#but in Case they somehow are waiting for a response. as much as i want to drive you mad refreshing my blog and waiting for one

[rainingincale]

.

[writersdrug]

OOOH bartender Simon when one of the regulars starts making comments about reader at the bar

Yes

Slight nsfw, someone makes derogatory marks about reader

Simon didn't understand why the man chose to be a regular at his bar. He never spoke much to the lad, Mitch, other than the occasional grunt and "'nother round?" Still, the bloke had been coming to his pub every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night like it was his religion - it very well might've been - spilling his guts over neat whiskey about his failing marriage, his estranged children, and his shitty job. Simon was surprised he managed to keep one, with how much he was drinking on a Sunday night.

"Don't ever get a wife, Simon." Mitch says, fidgeting his empty whiskey glass in his fingers. He'd already come in with a sour expression and droopy eyes - Simon wondered what the topic would be for tonight, but as usual, it steered towards his divorce waiting to happen.

"Already got one." He says, jerking his head to the liquor shelf. "Woodford."

Mitch laughs, letting Ghost take his empty glass and dunk it in the wash basin. "You got anyone waitin' for you after work?"

Ghost clicks his tongue, wiping the condensation off the bar top. "Rather not talk about my personal life 'ere."

"Bah - you need something young n' fresh." Mitch sighs, tapping his fingers against the wood. "Guy like you can't have something too committed, or else your work ethic will suffer."

Ghost grunts as his response. He reminds himself that Mitch was a customer, like everyone else, and he only has to tolerate his yapping for tonight - until next Friday.

Mitch turns his head to look at you, and Simon follows with his eyes: you're standing at a table, bantering with the couple seated there as you take their orders. Hair pulled back into that weird claw clip thingy Simon likes so much, posture relaxed as you leaned on one hip, a soft smile on your face as the couple takes their time placing their orders. He remembers how unfamiliar you were with it all in the beginning, and now it looks like you've been working here for the past ten years. Like you belong in his pub.

"How's she handling the job?" Mitch asks.

Simon shrugs. "Seems t' be managing just fine. Gets away with more shit than I should be allowin' 'er."

Mitch chuckles, looking back at you. "They always do when they look that good." He comments, making Ghost pause. "Price knew what he was doin' hiring her."

He feels his muscles tense subconsciously. "I hired 'er."

Mitch looks back at him, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "Simon, you ol' dog..." he begins, leaning his forearms onto the bartop. "Gotta keep the customers comin' somehow, eh?"

Ghost blinks. "I don't follow." He does; but he's giving Mitch a chance to redeem himself after his insinuation.

"C'mon, was it her face? What she wore to the interview? Did Johhny-boy see her and beg you to hire her?" He leans in towards Simon, who obliges and meets him halfway, just to hear what else the prick will say, so he knows how much damage he can justify.

"I'm telling you - the only reason she probably took the job was, well.." he raises and eyebrow.

Simon waits. "Hmm?"

"You know - three big guys like you lot - not to mention that old brewmaster assistant, Garrick, I know he frequents here... well, any desperate thing like her would be throwing themselves at the opportunity."

He's livid. "Wha' opportunity?"

"Gettin hit from all sides, if you catch my drift."

Ghost nods slowly, biting the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. He wants to punch a hole through Mitch's chest, but two patrons roughhoused in one week would make Price get on his case. He turns to the bar and grabs a whiskey glass.

"Aww, don't be like that..." Mitch says when he senses Ghost's anger. "I'm sorry. Listen - if you don't want to show her a good time, me and my buddy will. I'll leave my number and you'll give it to her for me?"

"Drink this, sober up, and go home Mitch." Ghost says, slapping the glass of clear liquid in front of the man. Mitch eyes him with a huff as he returns to washing the glasses in the bar sink.

"Fuckin' loser..." he mumbles, grabbing the glass and downing a large gulp - he immediately sputters, the drink spilling all over his front as he coughs and hacks violently. The entire floor looks over at the commotion, you included, standing by the POS and watching with a furrowed brow.

"Fuck- was that goddamn Everclear?!" He rasps.

"I think it's time y' head out, Mitch." Ghost says, leaning both of his hands against the bar. "Call your wife and kids. Stop comin' 'ere every week." He then leans in close, right in front of Mitch's face. "Cuz if I see you back at my bar again, I'm draggin' you out the back myself."

His eyes crinkle with a smile as he claps Mitch on the arm, making him jump from the impact. He quickly gets up off his seat and stumbles towards the front door, sparing one last bitter glance between you and Ghost, before he angrily shoves his way out.

Ghost sighs, putting the Everclear back on the shelf; you walk over right on cue. "What was that about? He ok?"

Simon shrugs, closing Mitch's tab on his POS and assigning an auto-gratuity. "Dunno. Maybe my advice finally got t' the bastard."

[maxlarens]

OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

[aliteralsemicolon]

I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you. 

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away. 

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation. 

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag. 

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag. 

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances. 

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too. 

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down. 

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important. 

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly. 

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.” 

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all. 

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains. 

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening. 

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it. 

He made you coffee. 

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out. 

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together. 

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down. 

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck. 

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make. 

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back. 

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched. 

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there. 

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway. 

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate. 

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying. 

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence. 

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him. 

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.” 

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you. 

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise. 

“I was angry.” 

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable. 

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it. 

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left. 

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say. 

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you. 

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks. 

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into. 

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits. 

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble. 

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn. 

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying. 

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left. 

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.” 

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war. 

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him. 

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.” 

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to. 

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance. 

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce. 

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you. 

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?” 

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now. 

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it. 

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game. 

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance. 

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result. 

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move. 

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate. 

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’. 

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend. 

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.” 

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!” 

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!” 

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply. 

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.” 

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine. 

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs. 

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it. 

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game. 

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety. 

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity. 

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you. 

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?” 

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him. 

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you. 

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will. 

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all. 

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?” 

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes. 

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!” 

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way. 

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered. 

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction. 

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.” 

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare. 

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you. 

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it. 

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.” 

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively. 

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side. 

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly. 

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time. 

“...right now.” 

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance. 

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position. 

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt. 

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence. 

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout. 

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence. 

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–” 

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.” 

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.” 

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to. 

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him. 

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.  

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?” 

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you. 

“Sorry?” 

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.” 

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight. 

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately. 

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head. 

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move. 

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches. 

“You are!” His eyes widen. 

“I am not jealous.” 

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence. 

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor. 

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night. 

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again? 

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts. 

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates. 

“Oh.” 

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.” 

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you. 

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire. 

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.” 

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence. 

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never. 

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.” 

Oh. 

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time. 

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word. 

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless. 

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect. 

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?” 

“Fair?” 

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap. 

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away. 

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence. 

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?” 

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong. 

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.” 

“When you took it back.”

“What?” 

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak. 

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember. 

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed. 

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.” 

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together. 

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words. 

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.” 

You tearfully laugh at this admission. 

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound. 

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter. 

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him. 

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat. 

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps. 

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending. 

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down. 

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness. 

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is. 

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.” 

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is. 

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?” 

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth. 

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?” 

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.” 

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.” 

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances. 

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly. 

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps. 

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.” 

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue. 

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.” 

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.” 

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up. 

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.” 

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way. 

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact. 

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly. 

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it. 

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue. 

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it. 

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response. 

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.” 

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret. 

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other. 

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.” 

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.” 

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his. 

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other. 

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues. 

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips. 

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission. 

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless. 

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle. 

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch. 

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips. 

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you. 

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him. 

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird. 

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips. 

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’. 

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.” 

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking. 

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear. 

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more. 

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time. 

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch. 

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure. 

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.” 

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more. 

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.  

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight. 

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck. 

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet. 

“Spencer?” 

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to. 

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.” 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.” 

“About…?” 

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.” 

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter. 

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident. 

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply. 

“So you’re staying?” 

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss. 

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second. 

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses. 

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders. 

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away. 

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from. 

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.” 

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.” 

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his. 

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.” 

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to. 

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.” 

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.” 

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss. 

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries. 

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened. 

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.” 

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on. 

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!” 

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed. 

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further. 

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.” 

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him. 

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation. 

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door. 

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours. 

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go. 

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did. 

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

[munsonson]

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏『••✎••』

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯/𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰𝘯/𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4

This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. 

Things could’ve ended far worse than they actually did. Hell, most of the couples in their school tended to make breakups as dramatic as possible, normally painting one half of the relationship as some kind if irredeemable monster, if not to paint them as this sympathetic martyr, than just to save face that it actually hurt. 

In her case, Eddie Munson told her they just weren’t a good match and he wanted to be friends again instead. That was as healthy as they could possibly get. And in the best case scenario, too, she’d still be able to have him be a part of her life. She didn’t think she could stand the thought of seeing him in the halls and not being able to acknowledge him. 

She’d fallen hard and fast for Eddie, embarrassingly so. 

Given the heavy duty of designated driver for the little hooligans she’d somehow decided to adopt with Steve Harrington, she’d gotten accustomed to waiting in the high school parking lot, her nose pressed into the creases of her current novel while she waited for them to finish their important campaigns, all procured from the brilliant mind of Eddie Munson. 

She’d known him before then, too, but only in passing. He’d often make a big spectacle of himself in the cafeteria just to bug the other students, and he held the record as super senior. But she’d never even talked to him until she saw him walk the boys out after a seemingly successful campaign, his arms wrapped tightly around Dustin and Lucas’ shoulders as he praised them.

He’d acknowledged her when he got to her car. 

“My fair maiden,” he’d said, “I apologize for the delay.”

She’d blubbered out some kind of half-hearted response, good enough to make him laugh, and that made her heart go a million miles a minute. 

It didn’t take long before she’d gotten the courage to ask him out, even if it was just for coffee. He was surprised, but he agreed. 

It had been nice, he even drove her home after. She probably should’ve seen the signs then because he didn’t suggest a second meet up, she had instead. And he’d agreed.

It was about a month before they made themselves official, in Hawkins High language, practically married. But it really just meant she got to hold his hand between classes and get quick kisses goodbye when it was time to separate, somehow always on her cheek than her lips. 

She’d thought their dates were fun; it was a lot of pressure since he always left it up to her, never having any other idea than lounging about her home and just watching TV. But she was the one who thought of renting movies for horror marathons, figuring it was up his alley. She thought of bowling and drive-in theaters and picnicking near the quarry for its desolate atmosphere, another thing she figured was right up his alley. 

But things came to an underwhelming end when Eddie approached her at her locker on some random Thursday to tell her things just weren’t working out and he wanted to stay as friends. Despite how much even that had hurt, she agreed. She didn’t want to make him do anything he regretted. 

She could still be friends with him, happily so. That meant she could still sit with him at lunch, hear his outlandish tales, and be able to admire him from afar, even if she was no longer able to touch him and hold his hand. 

“Be honest,” she’d heard Gareth say as she approached with her tray, “what really happened? You know, most guys woulda killed to be able to take her out, the fact she stuck around for months is surprising enough.”

Eddie shrugs, chewing absentmindedly on a pretzel he’d brought. She would pack him lunches when they were together since he always forgot and resorted to eating prepackaged things instead. Since they broke up, it seemed like old habits really did die hard. 

“To tell you the truth,” he starts rather dramatically, “no substance. Pretty face, nice voice, real sweet, but God, boring as all hell.” He runs a hand down his face. The other boys seemed surprised. Dustin and Mike share a look, but say nothing, clearly waiting to hear more. Because there was no way it could be just that. There had to be more. They knew her better than anyone, had been through so much with her. What could be the real reason Eddie broke things off?

“And?” Dustin coaxes.

“And what?”

“Dude, seriously?” Mike scoffs. “She wasn’t interesting enough for you?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Look, she’s a great gal. And I know you guys are super close, which is awesome, but we just weren’t the best match. And I felt like shit that she was putting in all of the effort when I wasn’t interested. Now she’s free to...I dunno...find someone boring, too.” He sniggers, elbowing Jeff beside him trying to get him to laugh, too, but he could see how upset Dustin and Mike were. 

Luckily, for her sake, they didn’t notice her standing there, having overheard everything. Spinning right back around, she’d ditched her tray onto one of the trash bins before leaving the cafeteria completely before there was a chance anyone could see her tears. 

God, it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, she thinks again. He was more than welcome to have his own opinion, but why did it have to be something like that? 

He was right, she wasn’t exactly Chrissy Cunningham or Heather Holloway, being this huge spectacle that made every new day more exciting than the last. All things considered, sometimes too much excitement frightened her. Having risked her life at least once a year for nearly four years now made her yearn for the more simple things. It was stupid of her to think Eddie would want the same. Eddie Munson, who liked to make scenes in the cafeteria and rock out in a bar with his band. He didn’t crave the simplicity of life like she did.

She didn’t go back into that cafeteria for the remaining of the lunch period. In fact, she’d decided to skip the rest of the day completely, knowing she shared three periods with Eddie and right now she really didn’t want to see him. She just wanted to get away, leave herself to her own thoughts to try to calm down. 

Well, that really only lasted for ten minutes because she found herself pulling into the small parking lot into Family Video. She spots Steve’s car at the far end and knows he’s inside. It was childish of her to go running and crying to Steve Harrington, who she knew would take her side and say all the cruel things about Eddie that she couldn’t bring herself to because she really just needed someone on her side right now. Aside from Dustin and Mike, of course. She wouldn’t forget how they jumped to her defense. 

The little bell rings at the top of the door as she walks in, startling Steve into consciousness, who seemed to be snoozing on the edge of the counter, drool pooled across his forearm. He wipes feverishly at his face and blinks unfocused in her direction, trying to situate himself quickly into his customer service face.

“Welcome to Fam-Jesus, you scared me,” he cuts himself off when he at last realizes it’s her. Confused, he turns to glance at the clock hung up on the wall. “Don’t tell me school’s out already? You beat Robin here.”

“No, I’m playing hooky,” she shakes her head, unsteadily moving towards the counter. 

“What? You? I’m sorry, am I still dreaming?” Steve asks dramatically. “Since when do you, of all people, ever skip class? I’d sooner believe Nancy doing it than you.”

“Just...needed a break s’all,” she says with a shrug, looking around. “Keith not here?”

“Nah, he’s off today. Something about a new graphic novel he’s been dying to get. Says he’d have to wait overnight just to get one of the first editions. I don’t know, I don’t really listen to him unless he’s handing over my check,” Steve said. She leans up against the counter, trying to act casual. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t things be okay?”

“Well, for one, having to clarify that things are supposed to be okay when asked if everything’s okay is a pretty big indicator that things aren’t, in fact, okay.” Steve says with a laugh. “So everything’s not okay, then?”

“Everything’s okay,” she lies. “I just...can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

She isn’t sure how to come out and say it without sounding stupid. Better, she can’t figure out a way to come out and say it without sounding completely pathetic. But this was Steve, he was the king of asking her embarrassing things. He even called her once at three in the morning to ask how long you were supposed to leave cookies in the oven for. The follow up question was how to get the burnt smell out before his mom came home. 

“Am I boring?”

Steve tilts his head. “Huh?”

“Am I boring, Steve? Am I boring?”

“No? Who gave you that idea?” Steve snorts, like he thinks it was a foolish thing to ask. “Whoever it is clearly hasn’t seen you handle a crowbar.” He was referencing when she’d nabbed a crowbar from the junkyard lot to fend off the demodogs with him, all to protect the little ones in the bus. She doesn’t want to remember that right now, not when it makes her feel cold inside. 

“Nobody, I just...I dunno, I just think that maybe I’m not as exciting as, like...you o-or Rob or Nancy or, hell, even Jonathan.” 

“Nonsense, you’re a badass! True story, you know I wouldn’t say that about just any...” Steve trails off, finally really looking at her. “Hey...hey, why are you really askin’ me that? Something happen? Someone say something to you?”

“No, Steve, I was just asking.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses. “Who was it, was it Byers? Nancy? Not Robin...”

“No! No, Steve, they didn’t say anything, please just drop it. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Steve’s face eventually relaxes, having realized he knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Munson.”

She shakes her head. “Stop it, Steve.”

“What did he say? I thought he just wanted to be friends, where’s all this coming from?” he asked. There were too many questions being thrown at her. She doesn’t want to cry, especially not in front of him, but as soon as she feels her cheek dampen that was it. Soon she was burying her face in her hands and trying to stop the little whimpers from coming out.

She doesn’t notice Steve leap easily over the counter. He pulls her close, shushing her quietly. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he says. She sniffles, wrapping her arms around him. He’s petting her hair, kissing the crown of her head, trying his damndest to get her to calm down and talk to him. He was the perfect person to come to, she now realizes. Her subconscious knew Steve was the answer.

When she finally stopped crying, he at last let her go, giving her some space.

She rubs the tears from her eyes and wipes the tears on her jeans.

“Want me to kill him?” he asks jokingly. She laughs. He smiles again. “What happened? Can you tell me now?”

She told him what Eddie had said, the real reason he’d broken up with her and how she ran from the cafeteria and came here. Steve was reasonably upset, but he didn’t want to make it all about pounding Eddie into a pulp, he knew she needed her friend right now and he was prepared to be just that.

“Hey, screw him,” Steve scoffs, throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her back into his chest. “You’re far from boring, believe me, and honestly if you ask me you could do so much better than Eddie Munson. The guy picks his nose. I saw him once. It was gnarly.”

She’s laughing again, playfully hitting him. 

“Thank you, Steve,” she says, “I’m sorry to dump all this on you, I just needed someone to talk to, you know?” 

“Well, you came to the right guy. I can’t tell you it gets much better from public humiliation, but I can tell you that you find much better shit to focus on. Like this obviously stellar job. Robin. My new stereo I saved up for. And...well, you.” He playfully flicks her nose. She wrinkles her nose and swats his hand away. “Eddie doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. But I know he’s gonna kick himself in the ass when he realizes he lost a girl like you.”

“Yeah, you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my friend.” 

“Not true, I also wanna bug you for your famous cookies.” Steve winks.

