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blkkizzat · 8 months

Note

please write nerd geto ! i’m sure you’ll write something amazinggg

Of course doll! Sorry this took a while I was sick most of December and January whooped my ass with classes starting again but I love love the idea of Nerd!Geto especially a Nerd!Geto with glasses so had to write a whole fic. Hope you like it :3 ♡

Lessons in Anatomy

“Shall I give you a lesson, Y/N? Do you want me to teach you how to squirt?”

summary: thanks to some bad choices and party girl ways you're on academic probation and can't afford to fail another test. fortunately your longtime friend nerd!geto is there to give you lessons in both economics and anatomy.

cw: college AU. fingering, squirting, dirty talk, edging, mentions of satosugu, rich party kid shit, incestuous friendships, mentions of reader x other jjk men, mentions of casual sex/hookups, mentions of drinking/drug use, reader is a dumb (and I mean dumb) bimbo, a little bit of a brat too, slight coercion, slight dubcon, virgin!suguru, soft dom!sugu, sex ed!sugu, roleplay as sugu is pre med major, some minor fluff, pet names: slut, bunny etc. a bit of a crack fic too haha. slightly black fem coded, no descriptors. a/n: LOL how this became an 8.2k fic about squirting idk chile... but special shout out to @littlemochabunni who talked me off a ledge when I was being emo and I wanted to scrap the entire thing and start over. w/c: 8.2k

“I can’t believe I’m here and missing the biggest party of the year!”

You groaned as you scrolled through your stories to see all the pics and vids of your friends living their best drunken lives and happily binge drinking on frat row to celebrate your school’s football league championship win.

Toru just did unassisted keg stand pushups and you missed it!

You, on the other hand, were stuck studying with Suguru in his dorm room.

100% sober and being forced to learn 5 weeks of econ, that you never took a single note for, in one weekend.

Well not forced exactly.

You and Satoru had practically begged Suguru to help you study this weekend. If you failed this class you would flunk out as you were already on academic probation.

“Well I for one can’t believe you’re dumb enough to attempt to cheat off Toji and Sukuna of all people.”

Suguru quipped back while pushing up his glasses. He snatched your phone away from you and placed it on the other side of his desk, away from you.

Not that he took offense to the remark, but he too had better things to do on a Friday night than tutoring you. Keggers definitely weren't his scene though and Suguru wouldn’t be caught dead at a party celebrating with those frat monkeys. Even if said monkeys included his childhood friends.

However, as a pre-med student he’d much rather stay in to write his essay for the clinical research internship he was trying to get.

“Hey! I didn’t cheat off them for the record! Toji and Sukuna said they had the hookup for the answers!”

You pouted grumbling as you tried to reach for your phone on the other side of the table only for Suguru to take it again. This time he slid it into his pockets, keeping it away from you for good.

“Urgh, it’s not my fault they got the test for ECON 230A and 230B mixed up. I didn’t even know there was a second section!”

Suguru had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at you again. The pilfered test definitely had ‘ECON 230B’ printed in big bold letters at the top.

You all were idiots.

Unfortunately for you, you were just a cheerleader idiot.

The other idiots, Toji and Sukuna, dubbed the ‘The Boom Bros’, were the reason your team even won the championships in the first place. The best defensive backs your college or any college in your division have seen, ever. Not letting an opposing team score more than 10 points the entire season, there was no way in hell they were going down for that right before the championships.

That left you as the scapegoat, which was something Suguru noted that you happily took the fall for. Although there is a very good possibility of you being a soon-to-be college dropout, your social clout was skyrocketing.

Word spread among the popular social circles fast on how you ‘saved the big game’.

Suguru couldn’t care less about football, though he was getting annoyed at all the texts, DMs and messages you received asking where you were. They were making you completely lose the little focus you were capable of, which is what made him confiscate your phone in the first place.

Sighing, Suguru was pretty sure you would be competent enough to pass if you just applied yourself more to anything other than drinking and parties.

“Y/N, just try to focus on studying, please.”

You pouted, turning back to the textbook in front of you.

How did Suguru’s nerdy ass enjoy studying so much?

Studying, especially anything to do with math, gives you an ick. In fact, you were sure the only reason you graduated from high school and even got into this university was because you played 7-minutes-in-heaven with Choso at the start of senior year.

It had been a secret double dare from Gojo but you sucked the soul out of that boy in Gojo’s closet that night. From then on, Choso pretty much did anything you wanted that year, including all your homework. Hell, he even wrote your college admissions essays and in turn you gave him some sloppy toppy here and there.

Choso was always eager to feel your soft lips on his cock, so you’re sure he could have thought of a better way for you to cheat so you didn't have to study at all and could be out partying right now. It’s just your bad luck that he was studying abroad this semester with his little brother Yuuji.

Although, even if you did flunk out you weren’t that worried. Worst case scenario if you couldn’t find a career or a husband you could always be one of Gojo’s three mistresses he said he would keep once he was older, married and had taken over his family’s company.

He had pinky-pie-promised he would take care of you if you needed it and as one of your best friends you knew he was good for that promise. Even if he did make it while you both were partying, tripping balls off acid so hard that Satoru convinced himself your cunt could produce cotton candy. He chewed on your pussy for 2 hours straight one wild night on your group’s graduation trip where he then asked if you would be his future mistress.

But that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted that life for yourself. You liked your independence and Satoru would be alot to deal with, even with 2 other mistresses and a wife.

Therefore, unless you wanted to resign yourself to that fate, you were stuck with Suguru as your tutor.

It’s not like you didn’t get along with Suguru, he’d been one of your closest friends since you were young along with Satoru. But as you got older your interests kind of drifted apart and you saw him less and less, especially as you got to college.

You wanted to party and Suguru prioritized studying.

You had missed him. You wanted to have fun with him again.

And this was definitely not fun.

Reading the same paragraph for the fifth time and retaining shit all of whatever the passage had said about ‘demand curve fluctuations’, you were ready to climb up the walls.

You began to fidget, still in your cheer uniform from the game earlier. The material of your skirt rode up to your upper thighs when you splayed your knees out and leaned forward to lay your head on the desk face down with an exasperated yawn.

Suguru shared in your exasperation but directed his towards you with another sigh, looking you over. His weariness at you from your inability to study causes his eyes to linger on your form longer than they should.

Resting against his desk, your back had molded into a nice natural little arch as your tits pushed forward . Adjusting his glasses Suguru found it difficult to pull his eyes away once they landed on your thighs. Practically leering, Suguru is transfixed by the way the fabric bunched at your hips digs into your soft skin.

He curses your university’s school colors as the next thing that caught his eye was the bright yellow cheer panties you wore that were tight enough to show the full shape of your cunt. Your panties are so skinforming that they don’t fail to give you camel toe. The indent of the slit between your fat pussy lips is on full display.

You’ve always been attractive, Suguru muses as he feels his pants slightly tighten. But it’s no mystery why you were such a slut now if these were the positions you found yourself in when alone with guys.

“Seeing something you like, Sugu baby?”

Suguru snaps his head up at your teasing to see you looking straight at him, your head still resting on his desk but has since turned to face him. The wink along with the lazy yet knowing smile forming on your cherry stained lips lets him know you know he was staring at your cunt.

Caught red handed, Suguru rolls his eyes and scoffs as he returns back to the textbooks in front of him while you laugh. Dismissing your question entirely he changes the subject back to studying but can’t resist throwing in a little dig to take the heat off himself.

“Y/N, can’t you just focus? You’ve barely made any progress… Or is it that you want to flunk out and be reduced to Toru’s mistress or something?”

Fuck, you forgot Suguru knew about that too. (Duh, of course he did. He was the sober one who found you both, taking care of you once your come downs had hit).

Not letting him get away with that shade, the brat in you clapped back as you returned his sarcasm back at him.

“Okay, well high school was one thing but do you want to go through college without getting any play too? Or are you satisfied just from peeking up a skirt?”

Annoyance flashes in Suguru’s eyes. He thought you had some audacity seeing as you were the one who was casually flaunting your pussy for him in the first place. Nevertheless, you continued, using Suguru as a punching bag for your current academic frustrations.

“Your pocket pussy and getting head from Toru behind the bleachers at prom doesn’t count by the way!”

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose as his tolerance of the situation had officially bubbled over. He was tired of everyone thinking he was missing out on something just because he didn’t want to kill off brain cells partying every weekend or play STD Roulette with casual hookups.

You bringing up prom was a low blow. It was the first time he’d ever had a drink and Toru had practically begged him. Satoru wanted to know if his head was just as good for guys as it was for girls (spoiler alert: it was).

Also, what you thought just because you fucked around alot it was actually any good?

“Yeah and getting railed by a bunch of banana brained monkey jocks, that counts Y/N? They wouldn’t know what to do with your clit even if it was an actual football.”

Suguru retorted and he watched as your eyes widened with shock then seethed with anger as you finally sat upright in the seat.

Ding Ding! He had hit a nerve.

“Oh and you would know what to do, cherry boy?”

Suguru knows he probably shouldn’t push it further. But like Satoru, you always knew what buttons to push to get under his skin. Suguru can’t help but to want to get under your skin as well, especially since he was never one of the ones getting under your clothes.

“Well I can actually spell clitoris, so that already puts me at an advantage over those ball chasing monkeys. Have you ever even had a real orgasm before, Y/N?”

You started to speak but Suguru cut you off before you could.

“—and I mean one that didn’t come from tripping with Satoru or a toy? I bet you’ve never even squirted before.”

Damn.

You resisted the urge to chew on your lip, not wanting him to know just how right he was but your immediate silence was telling. Racking your brain, you tried to find a way to get your lick back but found yourself at a loss.

It was mostly true to be honest.

A hot and heavy make-out session at a party would typically lead to mostly underwhelming sex and you would have to return to your dorm or wait for them to leave to finish yourself off with your rose or dildo… or both.

Okay and sure, maybe the one and only time you did really have an intense body orgasm was the time you dropped acid with Satoru but… fuck –Wait…squirting?! Wasn’t that just pee? Gross!

Satisfied with your small ammunition, after a pause you bit back again.

“Alright, so frat boys aren’t sex gods, tell me something I don’t know. It’s still sex Suguru—”

You flipped your hair and crossed your legs arrogantly as you continued.

“— sex that you aren’t having, which, duh, is obvious if you think squirting is an actual thing. Because Eww nasty, I’m so not into piss-play, Sugu!”

You waited for his reply, assuring your win but Suguru just blinked at you, dumbfounded.

The thought of you having won shatters when Suguru erupts into a fit of laughter. Hitting the table for emphasis Suguru was near howling as the glasses fell off his face and he had to clutch his sides for support, keeling over in his chair.

Suguru couldn’t actually believe that you believed squirting was the same as urinating!

On second thought, knowing you, this kind of checked out…

Watching Suguru in a fit of hysterics had your face burning with embarrassment as waves of self-consciousness came over you.

To be honest, you weren’t even sure why you were feeling insecure as this was supposed to be your victory! This was not the reaction you expected from him at all to say the least!

Just what made this so funny!? Because you didn’t want to piss yourself during sex?!

“Sugu…”

“Hey, Suguru!!!”

Frustrated with him ignoring you and still laughing after failing to get his attention, you jumped up from your seat and marched directly in front of Suguru. Angrily you yanked his head up by his man bun.

You were so ready to tell Suguru to go to hell for laughing at you. Even if you weren’t too sure exactly what he was laughing at you for, he was still being a jerk right now.

However the words caught in your throat as soon as you saw his face.

Suguru’s wide grin easily illuminated the dimly lit dorm room. Tears gathered in the crinkle around his eyes and pulled into an expression of such warmth that you were reminded of all the fun times you had together goofing off over the years. You nearly forgot what it was like to see him laugh like this.

So nostalgic you almost forgot he was still laughing at your expense — almost.

“Don’t be an asshole Sugu…”

Your voice was low, lacking any real bite as all your fire fizzled and was replaced by a pout.

Defeated, you let go of your stiff grip on his silky bun causing it to unravel and frame his face with thick black strands that flowed down past his shoulders. Although it wasn’t the first time you had seen Suguru with his hair down and no glasses, you couldn’t help but stare at him now.

He had grown much more into his features since high school.

College Suguru had sharper eyes, a slimmer face with a strong jawline and hair that flowed down to his chest. Not to mention his lanky boyish frame had filled out. The muscles underneath were prominent now even if he was wearing a baggy band tee and sweats. Suguru didn’t go to parties but from the looks of him he certainly didn’t miss going to the gym.

He didn’t look much like the nerd you knew him to be right now at all.

Granted, you were still a bit salty with Suguru but didn’t want to fight with him anymore. Especially given the way his dark eyes sparkled as he gazed up at you, your heart nearly skipping a beat as if you were really only noticing him now for the first time.

Sniffling, a cocktail of emotions swirls in you. Moisture pricks in the corners of your eyes despite yourself.

Suguru, who was also staring at you, took notice right away.

“Hey Bunny, I’m sorry...”

You relaxed a bit hearing the old nickname he and Satoru gave to you back in middle school, you couldn’t remember the last time he called you that.

Grabbing your hand in his much larger one, Suguru gave your palm a gentle rub with his thumb. His hand was surprisingly soft.

Despite his sweet gesture, your brow twitched slightly at Suguru’s soft chuckles, still continuing albeit less frequently, at your expense.

“It’s just that… I dunno, I guess I would have expected you to have experienced it at least once before Y/N, it’s definitely not pee.”

You huffed. You still weren’t convinced it wasn’t pee but now you were more curious than anything.

“And how do you know that Suguru? You’ve made a girl squirt before?”

There was no sarcasm in your tone this time, just doubt since he would have told Toru and Toru definitely would have told you if Suguru was getting play from someone.

Suguru to his credit wasn't discouraged though.

If anything, he seemed to gain confidence on the matter now that you weren’t fighting him, rather looking to him for knowledge, for the first time tonight.

“Well, no, but I did get a 4.0 out of Anatomy last semester and unlike you I actually paid attention in Sex Ed. Also, just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless. There is a little thing called the internet, Y/N.”

You mouthed an ‘O’— a bit ashamed that you actually thought because he was a virgin who didn’t party he was merely just sitting around clueless to everything about sex.

But what could just reading textbooks and the internet teach him over actual experience?

Then again, Suguru was practically a genius, if he was saying something was possible you could be sure it was. Still you couldn’t stop your mind racing as you considered his previous words.

You were the one with all the experience so you should have experienced it before, right?

Maybe the guys you hooked up with weren’t the problem then? Maybe you were.

“What if– w-what if I’m the problem Suguru? What if I just can’t?”

Tugging you closer, his fingers now interlacing with yours, Suguru’s other hand settled on your hip giving you a warm squeeze. You were so close to him now that his chin almost rested on your belly and Suguru was craning his head up to you with a small sly grin still on his face.

“It’s not a matter of can or can’t Bunny, you just don’t know how. Shall I give you a lesson, Y/N?”

“Do you want me to teach you how to squirt?”

