze meeting yours as you tilted your head upwards to look at him, you couldn’t not smile. It was impossible not to smile around Spencer.

“Uh- Walking. I walked. It’s really not far.” You nodded to support your words as you buried your hands inside the warmth of your pockets. You had been in a state since Spencer had gotten there, a state you couldn’t quite explain. Silently lost in thought, a state of confusion? Maybe realisation.

“I’ll walk you home. Its late.” He said it like it was a no brainer. Like it was the most obvious thing for him to do. No date you had ever been on had offered you walk you home.

Every time Spencer speaks, you feel yourself softening, smiling without even realizing it. His nervous energy, the way he fumbles over his words, it’s all so endearing. He’s not trying to prove anything to you. He just wants to share the things he loves with you, and it’s the sweetest thing.

“Okay.” You breathe out the silent agreement before your feet find rhythm next to Spencer’s as you walk down the street, the post lights causing an orange glow across the ground, across his face.

“Theres a study.” Spencer started, his breathe coming out warm against the cold air causing a fog of steam to follow his breath, you watched it for an moment before your eyes flickered to the side of his face, you’re still walking, his gaze doesn’t meet yours.

“That uh— Shows that opposites attract, it’s more of a theory, since scientifically it doesn’t actually work like that — although negatives are attracted to positives if you’re looking at electricity — but uh- People believe that a lot of people are attracted to people opposite them, because each person offers something the other lacks, making the relationship feel more complete.. Majority of relationships that are built off of opposites work better than people who are too similar because theres more of a balance.. its chaotic but, it uh — it works.”

He was nervous. You could tell. Your breath hitched slightly as he spoke, as he brought it up again. Your mind tried to process the overload of information he had mumbled out. You tried to process it.

“So scientifically we wouldn’t work.” You huffed out. He laughed. Genuinely laugh, it was breathy and quiet but genuine and it made your heart warm.

“Technically— but theoretically—”

You cut him off, a rare occurrence, “I thought you were a science guy.” You mumbled.

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I think I am just a you guy.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was sweet in a way that your brain couldn’t process. He was going against everything he believed to be correct because he wanted you?

“I thought data and statistics are the most reliable source of information.” You mumbled the response, words he had said, probably months ago. Why were you fighting him on this? Why were you fighting yourself on this? You weren’t sure.

“Sure; most of the time. But they are subjective. Especially when talking about psychologically. Each couple, each set of people — they’re different.” He said, his gaze didn’t meet yours. You pulled your eyes away to focus on the street in front of you. You were getting closer to your house, yet part of you wanted to stay right here.

“You think we could work?” You asked. It was a whisper.

He paused, you could see him nod in your peripheral. “I do. I’d make it work, i’d do anything.” Maybe it came out more desperate than he had intended, you found it sweet.

You found him sweet.

“Spencer” you paused your movements and his stopped with yours. His body turned to face you as you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate, hoping. It almost made your heart ache at the slight fear in them, that you were going to maybe reject him again.

But you found him sweet.

“Id date you.” You answered the question he had asked maybe months ago now, you didn’t realise until now that you had conveniently stopped outside your house. You turned your head to look at the front door before back at Spencer.

“Can i- uh- Will you- I-“ He stuttered and your heart warmed at his nervous attempt to ask you out.

“Yes.” You answered gently, saving him the hassle. Maybe being different was a good thing. Maybe you could beat the statistics that proved otherwise.

Maybe opposites did attract.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Are You Always This Forward? | CL16

PART OF MY IS IT CASUAL NOW? SERIES

Summary: Y/n meets Charles at a party, and what starts as a casual fling quickly becomes something more. As their connection deepens and feelings grow, Y/n begins to question— is it really casual?

A/N: Also comment if you guys wanna be added to the taglist because I've written almost 7 chapters for this series and we're nowhere near done so buckle up

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You weren’t exactly thrilled to be here. The party was crowded, with people spilling out onto the balcony, laughter and music filling the room. It wasn’t really your scene, but your friends had convinced you to come out for a change, insisting that you “needed a night out.”

"Look, if nothing else, you might at least see some familiar faces," one of your friends said, nudging you with a grin. “Rumor has it Charles Leclerc is here.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the little spark of curiosity that flared up. “Oh, please,” you replied with a laugh, though you glanced around the room. “Why would Charles Leclerc be at a random party like this?”

“Apparently, he knows the host,” your friend said, looking around too, as if he’d appear on command. “Besides, you know he’s got a thing for these parties. Always in the photos with some new girl hanging off his arm.”

“Right, the ‘playboy’ Leclerc reputation,” you muttered, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. But the truth was, you knew exactly who he was, and while the rumors weren’t exactly your thing, he was… undeniably attractive.

“Yeah, that reputation,” another friend chimed in, giving you a sly smile. “I mean, look at him—he’s practically a walking invitation for bad decisions. But I wouldn’t mind, honestly.” She laughed, and you joined in, the both of you glancing around in a playful attempt to spot him.

But in the next second, you felt it—a gaze that sent a small thrill up your spine. Your friends were still laughing and joking, but your eyes had locked onto someone across the room, and there he was: Charles, in the flesh, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand. And he was staring right at you.

A rush of heat crept into your cheeks, but you quickly looked away, brushing it off as a fluke. You barely knew him; it was nothing. And yet, a few minutes later, when you glanced back, he was still watching you, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips.

“Look who’s got Leclerc’s attention,” one of your friends whispered, nudging you in the ribs. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was eyeing you up.”

“Stop,” you muttered, laughing it off. “You guys are reading too much into it. He’s probably just looking around.”

“Yeah, right,” she teased, winking at you. “Seems like he’s only looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes, determined to ignore it. But Charles seemed to have other plans because, a few moments later, he began making his way over to your group. Your friends scattered, throwing you quick glances of encouragement, leaving you standing there as he came to a stop in front of you, his gaze warm and entirely focused.

"Enjoying the party?" he asked, his voice smooth, just a hint of an accent slipping through.

“It’s all right,” you said, trying to play it cool. “Wasn’t really planning on talking to anyone new tonight.”

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, tilting his head as he looked at you. “Well, that’s a shame. You’re the most interesting person here.”

“Oh, please.” You shook your head, letting out a soft laugh. “Don’t you have other people you could be charming?”

“Maybe,” he replied, his eyes flicking over you again, “but none of them seem half as interesting as you.”

The boldness of his gaze unsettled you, and you bit your lip, shifting your weight slightly as you tried to keep your cool. He was every bit as captivating as his reputation claimed, and yet you were wary, keeping your guard up despite the warmth spreading through you.

“Are you always this forward?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Only with people worth it,” he said, his gaze unwavering. He took a small step closer, a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. “So, can I at least buy you a drink?”

You found yourself nodding before you fully realized it. He waved down a waiter, ordering drinks as the conversation between you flowed easily, surprising you. He was funny, easygoing, and each small, accidental touch sent a jolt through you that you tried to ignore.

Over the next hour, you laughed, your body leaning into his as the drinks made you both looser, the edges of the world around you softening. The subtle touches became less accidental—his hand resting on your lower back, the way he’d brush his fingers against yours whenever he handed you your drink. It was heady, electric, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way that felt both thrilling and a little reckless.

“So,” he murmured, leaning in close, his face just inches from yours. “Are you going to keep pretending you’re not interested?”

You laughed, looking away, your cheeks warming under his gaze. “Who says I’m pretending?”

He smiled, his fingers brushing your cheek as he gently guided your face back to his. “I do.” And then he closed the gap, pressing his lips softly against yours.

The kiss was light at first, testing, but when you responded, his hands settled on your waist, pulling you in closer. You could feel his warmth, his heart beating beneath your palms as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the kiss deepening as the tension that had been building between you finally spilled over.

You broke apart for a moment, catching your breath, and he smiled, looking at you as if he was just as affected. “Come back with me?” he asked softly, his voice low and inviting.

Your heart raced, but you nodded, the thrill of the moment drowning out any hesitation. The ride to his apartment was a blur, the silence filled with anticipation, the only sound the occasional brush of his hand over yours. And when you arrived, he barely waited for the door to close before he pulled you close again, kissing you deeply, his hands finding your waist as he guided you toward his bedroom.

In his arms, it felt like time slowed. Every touch, every kiss was filled with an intensity that left you breathless, his lips tracing a path from your mouth down to your neck, his hands warm and steady as he pulled you against him. The night was filled with whispered words and soft laughter, the thrill of his touch and the warmth of his presence pulling you into a heady, dreamlike state. When you finally drifted off, it was with a sense of contentment you hadn’t expected, his arm draped around you, his breathing even beside you.

The morning light seeped through the curtains, and you blinked, slowly becoming aware of the weight of Charles’s arm still wrapped around you. You shifted slightly, thinking you’d sneak out quietly, but he tightened his hold, murmuring sleepily, “Where do you think you’re going?”

You laughed softly, turning to face him. “I thought I’d slip out before I overstayed my welcome.”

He grinned, his hand moving to your waist. “And here I was hoping you’d stay for breakfast.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “You really don’t have to play the gentleman.”

“Who said I was playing?” he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. He reached over to grab his phone, tapping in the passcode before handing it to you. “Just in case,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze soft, watching as you saved your number on his phone.

You arched a brow as you handed it back. “Right. As if you’re going to remember to call me.”

He shrugged, smirking. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

With a laugh, you finally slipped out of bed, pulling your clothes back on as he watched you with a lazy, satisfied smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing from me,” he called out as you left, and you shook your head, chalking it up to morning-after charm.

A few weeks later, you found yourself at another party, the memory of that night with Charles lingering somewhere in the back of your mind. But it wasn’t until you felt a familiar hand on your waist, warm and steady, that you turned and saw him, his grin as mischievous as ever.

Without a word, he guided you down a hallway, slipping into a quiet bathroom and closing the door behind you. “Miss me?” he murmured, pressing you back against the door as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart raced as you looked up at him, barely able to suppress a grin. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Well,” he replied, brushing his lips over yours in a way that made your knees weak, “I couldn’t just let you disappear.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you, and just like before, the spark ignited instantly. It was the start of something unspoken, casual but thrilling, each encounter leaving you wanting more, yet content with the moment.

The next few weeks went by in a blur. Somehow, Charles found his way into your life again and again, just as casually as that night at the party. You didn’t think too much about it. He’d message you when he was around, a simple “Hey, what are you up to?” that always had a certain charm to it, like he’d genuinely missed your company. You didn’t mind, and maybe part of you even looked forward to it.

One evening, you found yourself back at his place, sprawled on the couch together, a movie playing in the background though neither of you were watching. Charles was close, his arm slung over your shoulders, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, his fingers tracing light patterns along your arm in a way that felt natural and maybe a little more comfortable than you’d expected.

“So, what happened this time?” you asked, glancing at him. It had become a bit of a game between you two—he’d tell you a funny story or some little anecdote, always skirting around any real details about his life but sharing just enough to keep you intrigued.

“Oh, nothing too dramatic,” he replied with a lazy grin, “just an embarrassing incident in front of the team principal. Tripped over a power cord, nearly brought the whole simulator down with me.”

You burst out laughing, nudging him. “So much for that smooth reputation of yours.”

“Oh, I’m smooth when it counts,” he shot back, his eyes dancing with that familiar cheeky glint as he leaned closer. “I haven’t heard any complaints from you. Also being smooth is more of my teammate’s thing”

You felt your cheeks warm, and you looked away, laughing softly. There was something about him, the way he moved so effortlessly from humor to something more intense, that always had your heart racing. When his hand moved to brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, you felt that familiar spark between you.

The kisses started slow, a mix of laughter and warmth as his lips met yours. You’d gotten used to the way he’d go from teasing you to pulling you close, his hands trailing along your back as he deepened the kiss, his touch growing more insistent. Somehow, even though you both kept things light, there was a weight to it, an intensity that left you breathless every time.

But no matter how intense it got, the mornings were always easy. He’d hand you a coffee, tease you about how you liked it, and insist on making breakfast—even if that breakfast was sometimes just a couple of slices of toast or a quickly scrambled egg.

One morning, you woke up with him lying next to you, his arm draped over your waist, his face relaxed in sleep. You tried to slip out of bed, but as you moved, he tightened his hold, his eyes opening just a sliver. “Going somewhere?” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“I’ve got things to do,” you whispered back, though you were reluctant to move from the warmth of his arms.

“Stay,” he mumbled, pulling you back down, his head finding the crook of your neck as he nuzzled against you. “Just a few more minutes.”

You rolled your eyes but settled back into his embrace, a soft laugh escaping you. Moments like these, the playfulness and ease, were what kept you coming back. And every time he brushed a kiss over your shoulder or laced his fingers with yours under the covers, it felt like he was daring you to let your guard down just a little bit more.

It was a pattern—casual, yet consistent. You never really talked about what you were doing, and maybe that was part of the appeal. There were no promises, no declarations, just the simple thrill of seeing him and the warmth of his company.

Then one night, at yet another party, you spotted him across the room, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw you. He excused himself from his conversation and strode over, his usual smirk in place.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” he teased, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you out of the crowded room, into a quieter hallway. His gaze dropped to yours, a familiar heat sparking between you.

“Oh, please,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m here because my friends dragged me out again.”

“Sure,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. He took your hand, leading you down the hallway and into a closet, closing the door behind him. Before you could say anything, he pulled you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours, and the familiar thrill washed over you, as strong as ever.

“You know,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low, “I missed you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, really?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, his lips grazing along your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re hard to forget.”

He kissed you again, his hands roaming over your waist, your body responding with the same intensity as if this had been brewing since the last time you’d seen each other. The kisses were heated, a rush of warmth and urgency, the world outside fading away as you lost yourself in the moment.

This was supposed to be just casual, just fun. But as you felt the way he held you close, his fingers tracing light patterns on your skin as if memorizing every detail, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—this was starting to mean something more. For now, though, you were content to leave it unspoken, savoring each moment with him as it came.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hello if your taking requests could we get a Remy LeBeau x mutant!reader were he gets jealous because morph keeps flirting with reader?

Flames of Jealousy

Remy LeBeau leaned against the wall in the rec room, his eyes fixed on you as you laughed at something Morph said. The shapeshifter had taken his usual place at your side, cracking jokes and throwing playful winks your way. Normally, Remy would’ve brushed it off—it was just Morph being his usual flirty self—but today, something about the way Morph leaned in a little too close made Remy’s blood simmer.

You didn’t notice the tension building in the room, too caught up in Morph’s antics, but Remy’s jaw tightened with each passing second. His fingers twitched, the urge to charge one of his cards bubbling up inside him. He hated this feeling—jealousy. It wasn’t something he was used to, but watching Morph flirt so openly with you made it impossible to ignore.

Remy pushed off the wall, deciding he’d had enough. He crossed the room with his usual confident swagger, though his eyes held a sharpness that wasn’t there before. "Y’know, cher, dere’s a lot better company ‘round here than a joker like Morph," he said smoothly, placing himself between you and the shapeshifter.

You blinked, looking up at Remy in surprise. "Oh, hey, Remy. We were just talking about—"

"Yeah, I heard," Remy cut in, his tone a bit sharper than usual. His gaze shifted to Morph, who raised his hands in mock surrender, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting out of Remy.

"Easy there, Gumbo," Morph teased, shifting into a copy of Remy with an exaggerated smirk. "No need to get all territorial."

Remy’s eyes narrowed, not appreciating the mockery. "Ain’t nothin’ territorial ‘bout it. Just lookin’ out for mon cher, is all."

You furrowed your brow, sensing the tension between the two. "What’s going on?"

Remy ignored the question, his gaze fixed on Morph. "You got somewhere else to be, Morph? Maybe a mirror you can go admire yourself in?"

Morph chuckled, clearly unbothered, but he stood up anyway, giving you a playful wink before sauntering off. "Alright, alright. I’ll leave you lovebirds alone."

As Morph left, you turned to Remy, confusion written all over your face. "What was that about?"

Remy ran a hand through his hair, the sharp edge to his demeanor softening as he looked at you. "Nothin’. Just didn’t like de way he was hoverin’ ‘round you, cher."

You raised an eyebrow. "He was just joking around, Remy. You know how Morph is."

Remy sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped closer to you. "I know, but... I don’t like anyone else flirtin’ wit’ you." He met your eyes, his voice lower now, more vulnerable. "Not when you’re mine."

Your eyes widened slightly, the realization of what had been bothering him sinking in. "Remy, are you... jealous?"

He huffed, looking off to the side as if embarrassed by the admission. "Maybe a little." Then, quieter, "A lot."

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the idea of the smooth-talking Gambit being jealous both surprising and endearing. "You don’t have to be jealous," you said softly, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. "I only have eyes for you."

Remy’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, the tension melting away. "I know, cher," he murmured, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Guess I just don’t like sharin’ de spotlight when it comes to you."

You leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin. "You’ll always be center stage, Remy. No competition."

A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. "Glad to hear it, mon amour." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the earlier jealousy replaced by the warmth of your affection.

As he pulled back, he gave you that trademark smirk. "Now, how ‘bout we get outta here before Morph comes back? Don’t need dat fool interruptin’ us again."

You laughed, taking his hand. "Lead the way, Cajun."

And with that, Remy’s earlier jealousy faded, knowing full well that your heart belonged to him and only him.

[tinyluvs]

hi!! would you be able or want to do something with spencer where the reader is on the team and hotch’s daughter and it’s so obvious that they like each other but instead of hotch being all scary about it he’s the one who encourages them to go for it?

omg yes thank you sm for this! so cute !!! hope you enjoy !! ♡

the elevator up to the bau rumbles slowly to life shortly after the doors ping shut. gently you rock back and fourth next to your father, who looks down at you with a raised eyebrow

"what?" you ask, tilting your head at him slightly. he frowns and puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping your swaying movements, "get off," you huff lightly, slapping his hand off of you

he smacks you back lightly, "what's got you so excited?" he asks, a knowing look passing over his face

"oh! me and spence are going to see a film later, i think," you hum, nodding your head as you talk, "i had plans and couldn't go but they fell through so, i'm going to see if he still wants to go,"

the doors of the elevator ping back open, revealing the bau in all it’s glory, "yeah? finally letting him take you on a date?" your dad says, stepping out into the hallway while you follow close behind

"it's not a date!" you hiss, frowning furiously at him. the conversation dies as he makes a slight noise that you can't figure out the meaning of. you stare at your shoes as you walk through the bullpen, the gap between you and your dad getting bigger as he walks towards his office

a groan escapes you as you flop down into your chair, your elbows planting on the desk, your head in your hands, "hey little hotchner," you don't need to lift your head to know it's spencer

"hey," you mumble, sitting up straight and turning to face the boy, who's on the other side of your desks partition. he smiles gently at you before reaching into his bag to grab his morning book

it's a book you recognise, not from reading it but you've seen spencer reading it at least once on the jet, "how was your night?" he asks, pulling himself around the desk so he's sat closer to you, no longer obstructed by the parting

your shoulders rise and fall quickly, "same as normal really, yours?" spencer nods and hums a sound of agreement before opening his book, "hey, are you still going to see that film tonight?"

no sooner has the book been opened, it's snapping shut again with a small thud, "i think so, if we don't get called out," he says, turning quickly to look over to your dad's office.

normally watching your dad through the window is enough to help you figure out if you're staying in house or getting called out but he seems to be just checking emails so, for now, in house is your best bet.