“I can bring them to you tonight, then.” she said, patting his arm. “I should get going. Um...you clearly are very busy and I don’t wanna keep you from doing your job.”

“I know, such a bad influence. The gateway rebellion was skipping class. Now it’s job defiance,” Steve chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, um...if you want, when you come by tonight, maybe you could stick around? Was gonna rifle through the back, borrow some flicks to waste my evening away. Free to join me if you want? Robin flaked out on me, says she’s doing some band practice with Vicky. Didn’t ask for details.”

She thinks about it and smiles. “Sounds like fun. Girls’ night.”

“Invitation rescinded!” Steve shouts, turning away. 

“No, I’m kidding, I’m kidding, stop!” she protests, giggling. “I’ll bring cookies and pizza, Steve. I’ll be there.”

“Alright, then,” Steve said. “Um...hey, don’t worry about Eddie, alright? He’s just being a dick. And honestly, apart from his relationship with the rugrats, he’s still gonna be a dick. He missed out on a girl like you. Clearly he’s a martian.”

“Doesn’t mean much when I’m from Hawkins. But thank you, Steve. I’ll see you tonight,” she says, squeezing his hand and finally leaving the store back to her car. She left feeling much lighter than she had going in. He was right. Forget Eddie. If he thought she was so boring he clearly didn’t need her around him. She had other friends, friends like Steve.

Smiling to herself, she climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the key into the ignition, hearing the engine roar to life.

Things would be just fine. 

[hiraethwrote]

heyy can you write some headcannons on Megumi having a crush and how would he act towards her? I can’t really picture him confessing honestly. thank you so much

cw: f!reader, aged up characters, profanity, alcohol, fluff, some hostile behaviour, misunderstandings word count: 2.2k a/n this was supposed to be like a short drabble but i am unable to do that lol (no tags)

Megumi doesn’t have a lot of experience when it comes to having a crush, because no one has managed to catch his eye. Therefore, the realisation that he might have a crush on you comes sneaking up on him. It’s not until he becomes aware that you infiltrate his mind during the most casual moments that it hits him.

He could just be running errands, and he could hear a song playing from a random clothing store he’s walking past and think this would definitely be a song you’d listen to. Or when he witnesses something funny and has to remember to tell you.

When it dawns on him, the first feeling that strikes him is guilt. He can’t help but feel a little sleazy, like he’s become one of those annoying guys who always whine about being stuck in the friend zone — that he is somehow breaking your trust by how he feels about you. So he tries to tell himself that it’s not serious, only silly infatuation because you’re pretty. Nothing more.

Turns out he couldn’t be more wrong, because you continue to plague his mind, the feelings only growing stronger. And with that frustrating new development, there’s a clear shift in your relation — not necessarily for the better. He’ll grow colder and harsher, his tone carrying a hostile weight it didn’t have before.

“Megumi,” you chuckled, “don’t be so proud. It would be easier to just take two trips than try to carry everything at once.“ There was playfulness to your tone that was nothing but kind, indicating that the atmosphere shouldn’t be anything but pleasant. “Yeah, I heard you the first time,” he grumbled in response, stubbornly turning his back to you before he continued as if you’d never said anything at all. You blinked at him a few times in utter disbelief at the unfamiliar edge to his words, waiting for him to face you again to ease the jab with a shy smile. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered carefully when he never met your gaze again. You took the hint, turning on your heel and leaving him alone. Whatever had gotten into him, he clearly didn’t want you around, and you weren’t going to hang around if he was on going to fire tiny comments at you. He shot you a modest look over his shoulder, mentally kicking himself over talking to you that way, and karma would come and bite him soon enough. With a deep sigh, he lifted all the bags, like he had insisted on doing, only to carry them a few feet before the first bag tore, spilling all the items around him. “Fuck.”

Megumi had hoped that putting that (unnatural) distance between the two of you would cause his feelings to disappear, but that quickly proved not to be the case.

After a month of minimal contact, where you only ever interact when you’re hanging out with the entire group, he finds himself missing you. It just wasn’t right not to share those stares whenever someone said something ridiculous, or immediately turn to you when he needed someone else’s opinion.

He decides he wants to ease his way back into your good graces — but he’s a little too embarrassed to straight out apologise for the way he’s been treating you. So he starts off by tuning down his frown towards you when hanging out the whole group.

“Okay, guys, next one- guys, attention over here!” Nobara’s strict voice cut through the crowd, causing the chatter to calm down enough for her to ask the next question. “Who’s most likely to forget to text back?” Without hesitation, Yuji slung the ping pong ball to Megumi, who caught it with one hand — expecting it to come flying in his direction. “Drink up, Fushiguro!” “You know, it’s not that I forget. I just choose not to answer you,” Megumi mocked him before taking a swig of his drink. He couldn’t care less about the offended sounds that stuttered out of Yuji, because he was too hung up on how he had managed to draw the sweet sound of your chuckle from your lips. “Okay, Fushiguro. Who is most likely to make you smile? I’m surprised if there’s anyone that can make you smile,” Nobara snickered, biting the edge of her plastic cup. He rolled his eyes at her comment before swiftly throwing the ball confidently in your direction, causing you to jump a little as it lands in your lap. Your eyes found his immediately, lips parted in surprise. He drew his lips into an awkward line, heat rushing to his cheeks when you tilted your head at him, hiding the warm smile he caused behind your cup as you took a sip.

After that, things go back to normal — well, somewhat normal. You definitely go back to how your friendship used to be before the small hiccup. Megumi, however, has a hard time keeping his cool around you.

The whole ordeal has him easily irritated. Though after you’re little ‘break’, he makes sure never to take it out on you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t witness it. He didn’t have to struggle with something for long before a string of curses escapes him, before he inevitably gives up on whatever task is at hand — only for you to pick it up instead and immediately fix it.

He hates how you disturb every aspect of his life. Before you, he could lay down in his bed and fall asleep the second he closed his eyes. Now… he’d toss and turn into the lonely hours of the night.

During the day, he has (what he thinks is) a very pathetic need to be close to you whenever he has the chance. He tries to play it off as casually as possible, leaving the room when you do because “he needs to stretch his legs” or coming with you to the store even though he doesn’t need anything because “he could do with some fresh air”. Your presence is just comfortable to him, and he wants to wallow in it as much as possible.

Things and gestures he never really thought twice about before, suddenly has his mind raze a million miles an hour. Small things, like when you wanted to show him a funny video and as you hand him your phone, his entire body would feel like it was on fire when your fingers grazed his so gently. Or when you noticed a strand of hair on his shirt, you would simply reach out and remove it, and he instantly became insanely aware of himself.

“All I’m saying, is if Yuji really wanted to, he would just set his alarm-“ Time suddenly moved in slow motion, eyes following your every move as you simply leaned forward, two fingers delicately pinching the stray hair that had landed on his shoulder before rubbing your fingers together to let it fall to the floor. Were you crazy? Why would you do that to him? His breathing picked up its pace, as he now could physically feel every fibre and atom in his body. And now nothing about the way he sat or moved his arms felt natural, entirely convinced you would be able to see right through him. “Hey, Megumi!” Your voice finally snapped him back to the moment, staring at you with big eyes as you were sporting a rather confused expression. “Hmm?” “Did you lose your train of thought or something? You suddenly just stopped talking,” you chuckled. “Uhm, yeah, sorry. Where was I,” he said, shaking his head, trying desperately not to think about how you had taken such an innocent act and made it feel so incredibly intimate.

You do pick up on the change in his behaviour. He isn’t as subtle as he thinks when he purposely lingers around you after everyone has left. And whenever the group does something together, he makes sure to take the seat next to you.

Had it been anyone other than Megumi, you would never have thought twice about the behaviour — but when Megumi, who had always preferred to just keep to himself, suddenly seeks the company of another person, of course one raises an eyebrow in speculation.

You don’t want to assume anything, though. He could just feel bad for how he treated you and this was his way of apologising without saying the words. Nonetheless, you did not mind it at all.

Megumi has no plans on confessing whatsoever. He tries to convince himself he is perfectly content with living in the agony of admiring from your side, even though he’s slowly dying as the feelings just keep growing for every time he watches you smile.

“You know he likes you, right?” Nobara stated confidently as she licked her ice cream. You huffed a laugh, turning to look at her with your eyebrows pinched together. “Yeah, okay.” “Come on! You’re lying if you haven’t noticed.” “There’s nothing to notice, Nobara. He just feels bad for our little falling out,” you sighed as you turned to look at him and Yuji again. Much to Megumi’s dismay, Yuji had forced him on his feet to help him with setting up the chairs and table for the small get together he had arranged that evening. From afar it only seemed like Megumi was scolding Yuji for messing up the chairs again, very clearly frustrated by his inability to perform what was supposed to be an easy task. You felt Nobara’s inquisitive squint drill into your side. “You’re so full of shit.” You spun your head to scowl at her, offence written all over your features. “Well, he’s never going to come clean so you’re going to have to take the lead there.” She earned herself a weak kick to the heel before you shifted your attention to the two boys again, who seemed to be unbelievably lost. After a few seconds, Megumi turned towards you, instantly locking eyes with you. His lips turned upwards in a sweet smile as his hand raised in a small wave.

Megumi will continue to stay close to you, endlessly embarrassed every time you have his voice hitch in his throat because you’re just to breathtaking when doing… anything really.

After Nobara was the first person to breathe life into the idea of his crush on you out loud, it suddenly seemed like that was the reason behind everything he did. You couldn’t hide behind the suspicion that he felt guilty anymore, because it had gone on for too long.

Once you see it, how devoted he seems to be to you in the most mundane aspects of your life, you quickly realise that the feeling is mutual. There’s something about being the one person to melt the heart of the most stoic person you know. How he who always parades around with a grumpy expression, avoiding other people, chooses to basically follow you around with just the tiniest smile dancing at the corner of his lips at all times.

“You can have it,” Megumi said, sliding the plate with the last slice of pizza directly in front of you. “What?” “I said you can have it,” a slightly teasing lilt to his voice. You only stared at him with big eyes before your eyebrows narrowed. “You always claim the last slice.” He simply shrugged. “‘M not hungry.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest and you simply stared at him, trying to uncover whatever was running through his mind. His face slowly turned the faintest shade of red before he finally managed to avert his gaze. “Time to spit it out, Fushiguro,” you demanded. “Since when do you use my last na-“ “Don’t try and change the subject.” Your sudden strict tone had him swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered coyly, fingers toying with the unused fork in front of him. “Do you like me?” The blunt confession had his heart beat against his chest with the force of a thousand suns, pounding so loud it filled his ears, eyes drawn to yours again. “Of course, we’re friends-“ the sentence died in his throat at the fierce scowl you gifted him, head tilted forward in annoyance. “Yes.” The creased evidence of previous frustration relaxed as the innocent word spilled from his lips, shoulders slumping in a new sensation of peace. On the other side of the table, Megumi sat with the most intense stress he could ever remember feeling, only reinforced by how calm and quiet you became. “Huh,” you said lightheartedly. “Why didn’t you just say so?” It was his turn to furrow his eyebrows, surprised by the casual tone in your voice. “I like you too, dumbass.” “Oh,” he blinked. His heart slowly started to calm down to try and ground himself in order to deduce if this was one of his countless dreams of you or not. After a second, a genuine warm smile came to show on your lips, one of those that always made his heart skip a beat, and he realised this was in fact real.

Megumi having a crush on you works out in his favour in the end.

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized

[collaredsoldat]

Domestic Winter Soldier / Soldat Stuff

warnings: PTSD | Slight self-harm | Mentions past abuse

a/n: Idk I wanted to write this because he deserves some love even when he's the soldier. Various hcs about domestic life with the Winter Soldier. Actual fics in the works. I run four blogs so I try to balance it all. Not edited ignore mistakes.

Soldat is a little awkward with home life at first. He isn't sure what to do, being free from constant control isn't something he can easily adjust to.

He looks to you for commands all the time. Can he sit? Can he go to the bathroom? Can he sleep? Can he eat? Every little thing he does. You have to reassure him that he doesn't need to ask permission for anything, but he still does.

He sometimes gets snappy at you, since he still can't decide whether or not to trust you 100% or not. He can't understand why someone is being so nice to him.

Sometimes he accidentally breaks something and he flinches away from you, or he hides out of fear. You have to coax him out, telling him it's okay and that you're not going to hurt him. He always hesitates.

He struggles to sleep so he comes into your room most nights and stares at you or roughly shakes you to wake you up. "Can't sleep." he speaks lowly, and he grunts and climbs over you into your bed, never waiting for a response. At first he sleeps away from the door, but as time goes on he moves to sleep closest to the door in case any unlucky person breaks into your apartment.

Very much like a cat, he stays back but when he wants attention he sort of just...flops near you and demands it by laying on you somehow, or sitting super close so your bodies are touching.

He watches you cook a lot. He sits down at the counter and watches or he stands over you and watches. Sometimes you have to pull him away from the stove because the oil will burn him and he doesn't bother moving away on his own.

He's much more curious than you'd think. He watches you do a lot of things, almost as if he's never seen anything like it. Something as simple as brushing your hair or doing laundry, he's mesmerized by it.

When he's not watching you do something, you notice that he just stares a lot. He always watches you, at first out of uneasiness, but then...just because. He's always watching you, almost like he's worried you'll disappear.

You help him shower, he doesn't like touching his scars. He tries to rub them away, and he's tries to claw his metal arm off. So you help him clean to prevent him from going into one of those episodes of hurting himself in that way.

He used to get aggressive when you came around him when he was naked, treating you like some big threat, but you realized this was something more than just fear. It took a lot for him to get comfortable enough to allow you to touch him in the shower/bath.

For being so heavily trained as the best assassin, he's quite accident prone. Nothing major, but enough to warrant some kind of care. He feels a little confused whenever he gets hurt by accident, like he never expected the corner of the table to leave a small cut on his flesh arm. He focuses too much on things he knows hurt, that other things go unnoticed.

He learns to cook with you some days, he was tired of just watching. It's a good way to show him you trust him too, letting him handle things like knives or sharp objects without worrying he will hurt you.

You learn he really likes pie. Apple pie especially.

You also learn the alarm on the oven is too loud for him so you use your phone instead.

If you bring him out with you, he's very protective. His head is on a swivel, constantly observing everyone around you. He stays glued to your side, not letting you take many steps away from him.

Gets overstimulated easily.

Sounds that are similar to a blender or electricity freak him out. A bug zapper is also a sound he hates.

Some foods he looks at with newfound curiosity, like he hadn't seen them before. There are things he doesn't even recognize, newer or modernized things, he didn't know what to think. What the hell is an air fryer? How do you fry with air??

Get one and watch how he looks at it with amazement and confusion.

He seeks out spaces where he can be alone a lot, he needs space sometimes and you understand.

During bad episodes he sometimes disappears from your apartment, making you panic a little each time. You find him in alleys or the streets from time to time, he never wanders too far. You are worried sick but your priority is to get him back home.

It's hard for him to show it, but he does appreciate you and everything you've done for him. He gives you hugs from behind a lot, sometimes he whispers a word to you, but mostly he's silent.

He likes puzzles. He likes putting them together. Maybe because he himself feels like there are so many pieces of himself missing and it's satisfying to fill a picture.

One thing that calms him down are fresh cookies. Chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven, he can go from high strung to calm and docile.

He hates porridge and/or oatmeal. It's too similar to the things he was forced to eat in HYDRA. Tasteless slop, he can't stand the texture.

He loves when you brush his hair. His scalp is sensitive since he had his hair yanked and pulled so much, but you're always gentle. He loves feeling your fingers run through it and it puts him to sleep within minutes.

You're the only one who can touch his scars. Not that he is close to anyone else, but he doesn't fight you when your hand roams over where metal meets flesh.

Watches over you when you sleep a lot, his eyes glued to the door and his ears alert to every single sound. He stays up until he literally can't keep his eyes open.

He's very attached to you and never wants to leave you, ever.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[puffcap-factory]

Oh, the man he is... (Wriothesley x Reader)

Wriothesley x fem!reader; fluff, shared feelings, implied mutual pining or some sorts + Sigewinne, Furina, Neuvillette appeared as cameos!

You had agreed to extend your work in the Fortress, much to Wriothesley’s delight. However, recently, he found it harder and harder to spend time with you, and it left him feeling restless.

((The story is a sequel of my previous fic here! Although you can always read it separately, the build-up is somewhat connected to the previous one))

Words: 3.1k

Notes: 

I’ve always wanted to do the continuation of my previous stories, but I clearly went overboard for this one since I didn’t plan this to be this long. But, I mean, it’s Wriothesley, who could resist? ;) and don't judge the title pls HELP

Enjoy the story!

•~•~•~•

No, Wriothesley wasn't a jealous man.

As a responsible warden of the fortress, he remained focused on his professional duties, fully acknowledging the demands they entailed.

However, ever since you’ve agreed to extend your work at the Fortress of Meropide—with Neuvillette’s permission, of course, Wriothesley had unconsciously developed a habit of seeking you out—whether it was to hand you some documents or simply to ask about your day. 

Yet, it had been a week since he had a proper conversation with you, since the conflicting work schedules you two had left little time to spend with each other. And somehow, it was starting to bother Wriothesley more than it should. 

Wriothesley exhaled as he stood up from his office seat, leaving piles of documents sprawled on his desk. Despite his usual preference for lunching in his office, he found himself walking towards the cafeteria.

As he approached the bustling cafeteria, his hopes lifted momentarily when he saw you already seated, only to deflate when he spotted you already seated… with another young man in front of you. 

Oh. He thought to himself.

In that moment, he recalled that your latest work involved cooperation with some of the fortress’ members. Right, it was business matters and he’s the Duke of Meropide, he got nothing to worry about, right? 

So, he greeted you, asked about your day, and went back to his office.

•~•~•~•

Wriothesley surely wasn’t a jealous man...

Another day, he discovered that you were done for the day as your work for the day was finished. He was just about to step out of his office to search for you when, to his surprise, you appeared right in front of the office doors. What luck, he thought to himself. However, your sheepish smile hinted at something else.

“Oh, hi, um— I’m here to tell you that I won’t be here for the weekend.”

His plans to ask you out crumbled inside his head.

“Oh, you got called in by the court?”