You felt a bit lightheaded as you considered the words that just came out of Suguru’s mouth. You weren’t shy at all when it came to matters of sex and you had the reputation to prove it. Yet your stomach still did a little flip at Suguru propositioning you.

Sure you were a bit of a slut and had at least made out with almost every guy in your group of friends, but not Suguru. Not for lack of attraction though, you had teased Suguru in the past but he had always been the responsible one, like an older brother or protector.

Besides, Satoru was always so needy for his attention. There weren’t often times you were with Suguru alone and he never seemed all too interested in sex either, at least when directly compared to a horn dog like Satoru.

You didn’t actually know if he was serious though so you decided to make light of it, giggling.

“If you wanted me to pop your cherry Sugu, all ya had to do was ask.”

Suguru smiled back at you, he shook his head chuckling.

“I’ll only need to use my fingers, Y/N. Besides, this is about you. What I really want is for you to not flunk out, I would miss you, ya know?”

You try to keep a poker face but you couldn’t help feeling giddy at the fact you were extremely happy to hear Suguru would miss you. You had already missed him and combined with the inkling of new feelings stirring in your chest from seeing your old friend in a new light you feel adrenaline begin to pump through you as you brim with nervous energy.

“Let’s think of this as a study break from Economics. You had to miss the party but we can still have some fun. You might even learn something for once, eh?”

His hand left your hip in order to push the books and papers on his desk aside and patted the wooden surface. The hand still intertwined with yours guided you over.

“Hop on up, Bunny. It’s time for your anatomy lesson.”

You look at the desk and pause as if you are unsure, biting your lip.

Thoughts of finally hooking up with Suguru excited and the fact you were nervous whether you would disappoint him if you couldn’t actually squirt flood your mind at once. However when you meet Suguru’s eyes and feel gentle reassuring pressure on your hand your body is already moving towards the desk, making the decision for you.

Your heart is already thudding in your eardrums by the time you settle on top of Suguru’s study desk. Suguru immediately shifts into instructor mode, picking his glasses up off the floor and adjusting them back on his face.

He directs you to lean back and relax and soon your shoulders are against the wall behind the desk as you are propped up on your elbows.

You yelp as Suguru startles you by grabbing your hips with a firm squeeze and scooches you flush to his pelvis. Feet propped up to the edge as well all you needed were the stirrups and you could have been at the gyno's office, giggling now at the thought.

“Sugu, you can’t be serious. I feel like you’re about to give me a pap, not an orgasm.”

Suguru’s mouth twitches up into a smirk.

“There’s a reason they have you lie in this position, makes for easier access. If you’re going to squirt I’m going to need to find that slutty lil’ gland of yours and I don’t mean your clit, Bunny.”

You huffed but you were otherwise agreeable.

You couldn’t deny you were a slut especially not now with your legs spread open wide exposing your bright yellow cheer-panty clad cunt to Suguru. Laid out like this, the thin layer of spandex is stretched to its absolute limits causing your chubby pussy lips to poke out of the sides. This does not go unnoticed by Suguru who hadn’t taken his eyes off your lower half since you initially spread your legs.

His Adam's apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed and breathed deeply at the sight of you.

Suguru can barely believe he’s really about to do this.

If anything he is overconfident in his abilities, despite his lack of actual on-the-job experience so to speak. From all his studying as a pre-med student, books, health articles and yes even porn, Suguru could say he had an in-depth understanding of human anatomy and bodily functions.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t need to calm himself enough to stop his balmy palms from sweating further at the reality of finally being allowed to actually touch you.

“I’ll be in your care then, Doctor Geto.”

You make a lighthearted joke with a nervous laugh to ease your own anticipation. However the joke has the opposite effect for Suguru and he snaps his head up as if you had activated something in him.

Suguru’s fiery expression sends shivers down your back. Although as quickly as it appeared it was gone again, replaced by his trademark comforting grin. Even so your fingers pressed a bit deeper into the wood beneath you, steadying your frazzling nerves.

“Well aren’t you a lucky one then, being my first patient ever. You’ll be a good little pussy and listen to me, won't you?”

Suguru is looking down again, speaking directly to your cunt who is tingling in response to his voice. It’s fucking lewd. But then again so is the studious scrutiny of Suguru’s eyes so single-mindedly transfixed to your cunt you wonder if his leer alone could dissolve the cheer panties right off of you.

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding once Suguru finally starts touching you.

But not your pussy just yet.

His long thick fingers are surprisingly cool on your skin as they press into your warmth, ghosting just above your knee on both sides.

Gentle strokes travel down along your inner thighs and up again to lightly tickle the backs of your legs. You tense and squirm beneath him when your eyes meet Suguru’s own.

“Sugu–”

“Patience, Bunny. It’s no wonder you never cum if you’re so used to diving right in. You need to relax first. This won’t happen if you aren’t relaxed, can you try to do that for me?”

You nodded back at him, yet the goosebumps left in the wake of Suguru’s soft caresses had you trembling. So used to rushed thrusts and hurried grasps, you don’t know how to just take it in the moment.

You had never been touched this delicately before.

Already oversensitive, if anything you felt like the one who was the virgin in this situation.

If Suguru notices, he says nothing. His touches are progressively firmer, the light pets morphing into soft squeezes and circular strokes of the hand once he traverses closer to your core.

“You know Bunny, the inner thigh area is an erogenous zone? Can you say that, Y/N? Ero-gen-ous?

Suguru pronounces the word out for you as his heavy muscular hands make their way to the crease of your inner thighs, his hands once more perilously close to your pussy as he pauses looking up at you again expectantly.

“Say it, Y/N.”

Your cunt clenches at his command and it leaves you stuttering. Heat blossoms across your cheeks from how needy you sound choking out the word.

“Er-Ero-gennn-ous.”

Suguru rewards you by moving his hands again but to your dismay they pass your core to dig into your hips, his thumbs swirling over your hip bones. He leans his body in closer to you and you break eye contact to turn your head away lest you really start falling apart in his hands.

“Good girl. Ya know, you’re quite bright with the right motivation, Bunny.”

Puffs of moist heat glide over the tip of your ear as his lips are only millimeters away from your skin. His words stimulate a deep in your gut reaching all the way down to your toes, trying to resist how much he’s affecting you.

Suguru chuckles at your bashfulness.

“Are you always this shy, Bunny? Or does that honor just belong to me?”

You whimpered. You aren’t sure how you got here.

How was Suguru, a nerdy virgin, making you come undone like this? You didn’t know where the darkness that crept up on the edges of his eyes was coming from either, yet you squirm in anticipation despite yourself.

You loved it.

Always a know-it-all, so you would hate to admit it outloud, but Suguru was already making you feel more excitement than any frat boy you had been with. Lack of hands-on experience be damned. You’re losing it as his lips sensually flutter against your collarbone.

“Y-you s-said only fingers, S-Sugu!”

Your voice lacks any real reprimand as you are arching up into his touches and quivering for more. Suguru obliges as he alternates between delicate nips and open mouth kisses sinfully marking you. Groaning into the crook of your neck Suguru savors the lingering taste of your perfume and the natural saltiness of your skin.

Returning his attention back to your ear Suguru’s breath trails over your skin until your lobe is once again trapped between his moist lips. He lightly tugs it between his teeth before giving it a sharp bite.

“AHH!”

The sting sends a jolt of electricity shooting straight into your cunt and a strangled noise escapes your lips. Your knees are starting to buckle but Suguru’s quick reflexes stopped your legs from clamping together all the way, bracing you.

Taking your hands and leading them to the backs of your thighs, Suguru is making you steady yourself back into a spread position for him and gives you strict instructions not to move.

“Good girl… This should be more than obvious now Bunny, but there are erogenous zones all over your body that connect to the pleasure nerve endings here.”

Suguru’s voice is silky as his index finger tows long strokes over the slit of your clothed cunt and applies pressure on your clit for emphasis. Whines fumble out of you when Suguru switches from steady swipes to idle flicks with pads of his fingers and your legs twitch again once more.

“It's important to simulate multiple areas simultaneously and I only have two hands, don’t I? You don’t mind Y/N do you?”

You still can’t bear to look Suguru in the eyes, much less respond vocally so you just shake your head.

“Feeling good, Bunny? Which do you like better, the strokes or the flicks?”

Your eyes squeeze shut from Suguru demonstrating both over your covered cunt. You try not to tear up but the amount of autonomy you had in this situation was new to you. Embarrassed and vulnerable you’re realizing that in spite of all your sexual experiences you still don’t feel comfortable expressing your needs.

“Hey, Y/N–”

Suguru clutches your face in his massive grip, squishing both your cheeks with a single hand and forcing your glassy eyes back on him. It was hard to focus on what he was saying anyway while you cooed from the feather-like circles he had been drawing on your clit.

“–you have to talk to me. This and sex in general, is just another form of communication. It won't work well and you definitely won’t squirt unless you can express to your partner what feels good and what doesn’t.”

You are sure he can feel the heat gathering in your cheeks radiating off your skin.

“Stop t-teasing S-Sugu… I-I know you can tell it’s good.”

Suguru eases his hold on you, his smirk deepening at your complaint.

“Oh I can, tell Bunny. Believe me. Your pussy, she’s so sensitive no matter how much you try to hide it from me. But I still need to hear it from your mouth regardless.”

The hand playing with your cunt splays out and Suguru fully cups you in his hands. The pulsing of your clit vibrates against his palm even through your panties.

“If you’re going to be a slut Bunny, at least be a vocal one. Be a slut for your own pleasure...this fat n’pretty cunt of yours deserves it.”

Suguru’s mouth is mere millimeters above yours, floating suspended both your lips are parted as you’re sharing the same air. The dizzying effect of breathing him in only intensifies with his words.

“Or perhaps you just get off on the idea of being free use?”

Suguru chuckles but doesn’t make you answer that question in favor of pulling back from you to inspect the large wet spot you soaked through your cheer panties from all of his taunting.

Pleased he gives your clothed pussy a smack, the moisture underneath the flimsy fabric evident in the soft squelchy sound that fills the room.

Smack, another moist sound echoes from your cunt.

“Oh, looks like she’s ready. This mouth down here is so much more talkative, Bunny.”

Hooking his fingers in the fabric Suguru peels your soaked cheer panties to the side, whistling at the thick strings of your essence that lingered between your cunt and your panties.

“So fucking wet, the prettiest most obedient lil’ pussy, aren’t you?”

A fleeting thought of sassing Suguru since yours is the first real pussy he has actually even seen up close dissipates as soon as your entrance flutters against his two thick fingers that rub over your uncovered opening.

Involuntary bucking your hips, the burning urge to feel him inside you is all you care about now, pride be damned.

You want him.

“Sugu–”

“–Shhh!”

Suguru cuts your pleas short.

“Don’t interrupt Doctor Geto when he’s speaking with his favorite patient, Bunny… Your nasty lil’ cunt is really begging for her treatment, isn’t she?”

You pout at him, quieting down while Suguru rewards your submission by slipping into your folds once more, entering fully past your entrance and into your gummy walls. It’s only a single digit inside you but your pussy is hungrily sucking him in deeper, trying to devour his middle finger whole.

Suguru murmurs intelligible obscenities from how warm and tight you are. He needs to find that spot.

Your hands struggle to keep your legs from quaking when you feel his finger, longer, thicker and far more pointed than your own, bottom out before languidly dragging delicious pressure back through you, exploring your walls in search of–

“Found her.”

Your ass jerks up and nearly off the desk entirely when his finger roughly prods into the firm spongy spot within your cunt you didn’t even know existed until now.

“FAH-FAH-FUHHCKKKKKKKKK–”

Your voice cracks and your vision blurs with tears that finally are cascading down your face smudging your mascara. Your reaction has you missing the wide-eyed look of amazement Suguru gives you utterly entranced by the way your entire body quivered from just a solid tap to the gland.

Suguru had expected an intense reaction. He’d seen and read about how temporary control of muscles and spasms were common when abusing this spot in women. But the one thing textbooks, articles, nor porn could prepare him for was how fucking sexy you’d be while he was doing it.

The ache in his pants has him groaning as he has to lean nearly his entire weight into you in order to get your lower half to settle back down on the desk. Pausing his movements inside of you, Suguru allows you to catch your breath.

Still the heavy pad of his finger is weighing down on you with enough force you still need to suck in your breaths, barely able to squeak out words.

“W-Wh-What is th-that S-Suguuu?!”

Suguru tells you not to worry about the actual name. It’s not very sexy, so you won’t remember it and it’s important that you do, so eventually he tells you to just call it the g-spot.

You groan at the loss of pressure on your g-spot when Suguru removes himself from you entirely in order to bring the finger that had been inside you to his lips. Watching him savoring the essence of your sweet cunt on his tongue, you couldn’t take any longer, finding your voice.

“Su-Surugu, N-Need–N-need more. P—please!”

Suguru obliges, slapping the fat of your ass teetering off the desk and lifts you as his knee slides under your hip. Leaning into you further, Suguru throws one of your shapely legs over his shoulder.

“Oh, you found your voice Bunny? Then tell me what my patient wants. Where does Doctor Geto need to touch you?”

“M-my pussy– fuck– p-please Sugu, wanna feel good there. She’ll be so good for you!”

Suguru’s pleased smile is your only warning before two of his large fingers plunge-in and bottom out inside your cunt, knocking against your cervix. Your jaw completely slacks as you groan at the sudden intrusion, allowing Suguru the perfect invitation to your mouth.

Wasting no time, Suguru crashes his lips into yours. The kiss is sloppy, hot and needy as any cries that attempted to leave you were drowned out in the wet cavern of Suguru’s mouth.

Fuck, you’re greedy as hell.

The kiss makes Suguru’s head spin and he loses himself in your sinful hunger as you wrap your arms around his neck and begin to dominate the kiss, sucking on his tongue. Soon Suguru finds himself groaning against your lips and slowly rocking his cock into the back of your thigh. Fuck, your body was too responsive, too eager for him to slut you out on his fingers.

Suguru couldn’t lose sight of the goal though, you needed to squirt so he needed to take back control.

Catching you off guard, he bullies a third finger– his ring finger, into your cunt as well. Breathless you break the kiss, your eyes sinking back into your head as you meet the thrusts of his fingers with the roll of your hips.

You aren’t able to control the way your body convulses as you writhe against Suguru. His massive body weighed over you as his hair fell in front of his face, hiding his crazed expression from you.

Suguru is also panting as he vigorously pumps the appendages into you. In and out, swirling them Suguru’s fingers take special care to zigzag sweet torment over your g-spot.

You’ve only felt the slight ghostings of this feeling before, nothing so pointed and focused on attacking this spot, while stretching your pussy so well in the process. You want– no need, to feel Suguru’s cock inside you next.

You could tell he must be huge. Heat was radiating off his girthy bulge as it twitched up against your ass cheek even through Suguru’s joggers. The thought causes the hot iron coil in your stomach to tense to its breaking point, begging for release.

Suguru notices.

“A-Are you gonna squirt for me, Y/N?”

For the first time his own voice is ragged, set on keeping his promise to you.