"did you find anyone else to go with?" you enquire, pulling the brown haired boy's attention back to you. he shakes his head no, once, "well, my plans fell through, if you still wanted some company?"

spencer's face lights up, "of course! it's in it's original language, russian, but i can translate to you," he smiles, pushing himself up from his chair as the rest of the team starts to file into the room

"okay," you can't help but smile up at him, your cheeks threatening to redden as he beams down at you. he brushes hair away from his eyes as derek appears behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder blade

"hey kids," he smiles in that smirky way he always does. you and spencer roll your eyes at the nickname

"hi," spencer replies fast before turning back to you, "it starts at seven thirty, so i can pick you up around seven? also, coffee?"

behind spencer, emily and penelope gawp. you shoot them a confused look, "uhm, yeah sure that's fine," you talk slowly, your gaze returning to spencer, "i bought new pods, feel free to use one for yourself,"

spencer flashes you a smile paired with a quick thumbs up before he's disappearing towards the kitchenette on the far side of the room. once he's comfortably out of distance you raise your eyebrows at your friends

"you're going on a date! finally!" penelope manages to shriek, quietly, "i never thought this day would come," she puts her hands on your shoulders, squeezing tightly

"it's not a date,"

jj wanders into the bullpen as you huff and she grins, "i heard it was a date," she singsongs, taking off towards her old office before you can react

your jaw drops open, hand slapping over your mouth, "oh my god, dad's going to kill me," you gasp, shooting out of your seat. emily fails terribly to hide her snicker as you race towards your dad's office

he jumps when you slam the door open just before you kick it shut with your foot, just as hard, "you need to make up a plan and get me out of this film tonight, please," you plead, giving your father no context

"why would i do that?" he asks, watching you slide into the seat opposite him, your hands immediately grabbing at his aaron hotchner sign, your favourite thing in his office to fiddle with

while you think of an explanation, you roll the object between your hands but after more than a minute of complete silence you quickly realise, there's only the real explanation

"so," you start, a nervous laugh passing through your lips, "as it turns out, it is a date but i didn't know until after i had said about going with him! i swear!" you pause for breath, trying to look anywhere but at your dad

if you had looked you would've noticed him trying not to smile and chuckle at you, "and i know the rules about dating in the work place, so please dad, i need you to get me out of this,"

he watches you while you panic slightly before reaching over the desk, pulling his name sign from your hands, "hey, look at me," he says softly and you do, "i think you should go for it," he shrugs gently

for the second time, your jaw drops but no words manage to come out of your mouth so instead you gesture wildly with your hands

"it's obvious you two have feelings for each other, reid is a nice kid, so why not?" your dad explains, thankfully ignoring the way your cheeks heat up at his words, "go, you'll regret it if you don't"

"i hate it when you profile me," you huff, standing up. he chuckles as you walk away but you turn back as you open the door, "thanks dad," you smile softly and he returns it as the gap between the door and frame gets smaller

when you step back into the bullpen you notice the team all staring at you, apart from spencer who still hasn't returned, "not a word," you warn, putting your hand up as you pass by them

no words are said but you hear them all laughing and giggling as you leave to find spencer, though he's not too hard to find. as you approach, he turns, a mug in each hand

"oh hey!" he grins, holding your mug out towards you. gently, you take it from him before grabbing his free hand with yours, pulling him out into the hallway

"what? where are we going?" spencer enquires as you lead him down the corridor. you crane your neck, huffing slightly when every room you pass is already occupied, "why are we going in here?" he questions when you eventually find a room

you take his mug from his hands, putting both of the drinks onto the tiny table, "can i ask you something, please?" you whisper, looking up at the taller boy

"sure"

"is tonight a date?" you ask slowly, eyes searching his while his face changes from confusion to slight surprise but he doesn't reply, "spence?" you groan, poking at at the toe of his converse with your shoes

he looks down at your shoes, bumping his, "yeah, it is," he admits quietly, "at least i wanted it to be but if you don't want to it's o-"

you cut him off, lips pressing against his while your hands cup his face. he gasps against your mouth, his fingers gripping at your waist, pulling you closer to him

slowly you kiss him, like the time around you has completely stopped. your arms tangle around his neck as you melt into him, your body pressing against his, fingers tangling into the ends of his hair

he tilts his head, kissing you a little harder before pulling away but only slightly, like he doesn't even want to. his lips brush yours as he breathes low, "so, it's a date?"

"shut up and kiss me,"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

a/n proofread really badly through very tired eyes !! lemme know about any mistakes you see, if you want to, thank youuuu ♡

[ikkyfics]

Sweet Dispute

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: The plates arrived quickly, and the cake was so decorated that it looked more like an exhibit than something edible. However, that didn’t stop James from picking up a piece with his fork and holding it out to you. “Come on, try it, my sunshine. I promise it’s as sweet as you.”

Warnings: Beware, there’s all sorts of cheesiness here – but what else could you expect from a date at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop? Be warned

Masterlist

Part IV of I like the way you kiss me

The corridor was silent, except for the echo of muffled laughter. You and James were running side by side, adrenaline coursing through your veins simply because you were doing something wrong. “Don’t forget, if anyone asks, we’ve been in the Astronomy Tower this whole time,” he whispered, a mischievous wink accompanying that crooked smile of his—the one that always seemed to dismantle any resistance you had.

The secret passageway led you straight into the heart of Hogsmeade, where the aroma of hot chocolate mingled with the sound of cheerful laughter. It was a perfect day for a little mischief. “So, madam, where does your adventurous heart desire to go first?” James asked, leaning in slightly closer, his glasses sliding just a bit down his nose. The playful tone in his voice was unmistakable, but the spark in his eyes said something more—a genuine affection he couldn’t seem to hide.

“How about Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop?” you suggested, a sly smile dancing on your lips as you watched him. It was a comment meant purely to tease him, but the reaction was even better than you’d hoped.

He stopped dead in his tracks, shoulders slumping dramatically as he turned to you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Madam Puddifoot’s? You’re joking, right?” His voice was filled with comical horror, and he placed a hand over his chest as if he’d been gravely offended. “I expected better from you.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” you retorted, feigning an innocent air as you walked ahead of him. “I thought you loved sappy places. After all, wasn’t it you who convinced me to skip class today? I thought we were celebrating in style.”

“Celebrating? Yes,” he said, quickening his pace to catch up. “But not by eating heart-shaped biscuits while sitting in chairs that look like a doll’s tea party.” He slung an arm around your shoulders, leaning in to whisper, “I’ll admit, the idea is so bad it’s brilliant—just to see the look on people’s faces when they see us in there.”

You laughed, leaning slightly against him, his warmth spreading through you like an electric current. “Who knows? It might be fun. Or maybe you’ll discover a side of yourself that loves overly sweet tea.”

“Now you’re asking too much,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But fine. Let’s go. I just want to see who begs to leave first: me or you.”

Stepping into Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop was a test of self-control, as both of you struggled not to burst into laughter. The place was even more over-the-top than you remembered, with soft, melodic music playing in the background and little pink clouds floating near the ceiling. You glanced at him, trying not to laugh at the look of despair on his face.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked teasingly.

“You’re insufferable,” he replied, his voice low but tinged with undeniable fondness. “Why do I let you drag me into these things?”

“Because you adore me,” you said, and he smiled.

“True.” The simplicity of his response, coupled with the look that came with it, made your heart race. He took your hand across the table, intertwining his fingers with yours. “But just so you know, that doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for this ridiculous idea.”

“Oh, but I think you’re loving it,” you teased, leaning forward slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “In fact, I’m sure you’re already crafting an emotional speech to match the place. Go on, James, impress me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile full of both challenge and humor. “You want me to be sappy? Fine. But brace yourself—I don’t do things halfway.” Clearing his throat dramatically, he held your hand more firmly, his voice dropping slightly as he began. “Being here with you is like… diving into a sea of hot chocolate. Sweet for the soul, you know?”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “That was terrible.”

“Oh, but wait—I’m not done.” He leaned in closer, his blue eyes gleaming with an almost disarming intensity. “Every moment with you feels like basking in a ray of sunshine in winter. Revitalizing. Unforgettable.”

Your laughter faltered, the unexpected sincerity in his last words stealing your breath for a moment. You tried to recover, but the flush on your cheeks betrayed you. “That wasn’t fair,” you murmured, looking away.

“Oh, it absolutely was,” he countered with a smug smile. “Your turn.”

You took a deep breath, sitting up straighter in your chair as if preparing for a duel. “Fine. James Potter, being with you is like… finding the last slice of pumpkin pie in the Great Hall. Warm, comforting, and a little overwhelming.”

He laughed, throwing his head back in exaggerated delight. “That was good, I’ll give you that.”

“But I’m not done yet,” you continued, using his words as your own and locking your gaze on his. “Your eyes are like… a pair of butterflies. Restless, but impossible to ignore.”

He blinked, his smile faltering briefly as a blush crept up his cheeks. “You can’t use comparisons that make me sound pretty,” he protested weakly.

“But you are,” you countered, the teasing melting into a soft sincerity that left him momentarily speechless.

The silence that followed was filled only with the shop’s melodious background music and the looks you exchanged. Before either of you could say anything, your eyes drifted down to his hand still holding yours. His fingertips were calloused, likely from gripping the Snitch so often, and you noticed, once again, how much you liked his hands. There was something about them—the quiet strength, the way he moved them so effortlessly—that always drew your attention.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice low and amused, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, realizing you’d been staring longer than you intended. “What? Of course not.”

“Oh, of course not,” he repeated, grinning in that annoyingly charming way of his. He held his hands up for you to see. “Want another look?”

“James!” you exclaimed, trying to sound indignant, but the flush on your face ruined any attempt at seriousness.

He laughed, but before you could retort, he cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. “Merlin, you drive me crazy,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “In a way I can’t even begin to explain.”

And before you could respond, his lips met yours. The kiss was everything it promised to be—a mixture of longing, tenderness, and the intensity only James could bring. The way he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and how his hands cradled your face with care, said more than words ever could. The world around you might as well have disappeared, at least until a loud, exaggerated cough interrupted.

You pulled apart instantly, still so close that your noses brushed, faces flushed. A tea shop employee, wearing a floral apron and an amused expression, stood nearby.

“Ah, young couples,” he said, shaking his head with a tolerant smile. “You look a bit young to be here on your own. First time visiting Hogsmeade?” Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice you were skipping class.

James was quick to recover, his ability to think on his feet impressive. “Yes! First time in Hogsmeade as… as a couple, you know?” He flashed a radiant smile, leaning toward you in an exaggeratedly affectionate manner, as if confirming his story. “I wanted to bring my girlfriend to a special place. Always heard good things about here.”

You had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at the theatrical expression he wore, especially when he held your hand again, squeezing it lightly as if signaling you to play along.

“Oh, how lovely!” The employee didn’t seem suspicious at all. “Well, may I take your orders? We have a selection of especially romantic cakes today.”

James gave you a conspiratorial look, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, we’ll want the sweetest one you have, won’t we, honey?” He used a deliberately sweet tone, exaggerating the last word.

You narrowed your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Of course, my dear. And two cups of the sweetest tea, please.”

As soon as the employee walked away, James leaned forward, his eyes shining with that irresistible mix of challenge and affection. “The sweetest one, huh? You’re really trying to lose, aren’t you?”

“Lose? Who says I’m the one who’s going to give up?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms in mock indignation.

The plates arrived quickly, and the cake was so decorated that it looked more like an exhibit than something edible. However, that didn’t stop James from picking up a piece with his fork and holding it out to you. “Come on, try it, my sunshine. I promise it’s as sweet as you.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, but opened your mouth to take the bait. He smiled as if he’d just scored a point, watching you chew carefully. “Well? Sweet enough for you?”

“Almost as sweet as the ego of a certain Quidditch player,” you replied, grabbing the fork from him before he could react. You cut a piece of the cake and held it out to him, the playful smile dancing on your lips. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

He pretended to hesitate but ended up accepting. While chewing, he cast a look full of meaning in your direction. “If this is a competition, know that you’re dangerously close to making me admit something I won’t be able to pretend later.”

The unexpected sincerity in his voice made your heart race, but you tried not to show it. “Oh, really? And what would that be?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned forward once more, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The softness of the gesture made your face warm. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and full of feeling. “And I think you feel it too.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable — it was filled with something words couldn’t express. You lowered your eyes, searching for something to say, but they inevitably fell back to his hands, now resting on the table.

He noticed. “There you go again,” he teased, intertwining his fingers with yours. “If you like my hands that much, you should tell me.”

You laughed, feeling that familiar mix of embarrassment and affection. “You speak as if you don’t know they’re handsome.”

“Handsome?” He chuckled softly, moving even closer. “With compliments like that, you might just convince me to do it again.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in to kiss you once more, uncaring of the curious looks from other customers. The intensity of the gesture and the softness of his lips moving against yours were enough to make you forget where you were. Once again, it felt like the world disappeared, leaving just the two of you.

[reginyani]

Late Night Case Files | s.reid x reader

you and Spencer find yourselves working late on some case files, and what starts off as a deep conversation ends in something more intimate.

category: fluff

cw: Y/N used, reader implied as a female, make out sesh (sorta), earlyseasons!spencer

wc: 811

note: please reblog if you enjoyed! reblogging is the only way to promote fics on tumblr :) this is pretty simple, but the ideas are not flowing recently💔

It was well past midnight when you and Spencer Reid found yourselves in a dimly lit conference room. Case files were scattered everywhere, but you both were too deep into this case to just take off and leave it for tomorrow. Coffee cups were carefully placed away from the stacks of papers, barely touched and cold.

Spencer looked up into the distance, muttering to himself while he processed new information. You watched him for a few moments, visibly seeing something click in his brain that hadn't before. He looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. It was quite amusing, actually.

"Y/N, I think I've got it." He motioned with his hand for you to come over to his side. He held onto the file, letting you look at it for a moment before telling you. You looked at him, confused, still not understanding. He finally pointed at the paper, looking up at you. "Right here," his voice was quieter due to the darkness of the night. "This here is the connection we've all just looked over. We missed it, and there it was... in plain sight." He sighed.

You smile brightly, nodding at his connection to the case. "You're amazing, boy genius," you said softly, but not just about the case—just him in general. Spencer's usual distance from you, both emotionally and physically, was absent tonight. He was closer than normal, almost leaving no space between you two, like right now. You shifted slightly away from him, realizing how weird it was to be so close to him. It wasn’t normal.

He looked over at you, smiling at your compliment. "I'm just doing my job, Y/N." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, waiting for you to say something else.

"It's not just that, Reid. You see every little detail that others don't. It's truly something that you should give yourself more credit for." Spencer's lips parted slightly as you said this, like he was going to say something, but he hesitated. "What?" you asked.

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I've missed out on the most simple things." He looked down at the files scattered on the table again before looking back up at you. "Like... really connecting with people, you know?"

You were taken aback by this. This was Dr. Spencer Reid, a man who could crack cases in seconds, decode a serial killer’s mind without any issues! But something about the atmosphere of the dark night outside the windows, the late hour, and the rhythm you shared in the work you had just done made him feel... loose.

You met his eyes, not knowing what to say.

"Sorry, I've just never had the opportunity to talk about this stuff with anyone before. Not in any way that feels... real," he explained, causing you to automatically nod in his direction.

"You're not alone, Spencer. I think everyone struggles with that sometimes," you said, puckering your lips with empathy. You couldn't help it, the warmth spread throughout your body as you felt the connection between you two growing by the second.

He was standing in front of you, barely any space between you two. You soon began to notice this—it was hard not to. You both stared into each other's eyes, letting the tension grow heavier.

Spencer broke the silence, sounding almost breathless as he smiled at you. "Did you know," he began, putting a hand on your cheek and drawing you closer to him, "according to studies, kissing is actually safer than shaking hands?"

You raised an eyebrow in question. "Kissing? Really?" you asked, your heart beating rapidly. He didn't answer, instead slowly closing the gap between you both.

When your lips met, it was soft at first, like a question that you had to answer. You quickly answered it, pulling your hand up and resting it on his shoulder as you deepened the kiss. Your other hand found its way to his neck, holding onto it as you pulled him in closer.

You both eventually pull away, his hand still resting on your cheek, your breaths mingling between you two. You smiled, and he sent one back. Your breath started to calm, and he opened his mouth.

"Way safer than shaking hands..." he muttered, still breathless from the previous act.

You chuckled softly, looking into his eyes. "Well, I think I can take that as a compliment."

[themultifanshipper]

As much love as the fans showed Yuki, one little-known fact about him was that no one would ever love him quite as much as his wife did. And they expressed it a bit too loudly for everyone else’s liking.

The fact that Yuki is looking at pierre in that pic keeps me awake at night.

Hope y'all get the deadpool reference

Also I cry laughing everytime i read the "cakes" part bc wtf was I thinking

Warnings: I almost vomited from the fluff, nasty sex to counterbalance tho, putting food in places it should not be, physical injury (burn), then more disgusting fluff. Cringe dialogue. Tried something new writing in the 3rd person so tell me if it’s okay

They were still very much in the honeymoon phase, only having been married for a year, but they were truly, madly, deeply, disgustingly in love. Emphasis on the disgusting. Because they fucked anywhere and everywhere, all the damn time.

It was becoming a problem, in particular for Daniel, who had asked that the walls separating their driver rooms be soundproofed, and to never be on the same hotel floor as Yuki.

Because Yuki was insatiable and so was his wife.

There they were, in Yuki’s massive kitchen, while she made dinner and Yuki watched her, glass of wine (not his first) in his hand. How lucky that he married a woman whose father was a world famous chef. She’d insisted on making him something special for their 1 year anniversary, so he just sat on the other side of the kitchen Island while she worked away at her pots and pans.

“You know I love you, right?” He asked.

She looked at him with an amused twinkle in her eye. “I would hope so baby, otherwise why did you marry me?”

“For your amazing smile, of course! And your father’s money” he smirked at her.

“Well then thank god I made you sign a prenup then!”

They both giggled and sighed like lovesick fools, and sent each other flying kisses from across the island. If anyone else had been there, they would probably have been sick, especially Daniel, who knew way too much about their sex habits to be fooled by all the lovey-dovey PDA they always shared around everyone.

She’d finished all the prep and had just turned the stove on when she climbed onto a chair to open the top cabinet which contained more bottles of expensive wine.

That’s when Yuki noticed. She was wearing one of his shirts, which was slightly big on her given his build, that part he already knew, but as she lifted her arms, he noticed she was wearing nothing underneath. Literally nothing.

She was cooking for him (that on it’s own enough to get him in the mood) straight up shirt-cocking it (shirt-pussying it?), Winnie the pooh style. In a shirt with his name on it.

It was all too much for little Yuki Tsunoda as he slinked off his chair and made his way towards her. He made it halfway around the island before she noticed and scolded him.

“Nuh-huh, get out of my space baby. This is my kitchen tonight!”

He didn’t listen as he ran the rest of the way and kissed her, arms weaving around her waist. The advantage of being almost the same height was that neither had to bend their head awkwardly, their bodies just slotted together perfectly. He grabbed at the back of her thighs and she wrapped them around his waist, enjoying how much strength he possessed as he didn’t even flinch.

He plopped her on the counter between the stove and the fridge, the cold marble against her heated flesh making her gasp against his lips. Without looking and without breaking the kiss, one of Yuki’s hands trailed down between her legs, the other going into the meticulously organised fridge.

She pulled away, needing oxygen, and saw what he’d taken out: a can of whipped cream. Uh oh. He grinned at her, shaking the can, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“And what, pray tell, are you going to do with that?”

He smirked “I am going to decorate my entrée.”

She rolled her eyes as he pushed on her chest to lay her down before pulling up her shirt over her tits. He then proceeded to squirt whipped cream over them, making her gasp. Finally, he produced a jar of sprinkles from god knows where and threw a generous amount over the cream.

“cakes” he said simply, making her wheeze because what the fuck Yuki, but she didn’t laugh for long as he wasted no time diving in, tongue first, liking up the quickly melting cream.

The coldness of the cream had made her nipples hard, and he took the opportunity to suck on them harshly, making her whine and grab his hair while he licked up every last drop of his handywork. Then he spent a few minutes worshipping, licking and nibbling every bit of bare skin he could get his mouth on.

Once he was done and she was panting, he lifted her legs and ordered her to hold them open, exposing her to him completely. And as he suspected, she had already made a puddle on the counter, making him groan and cup himself through his joggers, that were well tented by now.

“Naughty, not wearing anything underneath. Is this what you expected to happen?”

She nodded quickly “Yes! Please Yuki, touch me.”

His fingers tapped around her thighs, never getting anywhere near where she needed them most.

“And who made you wet like this, hmmm?”

She huffed impatiently “You did Yuki, been thinking about tonight all week!”

He raised his eyebrows as he shook the can again. “Really? I must savour it then.”

He squirted a healthy amount all over her pussy, not wasting any time with sprinkles. The heat from her skin melted it almost immediately, drops rolling down her flesh, across her ass and onto the counter. He trailed his finger through the mess, slipping it into his mouth as he moaned, the taste of the cream mixing with her slick made an absolute banger mix.

The madman didn’t waste any more time, he buried his face into the mess between her thighs, lapping up as much of it as he could and using his very skilled tongue to bring her to the edge in minutes.

She came with a loud cry and her hips bucked into his mouth, spreading a mix of cum and leftover cream over his face as he let her ride the wave, her hands firmly tangled in his hair.

When her body finally stopped thrumming with aftershocks, she pushed herself up to kiss him, but before their lips could meet, she shrieked.

She had left the stove on, and in her haste, put her hand straight on the scorching surface.

Yuki immediately picked her up and brought her to the sink to run her hand under the cold water.

“Are you okay baby?”

She nodded, whimpering as the feeling slowly faded from her hand from the cold and he kissed her cheek, arms around her squeezing tight.

“Why don’t I finish dinner while you go put some aloe on it?

She nodded again, and when she felt like her hand was going to survive the trip, she shuffled off to the bathroom.

After dinner, they lay in bed snuggling, while Yuki kissed each knuckle carefully over and over.

“I’m sorry” He whispered.

She giggled “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, baby. It was entirely my stupidity that led us here.”

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, kissing her skin softly “I love you”

“I love you too, Yuki”

He smiled and tightened his hold around her waist and they both fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[the-dork-urge]

Bottle Of Whiskey

Just some sfw Butcher fluff.