“No, but I’ve got other things to do,” you replied as you gave him an apologetic smile. “Is that okay?”

Well, he couldn't just outright refuse; after all, you deserved a break too. However, his mind raced, wondering about the nature of the 'other things' you had mentioned. Was it work-related? Or perhaps it was something more private?

"Of course, don’t worry about it," Wriothesley reassured you with a smile, trying to bury his own thoughts as he mentally cursed himself for his train of thought. "I'll see you next Monday then."

You thanked him and went off. He sighed, hoping that you would be available for the weekend so he could at least ask you out. But for now, he would have to wait.

•~•~•~•

Wriothesley definitely wasn’t the jealous type... or so he believed.

But lately, he couldn't shake this nagging feeling of restlessness. You seemed busier than ever, going back and forth between the surface and the fortress. And, to make matters worse, you were spending less time with him compared to a certain assistant. This young man had been assisting you in the latest case at the fortress, and he seemed to be handling it well. In fact, it was Wriothesley himself who suggested you to appoint an assistant in order to lighten your workload—as you seemed to have some business to take care of on the surface, only to find himself now competing for your attention.

It was like his own idea to help you had turned against him, backfiring in the most frustratingly ironic way possible. 

Massaging his temples, Wriothesley groaned as his thoughts swirled in his head.

“Feeling unwell, Your Grace?” Sigewinne's soft and cheery voice interrupted his brooding as she entered his office, carrying documents from the infirmary.

“Oh, Sigewinne, it’s nothing,” Wriothesley exhaled. “Thanks for the documents though.”

“If you’re wondering about y/n, she’s already gone to the surface,” Sigewinne said softly, yet, her tone masking a hint of mischief.

Wriothesley sighed in defeat. “Right, the event tomorrow. I figured she'd be attending.”

“Didn't she tell you?” Sigewinne asked innocently.

Oof.

Wriothesley fell silent, then replied, “No, but I had a hunch.”

“I saw her heading to the surface with Antonio—the assistant, did I get his name right? I heard there’s a ball in the event, right? Maybe they’re preparing for it,” Sigewinne added, her smile widening just a bit, her eyes anticipating his reaction. 

Wriothesley lifted his head to stare at Sigewinne, at a loss for words.

Wait, were you actually planning on dancing together with Antonio?

She giggled innocently at his reaction before continuing.

“But you’ll be there too, Your Grace. And for security reasons, I don’t see any problem,” she chirped, her amusement evident in her voice.

With a grumble, Wriothesley stood up and headed straight to his room. “Security reasons, right… I’ll need to think about tomorrow's outfit then…”

Sigewinne watched him go, giggling softly to herself.

“Racing hearts, rising blood pressure, uneasiness. Yep, those are the physical symptoms of jealousy, alright,” Sigewinne mused to herself.

“Human emotions are truly interesting.”

•~•~•~•

You stared at the dress laying on top of your bed at your dwelling in the surface, mentally preparing yourself up with confidence to wear it for the event tomorrow. In fact, Furina had picked the dress together with you. Classy, beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous; was what she commented. But honestly, when was the last time you'd slipped into something so elegant? 

As you lay back on your bed, your mind wandered over the events of the past few weeks.

--few weeks before--

“A… ball, you said?” 

"Yes, in fact, Lady Furina will be hosting the event. And we are expected to attend as representatives from the court," Neuvillette explained, his tone as flat as ever. Beside him, Lady Furina nodded eagerly. “The ball will pose as the closing ceremony.”

"Ah, I see... so the event about three weeks away," you replied, your confidence faltering slightly. "To be honest, I'm not exactly skilled at dancing..."

"Oh, nonsense! A Fontainian lady must know how to dance!" Lady Furina interjected, her voice brimming with determination. "Fear not! I'll personally train you at least twice a week until the ball. How does that sound?"

You swallowed nervously, anticipating her rigorous training methods. You glanced to Neuvillette, only to found him nodding in agreement. 

"Um... alright, thank you for the offer, Lady Furina. I'll try to make time during the weekends."

"Excellent! It's settled then!" Lady Furina exclaimed with a wide smile, her hand clasped in front of his chest. "Meet me in front of my house this weekend!"

You closed your eyes, recalling the training sessions with Furina as you tried to gather your confidence for tomorrow. Although you could safely say you were doing okay-ish with the training, your mind kept wandering back to a certain man in the fortress, leaving you longing for the interactions you shared with him.

•~•~•~•

The next evening, the venue began to fill with people, the atmosphere bustling with liveliness. You positioned yourself near the Palais Mermonia members, keeping Neuvillette in your sight as you glanced over at Furina, who was already engaged in conversation with other people.

As you talked with various guests, your thoughts often drifted to whether Wriothesley would attend the ball. The idea of dancing with him crossed your mind, but so far, he was nowhere to be seen.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t told him a thing about your secret dancing lessons. 

“You haven’t found a dance partner??” Furina's panicked tone was evident as she approached you, her arm linked with Neuvillette's, signaling that they would dance together. 

“Um, well, not yet…” you mumbled, feeling a bit flustered.

“Oh, my! I won’t allow you wasting your skills today! Let me see…”

Furina pondered for a moment before suggesting a few Palais Mermonia attendees as potential partners. However, none of them really piqued your interest. If you want someone, it would be– 

“Wriothesley is also attending this event too, in case you are wondering,” Neuvillette added suddenly, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widened slightly at the unexpected mention of Wriothesley's presence. You knew Neuvillette must be offering his personal opinion, perhaps based on his own observation of your close working relationship with the Duke, in addition with Wriothesley's request to extend your stay at the fortress. However, the comment had caught you off guard, and you went silent, a faint blush tinting your cheeks as you hid your excitement.

But your reaction had caught Furina’s attention as her smile turned into a mischievous grin. “Ah, the Duke of Meropide! How could I forget?” she exclaimed dramatically, holding her hand up to her face. “I saw him near the gardens earlier. You should go check him out!”

Although you realized her attempt on teasing you, you found yourself nodding hastily and made your way outside to the place she had mentioned. 

“And the ball is starting in fifteen—!” Furina added rather enthusiastically, her voice trailing behind you. 

And so, you went outside. The atmosphere was less crowded than indoors, but there were still plenty of people mingling about. You paced around in search of Wriothesley when suddenly, a young man intercepted you from the side, introducing himself.

“Good evening, m’lady. You're as lovely as a fresh rainbow rose. Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“Thank you, but I’m actually looking for someone…” you began, trying to politely decline.

“A dance partner, perhaps?” he persisted, holding out a real rainbow rose this time.

“I’m sorry, but I really should— ,“ you attempted to excuse yourself, but he wasn't taking the hint.

“The ball's starting soon. It'd be a shame not to enjoy a dance with such a beautiful lady…”

Feeling pressured but unable to escape his persistence, you were about to step away, but a reassuring hand suddenly clasped your waist, holding you close from the side.

“The lady clearly indicated she wasn't interested.”

Relief flooded through you as you immediately recognized the voice. Looking up, you saw Wriothesley standing with a polite – or perhaps, intimidating – smile on his face, standing rather menacingly in front of the persistent man. The young man went off immediately, clearly taking Wriothesley’s cue.

After the man had hurriedly retreated, Wriothesley released his arm from your waist and turned towards you, his gaze lingering for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips as he took time to admire your delightful appearance. He then bowed slightly towards you, lifting your hand with a gentle touch and pressed a small kiss to the back of it.

“M’lady,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. 

You were stunned by his gentlemanly gesture, as you just felt a flutter of butterflies inside your stomach. “Wriothesley…” You found yourself momentarily at a loss for words, struck by how incredibly charming he appeared in his formal attire.

“You look stunning,” he complimented, his warm gaze met yours, a stark contrast to the coolness of his icy-colored eyes. You shyly thanked him for his kind words, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his sincere compliment.

As the two of you were lost in the brief moment of admiring each other, he cleared his throat, subtly regaining his composure as he glanced around. “…Are you perhaps, waiting for someone?” he asked as his curiosity piqued. 

“Oh, well, I was…”

Wriothesley immediately caught onto your choice of words.

“You… were?”

“Mhm, but not anymore,” you replied with a warm, sheepish smile.

A hint of confusion flickered across Wriothesley's face, his thoughts momentarily jumbled. Wait, so you weren't waiting for Antonio, which meant…

You sensed his slow realization and couldn't help but let out a small laugh as you added, “You, Wriothesley. You’re the one I’ve been searching for.”

Your words came out cheesier than intended, and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks as you scrambled to explain. But Wriothesley did not seem to care as his smile grew wider. It was what he had hoped to hear. 

But then, before he could say anything, your attention shifted to the direction of the building, with the music began playing from inside the hall, signaling that the ball had already begun as people started flocking into the building.  

Observing the dwindling crowd, Wriothesley turned to look at you. “As much as I want to dance with you, I don’t think we’ll make it in time inside.”

You returned his smile at his eagerness to dance with you. You looked around, taking in the serene atmosphere of the nearly empty garden. “It’s fine. Instead… I’d hate to miss the beauty of the moon tonight.”

He gave you an affectionate smile as he seemed to understood the hint, and extended his arm towards you. “Well then, m’lady, may I have the honor of a dance?”

With a nod, you gladly accepted his hand. “Of course, Your Grace,” you replied, earning a small chuckle from him at your sudden formality.

As the music played softly in the background and the moon cast its gentle glow upon you, you and Wriothesley began to dance. The waltz you had practiced with Furina proved its worth as you both moved gracefully under the enchanting night sky. You realized that you had been longing for his company for this whole time.

As you danced, you became acutely aware of the close proximity between you and Wriothesley. Your faces were just inches apart, and his eyes seemed to be locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. His hand rested firmly on your back, providing a reassuring support, while the other held yours with a gentle yet firm grip. 

“You dance well,” you whispered softly, breaking the silence.

“I could say the same about you,” he hummed, his eyes affectionately locked on yours as you two transitioned into a slower dance. “Have you been practicing in secret? Or were you just naturally gifted?”

You gave a small laugh at his remark. “Actually…” You paused, shying away for a bit. “I’ve been attending dance lessons with Lady Furina these past few weeks.”

“Oh? Is that why you've been going back and forth to the surface?” 

“Mostly, yeah, since I agreed to return her favor,” you explained with a sheepish grin. “But she also roped me into helping compile some data for this event. I must thank you for offering me appointing an assistant to help with the job though. He really did his job well.”

“Wait, I thought he’s also coming to this event?” He stopped the slow dance momentarily, still holding you in his arms as he processed the new information.

“Antonio? No, he’s taking care of my duties today in the fortress, as I instructed him yesterday.”

Wriothesley went silent as everything seemed to click inside his mind, a chuckle escaping his lips, amused by his own thoughts. You looked at him in confusion, but he waved off your concern with a dismissive smile.

“Never mind, it’s not the time to dwell on petty things,” he said, his focus returning to you. “I don’t want to spoil the moment dancing with you tonight.”

You stared at him for a second, before nodding in agreement, letting go of any lingering questions inside you as you both resumed your dance under the enchanting moonlight. It felt like you were dancing without a care in the world, lost in each other’s embrace.

As the song reached its conclusion, you both stopped gracefully, locked in a gaze neither of you wanted to break. A warm smile played on your lips as you looked into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his gaze that he returned to you.

In that fleeting moment, as the night air wrapped around you like a gentle caress, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. His eyes began to flicker between your lips and your eyes. You were ready to surrender yourself into the silent invitation as you slowly leaned forwards, feeling his breath brush against your skin as your noses almost touching.

Seeing you responded to his silent cue, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Wriothesley's lips as he too began to close the gap between you, inching closer. Finally, his lips met yours as he kissed you gently, sealing the moment carefully with a tender embrace.

Despite your racing heartbeat, you melted into his soft kiss, feeling his hand cupping your cheek gently that made your heart flutter. As the air around you seemed to grow warmer with the intensity of the moment, you pulled back slightly, needing a moment to catch your breath. Your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue as you met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, the heat of the moment still lingering between you.

He leaned in closer, as if to pull you into another kiss, but then abruptly halted, his body rigid as his eyes widened slightly. He then quickly turned his head to the side facing the bushes, while his hand remained protectively on your waist.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice a bit demanding.

Slowly, a small figure behind starting to emerge behind the bushes, revealing Sigewinne who slowly tiptoed out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Grace, I thought I was hiding well,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to bother, so I waited.”

Wriothesley immediately released his hand from your waist, bringing it to his face to hide his embarrassment. “Ah, it’s you…, what brings you here?”

“Monsieur Neuvillette was searching for you, and I happened to spot you here,” she explained, her tone light and playful. 

Wriothesley let out an exasperated sigh, his hand falling to his side. “Right.”

Then, Sigewinne glanced at you with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Looks like your jealousy was a tad unnecessary, Your Grace,” she teased.

“Huh, where did that come from?” Wriothesley responded with a bemused expression.

You stood there, momentarily stunned, before Sigewinne’s words finally sank in. “…Jealous? Of whom?” you asked, glancing between them in confusion, before it dawned on you as you recalled your lingering questions from your mind.

Wait…could it be? 

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Sigewinne continued, “Ah, you see, this big man was actually jealous that new assis–”

“Ugh, spare me…” Wriothesley groaned, turning to walk away, not wanting to hear the rest of Sigewinne’s teasing. You laughed softly as you followed behind with Sigewinne as she started to explain her observationsfrom the past few weeks.

As you walked, you caught Wriothesley stealing a glance back at the two of you, a playful smirk tugged on his lips. It seemed like he was content with how things had turned out.

And so, the rest of the night unfolded with cheers and laughter, with everyone by your side. Despite the lingering feeling of a certain unfinished business, you couldn't wipe the smile from your face for the entire night.

After all, you now know that the feelings were mutual, right?

[qatarsprint2023]

Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The days pass like cold mud – slow, uncomfortable, and relentless.

But they do pass.

Eddie had said he could give Steve the time he needed, and he’d meant it; he would wait out the two weeks and be there on the other side to talk to him. To hope for a second chance.

They see each other here and there, mostly in passing: Steve comes to pick a few of the kids up from a gaming session; Eddie stops in at Family Video with Jeff, Gareth, and Oliver to grab a movie (where Jeff and Steve exchange a surprisingly friendly greeting); they occupy separate sides of the room at a group dinner.

Each time, Eddie is sure to at least acknowledge and wave at Steve, in spite of any protective hovering and scowling Robin might be doing if she happens to be present. Steve gives cautious nods in return at first, but as they near the deadline, he’s returning Eddie’s distant greetings with a hesitant smile and that ridiculous little finger-wiggle wave that Eddie had been reluctantly charmed by in the beginning.

And in the meantime, Eddie plots.

He is not, by nature, an optimist (strangely, between the two of them, that’s Steve’s area), but in this instance, he plans for the best: the idea that Steve will say yes and let Eddie take him on a proper date. And as improvisational as Eddie likes to be, he’s also a veteran dungeon master and plotter of all sorts of campaigns; if you want long-term plans to go off without a hitch, it pays to be prepared.

So, he plots.

He brainstorms and makes lists of all of Steve’s favorite things and schemes out elaborate romantic gestures and draws on all the knowledge he’s retained from the romcoms he’d whined about having to watch with Steve but had always given in over when Steve gave him that puppy-eyed look that Eddie has no defense against.

(And somehow, he’d continued to think they were just friends. His lack of awareness should be studied as a scientific anomaly.)

He thinks Steve would be proud of his accumulated work (and Eddie himself isn’t ashamed of it, but all the same, he makes sure to hide the notebook where none of the guys will ever, ever stumble across it, because they would never, ever let Eddie live it down).

In any case, the ticking down of two weeks finally comes to an end, and Eddie stands in front of the phone earlier than he’d normally care to be awake, hoping that his work will pay off.

Steve picks up before the fourth ring, just like he always does, and answers the phone like a dork, just like he always does.

“Harrington residence, Steve speaking.”

This is where Eddie normally makes a joke – says he’d been trying for the funeral home and asks if Steve happens to have a shovel and some time on his hands; says he thought he’d had the number for the Hawkins Gentleman’s Club and asks if Steve is much of a dancer; once, he’d even affected a terrible New York accent and spun some lines about how he’d been trying to call a speakeasy. He can always hear the laughter caught behind Steve’s dry responses to his nonsense, and he always loves it.

But now is not “normally,” and Eddie only just manages to sound like himself as he replies, “Steve. Just the Harrington I was hoping would speak.”

“Eddie,” is all Steve says for a moment; he sounds almost surprised, but not displeased. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie says back. “So, I know punctuality has never been my strong suit, but it’s, uh. It’s been two weeks. Pretty much on the dot. And you said I should come talk to you again, so…”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, no, did you – You can come over. If you want to talk, still,” Steve says – stammers, really, like he’s been caught off-guard, like he really hadn’t been expecting Eddie to call.

“Well, if I didn’t change my mind in two weeks, I’m not gonna change my mind in the fifteen minutes it takes to get to your house,” Eddie says.

“Sure,” Steve says, a little steadier now. “Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

“You definitely will,” Eddie assures him. “See you in a bit, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yes. Bye, Eddie.”

It’s awkward, but – it’s something.

The only reason Eddie doesn’t break an egregious number of traffic laws on his way to Steve’s house is because he simply couldn’t bear the irony of getting arrested now, of all times. With his luck, he’d get sent up the river and Steve would be left waiting and waiting at his house before coming to the conclusion that Eddie had never really cared about him after all, only to be found surprised and jaded several years later when Eddie is finally released from prison and makes his first stop the Harrington house and – Christ, Eddie’s had romance on the brain too long. He’s going to have to binge reread Lord of the Rings or something to get his head back on straight.

He pulls his head out of the clouds and his van into the Harrington’s ridiculously massive driveway and heads up to the door with a vibrating surplus of energy sustained entirely by nerves and determination.

It seems like he’s not the only one running on anxiety power, though, based on how quickly the door opens after Eddie rings the bell.

It’s the first time Eddie’s really seen Steve up close since the trailer two weeks ago. He looks– better. He’s still tired, Eddie can tell; he’s got that slightly droopy look around his eyes and an almost painful set to his jaw that’s nearly impossible to spot if you don’t know what to look for – and most people don’t (but Eddie’s spent a lot of time learning Steve, even if he hadn’t picked up all the right tells). But he still looks better, and Eddie finds himself relieved.