“S-Sugu, I-I– I want to but I–”

Your words catch in your throat as tears that are salty to the taste freely flow past your lips down your chin. You are unsure of what exactly to beg Suguru for even if you could do more than unintelligible babbles at the moment.

It’s coming– you panic— this feeling!

“W-w-ait! Nooo, S–Su–Sugu… I’m g-gonna pee. S-stop, p-puhleaseee!

Your hands slip against Suguru’s shoulders as you try in vain to push him away. So fearful that Suguru was wrong and you may actually piss all over him and his desk.

Suguru isn’t having it though, backhanding your clit with a harsh smack, his knuckle bullying into your bud.

The slap was followed by two more in quick succession, his other hand never slowing inside of you. Disregarding your pleas Suguru ventures even deeper into your guts while pressing down on your lower belly.

“I told you it’s not pee, Bunny. You don’t listen very well, do you?”

Suguru hiss at you, the stress of holding himself back as you fall apart on his fingers was nearly too much, he needed you to lay back, be good for him and take it.

“I-I’m s-sowy, Dr. Geto but– I– wanna–.”

You sniffle back more tears, which has Suguru calming himself in order to soothe you again.

“Shh Bunny, it’s okay– now ask your doctor nicely for what you need. Go on.”

At this point cuming, squirting, whatever Suguru you requires of you in order to release the feral sensations building within you is an essential need to live as much as taking your next breath.

“Doctor Geto, please let me cum! Sugu please! G-gonna s-squirt, gonna squirt s-so g-good for you!!”

“That’s right baby you will… Now squirt on me Bunny, make a pretty mess all over my fucking fingers.”

Timing a particularly hard jolt to your g-spot with simultaneous pressure from over your belly, has you tipping over the edge. Back arching you feel the gratifying release as you squirt hard, fluids spurting all over Suguru’s fingers and spilling down his forearms. The saccharine pleasure of it all is buzzing throughout every cell in your body as your eyes flutter back into your skull.

Your entire body feels like an extension of your pussy, pulsing in tune with your cunt and you don’t realize you are even screaming until Suguru’s mouth is on top of yours once again.

Suguru is tongue fucking your wails all the way back into the depths of your throat until they are mere raspy gurgles.

Riding out your orgasm you protest with choked cries as Suguru's hand abruptly leaves your cunt. Yet before you can process what’s happening you’re mewling loudly again once you feel his lips attacking your cunt. Sucking your clit between his lips, his own groans vibrate into your core making you all the more sensitive.

Your hands fly to him again, tangling up in his long raven locks and trying to push his head away.

Too much! You were far too sensitive right now for him to be lapping at your over stimmed cunt like a mad man.

“Stawwp–”

Your slurs fall on deaf ears as Suguru continues, only pulling back briefly to shush you.

“Haven’t got it all out. This pretty pussy is so fucking nasty she can give a little more, can’t you baby? I know she can.”

Suguru is speaking to you but he sounds a million miles away, focused only on your cunt as he returns to suckling on your clit, his teeth scraping lightly. He knows your pussy will give him the answer he is looking for soon enough.

The iron grip his arms have around your thighs holds you down allowing Suguru unimpeded access to dribble globs of his spit into your folds. His tongue flattens over your clit and his eyes smolder into yours before diving back into your pussy.

So close to cumming yet again your thick thighs clench around him as you unintentionally smother his face deeper into your core. Suguru ignores any need to take breaths, your cunt being the only sustenance needed as he rams his tongue further into your convulsing hole.

Shaking his head around sloppily, Suguru is goading your cunt into giving him more and more. His tongue is a mere worshiper in the temple between your thighs, begging your leaking pussy to give him the last morsels of your squirt.

Not having the willpower to deny him, your pussy gushes out more onto his tongue and shamelessly he swallows all of it as you cum all over again.

By the time Suguru detaches himself from your cunt he looks almost as wrecked as you: hair is matting to the sides of his face, his glasses are clouded with slick and your juices are dripping down his chin.

Although, now that Suguru has had a taste of you he is left craving more. Not letting a single drop of your juices go to waste Suguru is ferally slurping the drippings off your thighs and lowering his head to even zamboni the overflow of your essence off the desk beneath you. Ravenous with thirst for you Suguru is even using his mouth to squeeze out any droplets he could retrieve from your soaked cheer panties.

You on the other hand could only heave as you gasped for breath. Your legs are still twitching in the after shock of your intense orgasm and squirt session. Dizzy and dazed you feel yourself fading out, unsure of how much time has passed or what Suguru was still doing between your legs until the familiar ring of your phone slowly guides you back into the present.

Wiping his face with the back of his hand Suguru stands up and pulls your phone out of his pocket.

The phone is still ringing as he looks down at it and snickers.

“It’s Toru, Y/N. Answer it.”

You give Suguru a frowny pout. You were barely conscious right now, you couldn't handle a drunkenly energetic Satoru.

Seeing you making no attempts to move, Suguru answers it for you and Satoru’s voice overflows through the speakerphone.

“Y/N! Y/N! Where are ya at!? We need the beer pong queen to make her appearance, I need a partner! Nanamin is too good to beat without you!”

Suguru held the phone out to you but you could respond in labored puffs.

“Y/N is taking a study break, a bit tired after her lesson.”

“–Oh it's you Suguru!”

You end up tuning Satoru out as he’s begging Suguru to come to the party with you which you already knew wasn’t going to happen even if he didn’t just make you squirt all over him.

Willing yourself to sit up, your body is immediately revitalized when your eye is drawn to how bricked Suguru currently is in his dark gray sweats.

Suguru arches his brow in amusement as you pull him forward by the band of his joggers. You hurriedly fumble to untie them, pushing them and his boxers down to reveal his hard cock.

The sight of it nearly has you squeeing.

You practically have hearts in your eyes as you gawk at Suguru’s cock, it’s the prettiest you’ve ever seen. The way his girth swayed in front of you as pre marbles on the tip has you openly salivating. To say his length and thickness is above average, was a massive understatement.

You can’t estimate a size but you know he is huge as you eye the a large vein on the underside of his cock that seemed to weigh him down even though fully erect. You squirmed at the thought of that vein scraping inside your pussy as Suguru pounded you.

You need to feel it. Now.

Nevertheless, it isn’t until Suguru snaps his fingers in front of your face did you realize Gojo was now addressing you again through the phone.

“Y/N! You there?! I failed with Sugu! He’s lame! But you’ll be here soon right???”

A sharp contrast to just 30 mins earlier but partying was the last thing on your mind now. You needed to get Satoru off the phone and Suguru’s cock inside you expeditiously.

“Mhm-nh, Toru sorry, I–I really need to get a good grade. I need Sugu to tutor me a bit more. C-Can’t afford to flunk out!”

Although you had teased Suguru earlier about popping his cherry, you didn’t care if he was a virgin now. He had more than proved himself despite his lack of hands-on sexual experience.

You weren’t really paying attention to Satoru any longer as Suguru motions for you to lay back again. Readily, you get in position returning your legs to a stirrup pose.

Suguru rewards your obedience with his cock slapping against your clit.

“Mmmm…FUHH-CK-AH!”

You don’t care that Satoru is still on the line as Suguru is slipping his cock under your cheer panties, rubbing his fat tip along your folds. His cock sandwiched between your messy cunt and the soaked fabric has Suguru groaning at the crazy sensation, he could bust like this for sure.

“Huh? Oh.. OHHHHHH! Haha, I see, I see! Suguru’s lessons are the best, aren’t they Y/N?”

You’re openly moaning now. Barely registering Toru’s words as Suguru grunts, increasing the pace he’s bullying his cockhead across your clit.

“Y-yeah, the besssst-ahhh!”

Satoru, feeling more than a bit left out, starts pouting over the phone.

“Hey, no fair playing with Bunny without me Sugu! Let me join ne–”

Suguru abruptly cuts Satoru’s complaints short, hanging up on him while still rutting his tip over your pussy. His pre leaking out in globs and mixing with your own cum still dripping from you.

He wanted you all to himself, for now at least.

Satoru could fuck off.

“Gawwd Sugu–just fuck m–”

You abruptly stop as your face falls in realization when you feel his warm cum pour over your mound and into your cheer panties.

Suguru is spilling so much of his thick load into you it's even coming out the sides of your cheer panties and running down into the crack of your ass. A few more jerks of his cock through your folds and he is quickly pulling back to tuck his softening length back into his sweats.

“N-no,no no no S-Sugu! Suguru! I-t’s okay you came fast but please— fuck me. I’ll even let you raw me and cum inside puhleaseeee Sugu– need to squirt again all over your cock!”

You don’t know the kind of willpower it takes Suguru to refuse you.

Probably one of the hardest things he’s done in his life, especially as fresh tears trickle from your eyes and he knows you’d be crying just as adorably on his cock. You were too sexy, too perfect and he wanted to fuck you just as badly as he knew you wanted him to.

BUT– more importantly he wanted to enjoy you more than for a quick fuck and if he indulged you now, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be relentlessly tearing up your sweet slutty pussy all night.

If you didn’t start studying for real you were definitely going to get kicked out of school and he can’t have that, especially not now after this.

Masking his own lust with a stern instructor voice Suguru chastises you as he ties his hair back onto a bun and begins to give his glasses a proper cleaning before adjusting the books and papers on his desks around you back into their correct piles.

“Absolutely out of the question. Now be a good girl and pull up your panties, Y/N. We have a lot of ground to cover tonight.”

Sticky with Suguru’s cum, frustrated and still horny you groaned loudly but obeyed. You knew Suguru meant business.

You hoped if you listened to him well enough you’d get what you wanted by the end of the night. It would suck for you to suffer through studying but it was the best motivation you had in literal years.

Unfortunately for you, Suguru, focused on the bigger picture, had a larger goal in mind.

“Only smart sluts get dick, Bunny. You’d better get an A on that exam Monday if you really want this cock.”

a/n: I would be willing to write a part 2 (some time in the future) of y/n popping Sugu cherry or even y/n getting double teamed by 'The Boom Bros' as a 'thank you' for taking the fall for them if there was interest. I'm kind of fond of this little college AU.

Reblog for an anatomy lesson from Nerd!Geto but likes and comments are also appreciated as always!

NEXT is back to my own ficcys! Upcoming: The Nursery - Yakuza!Toji x Y/N - teaser/taglist: ╰┈➤here. Delays cause I've been without my adhd meds and getting the first part of the fic beta'd for once but I FINALLY got them today and was able to finish this fic so hopefully I can get back on track! send me good vibes y'all!

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hollandsfavbabe · 4 months

Text

Wet & Wild

pairing: art donaldson x reader

synopsis: in which you, a swimmer, and art, a tennis champ, change each other's lives for the better when you challenge his match-like stance on life

warnings: smut build up, porn with a plot, making out, cursing, frat party, art being stupid, happy ending dw, two parts because I cannot condense my writing for the life of me

word count: 4.0k

masterlist

“Swimmers…”

You curled your fingers around the rough end of the diving board, unconsciously holding your breath as you readied for the starting noise. The pool glinted below you, reflecting light from the glaring sun above that sparkled like the blue glitter polish on your toenails. But you ignored it, blocking out anything that wasn’t the signal as you lowered your neck.

“Take your marks…”

There it was. You tensed as the official hovered her finger over the mic button. She was about to send you off and there could be no hesitation once she did. Any second now.

“GO!”

You were already under as the crowd started cheering. Two laps,100 meters, that’s all that it took and you had already conquered a quarter of the length by the time you came up for your breakout strokes. You cut through the smooth pool surface leaving white water waves in your wake. You tried not to let your gaze stray anywhere away from the tiled black line at the bottom of the pool as you felt the competition slipping behind you.

As the wall comes into view at the other end of the 50 meter pool, you take your first breath of the race and pause your strokes for only a second to perform a nearly perfect flip turn. You only have one more length back before it’s over and you can claim the medal that is rightfully yours as you come up from your last breakout. Arms pulling and legs kicking almost frantically, you’re almost there, so close you can sense the touch pad waiting for you at the end. You zoom past the flags and…

“I can’t believe I lost by less than two tenths of a second!” you groan, taking a swig from the Heineken one of your teammates had handed you when you arrived earlier. More than 12 hours had passed since your race and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about your unexpected loss. It had plagued you still as you had made your way to the party a random fraternity had thrown, though your team considered it a celebration after the Stanford swim team took home another champion title. It was small in comparison to the larger meets you had won in the past, but it was a reason to stay out past the curfew your coach imposed on you. And any reason to stay out was good enough for you.

“You’re not actually upset about that, are you?” Chloe asked, one of your teammates who competed in the endurance free events. While you would consider yourself close to nearly every girl who swam with you, Chloe was more of an instant best friend.

You shake your head as she sips on her own beer. Unlike you, she had opted for a brand with a higher alcohol percentage as she was unafraid of hangover ridicule that inevitably awaited her at your next morning practice.

“Of course not. You know me, winning is only a plus. I just can’t believe I got so close to the record!”

It was true. You didn’t so much mind losing the first place prize to the opposing team in such an insignificant meet. What really had you grinding your teeth was the fact that you had only been a half of a second away from the official Stanford record. You weren’t sure where you lost that time in your race, whether it was one of your two breaths or if you needed to dive further out, but you were set on remedying every part of your race until the problem was solved. Your next meet was only a week away and unlike this one, it would be a much bigger deal.

“You got that girl,” Chloe assured you, patting your shoulder in a comforting manner. “Half a second ain’t nothing for you.”

“I hope so. I’m not missing any more practices until I get it.”

Your conversation was disrupted as the room suddenly erupted in cheers, people gathering around the entrance as newcomers entered. You turned your head towards the noise, searching for whoever could elicit such a response.

You caught sight of him right away, a man you had never seen before though immediately prayed you’d never lose sight of. He was tall, his head covered in light blonde curls that were well trimmed to not hang over his hooded eyes. He was attractive, no doubt, but there was more to him than looks. There had to be. Anybody had to be more than attractive to get applause in a place like Stanford, especially within the frat parties.

“Who is that?” you nudged Chloe in his direction. She was normally more up to date than you on the campus celebrities as she didn’t get swallowed up by her swimming commitments as often as you. Chloe nearly choked on her drink as she saw him, turning back to you with a befuddled expression.

“You don’t know Art Donaldson? He’s like the most promising tennis student to ever play here.”

You furrowed a brow, staring at Chloe as if she had said something incredibly stupid.

“Do I look like I watch fucking tennis?” you gestures to your hoodie that clearly bore the words ‘Stanford Swimming and Diving’.

“Let me put it this way,” Chloe started, unoffended as always. “He’s already won the Junior US Open in the doubles category. He got second in the singles and at the rate he almost qualified for the real thing.”

“What’s stopping him?” You asked, looking back in the direction of the man who had now settled on the dance floor with a drink. You sensed a catch in Chloe’s explanation.

“That.”