You noticed how his gaze lingered on you, the dark red lipstick you wore tonight catching his attention. It was the kind of shade that left smudges on cigarettes and glasses, hints of something fleetingly glamorous yet just a little too cheap. You felt the weight of his stare, lingering longer than usual.

“Who’re you all dressed up for?” he asked, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. His eyes traced your lips as you brushed your fingers against them, drawing his attention without effort.

"I'm going out with Frenchie," you replied, exhaling a stream of smoke into the cool night air. You glanced at Butcher, hoping for a reaction—something to tell you he cared. “I could use a distraction.”

He didn’t say anything, but you knew what he was thinking. Nights with Frenchie weren’t just for fun; they were your way of drowning out the world. Wandering into strange places with stranger people, drinking, and losing yourself in the chaos. It wasn’t usually your scene, but after the past few weeks, you needed an escape.

For a moment, you wondered if he’d ask to come along, but his gaze told you everything—he wouldn’t. Butcher wasn’t the type to follow anyone’s lead, especially not Frenchie’s. Still, you felt the tension as his eyes traced your lips, moved over your body, and then settled on your heels. There was a pang of something unspoken between you, something you both shook off, like always.

"Have a drink—or five—for me, love," he said, trying to sound indifferent.

You gave him a sly smile. “I will. And when I get too drunk, I’ll just do what you do.”

He raised an eyebrow, his cigarette dangling between his fingers. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I’ll make it everyone else’s problem.” You dropped your cigarette, crushing it beneath your heel with a slow, deliberate motion. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was watching.

Butcher chuckled, but something flickered behind the laugh. You could feel the shift in the air. Was he imagining you with other men tonight? The thought sent a thrill through you. His jealousy was barely hidden, though he’d never admit it. “Just don’t come back pregnant. I’d make a shitty godmother.”

His tone was casual, a jab wrapped in sarcasm, but you caught the hint of something deeper, something protective. It almost made you laugh—the way he tried to mask it.

You smirked, teasing him with your response. “You worried about me sleeping around?” The words left your lips smoothly, but you watched his face closely. Would that bother him? You hoped it did.

For a second, his expression faltered, and you knew you’d hit a nerve. His jaw tightened slightly. You enjoyed it, knowing you had that kind of effect on him. But still, you felt something else—a strange comfort in the idea that he cared enough to be jealous at all.

“Just watch out, love. They’ll be lining up for you dressed like that,” he muttered, his voice rough around the edges.

You felt the corners of your lips curl into a smile. His gaze burned into you now, and you didn’t mind it. The dress you wore clung to you in all the right places—short enough to draw attention, revealing enough to leave little to the imagination. You knew the effect it would have, not just on the men you’d meet tonight, but on Butcher too.

“You really have a way with words,” you said, crossing your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. “If only you used them to your advantage.”

He shifted his weight, his tone softening. “Aye. Didn’t mean it like that, love.” His voice was quieter now, a little more genuine. “You look… fantastic. I’m just tired. Sorry.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of it yourself. “So, what about you?” you asked, shifting the conversation back to him. “What’re your plans tonight?”

Butcher paused, caught off guard by the question. His usual sarcasm faltered for a moment as he looked at you. You could tell he hadn’t really thought about it. “Dunno,” he shrugged. “Same old, I guess. Drink, maybe head back to the flat.”

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching into a half-smile. Then, as if on impulse, you said, “There’s a bottle of whiskey in my desk. A good one. I’ve been saving it for better times, but… those seem pretty far ahead of us, don’t they?”

His eyes flicked toward you, a glint of curiosity in them. He hadn’t expected that.

You shrugged, playing it off casually. “Take it. It’s not doing me any good sitting there.”

Butcher studied you for a moment, as if weighing your words, maybe wondering if there was more to the offer. “Better times, huh?” he muttered, his tone half-joking but with that edge of weariness. “Yeah, they’re always a few steps out of reach.”

The offer of the whiskey wasn’t just about the drink. You both knew that. It was an excuse, a gesture that said you understood the kind of days you were both living through. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he’d take it—if he’d accept what the offer really meant.

“You sure about that?” he asked, still eyeing you.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze. “I’m sure.”

Butcher dropped his cigarette on the ground, the ember flickering out as he took a step closer to you. You watched him, feeling the tension between you thickening in the quiet. There had been moments before—so many moments—where you had caught him watching you like this. Times when you could feel the pull, the want, simmering beneath the surface. You knew he’d thought about reaching out, maybe taking you back to his flat, but something had always held him back.

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” you said, stepping closer as well, your hand resting on his shoulder. You leaned in, closing the space between you. “And I’ll come running to the office.” Then, without waiting, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering just long enough to leave him with something to think about.

Butcher froze, the usual bravado slipping for just a second. He nodded, but you could see the confusion, maybe even a flicker of vulnerability. His cheek warmed beneath your lips, and you could feel the blood rush there. Why would you bridge that gap now? You pulled back slowly, your hand still on his shoulder—a reassurance, perhaps? A promise that this thing between you—whatever it was—hadn’t gone unnoticed. You wanted him to think about it tonight, to know that you’d be thinking about him too. That maybe this undefined thing between you could be something more.

“Have a drink on me, yeah? Or five,” you said with a smile, mimicking his earlier words before turning to leave.

“You go on ahead now,” he said, his voice gruff again, as if trying to regain his footing. But the surprise was still lingering in his eyes. ~

You didn’t get into too much trouble tagging along with Frenchie. The places were good—gritty, a little too underground for your taste, but there had been plenty of fun with all the attention you’d gotten. Frenchie had spoiled you with drinks, and the men who surrounded you had spoiled you with everything else. Their eyes, their hands—none of them subtle. You felt the weight of it, the gaze that followed you all night, but that was the point, wasn’t it? To let the world drown out the noise of what really mattered.

One man, a little bolder than the rest, wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you gently away from the bar. “Dance with me,” he begged, his voice thick with liquor. There was a drunken stumble in his footsteps, and it made you laugh.

“You don’t look like you can dance very well,” you teased, placing a hand on his chest to steady him, though you weren’t entirely sure why you bothered.

“I can,” he insisted, eyes gleaming with the kind of overconfidence that came after too many shots of whiskey. His grip tightened on your waist, sliding lower, his body pressing against yours.You didn’t push him away.

His hands were all over you, moving up and down, a little too confident for someone so unsteady. His body was close, too close. You let your eyes drift shut, just for a second, letting the buzz in your head cloud the judgment in your heart. His fingers, rough and clumsy, traced patterns on your skin, and for just a fleeting moment, you pretended they belonged to someone else...

Butcher.

The thought hit you hard, almost knocking the breath from your lungs. You imagined his hands—strong, calloused, deliberate—on you instead of this stranger’s. You imagined his body pressing against yours, not out of drunken lust, but out of something deeper, something real. The idea of it was enough to make your heart race, a thrill running through you.

You leaned into the touch even more, just to feel what it might be like if it were him. The man’s hands gripped tighter, pulling you closer, his breath hot on your neck, the smell of whiskey and for a split second, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy. You felt something stir in your underbelly, a warmth you weren’t quite prepared for. But it didn’t last. Because it wasn’t him.

The illusion shattered as quickly as it had formed, and the weight of reality came crashing down. This wasn’t Butcher. You pulled away, taking a step back, letting the man’s drunken grip slip off you. “Find someone else to lean on,” you muttered, your voice cool, though your pulse still raced. ‘’Im sorry.’’

You pulled away, taking a step back, letting the man’s drunken grip slip off you. “Find someone else to lean on,” you muttered, your voice cool, though your pulse still raced. He stumbled, a look of confusion flashing across his face, but before he could protest, you were already walking away, leaving him to himself.

Frenchie was waiting by the bar, watching the whole thing play out.

“I need to go,” you said, slipping back beside him, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of that man’s touch.

Frenchie raised an eyebrow, curious. “Why? Things were just getting interesting, no?”

“Butcher,” you answered simply, the name falling from your lips without hesitation.. “I can’t explain it to you.”

But Frenchie didn’t need an explanation. He wasn’t blind to what had been brewing between you and Butcher. Everyone had noticed—the way you seemed to gravitate toward each other, the unspoken tension that filled every room you were in together. The way you allowed his jokes, the way you stepped in to protect the other too easily, or how arguments between you two dragged on, both of you too stubborn to back down. It wasn’t subtle. Not in the way you thought it was.

Frenchie gave a small shrug, smirking slightly. “You don’t have to explain it to me,” he said, leaning back against the bar. ‘’Go before some man grabs you again huh.’’ Frenchie joked. Frenchie watched as you left, the same amused, knowing smile lingering on his lips. He’d been around you long enough to recognize the look in your eyes. ~ Butcher sat in his apartment, the dim light from a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. The bottle of whiskey she’d mentioned sat unopened in his hands, heavy,, its amber liquid catching the faint light. He stared at it, his fingers tightening around the glass, his other hand bringing a cigarette to his lips. He took a long drag. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about cracking the bottle open. In fact, he’d thought about it ever since she’d told him to take it, her voice still lingering in his mind. “Saved for better times,” you’d said. Better times felt like they were always out of reach, just like everything else these days. Butcher exhaled, the smoke filling the space around him like the thoughts filling his mind. Your face appeared in the haze, that smirk you always gave him, the way youe eyes would flicker toward him, challenging. You left him with something tonight—more than just a bottle of whiskey. The kiss on his cheek still lingered, as if your lips had branded something on him, something he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried.

He’d thought about you before, plenty of times—too many if he was being honest. But he never did act on it. It wasn’t the right time; it was never the right time. He didn’t let himself think it could be more than whatever undefined thing it was. It should not be more. There was no time for whatever this could become.

But you had made it more difficult for him. You’d kissed him. A simple kiss, just on the cheek, but it wasn’t about the gesture—it was about what it left behind. He could still feel the warmth from your touch, the way your hand had rested on his shoulder, the way you’d leaned in close. You were leaving him with something to think about, something to sit with while you went out, dressed in that tight little number, turning heads. The idea of you out there, dancing, surrounded by men who didn’t deserve you, gnawed at him. He imagined their hands on you, their eyes taking in every curve, every part of you that he had only watched from a distance. It made him grind his teeth, the thought of you laughing, flirting, maybe even kissing someone else. But it wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t name.

He shook his head, took another drag of the cigarette, and stared at the whiskey again. Maybe a drink would help—take the edge off, drown out the thoughts that refused to leave him alone. But he didn’t open the bottle. Not yet. Butcher crushed the cigarette into the ashtray beside him, still staring at the bottle, the weight of it more than just the glass and liquid. He imagined you now, laughing at some bloke’s joke, swaying to the music, your lips curled in that familiar smile. And suddenly, he wished you were here, in this room, with him instead of out there.

The apartment felt too quiet, too still, and the bottle in his hands suddenly felt too heavy. Maybe he should call you, tell you something came up. Surely, you would come rushing. But then what? Butcher sighed, setting the bottle down on the table in front of him, unopened. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts still filled with you. Lately, it had always been you. With a frustrated grunt, he reached for his phone.

As Butcher’s fingers brushed the edge of his phone, he froze. His instincts flared, catching the faint sound of footsteps echoing from the hallway outside his apartment door. Slow, deliberate, as if someone was hesitating with each step. His hand hovered over the phone for a moment longer before he let it drop to his side. The apartment was too quiet—he could hear everything now. The footsteps paused just outside his door. His jaw tightened, senses sharp, ready for whatever—or whoever—might be standing on the other side. He silently reached for the blade he kept tucked in the armrest of his chair, just in case. The footsteps stopped. A moment of silence hung in the air. Then, a soft knock. Three quick taps. Almost familiar. His heart thudded once in his chest, and he cursed under his breath. Butcher stayed still, his hand gripping the handle of the knife. His mind raced, caught between the idea that it might be you—or trouble, or worse. Either way, the tension ratcheted up inside him, every nerve on edge. He stared at the door, waiting. The knock came again, softer this time.

Butcher opened the door wider, the knife still clutched in his hand but lowered now, his surprise momentarily masking the usual wariness in his eyes. There you stood, disheveled, your lipstick smudged and mostly gone, the hem of your dress slightly askew, your hair tousled as if you’d been moving around too much, too quickly. You didn’t look like the person who had walked out earlier, confident and collected. Yet you still looked beautiful. “What’re you doin’ here?” His voice came out rougher than he meant, his usual defenses kicking in.

You hesitated, as if searching for the right words. Then, with a small shrug, you said, “I didn’t feel like staying out.” Your eyes flicked down to the knife still clutched in his hand. “Expecting someone else?”

Butcher glanced at the blade and scoffed, tucking it back into its place. "Always am," he muttered, stepping aside to let you in. You walked past him into the room, your scent lingering, a mixture of sugary drinks, your perfume, and something darker, like smoke or whiskey, like the night itself had clung to you. He closed the door behind you and turned, watching as you looked around the apartment—your eyes briefly landing on the bottle of whiskey.

“You didn’t open it,” you said, nodding toward the bottle. He shrugged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Not yet.” “It’s supposed to be a good one. Mallory got it for my 30th birthday.” “She got you a gift then, eh?” “You can get a lot of things if you’re friendly enough,” you teased, plopping down on his couch.

Butcher closed the door behind him and looked at you for a moment as you tried fixing your hair, only to tousle it up even more. He chuckled. You looked up at him from the couch. “You’ve been through the wringer tonight?” he asked. “Something like that.” “So it wasn’t fun? Is that why you’re here?” “Oh, it was,” you chuckled, “until it wasn’t anymore.”

“What? Some poor bastard finally got too handsy?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. If I wanted, I could’ve handled him just fine.”

“Could’ve fooled me, showin’ up here lookin’ like that.” He gestured vaguely at you with a flick of his hand. “Lipstick gone, dress all crooked. What’d you do? Take out a whole bloody rugby team?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Just one guy—not exactly Fred Astaire—thought grinding meant trying to fuse himself to me.”

He grimaced in exaggerated disgust. “Sounds like you had a blast.”

“Highlight of my night,” you said sarcastically, then pointed at him. “At least I was out having fun. You’ve been sitting here alone, talking to a bottle all night.”

“Wasn’t talkin’. Was thinkin’ about drinkin’ it,” Butcher shot back. “And maybe I like a bit of quiet. Some of us don’t need to be out there gettin’ pawed at by half of bloody New York.” You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth twitching into a teasing grin. “Watch it, Billy. You almost sound jealous.”

He scoffed and propped his feet up on the table. “Jealous? Of what? A bunch of idiots who don’t know their arse from their elbow?”

You smirked, fidgeting with one of his pillows on the couch. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Butcher leaned back into the couch. It was strange having you here for real, but there was too much space between you. His hands were aching to pull you closer.

He exhaled sharply, breaking the quiet. “Okay, cut the bullshit. Why’d you come to my place?” He turned his head toward you, watching as you continued to fiddle with the pillow. “Not just to run away from some blokes at the club.”

You hesitated for a beat before speaking. “I was thinking about you,” you admitted softly.

The words hit him harder than he expected. Something stirred inside him, something he’d been trying to ignore. The fact that you’d been thinking of him—just like he had of you—was a relief, maybe even more than that.

“Fuck, love,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what to say to that, not when it was the exact thing he’d wanted to hear but was too damn stubborn to admit.

You finally stopped fidgeting and looked at him, your expression softer now, vulnerable even. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight. And yeah, maybe I didn’t just want to run from those guys... maybe I wanted to run toward something.”

Butcher’s throat tightened, his gaze flicking to your lips, remembering the way you’d kissed him before. His hands ached with the need to touch you, to close the distance. “You didn’t run very far now, did you, love?” Your eyes softened, and for the first time since you’d walked in, the playful facade fell completely away.

“No, I didn’t,” you said.

The space between you felt charged, and he finally reached out, brushing a strand of your tousled hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “If you’re here to figure somethin’ out, you know where to start.” Your skin was soft and sticky, a mix of makeup and the sweat of the evening you’d already lived. And yet he imagined that same skin against his lips, the taste of you.

Your breath caught, and you leaned just a little closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “And if I am?”

Butcher’s lips curved into a faint smirk, his tone low and rough. “Then stop thinkin’, and just come here.”

[juyeonszn]

JUST FOR ME

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.26k

GENRES kinda fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, apparently ji changmin has a secret, established relationship, a whisker away ref <3, dacryphilia lol, making out, oral (m!receiving), face fucking lol, cum eating lol, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY ji changmin had a secret.

MORE hellaur hellaur!! i cannot believe i’ve written 8 of these in the past month like i’m actually sick in the head. but maybe u guys are even sicker for reading them idk… once fawntober is over i think i might spontaneously combust. ANYWAY i would like to dedicate this to the resident jichang lover <3 beam <3 consider this a late birthday gift <3 if u enjoyed pls rb!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Ji Changmin had a secret.

A very big secret that he would never dare tell to anyone else. Not his friends. Not even you. Whether it was because he wanted to keep this to himself, take it to the grave type beat, or because he was embarrassed— the world may never know.

But as you cuddle into his side, sniffling over this stupid animated movie, he realizes that his big secret might be harder to keep to himself than he thought.

He’s seen A Whisker Away with you probably hundreds of times by now, and he’s seen you cry each and every time, but for some reason this is the one that gets to him. The sight of your pretty tears trickling down your cheeks, eyes slightly puffy and lips pouty, has his thinking clouded. Typical Y/N behavior, living in his mind rent free like it was your career.

He hopes the thick comforter of your bed hides just how turned on he is, licking his lips when a tear drips down your chin and onto your chest. Don’t even get him started on your pajama choice. Nothing but a thin camisole and flimsy linen shorts. Did you know that you were just one action away from sending him into cardiac arrest?

Changmin doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are displayed, eyes still trained on the stray teardrops rolling down your sternum. It’s not until you’re reaching above your head to stretch, leg bumping into his hard on.

You turn to him with wide eyes and a gasp. “Changmin! No way you’re fucking horny right now.”

“I’m not?” His response comes out more like a question than a statement, so of course you don’t believe him in the slightest. You give him a pointed look.

“How could you possibly be hard after watching that?” Your eyebrows raise, judging him wholeheartedly without knowing the full story. Though, he’s almost certain you’d still judge him then, too. Who wouldn’t? Getting turned on by the sight of his girlfriend crying wasn’t exactly something that people would think is normal.

“That’s— uh— that’s not what— you know what, never mind. We can just go to sleep if you’re tired—” Changmin really wished you weren’t so persistent sometimes. Then again, your persistence was the reason you were together in the first place.

“No, I’m wide awake now,” you simper, a sly little smile that looks out of place paired with the tear streaks on your cheeks. “Lemme help you, Min.”

You peel back the covers, straddling his lap. Changmin groans, throwing his head back when your barely clothed warmth presses down on his erection. Your fingers card through his hair before you lean in to kiss him.

It’s slow at first, lips moving together gently as you work yourself up. One of the things Changmin loved about you was the fact that you were always so eager to please. He had a tendency of not asking for anything unless absolutely necessary, but with your keen sense of perception, you just knew when he needed a little extra care. Like right now, for example.

His hands find your hips, grinding them into his own as he nips your bottom lip. You sigh into the kiss, parting just enough to catch your breath. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your shorts but you shake your head.

“Mm-mm,” you start to pepper kisses all over his face and jaw, trailing down his neck. “Let me do the work. You just relax, okay?”

The service top he was, Changmin thought it would be a bit difficult to just let you have the reins. However, he pulls away his hands anyway, allowing you to exhibit your magic. You smile contentedly, shimmying down so your face was level with his crotch.

Changmin watches with bated breath as you haul his sweatpants and underwear down his legs in one go. He fists your hair in a makeshift ponytail, darting out his tongue to wet his lips when you leave a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. He hisses as you wrap your hands around the base, pumping his length agonizingly slow.

His hips buck up into your hands, teeth gritted when your lips envelope the head. Your tongue drags over his slit, collecting the precum that’s begun to form. You moan when the taste of him settles, one hand sliding under his t-shirt to claw at his abdomen.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, you take him fully into the warm coziness of your mouth. Every time you gave Changmin head, you tried not to push yourself to swallow him wholly. You were afraid of embarrassing yourself by not being able to fit his impressive size down your throat. This time was different. You felt the need to provide him the best pleasure possible.

He thinks he might combust, focus zeroed in on your plush lips going further down his length and meeting your hand. Your eyes flutter open, making contact with his as you twist your wrist and start to bob your head. Changmin groans, using his free hand to fist at the sheets below you. You looked so fucking filthy like this, ass perked up in the air as you sucked him off like your life depended on it. But good God, you managed to still look absolutely gorgeous, even with the drool dribbling along your chin.

Instinctively, his grip on your hair tightens and he pushes your head down, forcing you to engulf his cock more than you already had. You gag, but steel yourself to power through. Changmin accepts his fate and lets himself loosen up, a conniving grin spreading across his lips.