“Hey, there,” he says, giving Steve a nod. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, y’know. Thought I’d drop by.”

Steve shakes his head, a tiny smile quirking up at one corner of his mouth. “Come in, jackass.”

“Fine way to treat your guests,” Eddie drawls in return, gratified when Steve’s smile grows just a tiny bit more.

He takes off his shoes at the entryway (Steve hardly ever asks anyone to take off their shoes, because worrying about the state of your floors isn’t cool, but it bothers him all the same, and so Eddie takes them off) and follows Steve through to the living room, where they both perch awkwardly on the couch and sit in an equally awkward silence for about thirty seconds.

“So… you said I should come talk to you,” Eddie says finally.

“I did, yeah.” Steve nods.

“You said to tell you if this was still something I wanted,” Eddie goes on.

“I did, yeah,” Steve says again. “And… you’re here.”

“I told you I wouldn’t change my mind, Steve.” Eddie’s hand twitches, almost instinctively reaching out for a spot on Steve’s knee, or around his wrist, or threaded through his fingers, but he doesn’t think he can take Steve freezing up or pulling away again. “This – you, us – I still want it. I want to do it right. If you’ll give me the chance, I want to treat you how you should be treated.”

Steve nods. “Okay.”

Eddie blinks. “Okay? As in – just, yeah, okay?” He knows he’s not making much sense, but he’d been sort of prepared to have to make his case – to extol the virtues of the perfect dates he had planned, to sing the praises of all the things he knows now that he should appreciate about Steve, to lament the loss of trust and ease between them, but instead Steve is just sitting there, watching him with a funny sort of smile on his face.

“I was… I was never going to say no, Eddie.” Steve shrugs. “I just really needed you to think about it. To make sure this—a real relationship with… with me—is really what you wanted. Because if it’s not, if you took it back again, I don’t think I’d– I just really needed you to be sure.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, low and serious, “I have never been more sure of anything in my life. A real relationship with you is exactly what I want.”

Steve’s smile twitches, changes into something a little more familiar, a little warmer. “Okay.”

“You’re never gonna regret it, sweetheart,” Eddie says, can’t help bouncing a little in his seat as his nerves turn to excitement, to elation. “I have the corniest, most romantic dates planned, I swear, I’m going to knock your socks off. We’ll unlock your inner Molly Ringwald.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve shakes his head at Eddie. “You really don’t have to do all that. I’m not– putting you through a trial, or whatever, we can just go back to what we were doing, right? Just with… I dunno, more awareness.”

“Noooo, no.” Eddie shakes his head right back. “You said you didn’t want to pretend nothing ever happened, and you shouldn’t have to. I want to do this, Steve. Let me take you on a real date.”

Something unreadable flashes across Steve’s face, and suddenly his smile is wrong again. Sort of plastic – like he’s trying, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes. But before Eddie can ask what’s wrong, Steve is shrugging.

“If you insist…”

“I most certainly do,” Eddie says firmly. “I’m gonna romance the shit out of you.”

At that, Steve releases a helpless snort of laughter, and the plastic smile is gone, blown away by a real one.

“You’re making a super good argument for it,” Steve says, and Eddie grins.

“Aren’t I?” He bats his eyelashes. “So tell me: you free on Friday night?”

“I’m working, actually. Someone has to dole out dumb romances to other people out on dates,” Steve says drily, as if he himself hasn’t seen most of the films he’s maligning.

Eddie hums. “Saturday?”

“I could probably get someone to cover my shift,” Steve hedges, teasing and flirty and everything Eddie’s missed in the last few weeks.

“So you’ll be free?” Eddie asks.

“As a bird – as long as that bird isn’t a robin, considering who’s going to have to cover for me,” Steve says, and Eddie pulls a grimace.

“Yeah, maybe don’t tell her why you need the shift covered. I get the feeling she wouldn’t be as agreeable if she knew I was involved,” he says.

“I don’t think Robin’s ever been agreeable in her life, and she’d probably resent the accusation.” Steve smirks. “But as long as she doesn’t think I’m sneaking away to see you, and if I take the Monday morning shift she really hates, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Let’s plan for Saturday?”

“Saturday it is!” Eddie pops up off the couch, both unwilling to sour the mood by overstaying his welcome, and suddenly overflowing with the need to set preparations in motion. “Six o’clock, sharp! I’ll pick you up.”

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” Steve asks, one eyebrow cocked.

“Absolutely not. The surprise is part of the experience,” Eddie says.

“Dress code, at least?” Steve wheedles, and Eddie supposes that’s fair.

“Casual. And bring a jacket,” Eddie says.

Both of Steve’s brows go up now, as he rises from the couch to follow Eddie back out towards the door. “Telling someone to bring outerwear to a date is usually a red flag, man,” he says, watching as Eddie shoves his shoes back on.

“But you love being outside,” Eddie counters, glancing up at Steve with a grin.

“I,” Steve pauses, blinking at him. “I guess.”

“And no more hints,” Eddie says, rising from the floor and reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice warming around a small, pleased smile, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Can’t wait.” Eddie throws one last grin at him before stepping out into the brisk, late fall air.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Part 7

-

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The tag list is full at this time, but I'll be posting this fic to Ao3 soon, so hopefully people can subscribe there if they want update alerts?

[suosgirl]

Party in the USA (the dayger’s going crazy)

Word Count: 15k+

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Characters: Hayato Suo, Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Kotoha Tachibana, Jo Togame, Ren Kaji, Mitsuki Kiryu, Akihiko Nirei, Choji Tomiyama, Toma Hiragi, Kyotaro Sugishita, Taiga Tsugeura

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, gn!reader, alcohol (lots of it), alcohol consumption, weed, weed consumption, cigarettes, ooc (most definitely), shitposting, for fun! – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: I feel very well qualified to write about this. I have hands-on experience and feel strongly about this topic. Please feel free to send me an ask regarding any of my references (I have attended many, many daygers.) This is actually so americancore and niche of me – sorry (not sorry). Also! Don’t be fooled, I hate America!

Hajime Umemiya | “Hey! Hi! Are ya hungry?”

The first face you see when you walk in, all in his shirtless glory

An absolute king at grilling – he’s got burgers, hotdogs, skewers, the works

The lettuce and tomatoes? Yeah, he grew them

Will take every chance he has to tell everyone too

Be careful though – for as much as he’s hot, he’s also a yapper

Being behind the grill unlocks a side of him that not many know – his dad side

“There’s a lot at steak… it’s un-grill-ievable!”

Buzzed & responsible – doesn’t let himself get too lit when he’s grilling

But once everyone’s had their fill and he’s got some downtime? Oh he’s inviting everyone to shotgun a beer with him

Can slam down a can in like 3 seconds no joke

Then, he’ll turn to you with stars in his eyes waiting for your words of praise and acknowledgement (how do you tell him that he did it so fast that you didn't see it?)

Toma Hiragi | “Whaddya drinkin’?”

You’re telling me you WOULDN'T trust this man to get the best liquor for the party?

Gonna go out on a limb here and say that he leans toward either Hennessy or Casamigos

Throws back his shots like a fucking champ – no chase needed (he likes the burn of it)

Definitely a heavy weight, so he’s got at least 2 of whatever he’s drinking just in case

Also doesn’t drink chase because of his stomach, so you know – go big or go home

Never lets you pour your own shots (chivalry isn’t dead, everyone)

And … if you ask him nicely … he’ll birdfeed it to you

Ren Kaji | “Chase is over there – you need help getting it?”

With how much candy he has to inhale on a daily basis, it just makes sense that he would be getting the soda, juice, or whatever pairing he thinks goes well with the corresponding liquor

And he definitely went with Hiragi to pick everything up (so cute)

Also in charge of the playlist for the day (I know his music taste is impeccable)

If you tell him this, though, he’d try to be so nonchalant about it (inside his heart is doing little pitter patters)

I feel like he has little shit tendencies and once everyone is feeling good he’ll see how many times he can queue Party In The USA until someone notices (wears his headphone tho bc ofc he would get annoyed)

Akihiko Nirei | “I made it! It’s really good – want a sip?”

JUNGLE! JUICE! PRO!

I just know he’s got the most insane recipe in his notebook (he’s got the exact measurements and brand names too)

Based on countless interviews, many trial runs, and many hangovers –  he’s perfected it to a T

Literally one cup has everyone on a good one – and he’s somehow got it to not taste like alcohol at all?

So proud of it too – if you tell him how good it is he’s got hearts in his eyes and he’s offering to get you another cup (with your consent of course)

Haruka Sakura | “I just grabbed the first one I saw … is it good? Do you like it?”

He’s new to this you know, so he’s keeping it cute and simple and easy

Besides, you can never go wrong with a pack of seltzers

He’s so cute and flustered about it too –

Like imagine him standing in front of the fridges just looking at all of them and getting slowly overwhelmed by all the different types and seeing that they all have different alc % and it’s getting so confusing

He just grabs one that looks decently good or has a name that seems kinda familiar to him and he storms off

And it’s literally like Twisted Tea or White Claws or something

But, as I said, you can never go wrong with a nice basic seltzer

Compliment his choice (even if you know it was made on a whim) and he’ll blush (he blames it on the summer heat)

Hayato Suo | “Do you want me to get your back?”

Sweet, thoughtful king

Brings sunblock and aloe vera gel because he just knows that everyone else will forget the basic necessities

If you need help getting your back, he’s more than happy to offer his services

Also – who would he be if he didn’t bring green tea shots (it’s a given)

He actually created them not many people know that

It’s always the perfect ratio too – never too strong and never too weak (the perfect balance)

Anyways, also a heavyweight (potentially) but gets just a bit touchy when he’s buzzed

So when he offers to reapply sunblock on you despite having done it less than 30 minutes ago, who are you to say no?

Kyotaro Sugishita | “I need a partner … You any good?”

This man absolutely demolishes at beer pong

Never leaves the table actually (and stays undefeated the whole dayger)

He’s so tall like he’s got built-in stats for it already

If Umemiya takes a break from grilling and comes to join him? Oh they’re absolutely wiping everyone

If beer pong was an Olympic sport, Sugashita would’ve already been scouted

Because he’s so good, he doesn’t even need a partner that’s at the same level as him – he just needs a partner

But – to him, making at least one cup is better than nothing, and if you’re able to do just that? Oh, you’re never leaving his side

Mitsuki Kiryu | “You want a hit, cutie?”

It’s actually canon that Kiryu smokes like I just know it in my heart and soul

Loves to make different blends too, some with rose petals and some with lavender 

His blunts are so pretty too, and he’ll use pink wrapping papers

Also has a small bong just in case anyone wants it in that form — and also edibles

And also cigs

He has money, why wouldn’t he show out?

His lighters all have decoden on them too, and they all have his name spelled on it (he was tired of people stealing them)

Also incredibly respectful – brings his own ashtray that he disposes of on his own

I feel like he transitions a lot of people into smoking for the first time (if they’re interested, of course! Would never peer pressure.)

But …. Oh boy… the way that he would gently tilt your head back to blow a hit into your mouth

Kotoha Tachibanau | “I’m gonna get you so wet!”

Give this girl a break she deserves to have fun!

Stays in the pool most of the time, but also loves to soak up the sun so she’s got her own self-care agenda for the day

Loves water guns! Brings like 2 or 3 of them

Also probably brings a book to enjoy by the pool when she’s tanning

Definitely the type to get the ice water from the coolers and spray anyone who tries to come within 5 feet of her

If she feels silly (and buzzed) she’ll pour jungle juice into them and shoot them into people’s mouths

Takes this time to truly relax and unwind (we love a work-life balance!) – and loves doing it beside you

Taiga Tsugeura | “Don’t forget to drink water!”

Absolutely brings cases of water and liquid IV

He’s all for partying, don’t get him wrong, but he’s also got to hit the gym tomorrow so

Makes sure that everyone’s got a bottle of water on them – his virtue is caring too much

Also decently good at beer pong, but his downfall is that he throws the ball too hard and ends up hitting people like 10 feet away from him in the head

Also strikes me as unhinged, so – if you’re cool with getting pulled into the pool, then he’s definitely your guy

Definitely does flips while diving into the pool to try and impress you (it works)

Jo Togame | “Need some help with that?”

What Sakura may lack in seltzers, Togame makes up in beer

If there’s one thing he knows, it’s a good brand of beer

Also clocked in my mind as a heavyweight, so if he’s up to drink, he’s bringing many many cases

Has a bottle opener that has sentimental value to him – probably one that Choji got for him

Can also pop it open with his teeth (but no one ever lets him because it’s bad)

("Sure, okay, whatever squares" — he listens.)

If he sees you struggling to pop the cap off, he’s already grabbing it from your hand and doing it for you – no questions asked

(Ask him while he’s buzzed, and he’ll do it with his teeth, all while staring into your eyes)

Choji Tomiyama | “Let’s take a shot!”

The first thing he does is do a cannonball in the pool (this is so canon)

If you’re a soju lover – he’s got it!

Brings all the flavors too, but is most partial to yogurt-flavored soju

Is flitting all over the party talking to everyone and anyone

(Tries his hand at beer pong – going to go out on a limb here and say that he sucks)

However! He is a heavyweight!

Can hold his own with Umemiya and Togame for sure

Is definitely the one gathering everyone together to take some shots

Will probably ask Kaji to play Shots by LMFAO and Lil Jon every single time (after the first time, Kaji starts ignoring him)

If you’re open to shots, is absolutely pulling you by your arm to take yet another one

[toweroftickles]

Hi (:

What do you think about characters of "Inside out 2"? Do we have some lees here?

Ok I somehow didn't experience the original Inside Out until like 2 weeks ago, and then immediately rushed to theaters for the second one, and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since! Of course the first thing I started daydreaming about was the chaos that would ensue in Brain HQ during tickles. So yes, I've definitely got headcanons. XD

EMOTIONAL * RESPONSES

When Riley Gets Tickled

Joy squees, claps, bounces up and down, the usual. "AAAH Tickle time! Awww, our girl is still so adorable..."

Disgust: "Mm-mm. I hate this. Hate it. Majorly messing with my zen."

Sadness: *confused and a little uncomfortable*

Fear: *open-mouthed and deeply uncomfortable*

Envy gasps and hops up to the screen. "Omigosh omigosh they're touching us. That means they like us and think we're cute, right? Right?!"

Anger: "Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh?! You want a fight, kid?! I'll give ya a fight! Right up your -"

Anxiety: "Wait! There's a million possible variables in what'll happen if we decide to fight back! Accidentally punching them would be devastating to our network!"

Joy's not paying attention, she's too busy laughing and hammering the serotonin injector.

"I-I got it! Scream! Just holler, really loud!"

"GUHH, get out of the wayyyy; stop hogging this thing! We have to run! Come on!"

Ennui: *exists in French*

*Meanwhile Embarrassment is just spread out like a starfish and rolling his entire girth back and forth across the keyboard.*

When Riley's Tickling Someone Else

Joy takes the wheel here. The others know not to disturb a master plying her craft. She's an expert tickler, so she feeds Riley a whole bushel of fun ideas, and Envy is her eager troublemaker minion.

There is in fact a dedicated "Tickle" command button. The plastic is slightly stuck in the slot because it hasn't been used much.

Anger keeps trying to grab his levers and switches, but Joy usually shoves him to the side with her foot.

*tries to wrest control from Joy and rein her in*

*barfing in the corner somewhere*

When a Tickle Scene Pops Up in a Movie

Joy giggles happily and squirms in her seat, then boops the control panel so that Riley follows suit.

Disgust is a tiny bit antsy...she's not influencing Riley yet but she's on standby in case stuff gets weird.

Embarrassment gingerly taps the console at increasing intervals until Sadness pulls his arm away.

Ennui: Probably watching something else. Or doomscrolling.

When Someone Asks Riley if She's Ticklish

*screams like a little girl*

*hides, bangs head on the desk*

"That is NOT funny!"

"Oh no! What do we do; whaddawedo?! Riley's way too ticklish! What if they tickle us and don't stop for the rest of eternity?! What if they think Riley's laugh is weird and we're socially ostracized and forced to get a job in a fish cannery?!"

“Ew ew ew ew no. Lie. We have to lie right now!” *jumps for the controller*

*Joy grabs Disgust's arm* "Whoa whoa whoa, eeeaasy there. Let's just calm down...this is a fun question; we're having fun..."

Envy: "Ooo, what if they're ticklish and they want us to tickle them?" *already wiggling her fingers in the air*

"But if we misread that signal and make them mad at us, then..."

Ennui: *groans and taps her console app*

Riley, being super casual: “Meh…a little. Not really.”

Suddenly Riley's eyes dilate. Her throat hitches and there's the tiniest bit of pink in her cheeks. Everyone turns their heads to look at -

“EMBARRASSMENT!!! *dry heave* WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

"Ohhhh boy. There it is. We're doomed now."

When They Get Tickled Themselves

Come on, we all know that Joy always draws first blood. (Er...first giggle?) She's such a switchy monster. Tickling is her default method of cheering others up. It's canon. Case closed.

As someone whose default setting repels positivity, Sadness is not ticklish at all, and this actually upsets her.

*silently grabs the tickler by the neck and tosses them out the window*

Nobody protests like Disgust. She gets mad. She slaps. She hurls insults. She runs away. Disgust is both extremely ticklish and extremely touch-averse, so this is Code Red for her.

Fear is the type who doesn’t so much “laugh” as “have a shrieking, spastic outburst and breakdance like Sonic the Hedgehog in a malfunctioning taser-testing facility."

At first, Anxiety is overcome by stressful jitters, miserable and whimpering, and her whole body contracts. After a few moments of tickling, though, she starts to let all that tension out and relaxes into nervous vibrato laughter. It becomes sort of a therapeutic stress release, like her special chair.

It's not exactly the physical sensation of tickle torture that Envy craves, it's the attention. The sound she makes when tickled oscillates between wild, snorty cackles and the dulcet hoots of a baby owl trapped in a pinball machine.