Chloe pointed to the only television in the house that was conveniently showing a rerun of one of the man’s, Art’s, matches which from the date you could tell happened the same time as your meet. He was amazing, more skilled than any of the few players you had ever watched before, but even you, someone who knew nothing about tennis, could tell that he was playing like something was holding him back. Every ball out of his reach skirted to the fence behind him until he eventually lost. You couldn’t understand how a Junior US Open champion could miss shots that were arguably hard, but reasonable for a professional. There had to be more to it than what lay on the surface and as a swimmer you couldn’t stop the urge to dive in deeper.

“Oh no,” Chloe smirked. She knew you too well to miss when you were after something you wanted. And you weren’t sure by which mystical force you were being pulled, but you started to gravitate away from her. “You’re going to go after him, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna do a walk around.” you promised, standing from your couch seat beside her, though you were both certain she wouldn’t see you again until practice the next day.

“Good luck.”

You were careful not to approach him directly, instead jumping into a conversation with a couple of your teammates who happened to be chatting in his vicinity. After several minutes of receiving congratulations for your attempt at the record, the group surrounding Art had finally dispersed leaving him alone with his drink on the floor. Lucky for you, by the time he was without a crowd to bypass, your group had moved on to much more nonsensical topics. It was then, by chance or fate as you believed, that he just so happened to bump into you, forcing your drink out of your hand and his attention onto you.

The glass of your Heiniken sank to the group, shattering into a million dazzling pieces of green glass, but you were able to block it out with the focus of a swimmer as you felt his stare on you.

Through the flashing lights you were able to make out the shape of his face better, mapping out sharp jawlines and chiseled cheekbones. You decided then you preferred this Art, the one who smiled at you anxiously over his moving body on the tennis channel and by the slight intrigue on his face, you could tell he felt similarly.

“I’m so sorry,” he professed, looking down at the mess of glass behind you before his blue eyes again met yours “You okay?” He had to shout over the loud music, guilt evidently rushing through him as if he had shoved you to the ground rather than accidentally causing you to drop your nearly empty bottle.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Art, right?”

Art nodded, leaning in closer to you so that he could hear you over the blaring club music.

“Do I know you?” he asked, in awe that you knew his name as if it wasn’t being broadcasted all over the Stanford sport program.

“Not yet,” you laughed, pointing to the screen where you had just seen him, watching as a wave of embarrassment washed over him as they replayed the portion of the match where he lost it all, unbeknownst to you. “I was watching your game. You’re really good.”

“You play?”

“Not tennis.” you gestured to the logo on your hoodie, hoping the disco lighting wasn’t enough to distort the clear waves of the swimming logo.

“Oh wow,” he marveled. “I didn’t even know we had a swim team.”

“What can I say? My sport’s not quite as popular as yours.” you shrugged, shooting him a smile.

“We’ve really gotta get you another drink.” Art pointed out as he took a swig of his own beer.

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just have to take care of this first.”

You turned around to the glass mess that waited for you only to find that your teammates had already handled it in the time you had spent getting introduced to Art, leaving the two of you plenty of time to get acquainted, mess free. You caught sight of them across the room sitting next to Chloe, smirking at you as you looked their way. You rolled your eyes at the sight.

Art had his arm offered out to you when you turned back to him, a guarantee that the two of you wouldn’t get separated on the floor as you headed into the kitchen. It’s there that the seconds fade into elongated hours as you get to know more about each other. You told Art all about your life on the team and why swimming was your calling out of all sports while he spilled to you every tennis affiliated memory from his childhood where you learned he attended a special boarding school for the sport. You made note of his humility as he never once mentioned his success on the Junior US Open and the high level he can play.

You finish the soda Art had gotten for you as the music in the main room increases in volume, forcing you to crane your neck in order to talk in his ear, leaning in so close that you can smell his cologne. He’s not much taller than you, but it’s enough to make a difference.

“I can’t hear anything with this music,” you admitted, speaking at a timbre that’s loud enough to be audible to Art without bursting his eardrums. “Do you wanna move somewhere else?”

You knew Art was joining you when he looked at you with consideration. But it was impossible for you to know exactly what he was thinking, staying ignorant to the fact that he supposed after losing his match and an evening with Tashi due to another scheduled Patrick reappearance, what did he have left to lose? He wouldn’t normally do this, but you look like the perfect contender for a brand new game.

“Let’s go upstairs.” he nodded towards the stairs to your left, accepting your invitation. “It won’t be as loud up there.”

And so you both made your way up the frat house staircase, passing by closed door after closed door until you finally found a vacant bedroom. While you don’t know who lives there, it was tidy enough for you to neglect caring as you followed Art inside and shut the door behind you.

“I don't think I ever caught your name, by the way.” Art stated as he took a seat on the bed in the center of the room, leaving a space for you beside him..

“Oh, I didn’t say.” you chuckled in realization as you sat beside him, your name falling from your lips as you met the lumpy mattress.

“And this is your reward party?” he wondered, a thought you can’t help smiling at as you shake your head.

“Definitely not,” you took another swig from your bottle. “I don’t think there’s any real reason behind this besides to fuel college memories. If anything, they’d be celebrating you. You’re like famous right?”

Art’s gaze moves to the shag carpet below as he shakes his head of blonde curls, disappointment shrouding his face.

“Not quite,” he disagreed, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I don’t know if you saw the whole thing, but my match today wasn’t anything to celebrate.”

“Why not?”

“Because I lost.”

He stated it like it was obvious which only confuses you as a swimmer. All the work and dedication he must put into his sport all to think there was no yield. You couldn’t imagine basing your pride off of winning and winning alone when there were so many other components to competing.

“So?”

He’s startled by your nonchalance towards losing, something so foreign to him it isn’t even a refreshing take.

“So?” he repeated. “So I failed today. I let my team down. I let Tashi down.”

Tashi. You’ve definitely heard that name before. Though you don’t know much about the inner workers of tennis, everyone and their mother in the state of California knows who Tashi Duncan is. She’s the most famous person on campus, in and out of the tennis world. You didn’t know her personally, only ever seeing her when walking between classes. You also knew she had a boyfriend who didn’t attend Stanford from seeing them eating together. There had always been something off about her and now, with Art beside you in full self-deprecation mode, you figured you were about to find out exactly what it was.

“Is that who you were looking at?” you asked, piecing together that she must’ve been in attendance at his match. He immediately tensed at the mention, surprised you caught the simple detail. “I saw during your match. You looked like you were distracted.”

“It wasn’t just her,” he shook his head. “One of my oldest friends just flew for the weekend. He was there with her.” he paused. “They both saw me fail.”

“I’m sure they were both proud of you.” you assured, but Art was quick to set you straight as his friends didn’t operate the same way yours did.

“No, you don’t get it. I’m nothing if I don’t win.”

“Well it’s okay, you can just try again next time.”

“It doesn’t work like that. That’s not what tennis is about.”

You sensed a planted ideology in his evaluation, causing you to probe further.

“Really? So tennis isn’t just hitting balls with rackets over and over?”

“It’s more than that,” he informed you, taking no offense from your lack of knowledge. “It’s a relationship. It’s about the fight between two people. The back and forth until someone comes out on top. And even then the winning, it’s not nearly as important as the match. I didn’t just lose today, I let the crowd down. And my opponent won without the intensity of a good match. All because of me.”

You quieted as he explained, placing a careful hand on his shoulder as he finished. You felt for him, absorbing his sorrows like a therapeutic sponge, but it didn’t take a tennis expert to understand that bullshit behind his dogma. It sounded more like a manipulation technique than anything, all stemming from the same source.

“Did Tashi tell you that?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if your statement was any more outrageous than the lies he had been fed.

“It’s the truth.” he answered.

You weren’t sure how to get across to him, if it was even possible to crash through the wall of his beliefs in the first place, but you knew you had to try. It wasn’t right for him to harbor such disappointment over a match that did nothing to disprove his skill at his sport.

“Okay,” your voice softened as you thought of a way to challenge his theories. “Let’s change the subject. How about I tell you how swimming works?”

“Isn’t it more of the same?” he sighed, still overcomplicating his loss.

“Actually it’s very different.” you corrected.

“What do you mean?” Art asked, looking at you with the utmost intrigue.

“What if I told you that even the losers in swimming end up winning?”

Incredulous of the possibility, Art waited for further explanation.

“See like tennis, we have the players and of course only one person in each race can come out on top, but it’s not about beating the other players. Once you’re out there, it’s just you and the water. That’s the only relationship. It doesn’t matter where anyone else is, beside you, behind you, that’s not what’s not important. All that matters is how well you swim and if you lost a few seconds on the time board. Everything else is lost to the waves. And if your time is the fastest well, that’s just one big fucking bonus.”

Art sat with your words, unable to reply as he processes the possibility of winning as a loser. It’s almost too hard to imagine. You leaned closer to him, breath catching as his eyes moved down to your lips and one of his hands gently gripped your thigh.

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded, your faces so close now that your nose nudged his own.

“I didn’t win today either,” you whisper to him. “But my team screamed when I touched that wall. And do you know why?”

He waited for you to explain, eyes fluttering close for only a second as you laid a palm on his shirt, feeling the hard muscle that lay beneath. Your hands trailed to his sleeves, settling his bare skin a blaze as you take in his equally sturdy biceps.

“I almost beat a school record today. First time in 30 years if I had done it.”

“There’s no records like that in tennis.” he countered, but there was uncertainty in his tone. As if he was waiting for you to further back this new perspective. As if he was really starting to believe it.

“Then maybe you should take a page out of my book. Leave tennis in the past for now and focus on what’s here, in the present…” your lips brush over his before you mutter, “... focus on me.”

You're not entirely sure who initiated it, but before either of you could get out another word, his lips were on yours. You dove head first into the kiss, his lips melting against yours as you swipe your tongue out to catch the lingering taste of cheap beer at the edge of his parted mouth. It’s all so soft, like two cracked dolls who want nothing more than to break for the other until the intensity reaches its peak and you could feel microscopic beads of sweat forming at your brow.

Art pulled you in closer, gentle hands moving to your waist as the faint vocals of California Gurls played distantly in the background. His fingers curled into your sides, worming their way under the hem of your hoodie as they gave way to underlying desire, sparking every inch of your skin that they came into contact with.

You sighed as his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Pausing the kiss, he tipped his head back to jerk ever so lightly on your lip before allowing it to snap back into place and at once you crashed back into mouth, kissing him with a fervor you don’t remember ever feeling this intensely. Every movement, every change in the pace all worsened the heat igniting within you.

You tugged on the blonde roots of his curls that rest closest to his neck and soon enough you felt Art’s needy fingers claw at the waist back of your black athletic shorts. Though you're in desperate need of relief from the growing pool of desire at your core, you knew it was time to pull back. Art didn’t let you go so easy, his lips chasing after yours once you’ve broken the kiss, but it’s no use. You knew you couldn’t do this, at least not tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Art whispered against your lips, automatically assuming that it was his own fault rather than an independent decision of your own. It was certainly too intimate for a man you’d only just met, but you have to cup his cheek to keep from breaking as his own hands part from your skin.

You told him some form of the truth, that you didn’t think the timing was right. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you were dying to sneak another taste of his lips in and give him everything he’s ever wanted right there and then. But you couldn’t. Not when you know that it’s just another match. A distraction from Tashi. Especially not when you know that it didn’t have to be.

“We can’t do this here.”

Art face fell at your words, but he’s never been one to give up so easily.

“Then let’s go back to my place.” he offered, hoping it was just the atmosphere of the party that alarmed you. He wasn’t ready for you to leave.

“No, not tonight.” you frowned apologetically. “Not while you’re playing tennis.”

He stared at you in utter confusion as you stood up from your place beside him, dusting off your clothes as if you hadn’t been enjoying him all along. He didn’t understand the reasons behind your sudden switch, but he’s willing to risk it all in the heat of the moment.

“You want me to quit.” he suggested as if it’s a solution both of you are comfortable with. You turned back to him disturbed, shaking your head wildly at the proposal.

“Of course not, Art, you know that’s not what I mean,” you began, gathering an explanation that you hope will convey your reasons without making him feel like a complete piece of shit. “I don’t know what Tashi told you, but to me it sounds like she expects a winner. She’s programmed you into believing the player doesn’t matter without a title.”

You stepped an inch in his direction, close enough that you can see even the smallest details of his face, but not enough for him to touch you again.

“…but she’s forgetting that without the player, winner or loser, there is no title. Without a foundation, there is no relationship between you and the other player. And nobody can succeed if they’re scared of failure.” you explained further. You knew your words resonated with Art as his gaze turned to the stained carpet of the bedroom, but he had to pass the ball back.

“Well, you said it yourself, you don’t know Tashi.” he fired back, and you knew it’s only the tennis talking.

“You know I’m right.”

Art was silent, only proving your point. You knew you had to leave, but you had to promise him a second meeting, for him and for yourself. You wouldn’t be blocked from a happy ending by wrong timing.

“Come to my meet next weekend,” you invited him. “It’s the biggest one of the year. You should see how other sports operate.”

“I can’t see you before then?”

You almost smiled at the confirmation that his frustration wasn’t directed towards you.

“I have practice,” you shrugged. “- and so do you. You can see me again at my meet and in the meantime, just think about what I said. And know that you’re more than a loser, Art.”

You left without another word, shutting the door while silently cursing yourself for not taking the opportunity while you had it. It was very possible that you would never see the tennis star again, that every spark you felt with him in your first hour of knowing him was entirely one sided. You prayed it wasn’t true, that he had shown some feelings in return, but only time would tell. In exactly one week, you would be certain.

part two out now!!!

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #tashi duncan #patrick zweig #challengers #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #swimming #swimmer life #stanford art!!!#challengers fanfic #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson smut #smut

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aliteralsemicolon · 2 months

Text

Wait until you like me again - 18+

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

The decision to resign puts a lot of weight on your shoulders. A takedown gone wrong makes it the least of anyone's concerns, especially Spencer’s. You’re not willing to let him back in; it feels too little, too late.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions. 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. Part 2 was highly requested and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to finish.

WARNING Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, drugs (GHB), Case details (very poorly thought out). Violence: canon typical - strangulation, drugging, guns/gunshots. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The most annoying part about making a decision in haste is the clarity of the situation when the dust settles. It’d taken Hotch just over two minutes to message you after you’d sent your email.

From: Boss Man 🕶 👔 My office, first thing tomorrow.

You didn’t take into account that you’d have to explain your sudden resignation to your unit chief, or that you’d need to think of a good enough goodbye to lessen the hurt of abandoning your friends. These are people you consider your found family; you’re leaving behind years worth of bonds with no proper warning or closure, in a measly few weeks. Your reasoning had to be good enough to convince them that this was for the best.

To convince you that this was for the best.

You’d spent the whole night in tears, racking your brain for an excuse, because ‘the person you care most about in this world and unrequited love of your life telling you that he didn’t want to see your face was a pathetic reason for discarding your life’s work. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think of adequate justification. Even as the sun rose and you made your way through your pre-work routine, nothing came to mind.

“You can’t love me.”