“Gonna let me fuck your face, baby?” He coos, bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed.

You moan in approval, pulling off just to respond. “Mhm. Want you to feel good.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he bites his lip, bringing your face closer to kiss your swollen lips, your hand still jerking him off. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He can taste himself on your mouth and it makes his release that much more exciting. You break apart, returning to what you were doing previously. This time, however, Changmin doesn’t hold himself back. He starts to fuck up into the wet heat of your mouth, cock sliding down your throat with a choked groan following each thrust.

Your eyes water, and before you know it, tears are tracking on your cheeks. He nearly whines, all sense of restraint lost completely as you continue to wrap around him, tongue swirling around the tip and running along each vein. Changmin feels insane, his orgasm building up higher and higher the more you take him— the more you cry for him.

It’s when one of your teardrops drips onto his stomach, your thumb swiping across his hip bone, that he cums into your mouth with a moan so out of character, you almost join him. You try to swallow everything he gives you, but it’s so much that you have to pull off of him, feeling it slip down the side of your mouth. Your hips roll into the bed to release some of the friction that formed.

Changmin wipes away the mixture of saliva and cum on your chin, stamping another slow kiss to your lips. You straddle him once again, whimpering when he presses up into your already sensitive cunt.

He smiles, fingers dipping into your shorts. “You did so well, baby. Let me return the favor.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[dearsnow]

THE LAST TIME

- ten out of the countless times you have seen neil perry, and nine where you saw him alive. (neil perry x gn! implied to be shy reader, fluff to angst, canon-typical main character death, major spoilers for dps but i assume you’ve watched it before, i included my own poetry so i hope y’all like it, sad face emoji i teared up while writing this).

word count: 9,006

a/n - thank you so so much to my beta readers @sorencd and @chuudidit for reading this massive piece, i appreciate you endlessly <3 this was definitely a labor of love, one that i took a considerable amount of time to write and edit. i adore dead poets society and poetry in general (i have written 130+ poems and never plan on stopping) so i definitely needed to put my thoughts into words lol 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy, because i definitely enjoyed writing this for you.

When Neil Perry first saw you, and god, did he see you, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

You were simply sitting there under the old tree just outside the borders of Welton with a book under your nose and the soft rays of a flashlight filtering through your hair. You had one knee up, holding the book in a gentle balancing act as he stared. Charlie gave him a nudge, eyebrows raised and a tease on the tip of his tongue, but Neil couldn’t even move. He was completely and utterly dumbstruck. The moon was hanging above your head, full and bright, drowning you in a poetic haze. You flipped a page and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before, and he had no idea why.

After a long minute, he peeled his gaze away from the figure under the tree and followed the other dead poets to their second ever meeting. From the corner of his eye, he swore he saw you glance up at him when he passed, but no one else seemed to notice.

When Neil and the poets were walking back to Welton, you weren’t there- something Neil noticed instantly. Of course, being who he was, Todd noticed that Neil noticed, and Charlie noticed that Todd noticed, and before he knew it, Neil and his fixation were the new tortured topics of the evening. 

“Oh, love at first sight! The most beautiful kind.” Charlie teased, clasping his hands and spinning around. “How romantic.”

Neil shook his head, trying desperately to clear his suspicions. “It’s not like that. I swear, it’s not even a crush. I just thought it was weird.”

Cameron chimed in with a slightly hushed tone. At least he was aware of the fact that they were quickly approaching the earshot of every single person in Welton Academy. “I wonder where they came from. I mean, it couldn’t have been comfortable or safe to be out here at night. Especially alone.”

“Same. What do you think they were reading?” Neil responded, quick to try and put the teasing behind him. Despite his efforts, the teasing carried long into the night and the days following it. It seemed like nothing and no one would ever let him forget he ever saw you.

He would find out later that you were reading a poetry book.

He saw you for the second time on a trip to the main town. He recognized you instantly, from what little knowledge of you he had gained. You had the same hair, the same stature, the same book tucked under your arm as you peered into the musty old bookstore in the back corner. Just Todd was with him this time, and he definitely knew what was up.

Todd glanced at him, a warm expression on his face. Once again, Neil was entranced.

In the new glorious daylight, he noticed things he never could’ve before. The undertones of your hair, your skin, the way you seemed to glow even when you dipped into the shadows. He saw the pure beauty of you in a manner he had never seen anyone else in before. He took a step forward, pulled towards you somehow as his heart beat a mile a minute. The bookstore loomed over you, cracked and imperfect, yet casting the evening in a scene plucked out of a storybook. You turned, seeming to have seen him in the window’s reflection, and he flinched. He almost had a heart attack as his brain registered the color of your eyes and exactly how your mouth pulled up into a smile. Quickly turning away, he grabbed Todd’s sleeve and hightailed it out of there. Todd followed, as he always did. Neil was enamored, and Todd could tell.

“Do you think they saw me?” Neil gasped, pulling Todd into the square’s corner. He was panting lightly, red-cheeked, with a lopsided grin on his face. Todd had never seen him nervous, much less shy. In fact, he was the opposite- friendly, inclusive, and not the type to run away from a challenge. Something must have been different about you.

Todd raised his eyebrows. “Probably, Neil, they looked back.” He, too, saw your eyes, though he was mostly focused on the anxiety coursing through his veins rather than committing them to memory.

Neil’s gasping breaths were definitely louder than they needed to be. “Oh god, they definitely saw me. They probably think I’m a creep. Jesus, it’s definitely over.”

“What’s over?” Todd put a hand on his shoulder worriedly. “There was nothing there to begin with. They’re just a person, you’ll be fine.”

“Way to kill my dreams, Todd. Look, can you promise me that you won’t tell this to anyone else?” Neil asked, suddenly very serious. He glanced around like someone would waltz into the trash-filled and truthfully disgusting corner. The bathrooms were just around the bend, and he could smell it.

Intrigued, Todd nodded.

“I need you to say it. Promise me.” Neil whispered. His coat crinkled as he moved closer to Todd, the material dipping around his sweater. The fall air was the perfect background for whatever Neil was trying to get up to.

“I promise.”

Neil grinned boyishly and glanced around the corner again. “This is stupid, but I think I’m in love.” From the look in his eyes, Todd could definitely tell. His friend was suddenly more animated than he had been in a very long while, and he knew that he would do anything to keep him that way. His caution, however, took over.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. What if you never see them again?”

“And what if I do?” Neil breathed. “What if I see them tomorrow, or the next day, or a week from now? What if I see them every day of my life because I just went out and said something?”

Todd shook his head. “Just be careful, alright? There’s a very good chance that nothing will come of it.” Neil clasped Todd’s jacket, quirking his eyebrows.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“Just no.”

The first time you saw Neil Perry, you didn’t even know you saw him. You were sitting under a tree, reading an Emily Dickinson book you bought in the town’s bookstore. It was a way to relax to you. A way to forget all of your troubles and just enjoy the wonders of the world. You don’t know why you picked that tree, or why you stayed so long you had to use the flashlight you so hastily packed, but life has its ways of pulling you towards something you didn’t know existed.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful, even at night. You wrapped your thick coat tightly around your shoulders. The fall leaves beneath you gave a crackle and the moon hung high above your head, slightly illuminating your page. Welton Academy loomed just outside of your line of sight. It was beautiful, too, but something about the cold stone walls made you shiver.

As time slipped away, you began to hear a hushed cacophony of boys around your age coming out of the school to the side of you. They had their hoods up, laughing and giggling like they were in some sort of secret club. You looked up, and one of them stopped dead in his tracks. You could see his breaths clouding in the night as the others urged him forward. Your eyes drifted back down to your book, as if you were embarrassed. The moment broke, and he was on his way.

You weren’t there for his return back to Welton.

The second time you saw him, you noticed him a lot more clearly. You were window shopping just outside of the bookstore. Even though the building was dusty and marred, it smelled like home. It smelled like stories and adventures and comfort. You were a frequent visitor to this place, and one of the owner’s best customers. 

He often set up his new imports in the big, yellow-tinted window in front of you. As you gazed in, you noticed a face appear in the space next to you. You turned around partially, meeting his dark brown eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him.

It was an electric moment. His lips were slightly parted, and the gray clouds above him were engorged with unshed tears. You gaped at him, dumbfounded, as milliseconds ticked away like hours.

Before you knew it, he had sped away with his friend in tow. Huh, you hadn’t even noticed he had a friend. All you could think about was the fact that he looked familiar, and the fact that he was the most handsome boy you had ever had the pleasure of locking eyes with.

His stature reminded you of the boy by the tree, the boy from Welton Academy. There was just something about him that screamed “you saw him once in a dream”.

Somehow, you thought one simple thought: you were in love with someone you did not know.

When Neil saw you for the third time, and the third time you saw him, he worked up the courage to talk to you.

Mr. Keating was instructing the boys outside yet again. They were in the courtyard, taking inspiration from the world around them. From leaves, patches of mud, anything that struck their fancy. 

You were taking a walk by campus. Once again, you didn’t know why; you just were. The boys were not a quiet group, and you could hear their shouts very clearly. You strained your ears, hoping to hear one voice in particular. Of course, you didn’t know what his voice sounded like, but you were listening anyway. If you were right, and he was a boy from Welton, maybe you might be able to catch a word or two.

That’s when Neil spotted the person walking loops around the front of campus. Maybe, for the first time, you could be his inspiration.

He looked over his shoulder, quickly trying to assess whether he could slip away unnoticed or not. No one seemed to be looking at him. He left his group behind and jogged up next to you.

You saw him coming. Even from a distance, you knew it was him. Your heart began to pound in your ears, loud and fast and just a little bit lovesick. You were right.

“Hey!” He exclaimed. You took a small step back. Your nerves were on their highest setting and your mind was reeling. What did he think of you, you wondered. More importantly, who was he?

As he approached, you put on your best nervous smile. “Hi.”

“My name’s Neil.” He said, reaching out a hand for you to shake. You complied quickly, saying your own name in turn. His palms were slightly damp, but you couldn’t blame him. Yours were probably worse.

The moment your hand held his, fitting perfectly under his fingers, he knew you were made for him. “I saw you in town the other day. Do you like books?” 

Your voice was hesitant, unsure, and Neil wished he could reach out and smooth the wrinkles in the sound like an old coat. “Yeah.”

“What were you reading?” Neil asked. He tried to stamp down his own nerves, but something about you made his breaths flutter in and out like butterfly wings. It was a feeling he was completely and entirely new to.

You shifted the bag on your shoulder to your hands, reaching in to pull out the book. “Oh, Poems by Emily Dickinson. It’s not the traditional type of book, but I love poetry.” Your cheeks began to warm. You knew nothing about this boy. What if he thought poetry was stupid, just a lesson in his English class and nothing else? How could anyone know how much those words meant to you?

Neil beamed, big and wide and lovesick. You truly were perfect for him, he thought. Poetry. You certainly were poetic, with those gorgeous eyes and an equally beautiful mind. “I love poetry too.” He breathed.

Your tense smile turned genuine. “You do? That’s awesome.” A quiet flutter started to pick up in your heart.

“Yeah. You know what?” He grinned, “my friends and I have a sort of poetry club. The dead poets society- we do readings, original works, whatever the members are feeling at the moment.” He sucked in a silent breath, pausing just enough to let his reeling mind decide on what he wanted to say. “It’s at night in the old Indian cave.” You nodded along to his words, growing increasingly intrigued the further he carried on. This dead poets society began to excite you. It was all you ever wanted in life: a community of like-minded people sharing the verses that made your heart tick. “If you want, I mean, you should go to our next meeting. It’s tonight.” Neil offered. He could tell his words were cycling through your mind, finally catching up to his proposal.

You wanted to join the dead poets society so badly it made your heart ache. A little inkling, though, in the back of your head, sparked a pit in your stomach. “Would your friends be okay with me being there? I… I don’t exactly know them.”

Neil was head over heels. You were so wonderfully lively, in the way that a breeze touching his eyelashes with the tips of its fingers would be. You were exactly how he expected, and exactly who he needed.

He waved away your concern with the flip of a hand and a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. The others bring guests too, and gosh, I’m sure they’re going to love you! Especially Todd. I’m sure you two would get along real well.” 

“Then I’ll definitely be there.” You replied. The sparkle in your eye shot Neil at full force. You were excited, smiling, happy. He made you happy. He mentally patted himself on the back.

“Great!” Leaves rustled from behind Neil, and you could see a group of boys approaching in the near distance. “Shoot. I gotta go, but make sure to show up. I’ll be waiting for you.” He whispered, leaning in closer to you before turning around to walk towards the group. You felt cold air where he had once been, and you wished for a moment that he would come back. His friends, however, were hooting and hollering, and you thought you could hear a kissy noise or two. You shook your head, a shaky warmth creeping its way up your neck, before turning to walk away.

You were going to go to a secret meeting in a secret cave at a hauntingly secret hour, and you had never been quite so excited in your entire life.

The fourth time you saw each other was the dead poets society meeting. You were brimming with nerves beforehand, shaking fingers gathering your materials as you tried to prepare for waltzing into a place with people entirely unknown to you. The bag you were holding contained a couple of your favorite poetry books, your own poems scratched in the empty spaces on certain pages that really inspired you. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to read a poem out loud, especially your own work, but earlier in the evening, you resolved to “go with the flow” and do what the others were doing. You hoped you wouldn’t have to regret that decision later.

After putting everything together and making sure to turn off your light and close your door, you slipped out of your house into the black night.

The scenery on your walk was entirely too beautiful. You never noticed just how much the bark on trees formed swirling patterns, or how the stars seemed to twinkle on their own. The ground under your feet was littered with fallen leaves in fiery shades and clumps of moist dirt. You began to smile just a little bit, thinking of a poem you had written when autumn had first started. That is surely what you would say if the dead poets wanted you to speak.

Nothing felt greater than breathing in the crisp, cold air and swinging your arms as you stepped along the path less traveled on. 

When you finally reached the cave, heart significantly lighter, the sound of laughter floated up to your ears. It was bountiful and boyish and beautiful. You peered around the edge of the cave entrance, and Neil’s eye immediately caught on you.

“Come in, come in! We’re just about to begin.” He called. You stepped fully into the light and glanced around at your company.

They were giggling and shoving, gaping at you and Neil with a sort of uncertain certainty. Some were standing, some sitting, a couple moving around, and all of them male. You took a seat next to Neil, between him and the boy you saw with him in town. He gave you a meaningful nod and looked to Neil, who was opening an old, thick book. He was frightened to so much as speak in front of you, as silly as it might have seemed.

“Attention, dead poets. Today is another wonderful night.” He announced, voice deep and commanding and humorously theatrical. “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately… I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life… And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…” His voice trailed off, and someone from the back of the cave echoed his last word. He closed the book with a snap, and the boys began to murmur excitedly.

Neil took a seat and turned to you, a glimmer of something sweet in his eye. When he looked at you, all he saw was magnificence. “Who wants to start?”

A boy jumped up. In his fist was a crumpled piece of paper, which he made a show of unfolding. “For those of you who don’t know,” He said, with a pointed glance at you, “my name is Nuwanda, and today, I actually made a poem.”

A couple boys yelled in support, and Neil gave you a nudge. “Charlie Dalton.” He whispered, making sure to not alert the others. You thanked him with a shy nod. Then, as “Nuwanda” was starting to begin his woefully homemade poem, Neil put his arm around your shoulders. 

His touch sent jitters through your entire body, lighting you up like a firework. It just felt so right, so natural, so breathtaking. It felt exactly like shaking his hand and feeling his eyes and seeing his breath hang in the air- like it was destined, written in the stars, utterly perfect. You leaned into his touch, feeling his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and shoulder. “To live, to learn, to die,

my boys, 

to see, to love, to burn. 

To touch, to know, to harm, 

my dear,

to eat, to reap, to sow.” 

Charlie recited. For someone who seemingly took poetry lightly, he wasn’t particularly bad. He put more passion into his words than most other boys you knew. In fact, you’re sure he would be a great writer if he put more than an ounce of effort into it.

He took a bow as the room erupted into applause, Neil’s arm still wrapped around you. He could feel it too, the electricity. He wanted nothing more than to bottle that feeling and keep it forever.

Charlie sat, staring at you and Neil with a smirk on the corners of his lips. “Hey, why don’t we let our guest take a crack at it?”

The cave filled with a rumble of excitement from all of the poets. Neil’s brows were furrowed, but he gave an urge of support anyway. “If you want to, of course.”

You wanted to. Energy thrummed throughout your company, filling you with a sense of confidence you rarely had anywhere else. For once, you truly wanted to speak up. The air was crackling with a sense of anxious anticipation, and you could smell the love each boy held for each other. They knew, somehow, that the moment meant a lot to Neil, and they were willing to put aside any inhibitions to help him enjoy the night.

“I’ll go.” You uttered. Neil’s face lit up as his previous worries slunk away into the night.

You pulled out a book from your usual bag and opened it to the page you knew so well you could recite the poem it held without looking. And, of course, your own poem was scribbled in the margins. 

Everyone was attempting to peer over your shoulder, to take a glimpse of what made you a poet. Having attention on you was an odd feeling, like ants crawling along the back of your spine. You took a deep breath. “When you die,

the beetles will still sing.

The trout will still jump,

and the earth will still rumble.

When you die, the moon will still turn

and the stars will still burn.

When you die,

The lakes will still ripple

and the trees will still creak

and I will lower you into the ground

and I will cry so hard the world stops moving.”

As the last words left your lips, a profound silence enveloped the group. Then, all at once, it exploded.

“We’ve got a real poet in here!” Came Charlie’s teasing (yet not entirely unkind) voice. “Truly Keating material. What sparked your creative melancholy?”

You felt yourself glowing as you sat. If you were being honest, you never could have imagined that anyone would genuinely enjoy your work. That notion was entirely unfounded and untrue, considering they were a group of poets, but it persisted nonetheless. “I don’t know, really. Just the notion of losing a loved one, I suppose.”

When Neil saw you, in that moment, when he heard your voice, he couldn’t breathe. He knew so little about you, yet you pumped his pulse up to be as fast as a racehorse. He wanted, no, he needed to learn everything that made you you. He needed to know what you looked like when waking up in the morning, or how your fingers felt threading through his hair, or your deepest, most desperate passions. He needed to be so close to you he could feel your heartbeat through the fabric of your shirt. He was intrigued. 

When he first discovered acting, he felt the same exact way- a burning desire to learn, to know, to discover. If you let him, he would recite his lines all the way into your heart.

The meeting continued as the sky grew ever darker, complete with poems and rhymes and words spoken in deliberately lyrical tones. You fell into every verse and every story as easily as you would if they were written in a book. You began to learn every name in the room, and they quickly caught on to yours. It was a community, a group of people that began to feel like home. 

Of course, by the time they decided to end things, the stars were full and bright. The sun would surely peek its head out of the fog in a couple hours. You were smiling harder and more genuinely than you ever had before, with Neil by your side, and Todd on your other. As they all stood up to leave with boisterous whispers, Neil turned to you.

“Will you come tomorrow? And the next, and every day after that?” His question was so excited, so innocent, like he didn’t know that you would kill for the chance to be near him and everything he held dear.

You smiled. “Of course. I’ll be a dead poet for life.”

Your eighth encounter with Neil was not a lucky twist of fate. He got permission to leave school for some something or other that you never bothered to find out. Now, it was just you two and the big town square looming in front of you.

In truth, it wasn’t that big, but when you’re standing at the beginning of a new day with the boy that holds your heart, everything feels intense.

He took hold of the sleeve of your sweater, as he so often did, and you descended upon the shops.

“Come on, you’ve absolutely got to try the milkshakes at Tom’s Ice Cream Parlor! They’re just the best. Hurry, hurry!” He tugged you along, a bright smile on his face. God, how you loved him.

You had grown closer in the past five dead poets society meetings. Often, he would stay with you in the cave long after the meetings had ended. You would talk about whatever crossed your mind in the moment, and he would spin stories out of thin air. He didn’t ever seem to talk about real life things, though. His work at school, sure, but anything outside of that was uncharted territory. When you asked him about his family, he just clammed up.

You laughed as he weaved through the clumps of people with you in tow. “Slow down, Neil! You’re gonna get us killed.”

The sound of your voice, especially your laugh, was something Neil had come to relish. He would keep you talking all day if it meant he could hear that giddy ring in his ears every time he craved your presence. “You’ve just got to go faster. The line is horrific at this time of day.” 

“This place had better be good.”

“It is, believe me. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

When you arrived, bodies hot and just a little uncomfortably sweaty, the sight of the ice cream parlor was a welcome one. He led you through the doors and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. You wished you could do it for him. The line was, unsurprisingly, quite long. You made idle chat, but his words fell on deaf ears as you stared at him.

“…he was real impressed when Charlie played his sax. Mr. Nolan, though, he definitely wasn’t-“ And, before you could think about it, before the screaming in your head could tell you no, you reached up and smoothed the cowlick that always seemed to mess up his part. When you pulled your hand away, he was beaming.