Ennui is dead. No reaction. Her body is a neurological cemetery. ...EXCEPT for her heels and the back of her knees. (And if you thought phone loss made her experience Vietnam flashbacks...)

What do you think Embarrassment does? He plops himself down on the floor and pulls his hoodie so tight around his face that no one can tell if he's laughing or sobbing.

Misc.

As Riley's primary protector, Fear is always scouting ahead for any potentially-tickly environmental hazards, and gently nudges her away from catastrophe ("you forgot your shoes! put them back on before you walk on grass;" "don't lift your arms up around Bree and Grace;" "those massage chairs in the mall are actually full of rusty knives and drug dealers sleep on them;" etc.)

When Riley gets tickled, the emotions don't "feel" it, exactly, but they perceive something of a contact buzz.

These are typically how the reactions go, but they're not universal. If Riley's been in a bad mood, Anger might be more proactive in grabbing the handles. Embarrassment may have more or less of his body mass pancaking the buttons, depending on who's tickling her. (Like...a boy?! Or Val?! Or -) Standard variations like that.

Riley

Riley has an extremely ticklish tummy! That's her spot. (Just the vibe I get; IDK.)

Bree and Grace are really ticklish too, but Riley is the weak link... the member of the trio that the other two team up against. Lots of tickle fights and sneak attacks.

She obviously loves to laugh and goof around with her friends, but probably isn't over-enthused by that last part.

Val

The most popular girl in school, the tough athletic one - her adulating devotees wouldn't think it, but beneath that too-cool exterior, Val is very weak to tickling.

All the other Firehawks know, and like to tease Val by poking her.

She's a good sport about it and takes it like a champ - just yelps and laughs and pushes back. They have fun.

Her big weakness is her feet.

Lance Slashblade

Crop top alert. The abs are asking for it. (Just sayin.')

The thought of being tickled is intolerable to him. Even in this...what should be a moment of joyous camaraderie...he is haunted. Forced to laugh like...like some sort of...clown swordsman?! How could he be so weak...so degraded...so unworthy to carry the holy blade of his ancestors, they whose destinies were written in the stars ere these centuries long past? Will he never be a true warrior, with the strength to stem the tide of encroaching night? It is too painful to think about...the icy whips of humiliation, always ravenous and bitter in their lashes, strike! and cast him into the shadows and okay the joke's over now we're getting long-winded and edgelordery big words drama sparkling vampires and junk

(Also, yes, he Morph-Balls himself.)

[bbyleiah]

'Miss Me?'- Geto Suguru

| The reader encounters mafia boss Geto who takes her into his home after an altercation. Despite Geto being a busy man, The two slowly fall in love as Geto develops a soft spot for her. |

Cw: Mafia Boss!Geto, black reader, heavy ddlg themes, a brief murder scene, pet names (princess, bun, bubs, sweetheart), praise, degradation, dirty talk, dry humping, scratching, hair pulling, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), missionary position, size difference, lots of fluids, !omorashi! (reader pees on Geto accidentally during sex 🫣), spitting (he spits in her mouth), begging, crying, pussy drunk Geto, Geto whining and whimpering a few times, reader calls him daddy a lot, Geto is filthy, etc.

word count : shorter than my usual fics 😭

sn : I wrote this fic for fun bc I was inspired and decided to post 🥹 there’s lots of cute moments and plot in this fic despite the wild smut 😭 read at ur own discretion 🤲🏾

Days became weeks as you waited for your boyfriend to come back home. You knew he was a busy man though and you always tried to be a good girl and be patient but you were growing restless. You were so attached to him and him being gone was starting to get to you. It also didn’t help that he lived a dangerous lifestyle so whenever you hadn’t heard from him in awhile you always assumed the worst.

Geto Suguru; your daddy, was the top mafia boss in central Japan. He was feared by all and everyone knew his name. Those who knew of him also knew of you and they knew to tread lightly around you unless they had a death wish. Geto was a very scary man, killing people without a second thought. He terrified you when the two of you first encountered but you somehow ended up being his biggest soft spot. His sweet girl that he’d die for in a heartbeat.

It all started when he stormed into your workplace a few years back. You were working at a small restaurant at that time, a mere server. You were just like any other employee, working for money to get by. The restaurant you worked at was a little off putting and it appeared that your manager was suspicious but you never thought much of it until Geto and his men barged in and got into a shootout with your boss.

“Fucking prick. You thought you could take money from me?. Now I’m going to take your pathetic life.” Geto said before he shot your manager right in the head. You screamed as the blood splattered on you from where you hid under one of the tables with a co-worker of yours. In that moment you thought you were gonna die too. All because you decided to work at some shitty restaurant.

“Yo boss, what should we do with the mutts?” A blonde haired guy asked as he grabbed you roughly. His hand gripped your face in a bruising grip as he held you up off the floor like you weighed nothing. You cried in pain and fear as you clawed at his hands for him to release you. Your co-worker was being held by her hair by an intimidating woman with brown hair.

The guy referred to as ‘boss’ observed you with a tilt of his head. You shivered under his deadly gaze, fear taking over you completely. He had the kind of aura that instantly made you want to submit to him in fear of what he’d do to you if he didn’t. He was dressed in a black button up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and some black slacks. His raven colored hair was tied up in a bun with a few strands left out.

“Speak.” was all the man said to you and you were dumbfounded. Your doe eyes stared at him as you processed what he was asking of you. He was giving you a chance to plead your case. “I-I..please don’t kill me! I haven’t done anything wrong, I’ll forget about all of this! Just please let me go..” you begged as you cried. Geto rubbed the butt of his gun against his chin as he contemplated your pleas.

He then told your co-worker to speak as well but you guess they had the wrong response because he told the woman to kill her before your co-worker could even finish speaking. You flinched at the loud gunshot and sobbed as you closed your eyes. “Clean her up and let her go.” The man stated, pointing at you before walking away. The blonde groaned in annoyance and dropped you.

“Why do I always have to babysit?” He muttered as he led you out of the restaurant. He brought you to a secluded very expensive beautiful home that you later found out the ‘boss’ man owned. The maid servants there got you cleaned up and even fed you which you were grateful for. “Alright mutt, where do you live so I can get rid of you now?” The blonde questioned you once you were settled.

You stayed silent, just staring at him. You decided not to speak because you were afraid but also because you truly had no place to go to. The place you slept at was the little apartment that resided above the restaurant and was given to you by your manager. Now that the restaurant building had been torn apart though, you were essentially homeless. “Silent treatment, huh?” He chuckled. “Well you can be quiet all you want but boss won’t spare you again if you don’t comply.” He warned you.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you debated your response, “I have nowhere to go..” you told him honestly. He sighed hearing that, running a hand down his face in irritation. “You should’ve just died then instead of begging to live.” He tsked while shaking his head. Those words hit you hard, bringing tears to your eyes. “Boss will figure out what to do with you.” He said and left you be.

Gojo talked with Geto about you and your circumstance and it was oddly decided that you’d stay in Geto’s house until you found your own place. This arrangement only worked because Geto was never home. It took you awhile to realize that. In the beginnings of living with him, you avoided the scary man like he was the plague. But when you began to notice his frequent disappearances or his late arrivals in the middle of the night it piqued your curiosity.

You found out through the maids what his name was. “The boss is the most dangerous man in Japan. You’re lucky he let you survive sweetie because he doesn’t do that unless he sees something in a person.” Your favorite maid; Maya, told you as you ate breakfast. “What’s his name? I’ve never had a conversation with him to ask..” you asked once you realized you truly had never conversed with the man. “Geto Suguru. Mr.Suguru. Don’t refer to him by his name though or you might end up dead.” She informed you.

You nodded in understanding as you memorized his name but not too much so you wouldn’t say it even on accident. The first real interaction you had with Geto was when he came home one night to find you fast asleep on his couch. You woke up to him standing over you and you screamed as you sat up. He was completely unphased and not startled at all by your scream which was even more unsettling. “They just left you here? No one took you to your bedroom?” He asked you.

You shook your head, “no..i chose to sleep here so it’s not their responsibility..” you replied softly. “Why did you choose to sleep here though? Aren’t you uncomfy?” He continued. You didn’t understand why he was so concerned with you sleeping on the couch. “I’m not uncomfy, I fell asleep because I got really cozy earlier. Do you want me to not sleep here? I’m sorry if I wasn’t allowed to.” You began to ramble as you stood up, tripping over your feet a little.

“No no, you can do whatever you want.” He told you, and even he seemed a little surprised by his words. “Oh!..okay.” You were surprised at him being so lenient and nice since you’d only heard the bad things about him but you appreciated his kindness. “Have you eaten?” He asked. You nodded, “mhm! Maya made my favorite pancakes earlier, the ones with strawberries and whipped cream on top!” You told him excitedly as you smiled at the memory.

Despite Geto thinking you looked adorable as fuck at the moment, he frowned. “Pancakes for dinner?. That’s not good. You shouldn’t eat sweets so late. I’ll tell Maya to not make them any time after 3pm.” He said and your eyes widened. “B-But they’re my favorite!” You pouted. “and I said no sweets for dinner. Understood?.” The tone he used now sent a shiver down your spine. “Yes sir..” you complied, knowing that he meant what he said.

“Good girl.” The words slipped out before he could even think. You blushed hearing them, not used to such praise. He cleared his throat, “Its late. Go sleep some more, in your bed this time.” He told you. You had no complaints since you were still sleepy. “Okay, goodnight sugu- I mean! sir!” You quickly corrected yourself before you rushed off to your bedroom. Geto heard you about to say his name and oddly enough he didn’t mind it. He found your little panic cute though.

That was the last time you and Geto had spoken for awhile since he had gotten busy again after that interaction. Little did you know though, Geto constantly kept tabs on you. He was always asking gojo and his house staff about you and how you were doing. He didn’t appear to care much on the outside but he did have a little concern over you. The next time the two of you spoke was a lot less casual.

You had gotten hurt because you fell off a chair while trying to stand on it to reach something. Surprisingly to everyone; Geto rushed home to check on you after hearing the news of your sprained ankle. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?” He asked you as he sat down with you and grabbed your leg to inspect your ankle. You nodded, still sniffling and teary eyed from the fall. “It hurts a lot.” You hiccuped.

Geto frowned, “You need to be more careful. Don’t ever climb something like that again. Understood?” He told you. “Y-Yes sir” you sniffled with a pout. “Boss she’s just being dramatic, it’s just sore. She’ll walk it off in a few days.” Gojo dismissed the whole thing. You were getting tired of him and his harsh comments. You glared at him which didn’t phase him at all because your glare looked more like puppy dog eyes. You then took it upon yourself to throw a pillow at his face which caught him off guard.

“Meanie” you huffed as you crossed your arms. Everyone in the staff witnessed this and couldn’t help but laugh, stifling their laughter behind their hands. Even Geto was holding back a laugh as he bit down on his lip. Geto rarely ever smiled or laughed so that left Gojo flabbergasted seeing his boss so amused. “This is some bullshit. I’m tired of this little girl boss.” Gojo expressed, irritated. “I’m tired of you too! ugly face! You should cover all of it, not just your eyes!” You spat back.

“You’re childish and a waste of time. Pesky little girl.” Gojo insulted you back. “and you’re a big meanie! Mean people are ugly! You should be fired” You huffed. Geto chuckled at the two of you, “You think I should fire him, sweet girl?” Geto hummed with amusement as he gently caressed your ankle. You nodded, “mhm! he isn’t good at his job.” You stated. Gojo was dumbfounded that his boss was even entertaining you. “Hm, well since you say so I might just consider it.” Geto chuckled.

Gojo’s eyes widened, “Boss..” he trailed off. “Go somewhere and make yourself useful. Now.” Geto told Gojo as he looked at him with a deadly stare. “Yes sir!” He quickly complied before rushing off. Geto wasn’t actually going to fire Gojo, he could never get rid of his best man. But, he knew Gojo was being unkind to you and he wasn’t going to let that slide. “Come on, let’s get you in bed. No more walking for you, okay?. If I find out you got up on this foot, you’re gonna be in big trouble. Understood?” Geto said to you as he picked you up.

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly picked you up. “Yes s-“ you started but he cut you off. “Don’t call me sir. You’re not one of my staff so you don’t have to call me that.” He said as he carried you upstairs. “Oh..what should I call you then..?” You asked shyly as your fingers played with the collar of Geto’s shirt. “You can call me by my name if you’d like.” He hummed. “I heard it was bad to say your name though..” you uttered.

“Yeah? Well I’m the boss and I said you can. Everyone in this house obeys me and me only. So what I say stands.” He said as he looked into your eyes. “O-Okay..Suguru~” You mumbled shyly. He grinned, “Good girl.” He praised as he gave your thighs a light squeeze. You blushed deeply, completely flustered as you hid your face in his neck. From then on, you and Geto developed a close relationship.

Everyone couldn’t believe that Geto allowed you to freely say his name. They also were stunned at seeing their cruel boss being sweet to someone for once. The moment the relationship between the two of you turned into something more intimate was when you caught a cold and got sick. Geto was away when he heard the news and he ordered that you’d stay in his bedroom and sleep there until he got back.

The staff took great care of you as they awaited Geto’s arrival. “Sweetheart~” Geto called out softly once he finally got back home after a long day. You were curled up in the center of his bed looking so adorable and also really sick. “Geto..” you whined as your eyes slowly opened to see him approaching you. “Awh, baby got sick. Do you feel a little better now? I told my staff to give you the best care.” He cooed as he placed his hand on your forehead to check your temperature.

You nodded slowly, “mhm, I feel a little better. The staff are really nice to me, even gojo was nice this time.” You told him with a small smile. He chuckled, “That’s good to hear, bun.” He hummed as he admired you fondly. “Missed you..” you muttered out as your small hand moved to hold his. Geto felt his heart swell hearing that. “You did?. I missed you too sweet girl. More than you know.” He said honestly as he caressed your hand with his thumb.

“Come on, let’s give you a bath so we can get rid of those germs.” He said as he picked you up and began carrying you to his bathroom. You snuggled into his hold, curious eyes looking around since this was your first time in Geto’s bedroom. It was told to you that no one was ever allowed in Geto’s room so you felt special at the moment. Reality hit you once Geto had the bath all set and he began to look at you expectedly. “I-I..urm..” you stuttered out shyly as you grew flustered.

“Want me to cover my eyes?” He asked you. “Yes please!” You didn’t hesitate to say. Geto was amused at how adorably shy you were but he understood your wishes so he covered his eyes. You then took your clothes off before slipping into the warm bubble bath. You let out a sigh of contentment as you relaxed fully. “You can uncover them now.” You told him. Geto hadn’t had anyone tell him what to do in awhile and the fact that it was a cute thing like you of all people made him feel soft, but in the best way possible.

Geto was deeply unprepared for the sight of you naked in his bathtub. He couldn’t see much due to all the bubbles covering you up, but it sure did have his imagination running rampant. Geto stood there just staring at you for longer than he intended to until you snapped him out of his filthy thoughts. “Geto?” You called out. “Sorry bubs. Got lost in thought.” He cleared his throat. Geto then rolled up his sleeves and began washing you up. You melted into his soothing touch as he gently cleaned you up with care.

Geto tried to keep his thoughts as pure as possible as his hands felt all of your curves and dips. He let you dry yourself off once the bath finished and told you to go wear something from his closet while he drained the tub. You were in awe as you looked around his big fancy walk in closet. Everything in it was so ‘manly’ and you loved it. You settled for one of his white button up shirts and climbed back into his bed once you were dressed.

You put a show on Geto’s tv as you waited for him to get out of the shower. He had his hair down when he came out dressed in a t-shirt and some sweatpants. You gawked at the sight of him and his pretty hair, “Your hair is really pretty.” You complimented him honestly. “Aw, thanks bun.” He chuckled as he tied his hair up in a half up half down style. “Why don’t you wear it down more often?” You asked him as you watched him climb into bed beside you. “Too much of a hassle. It gets in the way, you know?” He explained.

You nodded in understanding. “Well I think I like it most when your hair is down” you declared with a smile. “Is that so?” He chuckled. “I should wear down more often then, just for you.” He mused and you giggled. “I’d like that~” you grinned. The two of you got comfy in bed and talked until you fell asleep. You somehow ended up falling asleep on top of Geto, not that he minded at all. He wrapped his strong arms around you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

Geto constantly felt the urge to kiss those pretty plump lips of yours but he fought against it. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You felt so warm and safe in Geto’s hold, it was the best sleep you’d had in awhile. You woke up the next morning to some rustling around. “Sugu?” You called out sleepily as you rubbed your eyes. “Go back to sleep bubs, it’s early and you need to rest.” He told you softly. “But where are you going?” You asked as your eyes finally cleared up to see him getting dressed.

You let out a soft gasp seeing that he was shirtless. He had on dress pants that were unbuttoned still, allowing you to see his briefs and a glimpse of his dick imprint. His hair was also down, falling over his shoulders as he got ready. You peeked shamelessly at him from above the blankets. You quickly hid your eager eyes once he directed his attention on you though. “Why are you hiding bun? You can stare at me if you want.” Geto chuckled as he walked over to the bed.

Geto then climbed over top of you, hovering over you as he pulled the blankets away from your eyes. “You feeling better?” He asked you. “mhm, are you leaving again?” You asked him. “Got some business I need to handle sweetheart.” He told you as he cupped the side of your face. You pouted, “You’re always leaving. Do you really have to go?” Your precious doe eyes almost made him fold. “I do really have to go but I’ll be back soon, I promise” he hummed.

“You’re gonna be good for me until I get back, right?” He said as his thumb swiped over your bottom lip, his eyes seemingly fixed on your mouth. You were flustered, “Y-Yes..I’ll be good.” You reassured. “Good girl, always so sweet for me.” He cooed. “Geto..” you whined. “What did I say to call me when we’re alone?” He questioned you. You knew your ears had to be red by now. “D-Daddy~” you muttered shyly, completely embarrassed.

It was a few weeks ago when Geto told you to address him as ‘daddy’ but he never gave you an explicit reason why. “Good girl” he said before he kissed you, making your eyes widen. The last thing you expected was for him to kiss you. You whined and tried to push him away, “Daddy no, ‘m sick.” You reminded him. “It’s okay bubs, daddy is strong. I won’t get sick.” He hummed and continued to kiss you. He kept alternating between full on eating your face and then pecking your lips repeatedly.