Any time you tried to conjure up a defence your thoughts would wander back to Spencer. Too many words had been exchanged between you and your former best friend in the span of four months and not a single one of them properly explained why he was so butt-hurt. He loves you too much, but doesn’t want you to love him? That’s your understanding, at least.

“Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.”

Since you’d left his apartment the previous night, you’d been cycling through all the stages of grief in record time. Spencer once told you that people tend to remember more negative memories than positive. He was right. You couldn’t recall a lot of your happier memories with him. All you could think about was the two conversations where he’d hurt you in ways you never imagined he would.

You’re not sure exactly what part of you snapped at that moment, all you knew was that you were done making him the centre of your universe. Spencer Reid played no part in your decisions moving forward. He was not the reason for your departure with the BAU, a lie you made sure to relay to Hotch during your meeting with him.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Where is this even coming from?” He inquired from across you, hands folded neatly against his desk.

“I just think it’s time for me to try new things, you know?” It was a pathetic excuse, but less pathetic than the actual reasoning.

“I try not to interfere with the personal lives of the team, but this is just so…sudden. I have to wonder if this has to do with Spencer?”

“This has nothing to do with him.” You go out of your way to avoid saying his name, suspecting you might taste poison.

Hotch’s brow raises, as if his brain has been alerted to key information, head marginally tilting to the side like it does when he catches a lie. He doesn’t say anything, eyes narrowing in on you in stoic fashion. You feel like a petulant child that’s about to receive a scolding from their father.

“Hon–Honestly…Hotch, I just–”

Three rapid knocks cut you off, the door to the office swinging open without waiting for a reply.

“Sir, Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s an emergency. That case we were consulting on for Anchorage PD?” Garcia bursts into the room, slightly discoloured and more panicked than normal. “Well, five more bodies were discovered. Two of them pre-date who we initially thought was the first victim.”

“Garcia, tell everybody to meet on the jet ASAP. We’ll debrief on the flight.” Hotch orders abruptly standing from his seat. “You and I can finish this meeting later. This case is now our top priority, wheels up.”

Emily, Rossi and Derek were already in their seats when you boarded. You secured your go bag in one of the overhead compartments and temporarily took a seat next to Derek.

“How bad do you think this one is gonna be?” Derek sighs, dreading the horrors that await your arrival.

“We’re up to thirty six bodies and counting. Whoever this unsub is, they’ve been at it a while. So, bad.” You answer honestly.

“Speaking of bad, is everything okay?”

“That was not even remotely smooth.” You scoff.

“I’m just asking as a concerned friend.” He shoots his hands up in defence.

“What happened to the days where we at least tried to mind our business. You know, at least asked each other about our weekend plans before jumping into interrogation mode.” You roll your eyes and smirk.

“Heyyy, woah– no one’s interrogating anyone.” Derek chuckles. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

It wasn’t long before everybody had made their way on the jet, Spencer being the last one. You didn’t notice his arrival, too engulfed in your conversation. He definitely noticed you though. The sound of your giggles caught his attention the second he was in ear shot. He didn’t like how warm he felt at the sight of your smiling face. What he disliked more was that he could instantly tell that it wasn’t a genuine smile.

He quietly made his way to his self assigned seat on the couch, trying his hardest to focus on anything but you. Every laugh that Morgan coaxed out of you bothered him. Spencer’s agony only ended once the jet had successfully taken off.

“Alright let’s get started.” Hotch declared and everybody moved to gather around.

With all the details laid out by Garcia through the monitor, everybody began stating facts and suggestions. You wrapped up soon enough and retreated to an isolated seat in the back of the jet. It was an almost eight hour flight, seven of which you were planning to use to come up with a solid plan to announce your departure. Life always has to throw a wrench in your plans though, because the lack of sleep from the night before caught up to you and you dozed off almost immediately. Had you any energy left in your body, you might have been privy to the eyes that were on you.

“She didn’t say anything as to what the meeting was about?” JJ hushedly pries from her raven haired co worker in the cramped kitchenette.

“No, but Garcia said that ‘the air in his office was really tense’.” Emily relays, her fingers mimicking quotation marks. “Did Hotch say anything?”

“No. He just gave me his usual dry look and told me to focus on the case.” JJ rolls her eyes at the thought and leans back against the counter.

Despite being the FBI’s most decorated task force, the agents of the BAU weren’t strangers to workplace gossip. You’d just entered the bullpen this morning when Hotch frantically summoned you to his office, not even giving you time to set your things down at your desk. Witnessing the events sparked a guessing game sparked amongst the team.

“Is it something we should know about?” Sitting across from Hotch, even Rossi succumbed to his curiosity.

“Dave you’re not normally one to pry.” Hotch smirks, keeping his eyes on the case-file laid out in front of him.

“No I’m not. But with the events of the past few months...” Rossi sips his coffee, staring at his younger superior expectantly. “...there’s been some talk Aaron.”

“Talk?” Hotch meets Rossi’s eyes.

“Mhm.” Rossi nods. “Apparently you’re transferring one of our two youngest members because they haven’t been able to put their differences aside.”

“I’m not transferring anyone. Where did this come from?” The alarm in his tone makes Rossi snicker.

“Office drama. You know how it is. And while you may not be transferring anybody,” he sets his mug down and looks towards where you’re sound asleep. “I’m guessing somebody is leaving. Hence this morning's meeting.”

“We’re not supposed to profile each other, you know.” Hotch sighs. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this contained. I haven’t had a chance to properly discuss this with her yet and I think she’d prefer to break the news herself.”

As you had predicted the case was by no means an easy one. On the first day everybody was split into groups to follow up with the M.E, victims’ families and examine the crime scenes. All the evidence and information gathered wasn’t enough to narrow the profile any more than the generic: male, mid thirties to early forties, hates women. You were now three days in with no viable leads.

You were especially frustrated because you felt that you weren’t working as well as you could. The stress of your announcement was taking its toll, you were unable to properly converse with your team out of guilt. Hotch sent everyone back to their hotel rooms with the idea that you would start fresh tomorrow. Normally you would room with Spencer, but lately JJ and Emily have been taking turns rooming with both of you. This time you were with Emily.

“I think this may be the first night we’ve gotten to turn in early.” Emily yawns as she dramatically stretches her limbs.

“I’m just glad we got to turn in at all, for a while there it looked like we may have to pull another all nighter.” You force a giggle, exasperated.

“You okay?” She doesn’t miss a beat, taking the opportunity to ask about your uneasiness.

“Yeah, fine.” You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“You’re going to snap at some point, you know?” She examines your closed off posture, trying to figure out a way to get you to open up. “Something’s clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

“We’re all on edge right now. It’s this case.” You hope that you’re being convincing enough.

“It's more than that. You’ve been distant from everybody.” Emily briefly thought back to the Ian Doyle debacle, recognising all the signs of somebody preparing to run away at any given moment.

“I’m aware that I’m not working to my full potential–”

“That’s not what I mean and you know that.” She steps closer to you. “I can’t force you to tell me whatever’s actually on your mind, but I would really appreciate it if you would. I hate seeing you so…detached. Not just from us, but from yourself.”

It’s the empathy in her voice instead of the usual sympathy that finally cracks you. Tears pool your eyes and you sink to the floor. Emily sits down next to you without a word. She tries to pull you in for a hug but you push away.

“Please don’t.” You sob. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezes your knee to relay that she understands and retracts her hand. Your discomfort with physical touch was another thing you had in common with Spencer. It was just a personal preference for you, unlike his germophobia. He was the only person you were actually comfortable with in terms of touch, but you couldn’t fault others for not respecting that boundary when you’d never verbalised it.

“I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to tell you guys, but I don’t think there’s any way this gets easier.” You recompose yourself after a moment. “I’m, um, leaving.”

You expect her to get upset with you, but find her unfazed.

“You don’t look surprised.”

“Well it’s not entirely surprising. I mean given everything that’s happened.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” She leans back with her mouth slightly open.

“Because I feel like I’m abandoning you guys.” You heavily exhale.

“You’re not abandoning us. You’re doing what you feel is right for you. I mean, am I happy about it? Definitely not. But I know better than anyone why you feel like you need to do this. And it’s not a decision you have to justify to anybody.” Emily reassures you.

“How do I tell everybody else?” You push for more advice.

“However you feel most comfortable doing it. It doesn’t have to be some big announcement. You can casually break it to them whenever you get the opportunity. They’ll understand.”

“Thank you, Em.” You genuinely smile this time, eternally grateful that she’s managed to take some pressure off your shoulders.

“Now while you’re in a mood to share…if you wanna talk about something else–” She attempts one last time to get you to talk about Spencer, sensing that the mood lightened a bit.

“Nice try.” You laugh as you rise to your feet, offering your arms out to her to help her stand.

The following two days were a lot easier on you, mentally. You took Emily’s advice and disclosed your news individually to each team member, each of them more understanding than you’d anticipated. You were surprised to learn that Rossi was already aware, assuming that it came with being a profiler for as long as he had. Derek and JJ did try to talk you out of it initially, but accepted your decision in the end. You still had to talk about this with Garcia, but felt a lot more at ease with mostly everybody knowing.

Except Spencer.

That thought lingered in the back of your mind. You still love him, it’s not something you can just turn off. You shake it off and divert your full attention to the case. Four more bodies had been discovered and with them, a new pattern to the killings. The unsub was devolving. You and Spencer were the only ones at the precinct when the last murder was called in. Meaning you were stuck working on the geographical profile with him while the others were out chasing new leads.

Realistically, only one of you was needed to build the profile and decided you were going to let him do it. You quietly sat in the furthest seat possible, trying to make yourself invisible and hoping that this would keep him busy enough to not talk to you. The whole week, you hadn’t uttered a single word to him unless it was absolutely necessary for the case. It was as if he didn’t exist, even if he was standing right infront of you. Spencer, on the other hand, spent the whole week prodding you for any reaction he could get. Anytime you made suggestions and he happened to be in the area, he tried to one up you.

At times it felt like he was purposely seeking you out, despite his brutal proclamation five days ago. Every attempt to rile you up failed. The most acknowledgement he got from you was a few scoffs and glares. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it, until Derek asked him point blank what his problem was. He didn’t have an answer, but now that he was aware of it he tried to go out of his way to avoid it.

That didn’t last more than a few hours. The fact that he had to consciously avoid talking to you pissed him off, especially because he couldn’t stop. You pretending like he didn’t exist pissed him off even more. The one time he took his eyes off the board in front of him they landed on you. You were busy scribbling words in a file, trying to get a head start on your paperwork.

“Do you plan to help at all?” He sneers, noticing that you looked a lot more relaxed than you did at the start of the case.

You snap your head towards the board behind him. A rough venn diagram was drawn on a map of the city, small tacked notes labelling prominent buildings in the area.

“How am I meant to help?” You question, darting your eyes between him and the board out of confusion.

“You’re asking me how to do your job?” He taunts, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

You dramatically groan, throwing your head back.

It’s hard to believe that he’s a man of logic in moments like these. There have been far too many in the last few months. You bounce off your seat and head over to the board. Spencer stays glued in his spot and your body accidentally brushes against his as you try to get past. He watches you take off some notes and add on new ones but doesn’t register what you’re doing at first. He’s too intoxicated by your scent. His hand runs through his hair as he steps back in an effort to regain his composure. His teeth grit and his jaw tenses momentarily, he hates that you have the ability to do this to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The pitch of his voice raises and his ears are burning.

“What do you mean?” You roll your eyes, shrugging your arms, sarcasm laced in your words.

“Don’t try to act all dumb!” He berates, shaking his head.

“Don’t try to act all smart.” Your eyes roll again. Spencer was slowly starting to wear down your apathy.

“I am smart.” He scoffs. Your blood boils, this trump card is becoming too repetitive.

“Savour that, it’s the one good thing you’ve got going for you!” You finally snap.

“You’re UNBELIEVABLE! The first time you bother to answer me all week and it’s just to argue?” He’s trying his best to refrain from yelling.

“Oh! You’ve been trying to start an argument all week and now that I’m giving in you can’t take it?! Actually, why have you been trying so hard, Doctor? I was under the impression that you can’t even stand to look at my face!”

He dryly swallows, unable to respond immediately. The reminder of his words makes him internally cringe. He never meant to say them. It was the most efficient way he could think of at that time to hurt you. Spencer hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of will power it would take to stay away from you. You seeking him out made it infinitely harder. His fake disdain was a defence mechanism, he was hiding behind hatred to get the job done.

“YOU–”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hotch loudly cuts him off.

Neither you nor Spencer noticed the teams return during your squabble. You’re slightly embarrassed, wondering how much they’ve witnessed. Spencer turns away from you and looks to the blank wall on the other side of the room. You look to the floor and bite the inside of your cheek.

“Care to explain what’s going on?” He grills and you feel like a petulant child receiving a lecture from your father.

“She wasn’t doing her job!” Spencer complains. “And when I brought it up she messed up my profile!”

“God you’re insufferable! It’s called ‘narrowing the profile’, Spencer. Maybe if you did it properly, I wouldn’t have to.” You retort.

“Hey!” Hotch scolds.

It falls silent for a second, awkward glances finding their way around the room. Rossi breaks it first.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were bickering toddlers instead of FBI agents.”

You make eye contact with Morgan trying to hold in a laugh and it makes you snort.

“We will discuss this later. Let’s focus on the updates we’ve gathered.” Hotch dismisses due to more pressing matters at hand.

“After talking to friends of the latest victims, I can confirm that they were all last seen in the same club.” JJ pipes up first.

“And the dumpsites are all less than twenty minutes away from there. He’s definitely not holding them anymore.” Morgan adds.

“That has to be where he’s choosing his victims. Did the medical examiner find anything new?” Hotch asks.

“Traces of GHB.” Emily replies. “We don’t know how he’s administering it into their systems, but my guess would be through the drinks.”

“Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, mostly known as GHB, is a party drug that produces feelings of euphoria, confidence, relaxation and sociability. Side effects of GHB can include drowsiness, vomiting, mood swings, dependence, as well as more serious symptoms of unconsciousness. When mixed with alcohol the risk of overdose increases as it can cause respiratory collapse leading to coma or in extreme cases death.” Spencer’s about to continue but quickly recognises that it’s a tangent he needs to cut short.

“Wait JJ what club were the victims last seen in?” You inquire, walking closer to the map.

When she relays the name it clicks.

“That’s smack in the middle of the comfort zone.” You point at a small red note labelling the building.

“So how do we catch this guy? I mean the club would be packed and we don’t know what this guy looks like. The profile tells us that he would blend in, nothing would stand out about him.” Morgan subtly suggests a string operation.

“Except for when he’s alone with the object of his rage. Which in our case would be the women he’s using as surrogates. He'd be possessive, become clingy, hold on too tight and once those advances are rejected he’d fly into blind rage.” Spencer exclaims without realising the weight of his input.

“Yeah…but he has a very specific type.” Rossi hesitates.

A fact that everybody had been avoiding the case because of how close it hit to home.

You’re his exact type.

“No.” Hotch shuts down.

“Hotch, think about it. I mean this guy is not slowing down. A sting might be our best bet to stop him before he kills again.” JJ shares Rossi’s hesitation.