“Thanks.” He said, simply. You smiled back at him.

“No problem. So, what happened to Charlie afterwards?” You questioned. Neil gave you a look, one you had come to realize meant “I’ll tell you later”.

As you stood three people away from the front counter, Neil fumbled around in his pockets. “Shoot, I could’ve sworn I brought more money than this…” He muttered. He pulled out a dime and three pennies, all slightly covered in the fuzz from his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. I don’t know, I must’ve spaced out- I’m usually so good about things like this.”

You took his arm with one hand and slipped the other in your pocket, rooting around for any spare change you had. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I have more than enough.”

You did not, in fact, have more than enough. You had a single quarter and a spare button. Pooled together, you could get exactly one milkshake and have his three pennies left over. Neil looked at you regretfully.

“You take it. I’ll get one another time.” He said, putting on a smile. “I’ve had too many sweet things today anyways.”

You would not accept this as an answer. Not here, not now. He deserved all the good things life had to offer, and you would be damned if he didn’t get them- starting with this milkshake. “It’s alright, you have it.”

Neil looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. “You should have it, really.” He would be damned if you didn’t get what he dragged you out here to experience. If he could see your face, smiling and sticky-lipped, after taking a sip from something he contributed to, he would be the happiest man on earth. 

The back-and-forth was getting nowhere and you both knew it. “Why don’t we just share it then? Ask for two straws?” You sighed. “It’s the best solution.”

He paused. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t the life he wanted to give you (if this was any indicator), but it would work. Everything would work as long as you were there. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”

There was another quick conversation about which flavor to choose, but you settled on one that you both liked equal amounts. You discovered that he had far different tastes than you milkshake-wise. If you were any less filtered, you would’ve told him his opinions were downright wrong.

You sat with him, smiling so hard you thought your face would break as he finally told you what happened to Charlie. Apparently, Nolan had reprimanded him as he so often had to do, but Charlie couldn’t stop smiling during the lecture. Eventually, Nolan just stopped mid-sentence and ushered the boy out the door. Apparently nothing and no one could ever crush Charlie’s spirit, not even the hardships of wooden rulers.

You leaned in to take a sip absentmindedly. As you reached your straw, you felt the tip of Neil’s nose brush against yours, and you realized you were so close to him you were almost kissing. You pulled back quickly, a hotness enveloping your cheeks.

“Sorry.” You uttered, trying not to look him in the eye. You were so mortified you almost killed yourself on the spot.

Neil, however, was overjoyed. He felt your breath on his chin and it was all he could think about. You, close to him, like you would’ve touched him if you hadn’t pulled away. He relished the feeling.

He shrugged, trying in vain to make it seem like he was just simply all right with it. “It wasn’t a problem,” He said, before noticing that the milkshake was running dangerously low. “Hey, why don’t you take the last sip?”

You cocked your head slightly. “Why?”

“Because I never want to be the one to end it.” He grinned. You shook your head, the corners of your lips rising up as he let out a little laugh. You adored his laugh.

“If you say so.”

That conversation stuck with you a long time after it happened.

It took four more dead poets meetings for Neil to ask you to go somewhere with him again. By the twelfth experience, though, you knew him like the back of your hand.

He loved acting. Loved it. He loved it so desperately that he was willing to face the wrath of his father to pursue the play he was casted in. Oh, and you learned about his father through whispers, mostly from Charlie. Neil, he told you, would never say a word about him. Tyrannical, inhospitable, red-hot like fire and ice-cold like ice. You knew of his mother, too, and her quiet indifference. Neil held a special place in his heart for Todd, the new boy at Welton. He loved puppies and poetry and soft scarves. Not the scratchy ones, as those irritated his neck. He wanted to be an actor in the future, but his father wanted him to be a doctor. He loved so many things, and yet could not have them; however, he definitely hated when people felt sorry for him.

So, you weren’t sorry. You felt his desires like a burning in your gut, stripped away piece by piece, but you were not sorry. You loved him.

You needed him to be fulfilled in every way possible, and you were not sorry. He was going through so many conflicting things, and you were not sorry. You were hopeful.

Life would turn around, you told him. He would see. In ten years, he would be on Broadway, waving at you and Todd and Charlie from the stage. He would be great, and you knew it.

“I’ve never skated like this before. Are you sure it’s safe?” You asked, standing at the edge of Welton’s lake. It was late in fall, with powdery snow dusting the edges of the ground, but the lake may have been in the process of freezing still. Neil took your gloved hands.

“Trust me, it’s good.”

He often asked you to trust him, and you always did. There was just something in his deep, dark eyes that whispered exactly how strong he was.

You took a tentative step onto the ice, nose already feeling the cold burn of pre-winter air. The ground under your feet was slick, but it held. Neil walked backwards, gently guiding you, and you followed.

You found a sort of rhythm in the movements, pushing off with your feet and letting them slide forward on the ice. Neil’s face was tinged with red as you skated on flat shoes, never letting go of your hands. You laughed, truly and honestly. The world spun around you in a blur, white and brown and beautiful. The air snuck through the gaps on your clothes, but you did not care. In that second, it was just you and Neil and the most beautiful day you had ever known.

His eyes softened when he looked at you. Even through the lack of words, he knew exactly what you were thinking. That crinkle by your eyes, the curve of your lips, your laugh. You were content, happy even, because he brought you here. When you reached the middle of the lake, leaning against him, trusting him, he felt a fluttering in his stomach. 

Throughout his days with you, he had come to discover the person behind the book, behind the shy smile. He could firmly say that he knew you, and he loved you even more for it.

He knew your favorite book, which jokes made you laugh so hard tears formed in your eyes, your favorite ice cream flavor. It wasn’t his, but it was completely and entirely you. There was nothing he adored more in the world than you.

You stared at him with a smile gracing your lips as you came to a stop. He reached his hand up to your face and brushed a small snowflake away from the corner of your mouth gently. His hands were soft.

He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his face. It was now or never, he thought. Carpe diem.

Neil pressed his lips to yours, and all of your feelings exploded from your connected flesh like dynamite.

He was warm, so warm. You kissed him fervently with your arms wrapped around his shoulders like you were dancing. He had finally done it, put to action the kind thoughts he had expressed, and you were glowing. There were stars in your tightly shut eyes, and you reveled in how they spun.

Neil’s mind was racing as you didn’t pull away. He didn’t know what he expected, but you pulling him closer was not his first thought. He most definitely didn’t mind.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both panting feverishly and looking starved for more. Your combined breaths hung in front of your faces.

“We should do that again.” He whispered. You huffed a laugh, feeling every bit as blushy as he looked.

“Only if you’re okay with never stopping.”

It was a week and a half before Neil’s big play, and the twenty-fourth (maybe twenty-fifth, you had lost count) time you saw him. It was also your tenth official date.

“Date” may have been a loose term, as it was more practicing lines than talking, but the atmosphere was quiet and calm at the café you sat in. There were grainy pictures of favorite customers on the wall and the chairs were just the right amount of wobbly. It felt like a place where you could relax without abandon. Neil’s hand was on top of yours and he was staring deep into your eyes as he spoke line after line, trying to steel his nerves and push past the stress of his approaching deadline.

“If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: and, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck…” He hesitated for a moment, eyes unfocused. You squeezed his hand in support and he gave you a small smile. Clearing his throat, he continued. “…now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, we will make amends ere long; else the Puck a liar call; so, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.” 

You gave a quiet cheer and clasped your hands together. “I think that was your best runthrough yet! I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes lit up as he gazed at you bashfully. “You think?”

“Absolutely. You’re good, you’re really good. You could probably perform tomorrow if you wanted to.” He smiled and ran his fingers over his fleece sleeves as you spoke. If you were in the audience, he was sure he would be able to do anything. “In fact, you could perform any time you wanted to. You’re just that amazing.”

You were so impressed by the sheer amount of talent and emotion he had that you just couldn’t help but smother him in compliments. Every single one was true.

Neil tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, blushing like a madman. Every time you said something kind about him, his heart leapt for joy. “What about you? What have you been working on?” He posed. He had heard your poetry before, of course, but you always seemed to be creating something new.

You pulled out a book from the bag sitting next to you and flipped around. There was one specific poem you wanted him to hear. One you had written about him.

When you found it, you turned the book sideways so you both could see and pointed at it. “This one.” Neil tilted his head, opening his mouth to read it aloud. “I think, 

if I was blind,

I would still know your face.

The curve of your nose would call to me

and your eyelids would flutter under my touch.

There is no one else, no one at all

who could make the pads of my fingers

see the entire world.”

He gazed up at you with a starstruck expression. “Is this about anyone in particular?” Neil leaned forward and dipped his head down to rest on his propped-up hand. He had a grin on his face. He absolutely knew who it was about.

“I wrote that one for Meeks. He’s just so cute, don’t you think?” You teased. Neil’s mouth dropped open as his expression turned to comical shock. 

“I’m wounded, my love! How dare you.” He shouted, throwing his arms up. You started laughing as he continued his theatrical expressions, much to the dismay of the café workers.

“Be careful, we might get thrown out!”

“I’ll throw you out myself if you don’t stop laughing at my demise.” He furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose as you giggled from your seat. “I’m so lucky to have you.” He murmured, suddenly as soft as a spring rain. You ran your fingers over his hand underneath the table, finding every groove like it was your own.

“And I’m lucky to have you. I love you, you know.” 

Neil smiled gently. “I love you too. So much.”

You sat in that café for a few hours more, until the workers had to politely remind you of their closing hours. You laughed and talked and felt the sheer joy of being with the boy you had begun to consider your soulmate. He was a star, shining his light and illuminating you with his rays. Too often, however, the brightest lights fade within the snap of a finger.

“I hope that when I die,” Neil wrote, right before your thirty-first meeting,

“God will send me back to Earth.

He will say,

‘Live again. Run again,

hope again,

plunge your body into ice-cold water again. 

Hate again, 

and cry again,

run your fingers through the grass again.

Kiss them again, 

press your palms to their faces again,

and lose them again.

Let yourself feel again,

and never forget

that life is what matters, 

not death.’

And I will say,

‘I promise

to do everything I have ever told myself I could not do

again and again and again.’”

He closed his journal with a thump and tucked it into his drawer calmly. That was something he would rather not share with anyone, not even you. 

The day was cold and drizzly, but he stood up with a kind of manic smile. He walked out of the doors of Welton and into your awaiting arms.

You both sat down on a park bench under the cover of a tree. Your seats were slightly wet and very cold, but it didn’t matter all that much. You were just glad to be there with him, with Neil. He was the love of your life, and any time with him was well-spent.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly. He was the same as he always was, you thought. But his eyes were welling up with tears and you just felt the need to ask, like some unearthly force was telling you that you needed to.

He leaned back, putting his arm around the back of the bench with a sigh. “I’m trapped.” He was smiling, but there was such an utter lack of humor behind it that it made you shiver. You shifted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as a silent sign of comfort. By this point, knew everything there was to know about Neil Perry- even the parts he tried to keep hidden.

“How so?”

“I don’t even know, I just… I want to be an actor. That is what I want to do for the rest of my life. But I can’t, and I’m trapped, and no one can help me, no matter how much they try.” His voice was sullen, but he was still smiling. Curse him for trying to make you feel better even then.

You placed a kiss on the back of his hand and threaded your fingers through his. Your heart ached for him. You knew there was nothing you could do about it, though, and that’s what made it even harder. Holding his hand, telling him it’ll all work out, everything ultimately did nothing for his situation, and you cursed the being that forced him into this position. If you could scream into the night, into the big, black sky to execrate the universe, you would. You did, in the future. You regretted not doing it sooner.

“I’m sorry.” You started, squeezing his hand. “ Just keep going, alright? I promise you, in the future, none of this will matter at all. You just have to stick with it. The world will find a way of figuring it out.”

His face formed a more genuine smile as he laid his head on top of yours. “Yeah. I guess it will.”

The last time Neil Perry saw you was the night he had been anticipating, dreaming about, and dreading: the night of his play. He was prepared. He knew every line and cue by heart, and yet he was still nervous. He was so nervous he could hardly think. 

He stood behind the curtains listening to the chatter of the audience. The rest of the cast members and some of the technicians were scrambling to put everything in place, but he just stared at the dark walls of fabric separating him from his new life. That was it. He was going to put on the best performance of his goddamn life.

The lights dimmed, and he stepped away to take his place.

When it was finally time for him to make his entrance, Neil did it with flourish. “How now, spirit! whither wander you?” He spoke. Cheers came from the audience, whoops and hollers from the dead poets. He could hardly keep himself from smiling.

Then, he saw you. You were grinning wide and large from your seat, giving him that quiet encouragement he had always loved. You whispered his name, and Neil could hear it in his heart.

He was having fun. So much fun. With every line he spoke, with every movement he made, Neil was sinking deeper and deeper into the play and his love for acting. He didn’t remember the last time he had ever felt that alive. 

But with every sinking, there comes a point where one drowns.

His father was there. When had he come? Neil hadn’t seen him before. God. He was burning a hole in the back of his head with his piercing gaze, and it took everything in Neil not to turn and run. That was it, he thought. He was done. But gods be good, he was going to finish his play. He would not let his father ruin this for him.

By the time he was speaking his last lines, the ones he had practiced with you, he barely remembered his father was part of the audience. The curtains closed, and the audience exploded into cheers. He could hear your voice, he swore he could- he was the happiest man on Earth. He had put on the performance of his lifetime, and he couldn’t be more proud. Until, of course, he was dragged out the door by his father.

He was back home before he had even registered his father’s anger. All he could feel was emptiness as the gnawing hole in his stomach expanded to encompass his entire being.

“We're trying very hard to understand why it is that you insist on defying us. Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let you ruin your life. Tomorrow I'm withdrawing you from Welton and enrolling you in Braden Military School. You're going to Harvard and you're gonna be a doctor.” His father stated, eyes sharp. Neil let out a noise of protest.

“But that's ten more years. Father, that's a lifetime! I won’t be able to see any of them again, not one person I knew before. You can’t do this to me, you just can’t.” Tears formed in Neil’s eyes, and as he looked at his mother, she was feeling the same way. And yet she said nothing. He could feel himself becoming increasingly more desperate. 

His father scoffed. “Oh, stop it. Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term. You don't understand, Neil. You have opportunities that I never even dreamt of and I am not going to let you waste them.”

Neil rose to his feet, suddenly angry. He needed to fight for this, for himself. He couldn’t just let one man take away everything he had ever loved. If he couldn’t see you, his friends, if he couldn’t act, there was no purpose in his life. “I've got to tell you what I feel.”

Neil’s mother reached for him. “We’ve been so worried about-“ 

“What? What? Tell me what you feel. What is it? Is it more of this, this acting business? Because you can forget that. What?” And just like that, it was gone. Neil sat back down, staring blankly at his lap. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do anything because he was just a stupid boy who wouldn’t listen. His father scoffed once again before leaving the room.

His mother, ever the soft one, paused.

“I was good. I was really good.” He whispered. She sighed, urging him to his feet. 

“Go on, get some sleep.”

Neil nodded, still in a trance, before trudging to his room. That was it. He was done. He would never see you again, no matter what, and it hurt him so badly he didn’t know what else to do. He ran his fingers over his things lightly before removing his shirt. That was it. He grasped his crown of twigs and placed it on his head, staring out through his open window. The cool air kissed his body sweetly, like your lips on a rainy day. He took a deep breath.

It was time for his last act, his curtain call, his final carpe diem. There was no warning, and yet there did not need to be one. That night, that cold, bitter night, he knew what he needed to do. 

The last time you saw Neil Perry, he didn’t see you. He couldn’t see you. It was December 18th, and you had been asked to read a poem at his funeral. 

God, the word “funeral” hit you like a train. Neil was dead. His sweet demeanor, his gentle words, his soft hair, they were all going to be covered in dirt within the next few hours. You couldn’t stand it. The world needed so much more of him, but terribly, horribly, the world did not deserve it. No one deserved him.

It was odd, you thought, how the sound of one gunshot could replay over and over again in your mind without you ever having heard it at all. The boom, the thud, the scream. It was all so clear in your mind.

As the priest spoke, you felt an emptiness pool in your guts. He was really gone. Your Neil, your poor Neil. You sat between Charlie and Todd, all three of your faces streaked with tears. You could feel more welling up in your eyes, and you let them free without a care. Neil was dead, and nothing else in the world mattered.

In a way, you couldn’t believe it. He was just here, warm and happy and yours. When you got that phone call, you almost joined him. Nothing was worth it anymore, nothing at all. The eulogies, the sobs, they faded into the background as you stared down at the ground.

Before you knew what was happening, you were standing at a podium with a piece of paper clutched between your shaking fingers. Neil’s mom looked up at you in silent support.

You took a breath, so much like the breaths you always took before reading a poem and yet so different. Neil could not hear this one.

“When you died,

the beetles still sang.

The trout still jumped,

and the earth still rumbled.

When you died, the moon still turned

and the stars still burned.

When you died,” Your voice cracked. Looking out into the audience, at people you didn’t know and people you knew so well you could identify them by a strand of their hair, it was too much. Hot tears slipped their way down your face as the pit in your stomach grew ever-wider. 

“The lakes still rippled 

and the trees still creaked

and I lowered you into the ground

and I cried so hard the world stopped moving.” 

There was a murmur throughout the audience, choked sobs and utters of agreement. “For Neil, who lived as he died and died as he lived.” You rasped.

You were quickly ushered away from the podium and back into your seat.

Neil was one in a million. There was no one else in the history of ever that could make you feel so amazing. Like you were a real person, like you mattered. He made everyone feel that way, but something in him burned for you in a way that you believed was unique. And, of course, you burned for him the same. 

The rest of the service went by in a blur. Everyone around you began to get up, and you knew it was time. As you sat there, still as a rock, when everyone went to say their final farewells, you were extinguished. 

You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. When you looked up from your tear-soaked lap, Todd was there, and he clasped your hand. “Let’s go.” He whispered. “Let’s say goodbye.”

You pulled a page from the book by your feet and shoved it into your pocket. It was for him, it always was and it always had been.

“In some other universe, I found you again.

Maybe in this one we held hands, gently and honestly,

or leaned against each other’s shoulders on the train,

or sobbed against each other’s shirts when we crashed and burned,

because anything with you

means flying too close to the sun.” It read. 

As you stood in front of his casket, you could hardly bear to focus on his pale face.

He was cold, so cold. The embalmer had done well with his head, but there was so much that just looked off. He didn’t look like your Neil. He looked empty. You gripped his hand and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. It was winter, and he was colder and paler than the snow.

You held him far longer than what was deemed socially acceptable before tucking the page into his lapel and swiftly walking away.

You weren’t there for his burial, and you knew you couldn’t be. It was just too much. If you had seen his casket close, if you had watched them shovel dirt on top of the wooden box, you would’ve dropped to your knees and screamed. Much like you’re doing now.

You sat on that same old park bench, knees clutched up to your soaked chest, sobbing harder than you ever had before. Your Neil was gone and you could never see him again, not ever.

When you saw Neil Perry for the last time, and god, did you see him, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.

[bedoballoons]

AFTER SEEİNG THE MİTSURİ READER ONE I HAD TO ASK FOR THİS

So hear me out

On a reader like shinobu, i mean like her intelligence and teasing ykyk

W genshin bois

(especially tighnari if you write for our fox boy 🤭🤭)

I love fox boy!!! I hope you enjoy! <3 Also incredibly sorry anon if you sent this a long time ago!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Shinobu Kocho like reader!~༺}

CW: Fluffy! Reader calls Lyney dearest and he calls them ma chérie! A little bit of teasing! Technically this is a part 2!

(Includes: Lyney, Gorou, Tighnari, and Scaramouche!)

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𑁍༄Lyney:

You looked up at Lyney, watching with intrigue as a blue winged butterfly landed gracefully on the top of his hat, it's presence entirely unknown to him as he continued to walk beside you, making the situation that much sweeter. For a second you thought about letting him know, but then a idea started to formulate...perhaps you could tease him a little, get him back for all the teasing he had done. "Lyney dearest, you might want to clean your hat, I swear I saw something move amongst all that dust."

He stopped mid step, raising one of his eyebrows at you in curiosity and you could only chuckle in response, watching the butterfly on his hat open and close its wings peacefully without a care in the world. "My hats never dirty, ma chérie how could you say something so cruel." Lyney pretended to act offended, deciding to play along in your little game and you couldn't be happier. "I think you might want to check again... your hat certainly isn't free of live creatures.." You giggled cheerfully as his face went pale, uncertainty in his eyes as he lifted his hat of his head slowly.

The second he saw what you were talking about he couldn't help but laugh, a blush of embarrassment coating his cheeks as you placed a kiss on his lip, the two of you watching as the butterfly flew away.