It seemed he really enjoyed kissing you. You enjoyed it just as much, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You let out cute little whines and mewls into the kisses that drove Geto crazy. “Fuck..you’re gonna make daddy late princess.” Geto sighed as his trailed kisses down your neck. “Daddy should stay home with me” You tried to persuade him as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I want to baby..trust me I do. But daddy’s work is very serious and I’m the boss so I have to be there.” He explained.

His actions were betraying his words though because he moved to get underneath the covers with you, gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs. “b-but ah—“ your words got cut off due to a moan you let out once you felt Geto start to grind his hard cock against your cunt. “no buts. Daddy has to work in order to keep his princess safe.” He grunted as he rutted against you. He could feel how your cunt progressively got wetter, creating a wet spot on his briefs.

“shit..I wanna fuck your cute little cunt so bad, sweet girl.” He panted into your neck. You whined, back arching slightly as your hips pushed back against his. You attempted to match his pace but you were failing miserably. “n-nasty daddy.” You whimpered. The moment got terribly interrupted by an obnoxious knock at Geto’s bedroom door. “Yo boss! Hurry up, we don’t have time to waste! I know you didn’t oversleep.” Gojo yelled from outside the door. Geto groaned in annoyance.

“I’m coming! shithead..” Geto yelled back. “sorry bun, daddy’s gotta go now.” He sighed and kissed your pouty lips. “When are you gonna be back?” You asked him as you watched him get up and finish getting dressed. “Don’t know baby..but I’ll try to come back as soon as possible.” He said as he tied his hair up in its signature bun and tucked in his shirt. Geto didn’t bother changing his pants and briefs despite your slick that was still seeped into them.

“Bye sweetie.” He said as he kissed you one last time. “Bye bye daddy~” you waved as you watched him leave. From that moment on you became Geto’s girl and he made sure everyone knew it too. The staff was unsurprised though because they noticed their boss grow a soft spot for you. Geto having to ‘take care of business’ is what had you sulking now in present time. He’d been gone for almost a month now. It’s the longest he’d been away in years.

You were lounging on the couch when you heard the door open and you rushed to see if it was Geto, only to see Gojo. “Well don’t look so disappointed. Aren’t I your second favorite person?” He teased as he laughed. “Shut up. You could’ve stayed gone forever.” You huffed. “Aw, hurts to hear you be so mean cutie. I taught you that?” He chuckled as he patted your head. You slapped his hand away since he was touching your fresh box braids.

“How come you’re here and he isn’t? Aren’t you two attached by the hip?” You pouted. Gojo shrugged, “Boss said he had some other stuff to take care of, he should be here by tonight though.” He said. “Really?” You perked up excitedly. “Yes really.” He chuckled. “You’ve been crying over him haven’t you?” He teased. “No I didn’t..” you attempted to lie but it was obvious. “Crybaby. Geto isn’t even that great.” He laughed. “Yes he is!” You defended as you stomped your small foot.

Gojo cooed, “Everyday I realize more and more why boss likes you so much, you’re just so darn cute.” He smiled honestly as he pinched your cheeks. You squirmed and giggled, you were flattered since it was rare that Gojo complimented you. “Sugu is gonna kill you for touching me.” You teased. “Shh, don’t tell him.” Gojo entertained your antics, though he knew those words somewhat rung true. Geto was serious about no one touching his princess.

“Wanna know a secret?” He whispered suddenly and you eagerly nodded. You leaned in close, gojo leaning down to your height to tell you the discreet information. “Geto has been missing you a lot, I’ve never seen him so mushy and sappy before. He brought you up allll the time. He said he was gonna die if he didn’t come back home to you soon.” Gojo whispered. Your eyes widened at the information, it made you happy to know that Geto missed you just as much as you missed him.

“Sugu can’t die though, I’ll be really sad.” You pouted. “Don’t worry, boss is literally immortal somehow.” He laughed honestly. “Oh! and he’s also been kinda a perv. he’d definitely kill me for telling you this..but he was super stressed you know? and then he kept going on about wanting to fuck you and feel your cunt squeezing him..it was hard to listen to.” He told you, seemingly cringing as he remembered his boss’s rambling. You blushed hearing the additional secret, getting shy as you hid your face in your hands.

“Sugu likes to say icky stuff sometimes..” you muttered, flustered. “Oh please don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.” He cackled as he teased you. You whined and pushed him away, “I do not!” you huffed in embarrassment. “Mhm whatever you say princess.” He chuckled. “Now go make yourself busy, I have important things to do as well.” He hummed. “I didn’t want to stay and talk to you anyways.” You giggled as you skipped away. “Ouch, that one hurt.” He said as he dramatically placed his hand over his heart.

Since you knew your daddy was actually coming home tonight, you wanted to make yourself look pretty for him. You started off with doing your makeup. You decided to keep it simple so you did a simple eye look with cute pink hearts for decoration. You contemplated what to wear for awhile until you settled on a white silk dress with a bow in the back. You paired the dress with lacy thigh high socks. You were happy with your look as you twirled while looking at yourself in the mirror.

You sprayed on your favorite perfume and then kept yourself busy as you waited for Geto to get home. You did your usual hobbies of reading, drawing, and watching tv but you couldn’t help the way your eyes constantly checked the clock. Your energy depleted the later the day got and by the time it was 10pm you were getting teary eyed. You got lost in how sad you were, fully prepared to sob that you didn’t hear the door opening behind you. “Miss me?”

You suddenly heard Geto’s voice and you immediately perked up and looked to see him standing there with flowers and a box of chocolates in his hand. “Sugu!” You cried as you ran and jumped into his arms. “oof, I don’t remember you being this heavy baby” he teased as he held you and kissed your forehead. “Why are you crying bun?” He asked you softly as he carried you back to the couch. “I missed you, thought you weren’t comin’ home today.” You sniffled.

“Awh, princess I couldn’t wait to come back home to see you. I just got a little busy.” He hummed as he sat down on the couch with you on his lap. “I got you some treats though” he smiled as he handed you the chocolates. You excitedly opened them up and began eating them immediately. He chuckled, “you and that damn sweet tooth. It’s too late to be eating sweets but since you’ve been good you deserve it.” He cooed as he wiped the tears from your soft cheeks.

“You look pretty bubs” he complimented once he got a really good look at your whole ensemble. “wanted to look pretty f’r daddy.” You muffled around a piece of chocolate. “You always look pretty, my pretty girl. So beautiful and all mine” he flattered you and you giggled. “thank you daddy” you said softly with a grin. A comfortable silence took over as Geto just admired you, content and happy to just be in your presence again. His hands caressing your thighs in a soothing motion.

You just sat there happy as ever, eating your chocolates without a single thought in your head. “I missed you so so much baby..” Geto suddenly sighed as he buried his face in your neck. “mm, you smell good sweetheart” he breathed you in. You giggled, “that tickles” you told him as you squirmed a little. He breathed out a small laugh, “sorry baby. Daddy just needs to feel you against him right now.” He muttered into your skin as he closed his eyes.

Your hands moved to play in Geto’s hair, running your fingers through it and scratching at his nape. He let out a faint moan in content at the feeling. You were happy to be pleasing him so much, feeling him completely relaxed against you. You took his hair tie out so his hair could be fully down just the way you liked it. “feels so good baby..” he mumbled into your neck. You giggled, “I like making daddy feel good” you said honestly with pride.

You felt geto squeeze lightly at your hips after you said that. You began to tug at his hair as you played with it and you felt him tense up a bit. “do you like it more when I pull it or when I scratch?” you asked him, completely innocent. You were truly just genuinely curious but you were oblivious to how you were affecting Geto. “both feels great baby..” he sighed. “Okay~” you giggled. You then continued to do both happily until you felt Geto’s dick poking against your thigh.

“daddy…you’re hard..” you muttered out as you froze. “mm, daddy’s cock missed you and your sweet cunt bubs.” He said as he pulled you even closer so that you sat directly on top of his throbbing cock. You whined and squirmed. “you gonna be a good princess for daddy and let him stuff your cute hole?” He hummed as he looked at you. “because daddy needs it..needs it really bad. You wanna make me feel good, don’t you bun?” He continued as he began to kiss up your neck.

You nodded, “m-mhm, I wanna make you feel good” you breathed out softly. “Good girl” He praised before he suddenly flipped you over onto your back on the couch. You gasped and didn’t have much time to process before Geto was ripping your panties off. “so pretty” he groaned as he spread your lips with his fingers to get a good look at your cunt. He then spit on your cunt and dragged his fingers through your slit. You whined, “f-filthy daddy” you stuttered out as you tried to close your legs.

Geto was quick to slap your thigh, causing you to let out a sob. “Don’t fucking close them or else you’re gonna get punished. Understood?” He threatened. This Geto reminded you a lot of his terrifying demeanor when you first met him and it had you spooked. But this time it had you scared in a good way. “Y-Yes daddy” you responded obediently, just like Geto liked. “Good, because daddy has zero patience right now and you’re gonna take whatever is given to you like a good slut.” He said as he lowered his face down in between your legs.

Geto rubbed circles into your clit, mixing his saliva in with your slick as he watched you squirm and kick your legs. You were always so sensitive and Geto loved it. He groaned at the taste of you as he ran his tongue along your pussy, your juices coating his tongue and driving him crazy. After that he was eating you out like a man starved. He gripped your thighs so tight to the point it hurt as his tongue lapped at your cunt repeatedly.

Usually Geto was more precise and took his time when he ate you out but he was too greedy for you to do that this time. Drool pooling from the corners of his mouth and onto your wet cunt as he ate you out sloppily. “s’ too much! d-daddy!” you squealed as you cried out and tugged at his hair. Your incessant tugging at his hair only fueled him on more as he sucked harshly at your clit. “taste so fucking good baby, ugh daddy could eat you up all day.” He moaned as he swirled his tongue around your clit.

“love this sweet pussy so much” he muttered against your cunt as he kissed it with his drool and cum slicked lips. Geto slid his two fingers into you, spreading them and curling them inside you until you sobbed and scratched at his shoulders. “there you go, falling apart so prettily for me sweetheart” he cooed as he thrusted his fingers into you while his thumb played with your clit. “s-sugu! I-I’m gonna-“ you wailed before you squirted all over Geto’s hand and his face, soaking the couch underneath you.

Geto moaned at the sight, “making such a fucking mess, sensitive bitch always coming so damn quick” he degraded and you whimpered. His fingers never ceased their movements, continuously fucking into you as gushed nonstop around his thick fingers. “Tell daddy that you’re sorry for making a mess.” He demanded as he slapped your pussy three times. The wet smacks sounding throughout the living room as you cried and your back arched.

“I-I’m sorry daddy” you sniffled. “For?” He prodded with a sadistic grin. “F-For making a big mess..” you continued as you looked at him with your big teary eyes. “Good girl” he praised as he slurped up your juices filthily. He didn’t want to waste a drop as he lapped up your mess while his fingers continued thrusting into your fluttering hole. “so fucking wet for me” he sighed in satisfaction as he listened to the squelching of your cunt. “Daddy’s cock is gonna slide right in, hm?” He said and you instantly shook your head.

“s’ too big” you moaned out honestly. Geto chuckled, “you can take it though. Your daddy’s big girl, right? made just for my cock.” He encouraged as he suckled at your clit before biting down on it. You cried out at the feeling, your hands attempting to push Geto’s head away. “hurts’ daddy” you whined. “stop that shit.” He tutted as he pushed your hands away. “you’re acting like a spoiled whiny bitch. take what’s given to you like a good whore or you won’t get to cum again.” He stated as his dark eyes looked up at you with that stern expression.

You pouted, lip quivering as tears fell down your cheeks. You nodded in response to him and he tsked in disapproval, his fingers stilling as they pressed against your sweet spot that had your legs trembling. “use your words or I’ll stop right here.” He said as he looked at you expectantly. The next whine you let out sounded carnal, all high pitched and pathetic as you tried to move against his stilled fingers to feel any friction against that spot that craved it so desperately. “y-yes daddy! -ah please! please!” You sobbed.

“My good girl” he grinned, pleased with your begging as he began to move his fingers again. He gave you exactly what you wanted, his fingers abusing that sensitive spot that had your cunt spasming and dripping all over his hand. “Want you to cum again for daddy, you can do that right sweetie?” He requested as his fingers continued their assault on your fluttering pussy. You nodded, “m-mhm! baby can do that!” you moaned.

Your hips pressed back against Geto’s fingers, matching his pace as you desperately chased your second orgasm. “fuck..you’re filthy. So eager and willing to please. Just a cock hungry slut.” He groaned as he watched you fuck yourself on his fingers, your fluids seeping through the cracks of his fingers and running down his wrist. “O-Only for daddy” you whined as you felt that knot build up in your stomach again. Your back arching and your nails digging into the couch cushions for dear life.

Once that seam burst Geto was quick to drink you up, tongue laid out and ready to taste your juices. He never got tired of tasting you, moaning into your pussy as he slurped up your new mess. You just laid there whining and twitching, already spent and stimulated. Geto was far from done with you though. “Tapping out baby?” He chuckled as he saw your fucked out face, eyes already fluttered closed. You nodded slowly, “‘m too sensitive daddy” you whined softly.

“Awh, that’s cute. I just got you all ready for my cock though sweet girl.” He cooed as he unbuckled his belt. That sound sent shivers down your spine. You whimpered and tried weakly to crawl away only for Geto to grab your legs and pull you right back. “Aht aht, can’t have that baby. Daddy waited too long to feel your pretty pussy around his cock.” He hummed as he finished undressing. His cock was throbbing and red at the tip, precum dripping down the sides of it.

You whined at the sight of it, your pussy clenching in need despite how overly stimulated you already were. A gasp left your throat when Geto began to rub his swollen tip through your slit. Your eyes rolling back and Geto groaning into your ear. “Fucks sake..this pussy is gonna be the death of me..” he muttered as he panted against your dewy skin. He took off your dress so he could see you fully. You looked unreal underneath him, almost too beautiful for his eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve a beautiful woman like you..”

You blushed at his genuine words, “I love you daddy” you told him with a smile. “I love you too little bun” he smiled back and kissed you softly. That was the extent of softness you were gonna get for awhile because now that Geto had you all relaxed he started pushing his cock head into you, stretching out your tight cunt as you cried out and whimpered. Your nails dragged down Geto’s back leaving red trails as you felt his thick cock pushing into your poor sensitive cunt. Geto gritted his teeth, groaning carnally as he felt your sloppy soft walls mold around his dick.

Geto paused once he fully bottomed out, being kind enough to allow you to adjust. “Tell me when..” he grunted out. He was like a wild animal waiting to be set loose and you had full control over him at the moment. Watching the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed but also seeming as if he was holding his breath, the way his hands gripped your thighs so painfully tight to leave prints of his hands, the way his hair fell in his face as he stared down at you with a gaze that seemed as if he wanted to eat you alive.

It only took a minute or so for you to adjust and you could see Geto getting antsy. Biting down on his lower lip and trying to stop himself from rutting and grinding into you, failing miserably at times. You let out a shaky breath and opened your mouth to tell him to start and as soon as you uttered the first syllable, he started to pound into you. He didn’t waste a single second, not even letting you say the full word. You turned into a moaning screaming mess as Geto pounded into you mercilessly.

“my fucking pussy, feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock princess.” He growled as he thrusted into you hard and fast, fucking you like it was the last time he’d ever get to. He started kissing and sucking on your tits as he fucked into you, leaving pretty red and purple marks as he panted and drooled against your brown skin. The head of his cock was beating your cervix up, hitting it hard each time he slammed into you. It hurt so bad in the best way possible. You were wailing, hiccuping and creaming around Geto’s dick.

“Little pussy’s just eating my dick up -shit ngh—feel me all deep in your guts princess? pressing up against your womb?” He gritted as he watched the way his cock slammed in and out of your abused pussy over and over again. The little sputters of fluids your cunt released, forming a creamy ring around his dick and dripping down to his balls that were clapping against the cusp of your cute ass. “fuckk such a pretty fucktoy all for me..ugh ngh uh” he moaned as his eyes rolled back slightly. He was getting lost in the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing his cock.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up so much bun, have this cute tummy all full of my cum” he moaned as he pressed his hand down on your lower abdomen making you squeal and your legs shake. You tried to push his hand away feebly because something didn’t feel right. “w-wait! daddy!” You babbled out, sobbing as you shook your head. Geto didn’t listen to any of it, grabbing your hands and using his free hand to pin them over top of your head. “I told you to stop that shit” he growled as he continued to pound into you animalistically with his hand pressing harder against your abdomen.

“b-but Sugu!” You screamed but it was too late and you were crying and pissing all over Geto’s cock. “Oh fuck..” he trailed off, watching in shock as he felt the warm liquid pour out and soak the coach and his cock. You were completely embarrassed, face flushed as you sniffed and sobbed. “shh shh, it’s okay baby -ah shit..” he tried to comfort you, moaning still because despite the piss his hips never ceased their movements. He was still fucking into you as if nothing happened. In his mind all it did was make his dick slide into you easier.

“n-nasty daddy..daddy’s -mfph nasty..” you whimpered with a hiccup. “love this sweet cunt too much to stop…fuck you really pissed all over me..fucking filthy -uh mm filthy fucking little girl” he groaned into your mouth as he kissed you and continued fucking your wet sloppy cunt. It was so wet now that his dick slipped out, making him lose his momentum but he didn’t waste a second to slide right back in. “It slides in so easy now bun, you should piss on me every time” he joked, chuckling breathily against your lips.

He slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you messily as the two of you fucked like rabbits. “Open..” he muttered and you instantly obeyed, opening your mouth wide for him to spit onto your waiting tongue. You moaned at the lewd gesture, Geto licking into your mouth afterwards. “Good fucking girl.” He praised as he raised your legs up higher until you were completely folded up. Now fucking into you at deeper angle that had you seeing stars. You were so far gone now, just babbling and making pathetic noises with your eyes rolled back.