“It’s too risky!” Spencer blurts, making it clear he’s against the idea.

Everyone begins to chime in with their input, but you stay silent and think it over. None of them wanted to put you in this position, but you’d seen the bodies and what he’d done to those women. What he’ll continue to do to other women if he isn’t stopped. It was a no brainer on your end.

“I’ll do it!” You announce amidst the chatter.

It comes to an immediate halt, all eyes shifting on you.

“What?” Spencer scoffs.

You can tell that he’s genuinely surprised by the small hitch in his voice. Emily sceptically calls your name, posing it as a question.

“I’ll do it.” You reiterate, taking care to seem as confident as possible.

“Absolutely not! The odds of this going wrong are way too high!” Spencer howls with a little too much passion.

“Reid’s right. The unsub is way too unpredictable.” Hotch debates.

“JJ has a point, think about it!” You argue. “We know for a fact that he’s going to strike tonight. Sending me undercover as bait is better than staking out the place and waiting for him to target a civilian!”

“Okay so let’s send somebody else!” Spencer contests, his tone prayerful.

For a split second, you see your best friend again. He’s showing more regard for you now than he has in months and it makes your heart sink knowing it won’t be forever. Still, you try to reason with him while he’s there.

“There’s no time! I fit his type. This is our best option.”

“No, this is stupid and dangerous. You’re not going in there!” He’s gone again.

“That’s not your call to make!” You snap.

“Hotch no!” Spencer tries again.

“Kid, relax! This isn’t her first undercover mission.” Morgan attempts to calm Reid. “Plus we’ll all be there in case anything goes wrong.”

“Statistically–”

“For God’s sake forget the fucking statistics! People’s lives are at stake!” You loudly end his tangent before it can begin.

“Alright, everybody calm down!” Hotch speaks up, making it a point to stare down Spencer.

He’d made his decision and Spencer can only stare back in disbelief, too breathless to argue.

‘Like Morgan said, we’ll be there watching over you, along with some local law enforcement. You won’t be wired, but we’ll have a fail safe just in case you need backup earlier than expected. We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s get to work.” The unit chief asserts.

Before anyone can make any further moves, Spencer storms out of the room. JJ runs after him, assuring Hotch that she’ll take care of it. The rest of you break off to your assigned tasks, preparing for the operation that night.

“Spence! Slow down!” She yells, chasing him all the way outside the precinct.

He’s breathing too fast, practically on the edge of hyperventilating. He pushes his hair back with both of his hands, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.

“Spence what the hell is going on with you?” JJ pants, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Me?!” Spencer yanks himself away from her. “What the hell is going on with all of you?! You’re all insane for allowing her to do this!”

“She’s a grown woman and a trained agent! This is her decision. She knows what she’s getting herself into.” JJ reminds him.

“Well it’s not a very smart decision! She shouldn’t be making decisions this…this reckless!” He shrieks.

“Okay you need to calm down!” JJ sternly states.

“Jennifer, do not tell me to calm down! She’s about to make herself a direct target for a psychopathic sadist and you’re all just letting it happen!”

“So what? Should we let some innocent woman become his next target?”

“No! I’m not saying we should– just– why does it have to be her?!” The emphasis on his last word gives him away, JJ picks up on it instantly.

“That’s what this is about? C’mon you know better than this.” She relaxes her shoulders. “Spencer, we all care about her. We all want her to be safe. And she will be as long as we separate out feelings from–”

“Feelings? This has nothing to do with how I feel–”

“Okay stop! Stop! God!” JJ huffs with pauses between her words. “I am so sick of this! This is clearly about your feelings. The past four months have all been about–”

She smacks her hands against her face as she takes a deep breath, a display of frustration.

“Listen to me.” She commands, exhausted from the back and forth. “It’s clear that you two care deeply for each other, whether you’re willing to admit it or not. Neither of you will talk about whatever it is that’s caused this rift– fine! But don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet now that she’s leaving?”

Spencer freezes.

“...Leaving?” He repeats, taken off guard.

JJ takes a moment to read his expression.

“She didn’t tell you?” JJ mutters, still scanning his face.

“What– what are you…” He can’t find the words, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to process her words.

“She’s resigning, Spencer. She’s leaving the FBI.” JJ can’t hide how she’s surprised that you haven’t shared this with him.

“No, that's not possible. She loves this job. Why would she leave?” Denial is his first response.

Spencer thinks over your possible motivations and can only land on the obvious. You’d only leave if you grew to hate the job.

Did he do this? Did he make you hate it?

“We were all surprised when she first told us, I mean, it came out of nowhere.”

“We?” He rubs his temple, anticipating a possible migraine from the bomb that just dropped on him. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you guys known?” He balefully sighs, trying his hardest to not misplace his anger.

“It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.”

He had no one to be angry at, but himself.

“A day? Maybe two? She told us individually. Honestly with this case I haven’t had time to wrap my head around it.” JJ honestly reveals.

So not long. Maybe you were still making your way around to telling him? You wouldn’t just leave without so much as telling him, would you?

A few months ago, Spencer would’ve confidently answered no. Today he was sure that you would. He so badly hoped that he was wrong.

“Spence, look, we can talk about this later. But right now, you need to make sure you’re able to stay objective. Can you do that?”

He nods relentlessly, tucking his hair behind his ears. A habit he adapted early in life. It was an indicator of the gears turning in his head. JJ gives him a few more minutes outside before guiding him back in to help with preparations. Spencer absentmindedly performed his tasks, but all he could think about was you.

You’re leaving and he’s the only person you hadn’t disclosed this information to. Abandonment was a feeling he was all too used to, but he never imagined that you’d abandon him. He knows that he can only blame himself, but he still can’t help the irritation that’s creeping in his veins.

Even as he straps up his hidden bullet proof vest hours later, he can’t push the sentiment away. You were setting yourself up as bait for one of the most dangerous types of serial killers. On top of purposely putting yourself in direct line danger, you were leaving without telling him. He would’ve showed up to work one day and you’d be gone.

Right now he stands just a few feet away from you and you don’t look toward him once. No one would be able to guess that you’re undercover. It’s amazing how you’ve managed to transform yourself from supervisory special agent to a regular socialite and party girl in a couple of hours.

If he could overcome the hurt he feels at the moment, he might see how breathtaking you look. Then again, you always appear breathtaking to him. Before he knows it, he’s walked right up to you. You don’t feel his presence looming behind you until you bump into him when you turn around.

“Shit Spencer!” You jump, mostly because of the nerves from the upcoming night.

He’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“Don’t start! I’m not in the mood.” You brush him off and disappear out of sight.

It was like that for much of the preparations. He’d muster the courage to try and talk to you, and you’d walk away. Much like how Spencer would avoid you when your friendship first fell apart.

“Everybody in position?” Hotch inquires through his ear piece.

“Affirmative.” Morgan gives the greenlight for your entry into the club.

You made your way to the bar, making it a point to sit alone. You didn’t have to wait long. Archie Carter, 36, cheated on by his ex fiance before their wedding. She ran away with another man because Archie failed to keep his sadistic traits hidden and it scared her off. Torturing and murdering women who looked like her was his way of giving her a real reason to be scared.

This was all information Garcia found after it was nearly too late. He’d managed to get you on the dance floor, subtly injecting you with the GHB. You didn’t even feel him do it. To everybody else it just seemed like you were playing your part really well on the dance floor, when in reality you were struggling to stand up. You couldn’t give out any signals and he was able to slip you away into the back alley under the noses of five FBI agents.

It was Spencer who’d found you fighting for your life against Archie’s grip around your throat. Spencer, who put the bullet in Archie’s head after being unable to talk him down. Spencer who kneeled above you, begging you to come back as he began CPR. If he’d found you any later you might’ve been gone for good.

Pissed was an understatement.

At the piece of shit that almost ripped you away from the world. At Hotch and the team for not listening. At himself for being right. Not you though, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t pissed at you. He was terrified. Both for you and for almost losing you.

You had to stay a few extra days in Anchorage, bound to your hospital room. The team refused to fly back without you, each of them taking turns to keep you company. They all felt an immense amount of guilt but you reassured them that it wasn’t their fault. Your tongue grew tired of reminding them that this was a part of the job. Rossi joked that it was a good thing you were leaving it all behind in that case and it stung more than you were willing to admit.

In your brush with death you came to the revelation that you didn’t want to leave, but hearing Spencer’s voice lull you back to him confirmed that you needed to. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear him talk everyday and not be the person he was talking to. It was why you had basically barred him from visiting you during your recovery there. Seeing his face was more than you could handle at the time. Not seeing yours weighed on him, because he needed to see if you were okay.

Physically, he knew you’d be fine once the doctors confirmed it. Mentally, he knew all too well of the repercussions that came with almost dying directly by the hands of an unsub. You’d been discharged and cleared fifty eight hours after you were admitted, and the team was ready to fly back a few hours later. All the signs of being less than okay were there. He recognised them as soon as he saw you board the jet.

Besides the obvious bruises collaring your neck, there was some minor swelling that lingered. That wasn’t his biggest concern. It was the smile plastered on you when you put on your ‘I’m okay’ act for the others. Your eyes, like always, gave you away. You were already trying to sweep everything under the rug. Less than a few minutes after take off you isolated yourself in the back. You’d been doing that a lot in your recent cases.

It irked him how everybody just let you. He decided right then that he wasn’t going to. He didn’t care how much you hate him, he was going to ensure that you came out of this truly okay. You were mindlessly staring out the window, counting the clouds, listening to the music playing through your headphones. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. You’d felt like that since you came to, in the alley.

It took you a second to understand that you were actually being watched, turning to find Spencer in the previously empty seat across from you.

“You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me.” You snark, ripping off your headphones, still recovering from the small jump scare.

“Sorry.” He chuckles out of habit.

You unintentionally smile at the sound and find yourself staring in his eyes.

“Are–” He falters as he thinks the question over in his head. “Is there anything I can get you?”

You’re taken aback, not expecting those words. You had a script prepared to waive off questions about your well being. He knows you better than that, throwing you off course as usual.

“What do you want?” You grumble, accepting that you couldn’t get past him.

“I want to know if there’s anything I can get you.” He repeats in a low tone.

There he is again. The Spencer you know and love. Your heart threatens to leap.

“If this is to clear some guilty conscience, don’t bother.” You verbally guard yourself. “I’m fine.”

It would be a lie if he said his reasoning was completely selfless. He was hardly able to keep away from you without feeling like he was drowning, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he thought he may have lost you forever. The feeling didn’t last very long, he was able to revive you within a few seconds, but never feeling like that again would be too soon.

Spencer believed in two things; statistics and facts. One fact he refused to ignore any longer is that he couldn’t live without you. He quietly opened that satchel that still clung across his torso, fishing out some pain killers and an unopened water bottle.

“I know you probably forgot to take yours out of your bag.” He ignores your previous comment and slides the items across the table to you.

Your gaze lingers on the items in front of you, but your hands stay folded in your lap as you piece everything together.

“You know.” You whisper.

“Were you going to tell me?” He gulps after a beat of silence.

“Does it matter?” You're quick to respond.

“I wanna hear it from you.” He’s just as fast.

You look up from the leaf of pills, he’s already surveilling you. It’s a short lived staring contest because your focus shifts behind him to Hotch, who’s observing this encounter from the kitchenette on the other end. Spencer continues waiting on you for a response but you stand up, ready to walk away. It dawns on you when you see your supervisor that technically you hadn’t officially resigned yet. The paperwork never got started because this case took priority and that was a detail you needed to sort out right away.

“Don’t go.” Spencer pleads when you take your first step.

Was it a request to sit back down or to stay with the BAU? You didn’t bother to clarify, he had no right to ask for either.

You let out a deep, exasperated sigh as you lie curled up in your warm sheet, scowling at the floor beneath you. It seemed that the universe (your friends) had it out to delay your departure as much as possible. It’s been four days since your return from Anchorage and you’ve been stuck in your apartment since Hotch dropped you off here. He’s ordered mandatory time off for your recovery, meaning the paperwork has to wait.

You could be using this time in a more productive manner. You could be searching for a new job. And a new place to live. You should be trying to figure out where this new place would be. You never actually thought that far ahead. In your haste to run away, you forgot to plan your next steps. You’ve convinced yourself that you can’t do any of it until the forms are filled out.

The ‘universe’ isn’t the only thing delaying you.

If you really wanted to, you could have everything emailed to you. You can have it done online, but there are two major problems. The first is pretty straight forward; you’re not ready to leave. You know that this is the best course of action for everybody, but your brain and your heart are at an impasse. You’ve dedicated years to this job because you love this job. Unfortunately, you love Spencer more, which means that staying is going to drive you to hate your job.

The other reason is slightly more nuanced and you don’t want to think about it, opting to let your impasse be the reason for your lack of motivation to do anything other than bed rotting. It’s not as bad as it seems, it’s more self care than anything. Your body’s telling you it needs to rest and you’re simply obliging. Plus, it couldn’t be that serious if you still had bursts when you had to keep up appearances. You have to be okay if you’re able to force yourself to open the front door for your coworkers when they come to check on you. You really weren’t that miserable if you managed to smile and laugh for their short visits.

And it’s not like you’re truly rotting. You showered quite often, you actually just had your second one today. You were definitely okay if you could manage to keep up with hygiene. It’s not excessive, you need to scrub the purple away. You know that’s not how it works, but you can’t stand to look at the parts of your neck where his hands were wrapped around. If you close your eyes for long enough you can still feel him squeezing until–

You’re okay.

No, you’re irritated. The incessant knocking on your front door won’t stop no matter how much you ignore it. You were relieved when evening came. It meant that normal visiting hours were over and you could rest today. If it wasn’t any of your usual visitors then it had to be stranger. The thought made you uneasy, you hesitated to answer it at all.

You can’t live in fear all the time.

The door eventually opens and Spencer sees you for the first time in days. He actually tried to check on you earlier, but Penelope insisted everybody stick to her roster so you don’t get overwhelmed. The circles under your eyes were almost as dark as his, you hadn’t been getting much sleep. The swelling around your throat was almost all gone, but the bruising wasn’t healing like he expected it to.

“Spencer…what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse.

“I brought take out.” He gently dangles a bag of food in front of him, his voice high, but quiet.

You can practically smell the contents of the bag, nostalgia hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was your favourite thing to order on the days he’d come over for movie nights. Before Spencer showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed. It felt like a taunt, like he was twisting the metaphorical knife he plunged in your heart. It made you sick.

“I already ate.” You lie, mustering a dull smile on your face.

Spencer swallows and bites the inside of his cheek, not taking his eyes off you. Trying to think of the best way to call you out without causing you to shun him.

“We can do something else until you’re hungry again.” He gives a tight lipped smile and raises his furrowed brows, like he’s pleading for you to accept his offer.

“I don’t think I’ll be hungry anytime soon.” You awkwardly laugh– well it’s close to a laugh if not for your strained vocal chords.