𑁍༄Gorou:

You looked at the bottles in front of you, examining their multi coloured exteriors that concealed the various deadly poisons you'd created, each one perfected and ready for you if you ever needed them. To anyone else, this collection would seem terrifying, but in your eyes it was a wall of achievements, of trails and tribulations....and only one other person seemed to understand, his support enough to keep you experimenting even when everyone else acted like you were insane.

"Whatcha working on now?" Gorou appeared next to you, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, a big happy smile on his face that was one hundred percent contagious, forcing you to smile along with him. "Actually I'm not working on anything currently, just spacing out until you got home. Did everything go well with Miss Kokomi?" You leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder and absorbing his warmth, his tail wagging slightly with joy at your cuddles.

"Mhm! Her excellency has everything prepared for the trip to Inazuma city...and I'm hoping you'll join us..." He pulled away so he could look at you, his eyes wide and pleading, begging you to come with him so he wouldn't have to be away from you for such a long time,...how could you say no? "Alright alright...calm down doggy, I'd love to go with you." You placed a kiss on his cheek, watching in delight as he blushed lightly and hugged you in response, clearly excited to take a trip with you.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari was more than impressed by you, in fact awestruck seemed like a better word to describe his current state of being. He'd never met someone like you before, absolutely beautiful in every way, with butterflies as your source of inspiration when it came to clothing and your intelligence when it came to alchemy absolutely blew him away, not to mention you seemed to know a few things about being a doctor too!

It seemed like you had him wrapped around your finger, to the point he found himself thinking about you in his spare time and wondering what you could be up to, just like he was now. His heart tempting him to go find you and ask if you'd like to go out for lunch, or maybe have dinner together, but he also felt nervous...would you catch onto his feelings?

"Tighnari? You alright?" Your voice knocked him right out of his thoughts, disbelief taking over his features at the realisation that you'd snuck up on him...how has he not noticed you? "Yes Im alright. Sorry I was...thinking about something. What're you up to?" His eyes met yours, sending warmth to his cheeks and making his heart race, he hoped you wouldn't notice the change in his mannerisms..."I noticed you sitting here spacing out and I figured maybe you'd like some company, wanna go grab a bite to eat? We can talk about the new medicines you've been working on. I figured out a alternative for capsules!"

He smiled happily, his tail wagging with excitement as he nodded, his little crush growing with every moment he spent with you...to the point of no return.

𑁍༄Scaramouche:

You narrowed your eyes, your attention trained solely on Scaramouche, his usual smirk replaced with pure focus and neither of you moving a muscle, the stakes were high this time and you weren't going to go down without a fight. You could feel victory was on its way though, the match of true champions coming to a end as the seconds ticked by...and then it happened.

"You blinked Scara!" You jumped up from your seat at the table, cheering happily and feeling quite proud of yourself for besting such a high ranking harbinger, proving power wasn't enough to win everything. "I did not! I say we have a rematch, clearly you weren't paying good enough attention! Worthless being!" Scaramouche stood up too, his cheeks red with anger and slight embarrassment, he knew full well he had lost fair and square, but he couldn't just let you win that easily!

"Nope absolutely not. I won and that means your power isn't as strong as my intelligence, remember that was the deal." Your crossed your arms, smirking at him playfully as he tried to come up with some other excuse or reason to play again. When he didn't respond after a few moments you started to wonder if you'd gone to far...only to be proven entirely wrong, "Fine...my turn then...if I win you have to give me a kiss..." a devious look flicked across his features and it made a shiver run up your spine.

"Alright what is it?"

"Let's play the game of whoever is taller wins."

"Hey!"

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ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[nightwriter357]

Just friends - if it was like.. a real first date

Here is part 5 of my Damien Haas x reader story: Just friends. Sorry for the long wait, I hope it was worth it!

Chapter 5 - if it was like.. a real first date

You and Damien were still lounging on the couch, getting lost in idle conversation when the door to your apartment swung open, and in walked Shayne, kicking off his shoes and tossing his jacket onto a chair.

"Hey, guys," he called out, glancing at the two of you sprawled across the couch. "I should have known I'd find you both here, you've both been sitting here like this every friday all month."

Damien groaned dramatically, throwing his arm over his face. "It's just so... cozy."

"Yeah, but seriously, every Friday?" Shayne said, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he flopped down next to you. "You know, you could do something else, right?

"Like what?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Shayne shrugged, clearly enjoying what he was about to stir up. "I don't know, go to a party, go on a date, go to a concert... live a little, you know?"

Damien snorted, rolling his eyes. "A date? Who even has time for that? We're just chillin' here."

"You know what, he's actually right," you chimed in, sitting up and turning to Damien. "We should actually be going on dates. I mean, how are we supposed to find someone if we're glued to this couch every weekend?"

Damien blinked, his lips parting as if to respond, but then he seemed to hesitate. His gaze flickered to the floor for a moment before lifting to meet yours, his expression shifting into something that was a mix of uncertainty and something else — something harder to place. He leaned back into the couch, his shoulders stiffening slightly, and you couldn't help but notice the way his fingers drummed nervously against his knee.

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little quieter than usual, "I guess we should... try something else." The way he said it made it sound like he wasn't entirely convinced.

You shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light. "I mean, we just need to figure out what to do on an actual date and then just try it with the first person we match with on any dating app."

Damien looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he was still processing the idea. "Yeah, but... where do we even start? Like, what does a actual date even look like?"

You glanced at Shayne, who was now munching on a snack, clearly entertained by the direction the conversation was taking. "You know, it's not like we're gonna find someone to go on a date with tonight anyway so why don't we just do a practice run?"

Damien snorted. "Practice? You mean like... a fake date?" His voice was laced with disbelief, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he was curious.

"Exactly," you said, leaning forward and grinning. "Think of it as a dry run. We could just go out and do date-type stuff, see how we feel. We're not really dating anyone, but it's kind of like preparing for the real thing. Like... if we don't actually try it, how are we going to know what we want?"

Damien raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but skeptical. "what if I already know what I want?" He chuckled softly. 

"Well, you don't" you shot back with a shrug. "Listen, we'll just go to a restaurant, see where the night takes us ."

Shayne, who had been silently watching the whole time, perked up. "Wait, hold on. Are you two seriously considering this? Practicing dates?" He laughed, looking between the two of you with an exaggerated look of disbelief. "That sounds... kinda cute, actually."

"Alright, alright," Damien said slowly, still unsure but clearly playing along. "So dinner, that's it?"

You leaned back, thinking for a moment, then flashed him a teasing smile. "Yeah, unless we spot something essential for a first date."

Damien let out a short laugh as he scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess it could be fun. So... when do we start?"

You smiled at him, feeling the tension in the air shift—just a little. "Soon. But first, I need to get ready." You gestured down at your outfit—a cozy set of pajamas. "This is definitely not an appropriate first date outfit."

Damien raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, you stood up and headed toward your room. "I'll be quick," you called over your shoulder. "Kind of excited, actually," you admitted, feeling a slight thrill at the idea.

Damien looked up, giving you a small smile. "Yeah... me too," he replied, his voice a little softer than usual.

Shayne, who had been silently watching, piped up at that moment. "Me too."

You both turned toward him, raising your eyebrows in unison.

"Wait, what?" you asked, confused.

Shayne leaned back with a grin. "I get the apartment to myself for once," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You and Damien exchanged a look, both stifling laughter at his lack of shame.

You turned to head to your room, but then paused at the door and glanced back with a playful smile. "Oh, you planned this, didn't you?" you teased, catching the look in Shayne's eyes.

Shayne tried to look innocent, throwing his hands up dramatically. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said like he played no part in this situation.

You and Damien shared another look before shaking your heads, as you headed to your room to get ready. You closed the door behind you, letting out a breath you didn't even realize you'd been holding. You had no idea why this felt like such a big deal, but there was something about this 'practice date' that had you both excited and nervous all at once. Maybe it was jusr the memory of that kiss you shared, or maybe it was just all off the tension that you both had been dancing around for weeks, pretending it wasn't there. But it could also be nothing, it's probably nothing

You quickly stripped out of your pajamas and ran your fingers through your hair. What vibe were you going for? Cute? Flirty, but not trying too hard? Your eyes landed on the dress you'd bought ages ago, a soft light blue that hugged your curves just right. It wasn't too much, but it felt like just the right thing for tonight.

You pulled it on, smoothing it down, and smiled at your reflection. It wasn't over-the-top, but it was enough. You let your hair fall in loose waves, and after one last glance in the mirror, you nodded to yourself.

"Okay, yeah, this will work."

You stepped into the living room, smoothing your hands over your dress as you walked. The fabric swished softly around your legs. Their conversation instantly died, Damien's gaze snapped to you, his breath catching in his throat.

He sat frozen on the couch, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with something harder to place. His eyes flickered over you—not in a way that felt uncomfortable, but in a way that made you feel almost exposed. You weren't sure what you'd expected, but the way his jaw tightened, like he was physically stopping himself from saying something, made your chest feel strangely tight.

"Wow," Shayne said first, breaking the silence as he leaned back on the couch. "You clean up nice." He gave you a teasing once-over, his grin widening.

"Thanks," you said with a small laugh.

Damien cleared his throat, standing a little too quickly and brushing invisible lint off his jeans. His gaze flickered to Shayne, then back to you. "You, uh, definitely look!" he blurted, his voice lighter than usual, like he was trying too hard to sound casual.

"Are you going to finish the sentence?" you responded, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, I did—didn't I?" He responded quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. His ears had turned pink, though he was doing his best to act like he hadn't just tripped over his own words.

For a moment, the room felt lighter, the tension diffusing as Damien's lips curved into a sheepish smile. His gaze flickered to you again, softer this time, before quickly darting away, almost as if he'd caught himself lingering too long.

Shayne, however, wasn't one to let a moment pass without commentary. He leaned back on the couch with an exaggerated nod of approval, clearly relishing the opportunity to stir the pot. "Wow, Damien, really committing to the practice date, huh? You're really taking this role seriously."

Damien shrugged, his hands sliding casually into his pockets. "Well, you know me," he said, his tone easy and confident. "Always going for authenticity."

Shayne snorted, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Alright, so your role is the head-over-heels date. Mine should obviously be the overprotective father."

"Oh, no," you groaned, already knowing where this was headed.

Shayne clasped his hands together, fixing Damien with an exaggeratedly stern look. "So, what are your intentions with her tonight?"

Damien played along, his grin widening. "To ensure she has an unforgettable practice date, sir," he replied with mock seriousness.

"Wait, are you actually going to play along with this?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

Damien shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I mean, I can't disappoint the guy who's giving you a curfew." He shot Shayne a look. "Don't worry, I'll keep her out of trouble."

"Good answer," Shayne said with a nod, "Have her home by midnight."

"Of course," Damien said, holding back a laugh.

"And don't make me get the shotgun," Shayne added, wagging a finger for emphasis.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help laughing. "Thanks, Dad," you said sarcastically. "Anything else before we go?"

"Just be safe," Shayne replied, crossing his arms like a concerned parent.

You smirked as you grabbed your purse, pausing in the doorway to shoot a playful glance over your shoulder. "Don't worry, Dad—we'll use protection."

Damien choked on a laugh as Shayne groaned in mock exasperation. "You're grounded!" Shayne called after you, but you were already out the door, laughing.

The drive to the restaurant was easy, the air light and comfortable. Damien tapped along to the beat of the radio, occasionally sneaking glances at you like he couldn't help himself.

"You sure you're okay with this 'practice date' thing?" you asked, breaking the silence as the cozy restaurant came into view.

He flashed you a quick grin. "Yeah, I'll power through."

His tone was casual, but the way he kept glancing over at you made it clear he wasn't just going through the motions.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, its golden lights spilling onto the sidewalk. Damien parked the car and hurried around to open your door, his hand brushing yours lightly as he helped you out.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice softer now, as if the moment needed no extra noise.

"Ready," you replied, matching his tone.

The restaurant was a cozy little place just down the street—nothing too fancy, but it had a nice, warm atmosphere. It felt like the kind of spot you could have a relaxed dinner at, and the dim lighting was perfect for the "practice date" vibe you were going for.

You walked in together, Damien holding the door open for you with a casual, gentlemanly flair.

Once seated, the waiter handed you both menus, and you immediately started scanning, trying to decide what you were in the mood for. Every time you glanced up, Damien's eyes were on you, soft and a little too intense for a casual dinner. He seemed to still be, very much in character.

"So," Damien began, breaking the comfortable silence. "What's on the menu for first-date food? Anything off-limits, or are we throwing out the rulebook?"

You smirked, glancing over the top of your menu at him. "I think we're allowed to break a few rules. I'm definitely in the mood for a burger or pizza."

Damien's grin spread, clearly entertained. "Ah, so you're a low-maintenance date, huh?"

You shrugged, leaning back in your seat. "Hey, if I'm gonna end up with a salad next week on the 'real' date, I've got to make tonight count."

For a moment, Damien's smile faltered slightly. He cleared his throat and his grin returned, but it had a touch less ease to it.

"Good point," he said, his voice steady again, though the flicker of something unreadable in his gaze lingered for just a second.

The burgers arrived, and as you took your first bite, you couldn't help but grin. The juicy patty and melted cheese were absolutely perfect. You barely noticed at first, but as you looked down at your hands, you realized the mess you'd already made.

Damien, mid-bite himself, paused to smirk at you. "How have you already made a mess?" he asked, his tone teasing as he reached for a napkin.

You gave him a mock-serious look, wiping at your chin. "What, this isn't attractive to you?"

"Oh, to me? Definitely attractive," he said with a grin, pausing mid-sentence to pluck a fry off the table where it had fallen from his plate. "But I thought we were supposed to be practicing how not to scare people off."

"Fair point," you said, leaning forward with a spark in your eyes. "We should make this more authentic." You grabbed your phone after wiping your hands on the napkin. "Let's Google some first date questions."

Damien raised an eyebrow but seemed game. "What, like those icebreaker things?"

"Yeah, exactly." You looked down at your phone, your grin widening as you started typing. "Let's make it weird."

A few seconds later, you both scrolled through a list of ridiculous questions, laughing at the absurdity of some of them.

You paused at one that caught your eye. "'Why are you single?'" you read aloud, grinning as you looked up at Damien.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Wow, we're just diving straight into the existential questions, huh?"

You shrugged, feigning innocence. "Hey, it's on the list. Rules are rules. Answer the question."

Damien leaned back, pretending to think. "Maybe it's because I have this roommate who makes me do stuff like spend my Fridays spying on our friends to play cupid, binge-watching terrible movies, beating her at game nights—"

"You mean losing," you interjected, narrowing your eyes.

He ignored you, his smirk growing. "—and occasionally rescuing her from questionable bars at two in the morning."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Wow, sounds like a real waste of your Friday nights."

Damien leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his gaze softened just a fraction. "Absolutely not. If I could, I'd spend all my Fridays with you."

That caught you off guard, heat rising to your cheeks as you fumbled for a response. He didn't let you off the hook, though.

"Your turn," he said, his grin turning mischievous. "Why are you single?"

You blinked, caught completely off guard, before narrowing your eyes at him. "Guess I walked right into that one." With a small laugh, you leaned back in your seat, tapping your fingers on the table dramatically.. "Why am I single? Hmm, let's see. Maybe, It's because I spend my Fridays convincing my roommate that spying on our friends and setting them up is a genius idea, watching movies that are actually not that bad, absolutely crushing you at game nights—"

"That's debatable," Damien interrupted, his grin widening.

"Not even close," you shot back, giving him a playful glare as you flicked your hand dismissively. "Oh, and let's not forget, occasionally getting rescued and kissed outside questionable bars at two in the morning."

Damien raised an eyebrow, a playful accusation in his tone. "Hey, you kissed me."

You tilted your head, folding your arms as you shot him a mock-serious look. "You kissed more."

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you could see the shift in his eyes. Damien's lips twitched, but the teasing edge was softer now. "I don't remember you complaining."

The moment lingered a bit longer than usual. The air between you both felt heavier, a silent acknowledgment hanging in the space. Neither of you broke it, though. After all, it was just a kiss. Nothing to overthink.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hide your smile. "Touché," you muttered, your gaze flicking away for a second before locking back with his.

Damien took the phone and scrolled for a moment. "Alright, how about this one?��'What's your favorite holiday?'"

"That's easy — Halloween," you said immediately. "Dressing up, scary movies, way too much candy. It's basically the perfect holiday. What about you?"

"Christmas," he replied without hesitation. "The food, the music, the cozy vibes... and watching you almost be brought to tears by every gift you open, and seeing Shayne absolutely destroy the wrapping paper like it personally insulted him."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, me? I do not almost cry over every gift!"

Damien raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Last year, Shayne gave you a candle, and you got misty-eyed."

"It was a thoughtful candle!" you protested, laughing. "It smelled like cinnamon"

He leaned forward, grinning. "I rest my case."

You scrolled through the list of ridiculous questions, pausing as one caught your eye. Smirking, you glanced up at Damien. "What's one thing you've always wanted to try but never have?"

Damien leaned back, grinning mischievously. "Intercourse."

You raised an eyebrow, throwing him a side-eye. "You know what? I was just gonna say 'coitus,' but okay. You beat me to it."

Damien chuckled, leaning in slightly. "The touch of a woman."

You snorted, shaking your head. "An orgasm."

There was a moment where Damien's grin faltered just a bit, but only for a second before he bounced back, clearly enjoying this more than he should. "I'll say it once again, your ex is such a fucking idiot."

You stared at him, deadpan. "Yeah, well, he has no idea what he's missing."

Damien leaned back, his expression softening just a little, though the humor never fully left. "Clearly."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between playful banter and moments of genuine connection. By the time your food was nearly gone, your sides ached from laughing, and your face hurt from smiling so much.

Damien leaned back with a contented sigh, tossing his crumpled napkin onto his empty plate. "Alright," he said, a grin tugging at his lips, "I think we've officially dominated phase one. What's next on the 'practice date' itinerary?"

You glanced at the time on your phone, your smile growing. "There's that mini-golf place a few blocks from here. Classic date-night vibe, don't you think?"

"Mini-golf?" Damien raised an eyebrow, his smirk playful. "Are we leaning fully into the rom-com clichés now?"

"Absolutely," you said, shouldering your bag and heading toward the door. "What kind of practice date skips the 'teaching her how to play' moment?"

He followed you outside, holding the door open with a grin. "Wait, does this mean I'm supposed to dramatically help you hold the club while whispering unsolicited advice into your ear?"

You shrugged, pretending to think it over. "Well, I am completely terrible at mini-golf..."

"Oh, I see how it is." He chuckled, bumping your shoulder lightly as you walked down the street together. "You're setting me up to be the knight in shining armor of the putt-putt course."

"Exactly," you teased, grinning up at him. "Just be carefull where you putt-putt your hands, Sir."

By the time you reached the brightly lit course, the colorful neon signs cast a playful glow over the pavement. Damien grabbed two putters, handing one to you with a smirk. The mini-golf course was a kaleidoscope of glowing obstacles, and playful chaos. You and Damien wandered to the first hole, where a small windmill spun slowly, daring players to time their putts just right.

"Alright, let's see how terrible you actually are," he said, motioning toward the first hole.

You held the putter a little awkwardly, tilting your head as if examining the green. "Yeah, no. I have no idea what I'm doing," you said dramatically, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Alright, let's see just how terrible you actually are," Damien said, leaning casually on his putter, a playful glint in his eyes.

You picked up your club, holding it at an exaggeratedly awkward angle as you squinted at the green like it was a riddle written in another language. "Yeah, no. I am completely clueless," you said, dragging out the words dramatically and looking up at him with an almost suspiciously innocent expression.

Damien raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to suppress a grin. "Uh-huh. Totally convincing. Do you even know which end of the putter to use?"

"Not a clue," you said with mock seriousness, twirling the club as if testing its aerodynamics. You shrugged helplessly. "Guess you'll have to come over here and show me, Sir.

Damien's grin widened, and he stepped closer, reaching for the club. "Alright, guess we're really doing this. Don't worry—I've got you, princess."

He reached for the putter, and you dramatically stepped back, giving him the floor. "I'll just be over here, watching the expert in action."

Damien squatted next to the ball, squinting at the course like it was a puzzle he needed to solve. "Okay, clearly this is a precision game. The angle's important. The spin of the windmill—critical."

You clasped your hands together dramatically, putting on your best wide-eyed look. "Oh no, that sounds so complicated! However will I figure this out?"

Damien glanced up at you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, I've got you. You're in good hands."

"Thank goodness," you said with a faux-swoon, clutching your putter like it was a lifeline. "I'd be lost without your guidance."

"Obviously," he replied, standing and lining up his shot with all the confidence in the world. "Just watch and learn, helpless damsel."

With a theatrical flourish, he swung. The ball pinged off the windmill blade, ricocheted off the barrier, and rolled right back to where it started.

You gasped, covering your mouth with mock horror. "Oh no, my hero has failed! I guess I'm of to die."