Geto was just as gone as you were. His hair damp and sticking to his sweaty form, cock throbbing and spurting precum into you, moaning and groaning nonstop as he used your cunt like his personal flesh toy, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth, scratches and bite marks from you marking his skin. “That’s right, just lay there and fucking take it. Just like you’re supposed to. Made just for my cock. Who owns you?” He was rambling now, completely pussy drunk as he obliterated your cunt with his thick cock.

“‘m daddy’s girl..g-geto owns me..” you managed to stutter out, the words choked up in moans and sobs. “mhm, all fucking mine.” He huffed as his hand wrapped around your throat. “shittt daddy’s gonna cum baby —ngh mfph..” he moaned, his pace somehow quickening as he felt his orgasm approaching. “Gonna milk daddy’s cock? hm?” He panted and you nodded. “n-need it -ah uhn wan’ it daddy” you whined out as you tried to fuck back against Geto’s cock. You couldn’t match his pace at all but it drove Geto crazy to see you trying to fuck yourself on him.

“fucking hell..if you keep doing that I’m gonna bust baby..” he mumbled, his words ending off in almost a whimper as his eyes fixated on the sight of you desperately trying to fuck him back. He even slowed his pace down just to accommodate yours. The two of you perfectly in sync while fucking each other. The position and the pacing made it so the head of his cock perfectly grinded up against your g-spot, making your toes curl as you whined out Geto’s name. “d-deeper daddy~” you begged and geto gladly obliged, shoving his cock deeper into your greedy hole.

“mm s’ feels so g-good daddy..” you whined breathily. Geto was the fucked out one now, groaning and whimpering as he let you fuck yourself on him. Cunt clenching around him just right and making him lose his mind. “cum’n me -heh uhn please daddy..” you babbled as you rutted against Geto, twitching as your clit bumped against his abdomen. That was all it took for Geto to snap, moaning out as he came deep inside you. Rope after rope of his thick warm semen filling up your cunt that milked it all up.

“s-shit…” geto whined pathetically into your neck as he came nonstop, his cum seeping out the sides of where his cock plugged you up. Your body trembled at the feeling, cumming soon after and adding to the huge mess of fluids as you creamed on Geto’s dick. The both of you were breathing heavily as you came down from your climaxes. Geto’s heavy body laid on top of you, practically crushing you but you didn’t mind it because he was so warm. You were trying your best not to fall unconscious, eyelids heavy and fighting to close.

“You okay baby bun?” Geto asked you after awhile of comfortable silence. “mhm..” was all you could muster out. Geto was satisfied with the reply though, climbing off of you and pulling his cock out with a small hiss. He was just as sensitive as you now. He whistled once he got a good look of the mess that was made on the couch, “well shit..I’ll just get the maids to clean it..” he muttered. Geto then got in between your legs and began to clean you up, eating the mixture of fluids out of your pussy.

He truly was filthy and you secretly loved it. You squirmed as he did it but you didn’t have any more energy to stop him. Once he was satisfied with it he stopped and then moved to kiss you, spitting the frothy fluids into your mouth as the two of you kissed sloppily. You swallowed it and Geto smiled. “Missed you so much bubs” he reminded once again before he began to affectionately peck all over your face.

[futurecorps3]

Hello my love! I have heard your call for Kaz requests and I have an idea rattling around in my head!

Could you maybe do a Kaz x fem!Reader where they're in their early 20s and have been together for years and overcome Kaz's touch aversion (bc our poor boy deserves some healing 😭)? But that's not the idea, the idea is that the reader hasn't been sleeping for a few nights and ends up getting hurt because of it? Could be from fainting and hitting her head, slow reflexes on a job, etc. I trust your brilliant mind!

I can't wait to watch you grow as a writer!!!! ❤️

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐮𝐦

Masterlist<3

Summary: The lack of sleep Kaz has been warning his girl about finally has consequences. Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader Warnings: Mentions of overwoking, lack of sleep, blood, a very angsty moody angry sad Kazzle, mentions of blood and lost of conscience. The usual crow violence! Lmk if I missed any. Word Count: 3.5K whoops Requested: Yes

A/N: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! :( I love the prompt, however and am very excited to work on this. Hope u like it nonnie and that last thing means the absolute world! <3

˚ · • . ° .

Now he knew he was in no position to demand her to rest. Kaz Brekker was known in his close circle for two things; killing whoever disrespected his love and always scheming. The electricity his brain consumed when plotting the next heist didn't even allow him to sleep when being tucked in with Y/N laying over his chest. But she never had the same issue before!

That's how it worked. She got mad because he wasn't sleeping and would reproach his ears off until he folded and left his papers to join her in bed. So, it was safe to say Kaz was startled when he noticed the absence of steps approaching his office. The clock read the time to be a quarter past midnight. He learned by endlessly scolding from you the hard way it was no use staying up late for a job when he had pretty much everything prepared, so he dropped everything and left to his room.

"Darling, are you-" his question was answered as he opened the door and saw her drawing on the little desk he got for her. "Hmm, hi love. It's quite early. What are you doing here?" Kaz wanted to laugh at that. Had she really lost notion of time that badly? "It's past midnight now, Y/N. What are you working on?" His shirt was discarded in some chair, along with his coat.

He was now in his dress pants and a black sleep blouse, leaning over the back of her chair to see the canvas. It was a picture of the sea, surely an image she hadn't been able to get out of her head after the quick trip you took to the docks with Wylan to ensure a better hiding spot, in case things went south on Saturday.

"I don't know if I'm getting the blues right... you know how it somehow turns gray when the day's rainy?" she wondered out loud. "Don't throw it away altogether, I know you're already thinking about it" "I'm not!" Y/N giggled, knowing fully her boyfriend could read her mind. "Fix it in the morning. Let's go to bed now, yes?" Kaz tried, tilting his head to her right side and nudging his nose a little on her cheek as she hummed in response.

It had taken a long time, many years, to reach these moments. Years of hoping she could one day have his arms draped around her waist in security, head on his chest without a care in the world, because all that really mattered was they'd be keeping each other warm with their bodies. Y/N was patient, not minding the baby-steps and Kaz's constant need to push her away because he thought she deserved better. Truth is, there was no one better for her.

Kaz had a hard time wrapping his head around this fact. Did you love him for him? A limping criminal who was too weak to even bear the thought of embracing you when tears streamed down your cheeks on a specially tough day? Why? It took convincing, long talks, difficult moments and even worse fights... but you made it.

She felt his steady heartbeat as they lay together in their silk black sheets, indulging in the beauty of it. Their breathings became one, and she swore there was no better place the saints could come up with as heaven. "Everything's ready?" "Yes, I figured I should come here with you instead of overthinking it all. I'll tell everyone the plan tomorrow and revise it again the day before" he took a deep breath, turning to face her and leaving a soft kiss on her lips.

"It's late, you don't seem tired" Kaz noted, Y/N's eyes nowhere near closing as they usually would by now. Her boyfriend, on the contrary, was starting to hide that beautiful icy green his irises held, then came a yawn to confirm his fatigue. "Rest, my love. I'm sure I'm not too far behind," she assured him, pecking his head as he lay on her chest now.

"Goodnight, Kaz".

˚ · • . ° .

It may as well have been minutes, or hours, days, for all she cared to reason. All she knew was that she couldn't sleep for the life of her. Kaz moved a lot in his sleep and after he lost hold of her, the night became a non-stop tossing and turning in their shared bed. She could hear the faint sound of carriages passing down their street, surely carrying some rich merchant who just had the night of his life betting or in one of the pleasure houses.

It had been a while since she felt this way. Pretty much every night prior Kaz offered her a permanent position on the crows after she worked with them was like this. The clock in their room, hanging on a wall distant from her, kept ticking and if it got quiet enough, she could've been able to hear the gears turning. Three in the bloody morning and Y/N had luckily gotten by far twenty minutes of sleep. The girl sighed and lay down again, looking up at the ceiling briefly before closing her eyes in hopes of resting a little more.

She didn't, not even in the days ahead. Kaz pointed out how he could feel her moving way more than usual as his a light sleeper, not blaming her whatsoever but more concerned as to what was keeping her up. Y/N didn't know either, so she figured solving it with Jesper's coffee and quick (very ineffective) naps on the couches and tables at the slat so she could at least be aware of the task at hand; the job.

The day came, and she felt very optimistic about it all. Truth is, Y/N loved dressing up with pretty dresses and daggers hidden around her thighs. She found some kind of satisfaction in keeping this knowledge to herself, the men and women throwing looks at her, completely unaware of how dangerous she happened to be. People on the streets knew her as the wild child... ruthlessly gorgeous, is what Kaz called her.

The girl had a habit of getting carried away in a fight. Too much anger and resentment for the past had to find an exit. It did when she killed, leaving a scared Jesper to deal with an even more scared Wylan who wouldn't dare look her in the eye for weeks after she kept on punching a man's face she saw was trying to kidnap a little girl right after a job years ago. Kaz helped and understood.

His revenge was calculating and took years in which she was by her side, but Y/N just couldn't help herself when it came down to the people who did unspeakable things to her. With the years, she got a hold of herself even though her nickname on the barrel stuck, adding "the crow queen" when word got around she was Brekker's girl. Now, she was still ruthless but way more cold-headed and grounded, Kaz's doing.

She wore a pink dress with embroidered roses around the floaty sleeves. Inej had a blue set of dress pants and shirt, long-sleeved as well as Nina sported a hot red strapless dress with a lot of cleavage. "We're a smoke show! Those fuckers will barely be able to keep their eyes off of us." The last one squealed, adjusting her hair "That's the point" Inej giggled, agreeing clearly as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Y/N laughed at the thought and her head pained a little; Girls on those big houses did the very same thing they were doing now, with very different intentions. Those ladies wanted to find a rich husband, and they'd be set. Her friends were dressed to kill, and so was she. A little fucked up version of a cliché she, too, wished to live when she was little. "I hope these sleeves aren't an issue" she wondered, picturing them getting stuck on their knife or maybe being too tight to throw a punch.

"It's a simple job, love. There's nothing to be worried about! Also, I can bet on my life Kaz is going to be drooling over you when he sees." Nina smiled, playfully smacking her shoulder. "Even more so if you fight in that, he's going to go insane" spoke the Suli girl with a giggle "Kinky" the heartrender added, making the girlfriends break in a fit of laughter. Nina was right, Y/N knew, but decided against confirming her friend's assumptions.

Her eyes felt droopy from the obvious lack of sleep but nothing a cup of coffee couldn't fix, right? She walked down the stairs and into the makeshift kitchen they owned, heating up some. The smell filled her body with pleasant chills, and suddenly some more energy invaded her. "Wacha got there?" asked Wylan, who was quietly sitting behind her. How long had he been there? How did she not notice?

"Coffee, want some?" "Right before a job?" "Yes, I haven't been sleeping too well the last couple of days". Certain zemeni voice erupted from outside the room, exclaiming a brief "Neither have us!" that had the merchling blushing like he got some contagious disease. Y/N delivered a pat on his back, and coffee in hand she exited the room.

Kaz gathered everyone in the living room, to revise the plan once more. "...so make sure you cover that corn-" He stopped mid-sentence when Y/N came into view. Her hair looked polished, but she could be bald for all he cared. The dress complimented her figure beautifully, adjusting in the right places, which to Kaz was any place, really. Inej and Nina giggled and high fived. "Go on, love." She smiled, ready to listen attentively at his plan even though he made sure to walk her through it personally a few hours ago.

As Y/N brushed next to him, he grabbed her hand to make her stop right before she got seated. "You're stunning. Is it comfortable?" he whispered, looking at her with a certain glow in his eyes he once thought lost. "Yes, dear. Thank you" she pecked her boy's cheek and took a seat behind him. He went on with the plan, and everyone seemed pretty much ready to leave.

So they did.

˚ · • . ° .

"Darling, watch out!" Jesper exclaimed, shooting at a man behind Y/N. Things went south, they did. In the hiding spot Wylan and the girl had settled; some dreg must've ratted, they guessed. An ambush from some new-forming band trying to get known by stealing from The Crows themselves, pathetic. Inej had gotten there to help, but Y/N and Jesper insisted she went back and warned the others so to spare them from possible damage.

The wild child and Jesper were a great team, who knew a durast and an avid fighter could take down men three times their size and weight? They proved on many occasions to be useful for situations as these, so there was no problem. They'd be out of there in the blink of an eye. Around ten people had arrived at the scene, and four remained, Y/N realized as she took a kick in the gut and fell on her back, jumping back on her feet with a flip.

Jes' revolvers did the job for two others as she managed with the guy in front of her. "Come on, big guy, that can't be the best you got, aye?" she smiled wickedly, taunting the man with a daring hand despite the very much broken rib she could feel. The dress was ruined with blood she was sure wasn't hers, shreds ripped it off so largely one of her legs was now exposed.

He lunged forward, coming with a dirty blade to her throat, and she skipped it. Came again, now, aiming for her arm and she skipped it again, landing a kick on the throat that left him coughing on the ground. Y/N crouched to his level and grabbed him by the hair, sliding a knife in the same spot, careful not to cut. She noticed a tattoo on his neck, a beaver. Couldn't help but laugh. "You tell your boss not to mess around with us, or next time he won't get too lucky as to get less than half of his men in one piece. And change the tattoo, a bloody beaver? Seriously?"

The man nodded furiously, tripping on his way out of the warehouse. "A beaver? Their thing is beavers?" Jesper laughed, putting his babies back in place and making sure the painting they had stolen was still with him. "I know, couldn't pick a funnier thing" she answered, giggling. Looking around, something was odd. Yes, Y/N was not very well educated and lacked the month of college her best friend had, but she thought she counted four men remaining in this spot of the building.

The other six lay limp near the door, and there were two next to them, plus the one who ran with the message. One was missing. "Hey Jes I think we're missing one" "What do you mean? There's no one here". She stopped listening and her world went quiet when he met his yes. A lanky, tall figure could be seen next to a stack of boxes on her right, a flicking light revealing him for brief intervals of time. Ugly motherfucker carrying a gun that pointed straight at her.

The blood started gushing out of her leg before she could even react. "Too slow" she faintly heard. He wasn't stopping either; shooting at various places until one loud boom next to her made it cease. Was concrete always this cold? Oh, she was now feeling Jesper's soft suit. Warmer. "Is that wool?" Y/N asked and realized her voice sounded a little quieter than she meant. "Yes, it is doll. Open your eyes for me, okay? You can't die on me now"

She really tried. She really wanted to look at her best friends face and maybe hear him crack a joke or two. But her eyes felt droopy and her head felt heavy so she finally fell asleep.

˚ · • . ° .

Kaz arrived minutes later, Wylan, Nina and Inej by his side as they all rushed to a crying Jesper, desperately trying to wake Y/N up. "S-she got shot, didn't flinch.. like she didn't even see the bastard," he hiccuped, letting his boss take his place next to a limp body as his boyfriend helped him up and hugged him tightly.

Brekker's head spun. A thousand possibilities. There was blood all over the dress, and leaking over his clothes but he couldn't give a fuck. Not her. He couldn't bare it. Y/N was a piece of heaven in that saint forsaken island, the only saint he ever believed in and the angel that saved him from himself. If he lost her, there was no coming back for him. The water rose to his nose again for a brief moment.

It hadn't happened in a while. And he chose the techniques his lover taught him. He acted. "Nina" he mumbled, taking Y/N on his arms as the grisha girl assured him she had a pulse. His legs carried him to the slat, never too far from Nina, as she was making sure her pulse didn't slow down too much. He didn't even notice the pain in his bad leg. He felt a sting on his heart, so sharp it seemed as if pieces of broken glass would poke through it at any moment.

The boy sent Inej looking for whatever idiot decided it was a good idea to try and steal from them. Only information. He'd take care of them later. The Wraith left and was out all night, returning with a lot to say the next morning. Kaz looked over at Y/N's face and the utter peace that brushed over her features scared him even more. Not now. Not like this.

"Is she going to be okay? T-there was definitely something wrong with her back there" Jesper started once the girl was on the bed and getting healed with a few healers in the dregs and Nina. Kaz was sitting, head propped up in his hands as he stared at the wall opposite from him. "She didn't move! At all! He shot her three times and looked amused while doing it". The zemeni man had to stop if he wasn't trying to reunite with the other deceased blessed people on his bloodline. Kaz's stare hardened and his jaw clenched tightly.

"Wylan, I can't lose her. She was too slow a-" "ENOUGH" Kaz stood up, looking at him with murder in his eyes. "If you were more aware of the surroundings, she would be fine. Don't you dare call her slow. This is not her fault. You should've been there" menacing gloved finger pointing to his friend. "Oh, so this is my problem now?" Jesper countered in complete disbelief. "If you don't consider your best friend's life being at critical risk a problem you're much more of a superficial, incompetent and heartless bastard than I thought." Kaz spat.

He knew this wasn't Jesper's fault, maybe it was the lack of sleep or you just weren't on your element. But he had to let it out with someone. Anyone. Pain turns into anger and screaming at your brother when it's too strong. He knew that better than anyone and couldn't care to stop himself this time. "Kaz, stop" Wylan said, and then he noticed Jesper's puffy eyes with a sigh. Then he felt his own neck starting to tickle. He was crying. Kaz Brekker didn't cry.

"Out" "But Ka-" "I SAID OUT"

And out they were. Everyone who didn't need to be there to save his girl's life. He could hear Nina struggling between wrecked sobs, fast pacing around the room and a distant sound of water running non-stop. Hours passed, and he remained in the same position, in the same chair, with the same thoughts running wild inside him.

Not you. Please. I should've been there. I'm going to kill them. Please be okay. I can't do it without her. Please.

Kaz Brekker was repeating pleas, thinking out loud to whoever was listening. Let her live. Please let her live. This is not her fault. Not to a god, neither to those saints who proved to exist so many years ago. He didn't know who he was asking for help to. But he was screaming, please don't let her go. He was leaving with her if she did.

All sound stopped, and Nina emerged from the dimly lit room, drying her cheeks. The boy stood up, looking at her with the most terrified look he ever gave someone. Fuck the facade. He was utterly afraid. "She's okay, not waking up, but she will". He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and couldn't help but throw himself into Nina's arms in search for some comfort to his wrecked sobs.