“Can I come in anyway? We can put on a movie.” He’s using the voice he used to when trying to comfort you or convince you of something. Soft, low, steady. It’s a stark contrast to the voice you’ve been hearing for the last ten days.

Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.

Tears threaten the composure you’re working so hard to maintain.

“Why are you really here?” You sigh, unable to stick with the pleasantries.

“I told you.” He emphasises the bag of food in his hands again. “Take out. Maybe a movie–”

“Cut the shit.” You assert, harshly. “You can tell Penelope that you came to see me so she gets off your back, but please stop pretending like you care.”

“That’s…is that why you think I’m here?” His shoulders drop.

“Isn’t it?” You bite, your door now wide open as you lean against it for support. Your legs are aching to curl into your chest again.

“No.” His reply is short and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Why? There’s nothing in it for you.” You scoff, blinking from confusion. “Unless…is this some sick game? Seeing me like this– knowing that I’m– are you trying to gloat?”

“Gloat?” He repeats in almost a whisper, the hurt in his voice evident.

“Relish, rejoice, rub it in, I don’t know. You’re the walking thesaurus.”

He can tell from your lax posture that you're amused. Your back is against your door, hands behind your back and you’re leaning forward a bit as you stare at the ground. Not caring that your words cut deep.

Is this how low you think he is?

“Why would I be enjoying this?” His hopeful smile drops entirely as he tries to understand you.

“Call it epicaricacy.” You shrug.

“Epicaricacy?” He mumbles in a whispered tone, like he’s trying to process what you said.

Deriving pleasure from the misfortune of others.

Your eyes roll from how slow he’s acting and you have to hold yourself back from repeating the definition out loud.

“Do you honestly think I enjoy seeing you like this?” The change in pitch stings a bit.

“No, I don’t think you like seeing me at all.” You half smirk up at him, sadness evident in your eyes. “Which brings us back to…why are you here Doc?”

“That’s not true.” He cringes, ignoring the second part.

“Not true?” You wiggle your brows sarcastically.

“Not true.” He reaffirms, sighing deeply. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” You scoff again, shaking your head.

“I know that I’ve been unreasonable–”

“Unreasonable?” The tip of your tongue rolls against the back of your teeth, bewildered at his sheer audacity.

“A dick! I’ve been a dick.” He corrects himself, desperate to have you hear him out.

You tighten your jaw, inhaling lightly through your nose and your brows are raised as high as they can go.

“I was hurt. Okay? I wash lashing out, but, I–” He takes a deep breath to stop himself, wanting to get to the point. “I know that I’ve been acting otherwise but, I care about you. And when I found you back there…I just…I know what you’re going through, even if you won’t admit it. I don’t want you to go through it alone.”

Your expression softens as he speaks. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone. For a moment you consider allowing yourself to break down in his arms, like you would have once. It’s jarring, Spencer reverting to his former self after he saved your life. The comfort swiftly bubbles into anger. All your attempts for reconciliation were met with so much hostility before. It took you almost dying for him to care. It feels too little too late. The only thing you can think of as he stands next to you is all the ways he can further hurt you if you let him. You push off your door and stand straight, giggling bitterly.

“Spencer, go home.” You say with the same bitterness.

“Please–”

“Go home! I don’t want your pity!” You yell. It feels alleviating. “Do you honestly think that anything changes just because you saved my life? Do you think it erases everything that’s happened in the past few months? Because it doesn’t! Things can’t go back to how they were simply because you feel bad that I almost died. It’s not a flip you can switch. You don’t just get to start caring!”

You're heaving and he can only stare at the ground. He knows you’re right, except for the one crucial error in your speech.

“I never stopped caring.” He mumbles.

This fucking idiot.

Enraged, sad, frustrated, confused; all emotions you’ve been suppressing that are now fighting to show at the same time. You take a step closer to him and he meets your eyes again. You can see that he’s holding back tears, same as you. It fuels you in a twisted way. You have an opportunity to hurt him the way he hurt you and you don’t let it go to waste.

“Don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work to see your face at work, I don’t want to see it in my personal time too.”

You can’t stay to see the effects of his words thrown back at his face, your heart’s threatening to burst from how fast it’s racing. His jaw locks from how tense he is. He knows exactly why you said it, but it’s still hard to hear. You turn around and rush into your apartment, shutting the door on his face, leaving him standing there. You don’t make it too far inside, collapsing on the wooden floor with a choked sob.

That didn’t make you feel as good as you thought it would. You hoped that maybe if you could make him feel at least a fraction of you’re feeling, you’d hurt less. It was more than just getting back at him for everything he’s done. You were unknowingly trying to punish him for what Archie Carter did too. It didn’t make you hurt any less, but at least you felt less alone in your hurt.

He didn’t come back for the rest of your time off. Everybody continued to follow the roster, showing up on their days and bringing you ‘get well soon’ goodies. Penelope even invited herself over for a night's stay once. You didn’t have the heart to say no, but you found yourself counting the hours until you’d be alone again, free to wallow. The only respite you got for the next week was on Spencer’s days. You could expect to be left mostly alone, only a bag of take out accompanied by an eerily fitting quote sitting outside your door.

You hate to admit that those were your favourite days. You had a chance to breathe and he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. You gave the food away in protest and the quote would go straight in the bin (once you read it). One final psych evaluation later you were cleared to come back. Not that you needed one since you didn’t plan to stay for long. It was really just a formality. By the time you returned only a few faded bruises remained, easy enough to cover with concealer.

“You’re back! Ooh, it’s so good to see you!” Garcia was the first with a warm greeting and a tight hug. You reciprocated to the best of your ability.

“Good to have you back, Pretty Girl.” Derek’s second, walking you through the bullpen as you make your way to Hotch’s office.

“Enjoy it while you can.” You giggle in reply. “Is Hotch in yet?”

“I see someone can’t wait to leave us.” Emily jokes, feigning a hurt look. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, he’s expecting you.” JJ laughs, slapping Emily’s arm playfully.

“Thanks JJ!” You smile and they all watch you disappear behind the door.

“So it’s official? She’s really leaving?” JJ questions through a half-hearted smile.

“I asked Rossi and he said that Hotch is gonna ask her to stay until we find a replacement.” Emily replies, still eyeing the door.

“How did you get Rossi to admit that?” JJ turns to the raven head, questioningly, and Emily smiles coyly giving no response.

“Am I the only one who thinks this whole thing would end once they make up? I mean come on, we all know she’s leaving because of him, right?” Morgan looks at Spencer, who’s nose deep in a file at his desk.

“Yeah, but we can’t help if they refuse to talk to us about it.” Emily sighs, hanging her head back.

The three dive deeper into their discussion and you’re none the wiser from inside the cream-coloured walls of Hotch’s office. As per protocol, he’s just finished informing you of what’s next and you’re kind enough to accept his request to stay until they find a replacement. You definitely said yes because you want to make the team’s transition easier, not for any self indulgent reasons such as you not being ready to leave.

“Just return this to me once you’ve filled it out.” He instructs as he hands you a file containing your resignation forms.

“Thanks Hotch.” You smile, grabbing the file.

You begin heading towards the door when he stops you by your name.

“I understand that you’re set on this decision, but I am sad to see you go.” It’s insane how many emotions this man can get across while maintaining a blank expression. “However, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.”

“Thanks Hotch.” You playfully scoff, appreciating that even he has to try at least once.

If one more person tries though, you might scream. It wasn’t easy, pretending that you weren’t crumbling inside. The extra pressure doesn’t make it any easier. You leave his office, closing the door behind you and approach your desk. The resignation forms are put aside for later as you still have to finish your case report from Anchorage. Part of you wanted to put it off until the last minute, the other part wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

“Coffee?” Penelope chirps, holding out a mug filled with the hot beverage.

“Thanks Pen.” You smile up at her, taking it out of her hands.

“No problem.” She smirks mischievously and trots off.

A strange lady, but your strange lady.

Upon your first sip you almost choke it out. It was perfect. Exactly to your liking. Which would be a good thing, except only one person knows exactly how you like it. Back when you first joined, you learned how popular coffee was with all the employees. You felt out of place because you weren’t a massive fan of the drink and you avoided too much sugar because it made you feel sick. You soon discovered that you liked it a lot more with honey instead. It was a weird preference, but it worked for you, making it sweet without overpowering your senses like sugar did.

You never declined a cup when offered by your colleagues, not wanting to dishearten them. It was Spencer who caught you sneaking honey into your cup when you thought no one was paying attention. He never mentioned anything to you, but the next time he returned with a cup to offer, you couldn’t help but the smile that adorned your face for the rest of the day. It was why you dedicated yourself to morning breakfast runs for him, memorising his coffee order as a silent thank you. Neither of you ever talked about it.

You spin your seat around to find Spencer engaged in conversation with Rossi. You consider walking past him and dumping the beverage in the sink to make a point, but it was a welcome energiser for the dreadful task at hand. Plus you aren’t wasteful. You spin back around and decide to accept it just this once.

When he’s sure you’re no longer looking he sets his sights back on you. A small smile forms across his lips when he sees you drink the coffee. He honestly expected you to throw it away. He feared that if he was the one to deliver the mug, you’d throw it on him. It was why he convinced Garcia to do it, bribing her by promising to buy a round of drinks on the next night out.

“Kid, are you even listening?” Rossi scolds in an incredulous way.

As the hours pass, your frustration grows. You couldn’t get yourself to write the details of the case. Your mind refused to think about it. You had hoped that taking breaks would make it easier, but everytime you returned to the page your head went blank.

“Need some help?” Spencer asks, spawning next to you.

“Christ, Reid!” You blurt, startled. “I thought I told you to stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles as if on cue.

You glare at him expectantly. He doesn’t say anything, glancing between you and the unfinished case file, waiting for an answer.

“No thanks.” You keep it short, hoping he takes the hint.

“Let me know if you do.” He doesn’t.

“You wouldn’t even be the last person I’d ask if I did.” You snark.

“But you would eventually?” He stays calm, almost playful.

Smart ass.

You choose to ignore him, be the bigger person and all that. Even though he wasn’t antagonising you.

“Thanks for the coffee.” It’s forceful gratitude. You weren’t feeling grateful, but you still had manners.

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t make it again.”

“I will not.” He grins and walks away to his desk.

You act like you don’t know he’s watching you work. Looking up often to find you stuck on the same page. Even if he knew that you know, he didn’t plan to stop. What he does know is that you’d never directly let him help you. He doesn’t care. There weren’t any new cases this week, so a ton of paperwork was to be expected. It’s taunting enough to write down details of your own assault, the extra paperwork would only add more stress. You’re too busy trying to push through the mental blockade to notice the sudden influx of files on his desk and the efflux on yours.

What you didn’t miss was how the next cup of coffee you were offered was just as perfect as the one from before.

“I thought I told you to stop with the coffee, Reid.” You lightly slam the paper cup on Spencer’s desk.

He leans back in his seat and chews on his lip with an entertained smirk.

“And I did. That’s not from me.” He’s earnest with his response.

“Oh, so JJ just happens to know my coffee preferences all of a sudden?” You sarcastically retort, crossing your arms.

“No.” He crosses his fingers across his lap. “I told her how you like your coffee when she said she was going on a coffee run.”

“And why did you do that?” You play along, unenthusiastically.

“Because you told me to stop doing it.” He states in the most casual way possible.

This was getting you nowhere. It was naive to think he’d let you spend your last few weeks here peacefully. Scratch that– he was being peaceful. Too peaceful. A new tactic to get under your skin?

“Stop. It.” The delivery of your words is slow and emphasised.

“Stop doing exactly what you’ve told me to?”

You bite your tongue and glare at him. His face, shoulders, arms, everything, is relaxed. You can’t even argue with him. You take a moment to consider how bad it would be if you bashed his head in with the back of your gun. Then you take another to critique how easy it is to pass the psych evals. They should really think about the consequences of using questions the BAU wrote on actual BAU agents.

After that day you went back to ignoring him. Any time coffee was offered you’d decline altogether. If he attempted to try and talk to you, you’d respond with yes or no for the sake of professionalism. This didn’t deter Spencer though. He gave you your space but kept a close eye on you, continuing to try and ease your burdens from afar. Exactly how he used to.

This only lasted until the next case came in. Specifically until you were back out on the field, where he perceived you to be in high amounts of danger. You tolerated it because it gave you comfort, not that you’d ever tell him. Having Spencer by your side made it easier to deal with the reality that there’s little you can do if another incident like Anchorage occurred.

Plus focusing your energy on ignoring him kept the flashbacks away. Or it did, until the take down. You once again found yourself in danger from an unsub, only this time the situation was controlled. All guns were pointed at the killer, except for the one that was pointed at you. The plan was simple: you talk down the unsub, take him back to the station and talk him into exposing his partner.

Everything was going according to plan, until Spencer realised that one of the cops in the room was his partner and he was about to shoot you. Nobody understood what happened before the situation calmed down. Spencer had fired the first shot towards the dirty cop and immediately tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the hail of bullets that followed after. All you remember clearly is freezing up, clinging to the man on top of you. One moment you were screaming out, trying to make sure that he was okay and the next you were back in the alley behind the bar, fighting for your life.

You didn’t comprehend anything until the panic attack subsided but Spencer was fine. His vest caught the bullets. Both unsubs were dead. Rossi and Prentiss came to the realisation the same time as Spencer and were quick to react. And you weren’t in the alley. You were in Spencer’s arms as he led you away from the scene when it was safe.

When you snapped out of it the medics had cleared him of any injuries. He tried to approach you during your check up, but you shoved him away, unable to even look at him. The only thing you remember clearly is Hotch sending you all back to your hotel rooms before tomorrow’s flight back. You should be asleep right now, if not from the exhaustion of today’s events alone, then from how long you spent reassuring everybody that you were okay.

You couldn’t sleep. Not when so many thoughts were occupying your headspace. This is the second time Spencer’s saved your life, in the span of roughly a month. The first time he’s put his life in direct danger to save yours. Had it not been for his vest he would be dead. The more you linger on it, the angrier you’d become. You were also wearing a vest, you would’ve been fine. What he did was unnecessary and reckless.

What if the bullet missed the vest? Entered through the side? What was he thinking?

You were mentally fighting the urge to barge into his room and yell at him for his stupidity, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to him. What happens to him is not your problem anymore. You aren’t going to let your guard down just because he’s an idiot.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, Reader almost dies, Reader and Spencer are pissing me off, bc they’re so dumb, angst, hurt no comfort, Reader gets a little revenge.

AN - Before you comment ANYTHING, there is one more part. It’ll be posted a lot sooner than this one was. Writing this made me realise how limited the English language is. There’s only so many words to use and ways to write them. If either part sounds repetitive at times, it’s not my fault!!! 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.

If you comment you garner good karma for yourself and that could lead to you meeting MGG someday (I’m not liable if this never happens), think about that...

Thank you for reading!

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #ssa spencer reid #bau team #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #angst fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #fem!reader #dr spencer reid

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zvdvdlvr · 2 months

Text

from the club

Derek’s wolf whistle made you roll your eyes and try to slip into your seat without drawing too much attention. “Damn, mama,” he sang teasingly, eyeing you up and down.