Damien turned to you, one eyebrow raised. "No, no..Okay, that was a fluke. I'll redeem myself later. For now, let's see you try."

You stepped up to the ball, gripping the putter with deliberate awkwardness. "Oh no, I don't even know how to hold this thing," you said, tilting your head as though deeply confused. "Is this right?"

He chuckled, crossing his arms. "You're not even trying to be subtle, are you?"

"Subtle?" You blinked up at him innocently. "I have no idea what you mean."

Damien sighed, shaking his head as he moved to stand behind you. "Alright, let's do this then."

You bit back a grin as he stepped closer, his chest brushing lightly against your back. His hands hovered over yours on the putter, and though the atmosphere was still lighthearted, something about the closeness felt... different.

His voice dropped, deliberately serious, but you both knew it was all part of the joke. "Alright, hold it like this. Relax your grip just a little."

You shifted slightly, leaning back just enough so you could feel the warmth of his body behind you. "Like this?" you asked, your tone intentionally soft and teasing, though it came out with an edge you didn't quite expect.

He let out a quiet laugh, the sound low and a little warmer than usual. "Perfect. Now, it's all about the angle. You've got to aim just right to make it through the windmill."

You tilted your head back, trying to keep the joke alive but feeling something else building in the space between you. "I'm so glad you're here," you said, your voice coming out quieter than you meant. "I'd never figure this out on my own."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," he teased, his breath brushing against your ear as he guided your hands in a slow practice swing. His touch lingered just for a second, and for a brief moment, you felt  a small shift—the playful banter suddenly felt... softer.

The sound of the windmill spinning faded into the background, and neither of you said anything for a beat, the moment hanging between you. It was still a joke, still light, but now it felt like something... else too.

Finally, he stepped back, a wide grin spreading across his face, but there was a flicker in his eyes that wasn't quite as playful as before. "Alright, now let's see you put all that expert coaching to use."

You swallowed, trying to shake off the unexpected warmth that lingered, before stepping forward to take your shot

You swung, and the ball sailed smoothly through the windmill's opening and dropped into the hole.

"Hole in one!" Damien exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "Looks like I'm an incredible teacher."

"Oh, absolutely," you replied, spinning around with a cheeky smile. "It was all your doing. I had nothing to do with it."

"Glad we're on the same page," he teased, stepping closer. "But honestly, do you think that move would actually work on someone?"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, I don't know. It's cute, but it kind of depends on the guy."

"Oh, so it's about the guy, huh?" he asked, leaning on his putter.

"Absolutely," you replied, smirking. "With the wrong person, it's just awkward. But I'll give you a solid eight out of ten."

"Eight?" Damien gasped, clutching his chest. "Harsh."

You shrugged, grinning. "Well, it would be higher if you actually made your shot."

As you moved to the next obstacle, the air between you felt lighter but charged, both of you leaning just enough into the moment to make it fun—but maybe just a little too real.

The game continued in the same playful rhythm, with you both making exaggerated comments and missing shots on purpose. By the time you reached the final hole, you couldn't help but feel the day slipping by too quickly, the light starting to fade around you.

Damien lined up for his final shot, giving the rotating loop-de-loop ahead of him a look of determination. "Alright, last one. If I make this, I win, and I get eternal bragging rights."

You crossed your arms, watching him with a smirk. "Eternal? Big words for someone who got stuck on the pirate ship obstacle for five minutes."

"Hey, that was strategy," he shot back, his tone playful. He took the shot—and, of course, missed it by a mile, sending the ball straight into a bush beside the hole.

You doubled over, laughing. "Oh, sure, strategy," you teased, shaking your head.

Damien laughed along with you, stepping up to take another shot. "Alright, fine. You win this one." His eyes lingering on you, the joke fading for just a moment, but he quickly returned to his playful grin. "So.. what do you want?."

"What do I want?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. The idea of wanting anything in this moment... it was too much. It'd be easier if all you wanted was... "You... you decide."

As you stepped out of the mini-golf course, the warm glow of the evening lights lit up the street. The buzz of the city felt softer now, a gentle hum that accompanied the easy rhythm of your footsteps alongside Damien's.

Damien tilted his head as if deep in thought. "Alright. Hear me out—mandatory dessert stop." He gestured ahead, where a quaint little ice cream stand with a glowing neon sign came into view.

You grinned. "So you're on board with this whole rom-com date aesthetic now, are you?"

"Hey," he shot back with a playful shrug. "everyone knows dessert is a non-negotiable part of any good date."

As you approached the stand, the sugary scent of waffle cones wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble despite the burger-filled dinner. You both scanned the menu, debating over flavors until Damien pointed at you with a grin.

"You're totally the type to get something classic like chocolate or vanilla, huh?"

"Oh, bold of you to assume," you retorted, stepping up to the counter. "One butter pecan, please."

Damien raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Okay, not bad. I'll take pistachio ," he told the cashier before adding, "and a waffle cone. Because I'm fancy."

The two of you found a small bench nearby, the cool breeze brushing past as you both dug into your treats. You reached over pointing at Damien's cone. "Let me try yours."

"Only if I get a bite of yours," he countered, holding his cone out toward you.

You both swapped bites, laughing as a smear of ice cream caught on the corner of your mouth. Damien leaned in, his thumb brushing your lower lip to wipe it away, the contact sending a small jolt of warmth through you

The air between you shifted slightly again, a moment of unspoken acknowledgment passing before you both turned back to your desserts, the spell broken by a passing couple's chatter.

"Okay," Damien said, clearing his throat and holding up his cone dramatically. "I'm declaring this the superior flavor."

"Debatable," you teased, holding up your butter pecan for emphasis. "But we can agree dessert was definitely mandatory."

He nodded, his smile easy and warm. "Mandatory. And pretty perfect."

Your hand brushed his lightly as you reached for a napkin at the same time, and while neither of you commented on it, the small touch lingered in your mind. There were plenty of moments that seemed to linger there as of late. The warm summer air buzzed with quiet chatter and the occasional laughter of passersby as you and Damien strolled down the boardwalk, each armed with a melting ice cream cone.

"Okay, serious question," Damien says, breaking the silence. "What's your go-to strategy when the cone starts to drip faster than you can eat it?"

"Panic," you answer without hesitation, licking a rogue drop threatening to run down your hand. "Pure, unfiltered panic."

He chuckles, tilting his own cone to inspect the damage. "Solid strategy. I just embrace the chaos. Let it happen. Ice cream stains build character."

As you walk, something catches your eye—a brightly lit photo booth tucked into the corner of the boardwalk. You nudge Damien with your elbow, pointing at it. "Hey, you know what every fake first date needs?"

He follows your gaze, smirking when he spots the booth. "A wildly overpriced strip of awkwardly timed photos?"

"Exactly," you reply, already tugging him toward it. "Come on, it'll be perfect. You can't beat the classics."

With a playful groan, Damien follows your lead, tossing the last bite of his cone into a nearby trash bin. "Alright, but we're doing this by the book. What's the official photo booth itinerary?"

You smirk, stepping inside and motioning for him to follow. "Oh, you don't know? Amateur move, Haas. The first one's always silly."

He slides in next to you, shoulders brushing as he adjusts to fit in the tight space. "Silly, huh? Okay, no pressure. Got your best funny face ready?"

The countdown starts, and you both pull the most exaggerated, ridiculous expressions you can muster. The camera flashes, and you burst into laughter, your head tipping slightly toward his shoulder as you both review your handiwork on the screen.

"Solid start," Damien says, nodding approvingly. "What's next?"

"Obviously, cutesy," you reply with faux authority. "Think... puppy eyes and head tilts. Something you'd find in a cringey rom-com."

"Got it," Damien says, leaning a little closer and resting his chin on his hand, batting his lashes in mock adoration. You stifle a laugh but can't help mirroring his pose. The flash captures the two of you in a picture-perfect moment of over-the-top sweetness.

You're still giggling when the third countdown begins. Damien tilts his head, his voice softening just a bit. "What about this one? What's the third photo rule?"

"Hmm..." you say, your voice quieter now. "The third one's where it gets... closer."

Damien arches a brow but doesn't pull back as you both shuffle even closer together, your knees now pressed against his. "Closer, huh? That's an awfully specific rule," he murmurs, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

The flash catches you mid-laugh, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips as you both shift slightly in the cramped space.

And then the countdown starts.

"What's the last photos for?" Damien asks, voice softer still, as if the moment doesn't really need an answer.

For a beat, neither of you speaks. You lean in slightly, the air between you feeling suddenly charged. He mirrors the movement, his hand brushing your arm as he adjusts to face you fully.

"Probably the dramatic almost-kiss," you whisper, lips curling into a faint smile.

"Obviously," Damien replies, his breath catching slightly as his eyes flicker to yours.

The flash interrupts just as your noses nearly touch, the sudden burst of light pulling you both back into laughter.

The air grows still as the seconds tick down. Neither of you says anything, and you find yourself leaning in again, your eyes flickering to his lips. He mirrors the movement, his breath warm against your cheek.

The flash interrupts, but this time, you both stay like that for a moment.

"Well," Damien finally says, clearing his throat and leaning back. "That was... very dramatic."

As you step out of the photo booth, you reach for the photo strips, eager to see how they turned out. Before you can grab them, Damien snatches them out of your reach, his grin widening as he tucks the strip into the inner pocket of his jacket.

You raise an eyebrow, half amused, half incredulous. "Seriously? You're keeping them?"

"These are mine now," he says, his grin not quite matching the playful teasing in his tone. He pats his pocket like it's a treasure chest, and you feel a small flutter in your chest at the sudden possessiveness in his gesture.

You cross your arms, hugging them tightly around yourself to ward off the evening chill. "Possessive much?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but there's a glint of something warm in his eyes. "Call it a souvenir," he teases, as if it's nothing more than a casual, playful act. Then, before you can protest, he pulls off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, the fabric smelling faintly of him, warm and familiar.

You glance at him sideways, eyebrows raised. "Classic first-date move. Smooth."

"What can I say? I'm a natural," he quips, hands sliding casually into his pockets.

You tug the jacket tighter around you, the fabric warm against the cool night air. As you continue down the boardwalk, your gaze drifts to the distant Ferris wheel, its lights casting a soft glow that twinkles like stars against the dark sky. The wheel turns slowly, almost hypnotically, and you feel the pull of it, the quiet, gentle allure of the night wrapping around you both.

"Now that," you say, nudging Damien's arm, "is how you top off a practice date."

He follows your gaze and smirks. "The Ferris wheel? That might be too cliché."

"Don't knock it," you retort, pulling him toward the line. "No fake date is complete without one."

Within minutes, you're seated in one of the gondolas, the air noticeably cooler as you rise above the noise of the boardwalk. The city sprawls beneath you, a tapestry of lights glittering against the dark water.

He leans back against the seat, a playful smirk on his face. "Okay, so what's the one thing missing? You know, to make this a perfect first date."

You pause, pretending to think. "Hmm, maybe... flowers? A cheesy playlist? Oh, I know—a ridiculous grand gesture. Like someone running after me in the rain with a boombox or something."

He laughs, the sound soft but warm. "I don't think I can make the rain fall but.. I respect it."

"That's disappointing," you reply, grinning. "So.. what's your take? What would make this perfect?"

He tilts his head, considering. "Honestly? I think we're pretty close already. Maybe if..." He hesitates, his eyes flickering toward yours briefly, the words hanging between you both. "Never mind.

"No, no," you press, leaning forward. "You can't just stop there."

Damien shrugs, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "I was just going to say that if it was like.. a real first date.. probably a kiss?"

The words land, and for a moment, you both freeze. You glance out at the skyline, the quiet stretching between you. The weight of his words lingers in the air, and you feel something tighten in your chest.

"Well, that would make sense," you finally say, your voice light but shaky, "for a real date"

"Right," he says quietly, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before turning to the view.

As the Ferris wheel pauses at its peak, the gondola sways gently. You both fall silent, letting the moment stretch out, the weight of his jacket over your shoulders and the warmth of his presence beside you making it feel.. like really good practice for the real date next friday.

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - Pt. 1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, swearing, jealousy, flirting while with someone else (kinda cheating but we won't go that far), age difference, insulting/derogatory language, 18+ (no smut thus far but suggestive themes), not edited

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: This is the official Part One of Sweet Escape, you can read the Prologue here, but this can also be your starting point if you don't want the backstory. Do your best to look past any errors in the surfing section, I've never surfed a day in my life lol. It may seem like we get into the drama quick but there's so much more to come, buckle in folks! I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

---

As the van pulled up to the massive estate, you couldn’t help but gasp. Charlotte laughed from beside you, taking in the property herself.

“Well, he’s never been one to do things halfway.” She chuckled, rolling her eyes slightly.

The home was the size of a small hotel and the property sprawled on for ages. You were somewhere in the Caribbean on an island you had never even heard of, it had taken three flights just to get there. Lewis claimed it was one of his favorite places on earth, but he's said that about more places than you can count.

“My girls!” Miles' voice came loudly from the doorway as you unloaded yourselves from the van.

You turned just in time to see the large man bounding down the driveway like a child, arms open with a massive smile on his face. He crashed into you while wrapping an arm around you, grabbing for Charlotte with the other. You both laughed at the aggressive affection as he squeezed you both tight. Anyone watching the scene would think it had been months since you’d seen him, not two weeks. He’s a lot like Lewis in the sense that he loves extremely, but he’s by far more open with it.

“Hello!” You laughed, your voice muffled against the tall man's chest.

When he finally let you go, he quickly moved towards the back of the van, collecting your bags.

“Heads up, Talia’s here.” He mumbled to the two of you, an unamused look on his face.

Miles had also not been a fan of Talia when he met her. You’ve never been sure if he noticed how she treated you, or if it was for an entirely different reason, but you knew for a fact he didn’t particularly enjoy her. 

“Oh, we know.” Charlotte said, raising her eyebrows in an equally annoyed expression. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you all made your way toward the house. You took solace in knowing you weren't alone in your displeasure of the extra guest. Miles showed you each to your rooms and told you to come say hello to everybody once you’d settled in a bit. Before he left your room he pulled you into another tight hug.

“It’ll all be good, we’ll have a blast.” He said quietly into the top of your hair, planting a kiss there before making his way out of your room. 

The bedroom was larger than yours at home, there was an attached bathroom and a large closet. In the middle of the room sat a king size bed that looked like it was made of clouds, it faced a balcony door, looking out over the Caribbean Sea. You had the feeling of not belonging for a split second, being surrounded by more luxury than you could fathom. You quickly had to remind yourself that if you didn't belong, Lewis wouldn't have made sure you were able to come. You really had to thank him again for all that he had done. You made your way into the bathroom to freshen up a little bit, hoping to splash away some of the long plane ride. As you got ready to go downstairs and greet everybody you heard movement in the hallway. You truly hoped it was one of your friends as you stepped out of your room, unfortunately you weren’t that lucky. Talia was walking down the hallway towards you, dressed in a bikini fit for Sports Illustrated. You understood why Lewis had been interested in her, he wasn’t looking for anything more than physical, and how she looked right now made it easy to look past her attitude. 

“Hey.” You did your best to be kind, hoping to avoid any tension.

She said nothing, just looked you up and down and kept walking, making her way out to where you assumed everyone was. You rolled your eyes at her childish behavior and trailed along behind her, hoping to find your friends. As you stepped out the large door you were greeted by the sound of laughter and conversation, the warm sound like music to your ears. There was soft music playing as you looked around at the scene. Your friends were sprawled out on expensive looking patio furniture, facing toward the large infinity pool that showcased the beautiful view of the sea down below. Your eyes searched the group, hoping to find Lewis. You spotted him, over by a bar on the balcony, Talia already attached to his hip. As if he could tell you were looking at him his eyes found yours, a big smile gracing his features as he saw you. He brushed Talia off, much to her annoyance and made his way over to you. 

“I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep up there.” He laughed warmly as he pulled you in for a tight hug.

Hugs from Lewis were always amazing, he would squeeze you so tight you almost couldn't breathe. His big arms completely engulfed you in the most comforting way, he would never let go until you did. 

“Sorry,” You laughed as you pulled away, “just wanted to freshen up a little bit, long flights.”

He smiled in understanding before grabbing your wrist and pulling you along towards everyone. He had a habit of dragging you around when he was excited.

“Look who finally decided to show her face.” He announced loudly.

You were greeted with big hugs from everyone. The second that Lewis wasn’t next to you, you couldn’t help but notice Talias possessive touch had been returned to him. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but you almost felt like he looked annoyed. You decided to ignore her and catch up with your friends, some whom you haven't seen in quite some time.

The afternoon carried on uneventfully, everyone drinking and joking around. You had changed into your swimsuit, hoping to catch the last few rays of Caribbean sun. You had felt his eyes on you when you walked out of the house, he had Talia perched on his lap but his attention was fully on you. You wanted to be disgusted by the man but you couldn’t find it in you, instead you added a purposeful sway to your hips and made your way over to one of the lounge chairs. It didn’t take long for him to appear next to you, thankfully alone.

“I feel like I haven’t gotten to see you at all since you got here.” He said, placing his sunglasses on his face as he settled into the chair beside yours.

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit, “I wonder why.” You didn't look at him but you could see the confusion on his face in your peripheral 

“What?” The confusion was evident in his voice.

“Nothing,” You pushed the topic aside before turning your head towards him with a smile, “How have you been? It’s been a while.”

His face lit up, ignoring your previous comment. He filled you in on everything that had happened over the last few months, talking about races, his new training routine. You couldn’t help but laugh as the beautiful man beside you rambled on like a little kid. He noticed your amusement, cutting himself off with a bashful look.

“Sorry, sorry,” He chuckled, seemingly embarrassed by himself, “it’s just easy to get carried away with you.”

He settled back into his chair, his head rolling towards you to keep eye contact.

“Okay, it’s your turn, I wanna hear every single thing that’s been going on in your life.” He then settled even further into his chair, crossing his arms behind his head as if he was getting ready for you to read him a book.

“Well, not much to tell really, life has mostly been work and more work.” You told him, glancing over at him.

“Come on, something must be going on in your life. You're young, fun, attractive, you can’t possibly be just working. You need some fun every once in a while.” He frowned over at you.

You couldn’t help but catch the comment about you being attractive, you knew he was just being kind but it still made your skin heat up ever so slightly.

“I did go on a date…” You trail off, waiting to catch some sort of reaction from him.

“Oh?” His tone is inquisitive yet almost harsh.

“Yeah, he kinda sucked though. He talked about himself most of the time, asked at the end of dinner to split the bill, and then still tried to get me to go back to his place. Needless to say I won’t be seeing him again.” You laugh to yourself, thinking about how much you had hated the night.

“Don’t, he sounds like a proper tool. Dickhead didn’t know what was in front of him.” He says gruffly before letting out a deep sigh, “Y/N, you can do a whole lot better than that. You deserve so much better than that.”

You smile over at him, “I know, that’s why I went home alone and blocked his number.”

He gives you a bright smile, extending his fist to meet yours, “Atta girl!”

You hear her before you see her, a loud scoff coming from behind the two of you. When you look up she’s partially kneeling on Lewis’ chair, clearing her throat obnoxiously.

“I could use a little help here.” She says in an annoyingly sultry tone, waving a bottle of sunblock in the man's face.

Lewis lets out a small huff, so quiet you could have easily missed it before pushing himself up from the chair.

“Yup,” His tone comes out clipped before turning back to you with a gentle smile, “I’ll see ya in a bit, yeah?”

You return his smile, simply nodding before he’s trailing off behind Talia like a lost puppy.

You didn’t end up seeing Lewis at all for the rest of the night, only during dinner with everyone while his attention was directed elsewhere. You only knew he had gone to bed when you heard her calling out for him later in the night.

“Lewis,” her whiny voice carried through the large house, “come to bed! I’m lonely!”

Miles rolled his eyes so aggressively at that, you worried they might get stuck in his head. At least you weren’t the only one who was disgusted.

. . .

The next day was spent down at the beach, the water was so clear you almost couldn’t believe it was real. Lunch and drinks were packed in various coolers as everyone toted their way down the narrow path to the sand.

“Holy shit.” You mumbled to yourself, stopping at the bottom of the trail, causing Lewis to almost run into the back of you.

You only realized you had blocked him rather abruptly when you heard his warm chuckle right behind you, much closer than expected. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” He said quietly, placing his hand on your back, guiding you forward slightly so you were no longer blocking the path. 

“It’s stunning,” you said, eyes wide as you turned toward him, he was still close to you, standing just by your side, “thank you again, so much. I really never thought I would ever be somewhere like this.”

He shook his head with a soft smile, “No need to thank me Y/N, this trip wouldn’t be the same without you here. Besides it was me being a bit selfish, I missed you.” 

You couldn’t help but blush slightly at his comment, you had missed him too but to hear him admit it made you feel some type of way. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You always felt honored to be the recipient of his attention in any way, much less his affection. 