His friend received him with open arms, careful not to squeeze him too hard, as she knew that could trigger him. "I can't lose her, Nina" he whimpered before pulling away. "You're not. Not now and not soon. She's okay, Kaz. Stay with her, will you? She could be a little startled if she wakes up in an empty room"

He almost scoffed at that. What else would he do? A quiet nod was delivered, and he stepped inside to accompany her in an uncharacteristically unsettling silence. There were dirty gauzes everywhere, her dirty dress discarded in a corner and a blanket covering her figure. Kaz stopped, looking at your chest. It rose and fell in a moderate rhythm. Good.

Taking a seat once again, he held her hand and brushed a thumb over it, grateful to whoever listened. And Nina.

Sun bled through the curtains, filling it all with a pleasant orange hue Kaz knew Y/N would appreciate. Jesper came by every few hours and amends were made. He understood how badly everything hit Kaz the day before and didn't need an apology. They were all under intense pressure the day before, couldn't blame him for a such a reaction. Wylan had brought flowers and Inej made sure everything was ready for when she regained consciousness.

His crows got it handled.

A whole day and a half had gone by and he was reading beside her when she woke up. Her hand moved and he could feel the twitch in his palm, looking up frantically to find those pretty y/e/c eyes looking back at him. "Finally, got some sleep," she joked and laughed at her own joke. Kaz laughed back. "Hello" he offered, kissing her hand and never really wanting to let go "Hi". "Are you feeling okay?" the boy asked, happy to see his lover once again awake.

"It hurts a bit but I'll live" "I'm counting on that, my love". ♡

[mt-oe]

𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙃𝙤𝙩—bandmate mizu

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I'm so so sorry for not being able to keep up with requests that well. My program is taking a lot of my time and beating the shit out of me (esp. u immunology and serology >:c).

Anyways, here's a sort of prequel for my headcanons because band au Mizu is so yummy.

Enjoy! Mwa mwa:*

warning: not proofread, she/her for mizu, will refer to her as a boy (bc she canonically appears like a man), implied afab reader

"But you're so good at playing the guitar, and you have the charisma too. You should definitely join our band. Even our manager is amazing. She—"

"For the last time, Ringo. I don't want to join your stupid band."

Mizu and Ringo were already getting ready to go home after finishing their term-end project for their elective, which just so happened to be music. She didn't really think it through when she enlisted and just picked whichever she thought was the easiest. Ringo, however, just picked the same elective as Mizu.

She carefully placed her electric guitar in its case, zipping it up and securing the locks before slinging it over her shoulder. "I have better things to do and joining a band is a waste of time," she added as she walked up to the door.

Ringo followed after her, a smile still on his face despite the rejection. "You never know. This might even be your calling," he chimed as they exited the room, making her groan out of annoyance. They headed into the parking lot where Mizu's bike was parked. "We have an audition in a week if you want," he said, waiting for his friend to put on her helmet.

Once Mizu was finished putting on her helmet, she hopped on and leaned forward, pushing her weight to retract the center stand. "Not interested," she groaned out, slightly muffled behind her helmet. Her foot kickstarted the bike on before she revved the engine up a bit.

"Well if you decide to change your mind, just send me a message." Ringo stepped back a bit to give Mizu some space to move. She grunted in response and drove forward, leaving her friend waving and shout goodbyes at her.

What's so great about joining a stupid band anyway?

It's probably just filled with pretentious kids pretending to be as good as their idols but can't even memorize which strings their hammer ons should be.

Another groan escaped her lips the more she thought about the offer. It was annoying. Yet, a somehow, a small part of her wanted to play even more. The desire ringing at the back of her head like an itch she couldn't scratch off.

What if she did join?

What if it was as much fun as Ringo always said it was?

A sigh escaped her lips at how bothered she was by her thoughts. Why was she even thinking about this? She can always play her instruments at home. A crowd wouldn't make a difference, she thought as the wind whizzed past.

Her thoughts continued to race as she drove home. This band thing was stupid. Maybe she shouldn't attend the audition after a—

"Hey goofy boy!" a voice called out.

'What? Me?' she thought, lifting her visor to look around for the source of the voice. Across the stoplight, she saw another woman waving at her enthusiastically. It was almost ridiculous to look at. She raised an eyebrow, looking at her sides and behind her to see if you were talking to someone else before pointing to herself inquisitively.

"Yes you! Across the stoplight! C'mere!" you yelled, signaling her to stop in front of the cafe you were standing in front of, not really caring if other people were looking at you with how silly you were being.

Her blue eyes narrowed at you, clearly suspicious of your intentions. And yet, the way you were smiling and calling her over made her feel...something. Once the light turned green, she drove over to you, pulling up at the lot in front of the cafe.

You walked over to her, letting out a sigh of relief as she kicked the side stands on. "What do you want?" she asked in a low voice that clearly indicated that she didn't trust you even one bit.

"That.." You pointed to the guitar case on her back, making her raise an eyebrow cautiously. What did you want with her baby huh? She was so ready to throw hands.

"What model? And how long have you been playing?" you asked, still pointing to her guitar. Mizu looked over her shoulder being sighing. This was a waste of time. "I'm not inclined to tell you that," she replied, getting ready to kick her side stands off.

You snorted at her cold reply before leaning closer until she was face-to-face with you no matter how much she pulled away. The proximity allowing her to take in your features better and you were quite...pretty?

No. Wait.

Let's focus on how much of nuisance you were being.

Before she could even kick off her side stands, you already blocked her foot with yours. "Join our band," you said in a serious tone, showing her a business card before placing it in her jacket, smile still on your face.

Mizu groaned and rolled her eyes. "No. Now get your foot off before I kick it off," she replied. Yet, you kept your foot in the way of her stands, making her eyebrows knit together. "You look really goofy riding that bike of yours with a huge ass guitar case on your back," you said, eyes glancing at her guitar case before staring into her eyes intently. "You have talent, don't you?"

The smile on your face despite how serious and forward you were being was unnerving. "So what? I'm not going to join your band," she said in a low voice. Indeed, she was quite stubborn, but nowhere near your level. This motorist was the diamond in the rough you were looking for. "Goofy boy, join me in the café. It's my treat."

There was no way she's going into that café just for you to give her your sales talk and convince her to join your stupid unknown band. Not in a million years

—was what she thought.

Yet here she was, helmet off and sitting in front of you with a cup of matcha latte, watching you take a bite out of the cake you bought for yourself. After taking a slow sip, she sighed and narrowed her eyes at you. "I thought we were here talk about your band," she scoffed.

You smiled at her yet again, fork still in between your lips. "You're not going to talk right away, right? So let's take our time." A small 'tch' escaped her lips as she leaned back against the chair.

"Fine. I'll talk," she replied, staring at you up and down. Now that she was able to sit down and relax the tiniest bit, she was finally taking her time to look at you. And you weren't an eyesore at all. In fact, you were really fucking cute.

She's still not joining your band though.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you placed the fork down, resting your elbows on the table and intertwining your fingers together. "What model?" you asked, eyes darting to the guitar case beside your table.

Mizu glanced at it as her hands wrapped around the handle of her cup. "A les paul," she replied before taking a sip. Your smile widened before you took a sip from your cup as well, setting it down when she set hers down. "How long have you been playing?"

"Long enough," she replied, glancing at you, rolling her eyes at how you stared at her with curiosity, as if coercing her to tell more. "Fine, fine...before I started high school. I think. Maybe even longer."

You hummed in satisfaction and took another bite out of your cake. "Any other instruments?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow back at you. "A bass. A mustang."

Silence washed over both of you as you continued to eat your cake, making her feel a bit nervous. A small clink was heard as you put your fork down after taking your final bite. "What's your name, goofy boy?"

"Mizu," she replied before taking her drink into her hands. She downed it in one go, placing the cup down and picking her guitar case up. "This is pointless. I'm leaving," she said in a low husky voice, getting ready to stand up.

It was clear to her that she shouldn't have given so much time to you. She wasn't even interested in joining. Maybe if you weren't so cute, she wouldn't have tried to hear you out.

Before she can even stand up, you beat her to it, pushing her back down on the chair gently. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as you leaned forward again.

"I'll make you a star."

Huh?

Her clear surprise and confusion made you giggle. What the hell were you talking about? You pulled away and placed your hands on your hips, giving her a confident smile.

"Talent recognizes talent, Mizu. It may not be now, but I'll make you a star," you beamed.

Mizu blinked before scoffing. "That's ridiculous," she sneered before standing up and putting her helmet on. "For the last time, I'm not fucking joining your stupid audition."

Was what she said.

But here she was, a week later, sitting down inside the studio hallway. Her eyes watched as the auditionees chatted amongst themselves. Those who were done with the audition complaining about how strict the judge was, who she learned was just one person.

Her nerves were sending jitters to the tips of fingers, her throat tightening up slightly in anticipation. She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale before exhaling slowly. Just as she opened her eyes, she jumped slightly at the sight of a familiar pair of feet in front of her.

"I knew you were going to change your mind," her friend's voice chimed.

Looking up, she made eye contact with Ringo who was beaming at her, drumsticks tied to his stubby hands. "But how did you know where our studio is?"

This was the band Ringo was talking about? Oh boy.

She grunted and handed him the business card you snuck into her jacket. "The address is written there," she said with a sigh. He let out a small "oh" before his eyes widened even more. "So you've met her before," he replied cheerfully, handing the business card back.

"Who?" she asked, a serious yet curious look on her face. He looked confused for a moment before he replied, "Our manager. The one who handed you that card?" She wanted to ask more questions, but then a voice suddenly called for the drummer. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I gotta go. Bye!"

Upon Ringo leaving, Mizu sat back down and closed her eyes again, resting her elbows on her knees.

Some time later, all the auditionees had finished and yet, it seems that all of them had been rejected. "This is a waste of time. I should have left earlier," she muttered to herself.

Just as she was about to leave the studio, her name was called, leaving her with no choice. Slowly, she entered the room only to be greeted with—

"You came!" your voice beamed.

Her eyes scanned around the room to see you sitting down on a chair, holding some papers, as well as the other band members presumably. "And you're the manager apparently," she said plainly. A chuckle escaping your lips as you nodded. "You can get ready whenever you want to."

Once her guitar was plugged in and ready to go, she looked up at you again, waiting for any further instructions. Despite her mind telling her that there was nothing to be nervous about, her gut was squeezing and churning from anticipation.

Should she do her best? Or should she fuck this up?

Your eyes watched her carefully, observing how she handled her guitar. "Play any song you'd like," you said, leaning forward in your seat as you set the papers down on a chair beside you.

No. She didn't want to be in this stupid band. She's not going to do her best.

Why the fuck would she do that?

This wasn't even worth it.

Nononononononono—

She looked down on her guitar before beginning to strum the familiar intro of Smells Like Teen Spirit. Despite her bobbing her head slightly, it was clear through her body language that she wasn't even trying at all.

The smile on your face slowly disappeared until all that was left was an unreadably neutral expression. Once she was done, she looked at you with a bored expression. "Well?"

You sighed at her, giving her the same bored expression back, making her smirk a bit. "Guess I'm not in, am I?" She unplugged her guitar, getting ready to put it back in the case before your hands stopped her.

"Sit back down. We're not done," you said in a serious tone, facial expression neutral yet your eyes told her that you were daaaaaaaamn annoyed with how little of an effort she put in. The look in your eyes, they way you were gripping the neck of her guitar, did something to her. "I don't owe you a performance," she replied.

You glared at her lightly before snatching her guitar from her hands, causing her to glare at you. She tried to grab her guitar back but you kept evading her as you plugged it back in. Once it was plugged back on, you pushed towards her, making her stumble back a bit from how harsh you did it.

"Now sit down and play. Talent recognizes talent, Mizu," you growled at her. The scene causing everyone in the room to go quiet. It was clear to them that you were pissed. "If not, then sell that guitar. You're wasting it."

After all, the only thing you hated more than the equipment suddenly breaking was wasted potential. And Mizu was wasting a LOT of potential.

Your words struck a nerve in her causing her. With a loud screech, she pulled the chair towards her and sat down. "Fine. If it gets you to shut the fuck up."

She looked at you with one final glare as she leaned back, hands beginning to move against her guitar.

She began playing Hotel California, immediately skipping to the guitar rift at the end of the song.

By the normal person's ear, it wasn't anything special. There were more impressive sounding songs out there. But to you, you knew how difficult it was to get the tone of the song right with how slow it was compared to other rifts. If she made a mistake here, a wrong pluck, a wrong drag, a wrong vibrato, the mistake would be so painfully obvious.

And yet, here Mizu was, playing it perfectly with the same angry look on her face. She was damn mad at you for touching her guitar, for pushing her towards your stupid fucking band. And yet, she couldn't help but want to impress you.

Did she really not want to be in the band?

Why was she trying so fucking hard then?

Like her body was moving on its own.

Like her hands were itching to play more.

As she ended the song, she looked down at the ground. Suddenly, the sound of clapping caused her to perk up and look at you. The sight causing her breath to hitch a blush to dust over her cheeks. That was when she knew the answer to her question.

It was you and your proud little smile.

That cute fucking smile.

All the annoyance and anger you held at her melted off during her little performance. You knew you saw talent. The moment you saw that goofy looking motorist with the awkwardly large hard guitar case at the stoplight, talent already hit you like a damn truck.

Although she knew you were satisfied with her performance, she couldn't help but want to try more. She'll try. She'll damn try for the hottest fucking manager she has ever seen. Her earlier hesitations of whether she wanted to join the band or not disappearing.

Call it a gay agenda but she was going to secure this fucking spot. She'll be best fucking guitarist you have ever heard or seen.

Just as you were about to congratulate her, she raised a hand up to cut you off. "Wait—fuck—that was too easy. I... goddamnit. Wait, I'll try doing something harder," she said in a panicked slur.

Her hands immediately went back to her guitar, eyes narrowing in thought. If an impressive guitar rift was what she needed...

Suddenly, she began playing the guitar rift for Free Bird. Eyes glued to her guitar, palms sweating a bit as she hit every chord, every pluck, every fucking bend.

You couldn't place your finger on what it was, but somehow, it felt like she was playing more passionately. Like she was putting her all into this one song. Was it the way she was bobbing her head? Or the way she moved her guitar during every vibrato? Maybe the way her body moved with the music?

Once the song ended, she closed her eyes and let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. You couldn't help but giggle at how flustered she looked, making her blush again.

"Am I in?" she asked, looking at you with hidden desperation in her eyes, making you giggle even more. Her eyebrows furrowed as you continued to laugh, not really answering her question. "Well?"

A gulp went down her throat as you stood up from your chair and picking up the papers you previously held. "Mizu," you giggled out, "You were already in from the moment you tried again."

...

oh

Well that was embarrassing.

You handed her the contract and a pen, humming as she read the content before signing. Looking at her signature, your smile widened. This flustered looking guitarist was exactly what you were looking for and you just hit jackpot.

"You won't regret this, Mizu. I swear." She glanced at you, scanning the big smile you had on your face before looking down at her guitar and unplugging it. "I better not."

Suddenly, you lunged forward at her. Her eyes widened when you suddenly took her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers together. "Talent recognizes talent," you repeated, leaning closer to her, grip tightening with every word.

"I'll make you a star."

She'll be your star.

[rosazoldyckk]

-Yandere Killua Zoldyck X Reader-

⚠️warning⚠️ mentions of obsessive thinking, stalking, and clinginess (none of this is intense though, but it’s still worth putting a TW just in case)

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Characters: Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs

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Ever since you had become friends with Killua and Gon during the hunter exam, you had found yourself constantly being touched by Killua in some way, shape, or form. Whether he was playing with your hair, taking your hand in his, or hugging you tightly, Killua seemed to always need your touch. So then, it was no surprise to you that the very moment you exited the heavens arena match, Killua rushed over to you and gently grabbed your hand to get your attention, pulling you to his side.

As soon as he felt you pressed up against his, he felt your steady breaths and your soft skin against his, Killua breathed a silent sigh of relief. Not being the most 'enthusiastic' fighter, being a Zoldyck was already torture enough for him, but it was made even worse by the fact he was forced to be separated so far away from you. He couldn't talk to you, couldn't touch you, couldn't even daydream about you without Gon snapping him out of his thoughts. Somehow though, he had gotten through his thoughts of worry, and now he was more than ready to make up for lost time.

"Man I'm really hungry," he told you, his voice

barely above a whisper, but just loud enough for you to hear, giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"I'm definitely ready to eat something right about now".

"Me too, that fight sure did take my energy out" you laughed. "I'm just gonna head to the bathroom with Gon first, so I'll meet you down there."

"Okay, " Killua pouted, not wanting to let you go. He had only just gotten you back into his arms, why should he have to give you up to Gon? His eyes watching you closely, Killua hid as he waited for you and Gon to leave the bathrooms to get a little way ahead of him before making his move and following you. What kind of boyfriend would he be, after all, if he just left you all alone?

That reasoning, so wrapped up in his love for you, guided Killua all the way to the men and women’s bathroom, where he hid behind a large plant pot. Fingers twitching slightly from withdrawal of you, Killua instinctively stalked you and Gon as you both exited the bathrooms in sync. If he couldn't have you in his touch at the moment, he could at least still have the sound of your angelic voice in his ear.

"So, "Gon said as you two began walking to the food court, "you and Killua, huh?"

"What do you mean?" you asked back.

"You guys are so really cute together! Are you two dating or something?"

At his question, Killua beamed, his smile positively electric. As much as he loved touching you for its own sake, for the sheer joy and comfort it brought him, he was just as pleased with the other benefits. Namely, that of having people realize that you were taken, that you were off-limits.

"Oh," you answered with a slight chuckle. "We're not dating, Killua and I are just friends." Freezing at your response, the first thing that Killua felt was sheer confusion. He simply had no idea why you would lie about the love you and he shared. Did he do something wrong? Did he upset you somehow? Did he misunderstand something?

No, Killua told himself, that couldn't be it. You loved him, he just knew it. You must.. you must just be shy! Too worried to express your true feelings!! Yes, that was it, Killua realized in relief.

You were just so timid, you didn't know how to tell people about something so close to your heart. Well, that was okay, Killua thought. He would just have to make up for it then, would have to keep you in his arms at every opportunity, showing everyone that he was the only one who had your love.