“Come on, it’s even better up close.” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling you along toward where everyone was already setting up blankets and umbrellas.

You could feel Talias eyes on you but you did your best to ignore it. Lewis is an adult and he is allowed to interact with his friends, she doesn’t own him. As far as you're aware they’re not even really together.

You dropped your stuff next to where Charlotte and Miles had put their own. Miles hadn’t wasted a minute, bounding toward the water like a lanky child before throwing himself into a large wave. You and Charlotte exchanged a look before bursting out in a fit of laughter.

“We’re friends with absolute man children.” Charlotte said through her laughter, shaking her head as she went to lay down her blanket.

“Maybe, but you love us.” Lewis piped up, a cheeky smile on his face, teeth on full display.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you keep telling yourself that grandpa.” She sends back at him, sticking her tongue out.

“You watch it young lady, I’m only two years older than you. You’re gonna be just as ancient as me soon enough.” His tone is playfully stern and he can only hold his fake scowl for a second before breaking out into a big grin.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him settle down on the blanket next to Talia as he takes off his shirt. They look like they’re ready for a photoshoot, two perfect bodies on the most perfect coastline. You turn your attention back to laying out your own blanket as he turns his attention toward her, talking quietly in her ear. She lets out an annoying giggle, one that seems to be more for show and less a reaction to whatever he just said.

“Alright, y'all are boring, who’s coming in here with me?” Miles shouts out from the water before falling back into another wave.

“Gimme just a sec.” Lewis hollers back, moving to stand up.

Daniel is already making his way down to the water and Charlotte is taking off her cover up, ready to head down herself. You do the same, putting on some sunscreen and tying back your hair.

“Come on, just for a few minutes, the water here is incredible.” You hear Lewis attempting to persuade Talia into the water.

“No, I told you, I don’t swim.” She half scoffs at him.

You almost want to roll your eyes, it would be such a shame to miss out on the beautiful sea. Lewis is shrugging as you turn toward him, obviously not in the mood to try any harder.

“Y/n?” He says, you can tell he meant to say more but stopped short when he saw you. Even through his sunglasses you can tell he’s checking you out much more than he should be, especially with the company sitting just behind him.

You’re not wearing anything particularly fancy, just a black bikini that you’ve had for a few years. It has the most support of any that you own and buckles instead of ties so you figured it would be best for the ocean. You raise a slightly accusing brow at him, urging him to continue.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, breaking himself out of what seemed to be a trance, “You comin’ in?”

“Hell yeah.” You say enthusiastically, jogging toward the water without waiting to see if he’s following. He appears at your side rather quickly, much more adept to running in the sand, or really running at all. You both slow down slightly. Once you're sure you’re far enough away you mumble to him “She’s fun.”

He looks at you with a small smirk but still manages to look like he's reprimanding you, “Leave her alone, it doesn’t matter.”

Once you’re close enough to the water that the tide is lapping at your toes you let out a shriek. Two large arms have wrapped around your torso from behind, picking you up in the air. He’s now running at full tilt into the water.

“Leewiiiisssss.” You scream out through a fit of laughter.

Just as his name comes out of your mouth, he’s throwing the two of you directly into a wave, the water completely engulfing you both. As you come up, sputtering slightly, you’re still in his arms. You free yourself, turning around to slap him in the chest before pushing your now drenched hair out of your face.

“Warn a girl next time.” You curse at him, still blinking the salt water out of your eyes.

You're met by nothing but boyish laughter as he takes in your slightly distraught state, “Aww it’s okay, you won’t melt.” He fakes a pout at you, making you flip him off before turning to swim over to where everyone else is, laughing themselves.

You don’t make it very far before the same arms from before are wrapping around you again, facing you toward the shore as another large wave crashes over the two of you. You managed to prepare yourself for it a little better than the last, this one actually making you laugh.

“Sorry, didn’t have time to warn you for that one.” Lewis says into your ear, his voice quiet and light. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, making you shiver despite the sun and warm water. You detach yourself from him, very aware that everyone can see you.

“My hero, thank you sir.” You tease him with his title as you swim away.

He follows after you, joining the rest of the group. Everyone swims and plays around for a good hour before deciding to head back up to the beach. Lewis and Miles share a look before Miles grabs you, pulling you further down the beach.

“So Y/N, Lewis and I have decided we’re gonna teach you how to surf.” Miles announces proudly

“Oh, hell no.” You start to protest, trying to pull away.

Lewis has already made it up to a part of the beach where you see an array of surfboards and kayaks that you can only assume belong with the house he’s rented. You see him selecting the perfect board, not paying particular attention to your dismay.

“Yup, sorry, it’s ain't up for discussion.” Miles simply shrugs, still pulling you along.

It takes them only a few minutes before you’re caving, they’re both well aware that you rarely say no to them.

“We already worked on your stance while we were in Malibu, now we’re just gonna try that in the water.” Lewis says as if it's the easiest thing in the world.

“Just watch and learn baby, watch and learn.” Miles is yelling out as he's already jogging toward the water, surfboard under his arm.

You watch miles paddle out, trying and failing to catch more than a few waves making you laugh slightly. You can feel your nerves subsiding a little bit but they’re definitely still there. Lewis can tell, he sees the tension in your body.

“C’mere.” He says, his hand outstretched towards you, gesturing for you to come to the board he has laid out in the sand.

You do as he says and let him arrange you on the board in the proper stance, so you can remember what he taught you almost six months ago.

“So you want to bend your knees and lean into it a bit.” His voice is soft and reassuring, he places his hands on your hips, pulling them back slightly to get into the proper position.

His hands are large and warm on your bare skin. As he pulls your hips back you notice how close he’s been standing, your ass just barely grazing over the front of his swim trunks. It's only a moment but you notice it, making you gulp. He must notice it too because he’s immediately stepping back as he clears his throat.

“Looks good, it's all about balance, you’ll be fine.” His tone is shorter now, but still offering the slightest bit of comfort that you need. 

The boys finally get you out into the water after showing you multiple times how to push yourself up on the board. You had thought surfing was supposed to be relaxing, Lewis always explained it as his form of meditation, but the more you run drills with them the more you realize it’s a proper workout. You know you must look like a sweaty mess as you all head into the water. Lewis shows you a few times again how to work with the board in the water before you’re being sent off to try it on your own. They both watch, sitting back on their own boards, as you try and fail multiple times. You’ve wiped out more times than you can count and only managed to actually get up on the board twice.

“It’s not gonna happen guys, I’m not meant for surfing.” You call out to them as you struggle your way up onto your board once more.

“Come on, it’s your first time, it takes some getting used to.” Miles tries to cheer you on.

“Look, there’s a perfect wave coming in right now. We’ll take it with you.” Lewis offers, paddling his way over in that direction.

You’re still not quite sure how you managed to pull it off, but somehow it did end up being the perfect wave. You managed to get yourself up and ride it a short distance, it was maybe fifteen seconds but you were proud.

“She did it, she fucking did it!” Miles is already cheering as you make your way toward the shore.

Lewis quickly scoops you up in a big hug, pressing a big kiss to your cheek. It’s not an uncommon thing for him to do but it still makes you rather flustered. He places you back down giving you a big high five.

“Seeee,” He draws out in a teasing tone, a big smile on his face, “we knew you could do it.”

“Well I barely did it, but that was a ton of fun.” You laugh, overjoyed that you managed to do it at all.

“Barely is better than not at all.” Miles says, clapping you on your back.

“Come on, let's go cool off and then we can head back over to everybody. We’ve accidentally abandoned them.” Lewis says with a laugh.

The three of you make your way back into the water, floating your way over closer to where your friends sit. Miles makes his way back up to the group quicker than you and Lewis, the two of you bobbing around in the beautiful water a few minutes longer.

“See, this is what I mean,” He starts, looking up at the clear sky with a squint in his eye before looking back to you, “today wouldn’t have been nearly as fun if you weren’t here.”

“What a sap.” You tease him, shaking your head.

“Nah, Y/N, I mean it. I’m really glad we met you.” His voice is sincere, his eyes holding so many more emotions than you can even try to decipher.

“Me too.” It’s all you can really say but you truly mean it, you’re so grateful for this little chosen family you’ve become a part of.

You could tell Talia was in a mood as you made your way back from the water. Lewis simply throws a towel at you, making her roll her eyes. You noticed how she moved away from him as he settled down onto the blanket next to her. She seemed jealous. You could hear her whispering to him in a harsh tone but you couldn’t hear what she was saying.

It didn’t take very long for Lewis to stand up and start packing their things, announcing that they were heading back up to the house and they would see everyone later. You heard Daniel make some off handed comment, telling them to use protection. You didn’t hear either of them respond, assuming Lewis had chosen to flip him off instead. The rest of you chose to stay down on the beach for a little while longer, waiting the short while until the sun started to set.

As you made your way into the house you could already hear the yelling, everyone exchanging uneasy glances as you headed toward the kitchen to unpack your coolers.

“If you want to fuck her so bad why the hell am I even here?” Talias shrill voice cut through the house loudly.

“Jesus christ, she’s one of my closest friends. How can you not understand that?” Lewis was harsh in his response.

You glanced at Miles, unsure of what to do. There was nowhere to go to avoid listening to their conversation, if that's what you could even call it. He shrugged back at you, equally unsure of how to navigate the situation.

“You think I’m a fucking idiot? I see how you look at her, she gets all of your attention any time she’s around. You think I don’t notice?” Somehow Talias voice has managed to get even louder, “And what the fuck was that with you two in the water, huh? All giggly and flirty, like she doesn’t know how to swim? Showing her how to surf just so you could touch her?”

“I haven’t seen her in months and I barely got to even speak to her yesterday because you were jealous. Anytime I was even remotely close to her you found a way to pull me away.” Lewis is fully shouting now, something you have never heard from him in nearly two years of friendship. Sure you’ve seen him upset, but never have you heard him yell at anything other than a football game he was a little too invested in. 

You can feel your friends glancing at you sympathetically. It’s not lost on anyone that they’re arguing about you. Everyone is trying to busy themselves, starting on making dinner, but it’s barely working, everyone is interested in the fallout of the fight happening down the hall.

“She’s a fucking gold digging bitch, how can you not see that? She wants to fuck you just as much as you evidently want to fuck her, so why don’t you go right ahead. She’s just as much of a whore as all the other ones you seem to keep in rotation.” Talia spits back at him, scoffing at the end.

You widen your eyes, frozen as you hear the way she's speaking about you. You feel Miles come up next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in against him.

“Don’t listen to her, we love you.” Miles mumbles into the top of your head, pressing a kiss there.

“Don’t you dare, ever, speak about her that way again. I fucking mean it. I’d also keep in mind that you're, as you say, part of my rotation.” Lewis’s voice comes out harsh, threatening, “I want you gone.”

“Oh you want me gone? She’s the one that shouldn’t even be here, I paid for my ticket here, we all fucking know she weasled cash out of your pocket for a nice vacation.” She just about screams back at him.

“Gone. Now.” His voice is icy, sending a chill down your spine. That’s not the Lewis you know.

You can feel your eyes start to well up as their bedroom door slams. Lewis appears at the end of the hallway, still in his swim trunks from earlier. He quickly looks around the room as everyone stares wordlessly at him. He doesn’t meet your tear filled eyes, almost grimacing when he sees your face but saying nothing.

“Lewis-” Charlotte tries to speak before getting cut off.

“I’m going on a run.” He says abruptly, already walking away from the kitchen toward the front door.

He’s still barefoot and shirtless as he walks out the front door, slamming it hard behind him. The silence in the house doesn’t last long as you hear more commotion from the bedroom at the end of the hall. She’s swearing to herself and it sounds like she’s dropping things. It doesn’t take long until Daniel see’s her down the hallway.

“What the hell are you doing?” He shouts, already making his way down the hall.

This quickly gets everyone's attention, straining to look where he’s headed. You see her with an arm full of her stuff, making her way toward your room, throwing things into the doorway.

“If she wants him so fucking bad, she can fucking have him.” Talia screams back at him, not stopping for a second as she makes her way into your room.

This quickly catches both yours and Miles’ attention, heading down the hall yourself. When you make it to your door you see her grabbing your things, throwing them into your suitcase. You can’t help but be confused. What the hell is she doing? 

“Hey, chill out. Everyone’s just upset, let’s take a breather.” Miles is trying to reason with her but it evidently isn’t working as she continues throwing your stuff into your bag, still muttering to herself.

With your bag in hand, she pushes past the three of you, tossing your stuff into Lewis’s doorway. When she turns to face you all you finally see her cheeks are covered in tears, snot running down her face. She looks genuinely hurt and you almost feel a little bad but you quickly push it aside, thinking of all the things she just said about you.

“I’m pretty sure I heard Lewis tell you to leave.” Charlotte says from behind you, her voice calm but cold.

“Yeah? Where the hell do you want me to go? It’s almost eight o’clock at night, I’m kinda stuck here. So sorry to be a burden.” Her voice is riddled with sarcasm as she throws her hands up in the air.

She doesn’t wait for a response as she once again pushes past you and into what used to be your room, slamming the door shut and locking it. You stand there, outside the door, absolutely stunned. It’s not until you feel Miles and Daniel guiding you away, back towards the kitchen that you snap out of it, finally getting mad.

“What the hell was that? How am I the bad guy?” You ask no one in particular, heading towards the bar just off the kitchen.

“You’re not the bad guy, she’s apparently just bat shit crazy.” Steph pipes up.

It makes you feel better hearing that from her, you two have never been all that close and only hung out a few times. You always have a good time together but really don’t have much in common. So if even she can see that it's not your fault, that must mean something.

“I mean she’s certainly crazy, we can see that, but Lewis shouldn’t have brought her here if was just gonna flirt with someone else the whole time.” Someone else says.

“He’s not flirting with me, he’s just like that.” You try to defend yourself, and him.

Charlotte looks at you with sympathetic eyes, “Hun, he’s definitely been flirting with you. Yes, he’s flirty with everyone, but it’s different when he’s flirting with intention.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You feel a little flustered at this point. A little embarrassed that everyone seems to know, confused as to why he would possibly be flirting with you, and almost excited that this crush you’ve had might just be reciprocated.

“Honestly, I’ve seen him flirt with countless women to get in their pants,” Miles starts, giving you an apologetic glance at his wording, “but it’s pretty rare that I see him flirt because he actually likes someone. Char’s right, the way he flirts with you is definitely different. And I love the dude, but it’s not fair to either of you.”

There are nods of agreement from your other friends and you feel your cheeks get hot.

“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up, trying to deflect away from the topic, “where am I supposed to sleep tonight? She just locked herself in my room and put me in a very much occupied room.”

“Well, I mean you could always sleep with Lewis and see where it goes.” Daniel says with a smirk.

It takes all of a second for Charlotte to make her way over to him and slap him on the back of the head, hissing at him, “Not the fucking time.”

“You can sleep with me, I know it’s not perfect but we can be cuddle buddies.” Charlotte says kindly, giving you a gentle smile.

Noone ends up eating dinner, dispersing from the kitchen rather quickly to avoid the awkward air that has set over the house for the night. You, Charlotte, and Miles end up in the living room doing your best to ignore the situation through means of alcohol. By the time eleven o’clock rolls around all three of you are more than tipsy and both Charlotte and Miles get up, ready to head to bed. Lewis still isn’t back and you can't help but be a bit worried. He would usually be in bed by now but he still isn’t even home. You send them both off to bed, telling them you’ll be up just a little longer. You sit in the living room in silence, nursing a drink, for almost an hour as you start to get drowsy. You try your very best to fight it off, hoping to stay away until Lewis is home, but you can only fight your exhaustion for so long.

As you drift off to sleep, the clock nearing twelve thirty, Lewis is still nowhere to be seen.

[kisses-for-you]

hiiii if you're taking requests, could you write a little carlos x reader, where reader is a bit jealous that carlos is getting some attention, and carlos teases them about it but still reassures them that he loves them 🥺🥺

Green - Carlos Oliveira

Carlos Oliveira X GN!Reader

Summary: You and Carlos go to a party, at which you meet his old friend. You quickly start to feel jealous.

Word Count: 1,123

sorry it took me so long to get to this, I haven't been very active but I hope you enjoy!! <3

As you and Carlos stepped into the lively party, the sound of laughter and music filled the air. The room was buzzing with people, old friends greeting each other and new people getting to know one another. Carlos' hand was warm around yours, giving you a sense of comfort in what seemed like a never-ending sea of people.

"Carlos! It's been ages!" A woman's voice rang out, and you both turned to see a fairly tall, blonde woman approaching with a wide smile. She looked stunning in a red dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Carlos grinned back, releasing your hand to give her a friendly hug.

"It's great to see you, Emily," Carlos replied. They pulled back from the hug, and Emily's eyes darted to you, raising one eyebrow in curiosity. Carlos noticed and introduced you, "This is Y/N," he wraps an arm around your waist, "my partner."

You smiled politely, saying, "Nice to meet you.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Carlos has told me a lot of good things about you." Her smile seemed friendly enough, but you couldn't help but notice how her eyes lingered on Carlos a moment longer than necessary.

As the evening went on, Carlos introduced you to several of his friends, who were all very kind and welcoming. Yet, every time Emily was nearby, you felt a sense of unease. She seemed to be everywhere, laughing a little too loudly at Carlos' jokes, touching his arm when she spoke to him, and giving you side glances that felt anything but friendly.

You found it increasingly harder to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach. Emily seemed to be hovering around Carlos more than anyone else, her attention solely focused on him. You tried to shake off the unease, reminding yourself that Carlos was here with you.

But it wasn't just her. You couldn't help but notice the lingering gazes of a few women around the room. They would glance at Carlos and then whisper to each other, their eyes shining with interest. However, this was nothing new to you - having a hot boyfriend and all - and you knew you should be used to it by now.

At one point, you excused yourself to get a drink from the bar. As you waited for the bartender to finish, you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder. Carlos was laughing at something Emily had said, her hand resting lightly on his arm. To others, it might've seemed like nothing more than an innocent gesture, but combined with her constant attention, it felt like more than that.

Your chest tightened as you watched Emily continue to engage Carlos in conversation. The room felt a little too warm, the air too thick. You tried to focus on the drink being prepared in front of you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the scene across the room. Carlos' smile, the way he leaned in slightly when he listened - it all gnawed at you.

When you finally got your drink, you took a sip, hoping the cool liquid would soothe the unease inside you. Just then, Carlos caught your eye from across the room. His smile faltered slightly, as if he could sense your discomfort. He excused himself from the conversation with Emily and made his way over to you. As he approached, you put on your best smile, not wanting to appear insecure.

"Hey, everything okay, mi amor?" he asked, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

You nodded, "Yeah, just needed a drink."

Carlos studied your face, a knowing glint in his eyes. He glanced back at Emily, who was now chatting with another group of people and then looked back at you. "You sure? You seemed a little distant."

You hesitated, not wanting to make a scene, but decided it's better to be honest. "It's just... well, Emily seems really friendly and she hasn't left your side all night. It's a little uncomfortable."

Carlos smiled softly, tilting your chin up with a gentle finger so you met his gaze. "Are you jealous?" he teased, his tone playful but still caring.

You felt a flush creep onto your face. "Jealous? No- I mean... maybe a little," you admitted, trying to keep your tone light. "It's just that she seems really interested in you."

Carlos chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "So, you're telling me the Y/N is feeling threatened by Emily?" His voice was playful, teasing, as he leaned in closer. "Should I be worried?"

You playfully shoved him, laughing despite your feelings. "Oh, shut up. It's not like that. But she's so touchy, she's obviously into you."

Carlos grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Well, I can't help it if women find me irresistible," he joked.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "Oh, please. Don't let it go to your head."

He laughed, but then his expression softened. "Hey, listen," he said, his tone suddenly serious. "I'm here with you, okay? Emily's just an old friend, and nothing more. You're the one I love, not her."

You felt a wave of relief and warmth at his words, but Carlos wasn't done teasing. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear. "Besides," he whispered, "I kinda like seeing you a little jealous. It's cute."

You huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but your smile gave it away. "You seriously enjoy teasing me, don't you?"

He chuckled, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Maybe a little. But only because you're adorable when you're jealous."

You raised your eyebrows at him, kind of how a mother who was disappointed with her child would. Carlos grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. But seriously, you have nothing to worry about. You're the only one for me." He confirmed, "Always."

He leaned in for a tender kiss and after a few moments, he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know," he began with a playful smirk, "I think I owe you for earlier, so how about I make it up to you?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Carlos' smile widened as he took your hand and led you towards the dance floor. The music was upbeat, and other people had already started to dance. He spun you around and pulled you close, the energy of the music and the crowd around you adding to the excitement.

"Let's show them how it's done, mi amor," he whispered in your ear, his voice warm and inviting. With a playful twirl, he brought you into a close dance, his hands steady on your waist.