“Derek Morgan! I ought to-“

“Whoa!”

You glared at Spencer, trying to ifnore the way his eyes trailed over your cleavage. “It’s like you guys have never even been in the presence of a female before,” you snark sarcastically. Secretly, though, you feel complimented that such aesthetically pleasing people thought you looked good.

Emily, Jennifer, Penelope, and Rossi were later than Hotch surprisingly. Aaron strode in next, laying a stack of files on the table. He sat down at his regular spot and turned to make conversation until the other arrived when he turned and saw you. His lips drew thinly over his face as he watched you reach over the table to grab a file. He swallowed and averted his eyes from you when you sat back in your seat. Hotch felt like a pervert and averted his mind to the more pressing matter. Dead bodies, knives, murder, he repeated to himself- trying to draw blood away from his crotch.

J.J., Penelope, and Emily arrived next. “Coffee for you all, my precious gems!” Penny sang, placing the team’s favorite brews in front of them. After she placed yours down her eyes gleamed and she raised her eyebrows. “Did you call-“

“Penelope!” You hollered, turning away from the red-head with a laugh.

She just giggled and wiggled her eyebrows. As Emily took her place beside you, she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’m no better than the men here, y/n. You look hot.”

You swatted her away and waited for J.J. to start the briefing. Emily snickered beside you.

There was really nothing professional about being called into work wearing low-rise jeans and a lacey tank top. But it wasn’t your fault- some of your college friends had stopped in the city and wanted to go to the club and wouldn’t take no as an answer.

Rossi showed up right before Hotch said his favorite phrase (read: “wheels up in 30”). You collected your file and started out of the room.

“Good lo- y/n!”

You whipped around to see Penelope rushinf towards you. “Wh-What?”

“You’ve surprised me more times today than I thought possible, darling girl. Turn around! I didn’t know you had ink!”

You breathed out a sigh of relief and tried to ignore the feeling of her cold fingers tracing over the black ink just above your jeans. “I have some on the mid back too,” you said quietly.

“Impressive,” Rossi- of all people- hummed. “One of my ex wives roped me into getting a matching tattoo with her. The pain was somethinf else and the aftercare was hell. Rookie, here has a high pain tolerance.” He patted your practically bare shoulder and walked by without another word.

Emily purred lowly as she walked by, laughing at the way you flipped her off in return.

“You know, Jeffery Dahmer didn’t consume people that had tattoos… He said that the ‘tattoos made the meat taste like… shit’,” Reid spouted.

The way Spencer paused before saying shit was endearing. Maybe it was your attraction to nerds, but you felt particularly flattered at the weight of his gaze on you. “That’s interesting, Spencer,” you replied quietly. “Did you know the oldest recorded tattoo ink recipe required insect eggs?”

Spencer just hummed.

“I- uh,” Aaron cleared his throat. You stepped back from Penelope’s hands. “I imagine you have more professional attire?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yes, Hotch. I’m really sorry, my friends convinced me to go out with them, you know, and I-“

Hotch chuckled and held his hands up. “It’s okay, y/n. What you do on your own time is your business,” he said.

You wrung your hands. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“No problem, y/n.” Hotch started to walk away and you felt Derek’s arm wrap around your shoulder. “Nice ink,” he called back to you.

“I’ll see you on the plane, y/n,” Spencer told you with a wave. You smiled back at him and watched him run a hand through his hair as he walked away.

“Lover boy’s gotta thing for you, y/n,” Derek told you, a shit eating grin on his face. “And Hotch too, if I took a guess. I think you made the old man pop a bo-“

“Derek Morgan!”

You shoved him off of you and tried to ignore his gleeful laughter.

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sexlapis · 11 months

Note

i cant stop thinking about actor toji and actor y/n omg. give us more, i beg!

toji & y/n being a couple pt. 2 (part 1, part 3, part 4)

. °˳ 🎞 ◌ . ˳ ☁️ ˊˎ-

౨ৎ first clip

this clip was filmed by one of the fans in the crowd - it was another award show where you’re sitting at a table with other actors. you keep tugging on the dress your stylist (who your fans hate) made you wear, pulling it down with each movement you make. it was short and you were clearly uncomfortable with its length.

seemingly noticing your constant shifting, toji who is also sitting at your table, looks at you. he leans in and speaks to you and you look down, referring to your outfit and the too short of a dress you’re wearing. toji, in surprisingly gentlemen fashion of him, takes off his tuxedo jacket and drapes it over your lap, effectively covering your thighs and knees. you look at toji and thank him, flustered at his kind gesture. he just nods.

౨ৎ second clip

(a bloopers clip) you were on set, everything was running smoothly and everything was going well. it was an action movie with toji and you decided to do one of the stunts on your own. and then you fall awkwardly, spraining your ankle.

toji is kneeling beside you, asking if you’re okay and scanning you down for any injuries. you laugh and you tell him that you have hurt your ankle. toji helps you up and asks if you can walk. a small medical team waits nearby.

“yeah i can. it’s fine.”

you take one step and limp harshly, almost falling over. ouch. it hurt more than you thought it did. toji reached his hands out, ready to catch you if you fell.

“okay maybe it’s not fine. but i can still-”

“yeah forget that.”

toji picks you up bridal style, scooping you up like it natural to him. you gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders to balance yourself. “toji!”

“someone get an ice pack over here!”

cut to you laying on a couch with an ice pack on your swollen ankle, toji crouched behind you as you give the camera a thumbs up. “i’m okay!”

toji ruffles your hair, blatantly looking at you closely. “yeah she is.”

౨ৎ third clip

a fan secretly recorded you & toji in a restaurant, on what appears to be a date. you’re sitting opposite him, eating and speaking when you seem to be interested in what’s on his plate. you tilt your head and point at his meal, talking but nobody knows exactly what you’re saying. toji does a full body sigh and then picks up some of his food on his fork and holds it up to your mouth. you smile widely, accepting his offer and stuffing your cheeks full. toji uses his thumb to wipe away food left on the corner of your lips. you open your mouth, silently demanding more food. toji’s head rolls and he just pushes his whole plate over to you, shaking his head. you clap your hands and dig in.

౨ৎ

tag list: @snowprincesa1 | @mimiemie

a/n: 🥸

#📫.answered #actor!toji #actress!reader #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro fluff #toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #toji x self insert #toji fushiguro x y/n

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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months

Note

What if Danny went to school with Damian? I’m just imagining them going feral together after a little while, because you know that Danny picks up on Damian’s liminal vibes.

I mostly just want Damien to bring Danny home, and for Bruce to do the headcount thing that Mr. Weasley needed to do in Harry Potter. Just like ‘I could’ve sworn I didn’t have this many this morning’

Damian made a friend.

It shouldn't be as big a deal as his brothers were making it out to be but even he knew that he didn't have the best track record on friendships. It was hard to get along great with the kids in his school.

A lot of them were too carefree, to be unburdened by the things he saw and did on a battlefield and he couldn't stand how loud and messy they all were.

Damian preferred to sit by himself with some headphones in and draw whenever he could get the chance. According to the other children that made him an "emo loser" and a lot of them took great joy in flinging insults and taunts at him.

He never even spoken to them but for some reason, the general populace of Gotham Acadamy deemed him a great target for their scorn. Sometimes Damian wondered if he deserved their taunts, flung paper and spitballs.

If his time in the Leauge of Shadows truly made him broken and wrong as his classmates claimed.

It wasn't like Damian couldn't defend himself. He could have all of them begging for mercy within a minute but to do so would put at risk his Robin identity.

Which then would put his family at risk. Damian would never allow those under his protection to be harmed. So even if it hurt his dignity he allowed some of the more physical bullies to get a few hits in and ducked his head when he walked through the hallways.

His other classmates saw, but no one chose to speak up for Damian Wayne otherwise known as Bruce Wayne's accident on travel and dirty secret. He was the freak. The weirdo. They knew that if they got involved, even if they didn't agree with it, then they would be targeted.

He never expected anyone to step in whenever his bullies found him.

But then again, he came to learn that Daniel Fenton wasn't just anyone. His friend had a heart of gold with a righteous rage that was hardly contained in his smaller body.

It had been three days since Daniel had been transferred to Gotham Acadamy, during their free period. The youngest Wayne had been minding his own business, eating the vegetarian meal prepared by Alfred and drawing a little in his sketchbook when he was surrounded.

Damian had been pushed up against a wall by the meaty hands of the snickering soccer team. They were gripping his shirt collar and Damian had been preparing for a punch in the face when Daniel had appeared out of nowhere.

"Hands!" Danny had shouted pointing at Derek, the captain of the team with a scowl. He was the one who was going to beat Damian up while his friends held Wayne in place. "That's a penalty kick buddy!"

And then Danny kicked Eric- a teenager who was at least a head taller than him- right between the legs. Danny threw his whole body weight into that kick and the captain proved it by choking out a wheeze and falling to the ground.

Before his friends could react, Danny was upon them swinging his lunch tray like a battering ram.

Needless to say, the rest of the soccer team was not impressed, especially the goalie. They abandoned Damian to fight against Danny, who well seemed like he knew his way in a fight, was nowhere near Damian's level of training.

Good instincts but he lacked a solid foundation.

Danny was able to fight off the seven members of the soccer team (the rest didn't really hang out with them during breaks) but he had a lot of wounds as a result.

"Run dude!" Danny had shouted at him, putting himself between the team and Damian. His lip had been busted, he had a black eye and a nosebleed but Danny didn't seem to care. "I'll hold them off!"

Damian was ashamed to admit that he just stood there in shock at the new transfer's behavior. Daniel....was attempting to rescue him. Why?

He hadn't even known Daniel at the time.

The teachers arrived then, dragging everyone to the principal office where Damian was accused of starting the fight and Danny was threatened with being expelled only three days into his move. The soccer team had been smug, while the principal who Damian believed disliked him for his Middle Eastern Blood, seemed to jump at the fact he could smear Damian's name.

Daniel was on scholarship which did not help his chances at all in a school that had legacies.

His father had been away on a mission, so the school had been forced to phone Richard instead. When his brother arrived the soccer team's parents had been throwing a fit about all the hits Daniel had gotten in.

"Mr. Wayne shouldn't have agitated them and Mr. Fenton jumped in unprovoked. ," The Principal said staring Richard down when his brother had loudly demanded to know what happened.

"But he didn't" Daniel cut in. His guardians hadn't arrived yet and had remained mostly silent by the way. The group of parents and teenagers turn to him. "They were the ones to attack Wayne. I hit them unprovoked though. That part is true. They didn't do anything to me, but I can't stand cowards that attack in groups."

"I guess you have proof of this?" Mrs. Skeel sneered. She was Eric's mother and often brides her son out of problems.

"I have a body cam," Daniel reveals pulling out a miniature camera from his tie. He smiles at the dumbfounded stares his actions cause."Recorded the whole thing."

"Can I see the footage?" Richard requested, which Daniel easily handed over. They played it on the Principal's computer and there the camera shows Daniel sitting in the tree that Damian had chosen to sit under. The video captures Daniel watching him up until the soccer team arrives, and their innocence is proven.

Daniel didn't seem to care that he made enemies with almost everyone in that room as Richard quickly took control of the meeting with the evidence. Damian thinks he may not have to worry too much now that the staff were aware that Waynes would and could cut their funding.

Not only that, but the parents were also weary of angering Father. None of this meant that Daniel was safe so Damian took it upon himself to never let the new student be alone for too long.

As a means to protect him.

It wasn't until he realized two months later that school had gone for a dull meaningless pass time to laughter and enjoyment because of Daniel. They walked to class, they shared notes, they passed notes, they watched videos, Daniel chattered about everything and anything and they sent each other funny memes.

Daniel was vastly different from Damian but it didn't seem to bother him. If anything their differences were what made them so close. Daniel claimed that his two best friends back in his old school were vastly different in interest and personalities too.

He had made a friend.

Daniel was his friend.

A friend who didn't seem to mind when he would go quiet to draw or medicate. A friend who didn't need an explanation or justification for his eating habits. A friend he was able to vent about his troubles to and lend an ear to when Daniel faced his own woes.

A person who laughed at all his dark jokes, regardless of how much death was in them. Someone who seemed almost as... what did Todd call him? Feral? as Damian was.

Damian had chosen to invite Daniel to a sleepover. His very first ever sleepover with people from school- Jon held the crown for being the first friend to have a sleepover with him- and he has been ever so excited.

It's childish for someone of his age to show such anticipation for something so small but he couldn't help himself. Something about Daniel was captivating. Almost otherworldly so.

There was something about him that made all of Damian sense buzz but not in a bad way. He isn't sure what it is, but he is getting tired of Drake's and Richard's knowing smirks.

He detested being left out of the loop.

The doorbell rings. Todd makes the motion to stand up, which would be a disaster. He does not want Daniel- a person who swears in old classic book titles to meet his one brother who adores said books and reads them for fun.

Damian flings himself over the couch, using Todd as board. He ignores the shout of rage that his action causes and the hollaring laughter of the rest of Father's brood.

He clears the door before any of the other Wayne members and breaks out into a run. Just in case any of them got the idea of trying to meet Daniel before Damian can control the situation in which it happenes.

Also, he wanted to see Daniel. Spring break felt like an eternity now that he couldn't see his friend every day. He would like to have met up with him since the break started but Daniel's guardian had planned a trip and they only just returned.

He had yet to meet Daniel's uncle but heard a lot of Mr.Clockwork from the teenager. Damian was still unsure if he liked the man. He seemed far too aloof when it came to Daniel.

"Geez Dami, relax! Your boy toy isn't going anywhere!" Brown cackles

"Give him a big smooch!" Drake adds, his laughter echoing Brown's

I will deal with them later. Damian swears, fixing his hair from where it had fallen out during his run. He checks his reflection in the mirror by the doorway. He wants to look good for his first ever school friend's sleepover.

Damian had picked his best outfit, wearing his favorite jeans and black button-down. He accessorized with silver rings and chains, grateful Jon had been willing to facetime to give him the modern teenager stamp approval.

Once he is satisfied that his appearance is at its utmost best, he opens the door.

"Hi, Dami!" Daniel chirps. He is wearing a faded pair of jeans and a white shirt with a red dot in the middle. It's nowhere near Damian's stylish and well-put-together often, and yet he looks as beautiful as a grace nymph outside the school uniform.

Damian mind goes blank for only a second before he nods. "Daniel.Welcome. This is Wayne Manor. I live here for I am a Wayne."

For I am a Wayne!? Damian thinks to himself in horror unsure why those words hand tumbled out of his mouth. A wave of shame washes over him as Daniel curiously looks around with that pleased little half smile on his lips.

Daniel is always half smiling as if he heard a joke only he was privy to.

"This place is cool!" Daniels says spinning around to face him and missing Father stumbling out of the living room. Damian is unsure why the man had return so soon, as he thought Batman would be off-world for another week at the least with Flash.

His father looked dead on his feet, eyes half open as he walked up to Daniel and yanked him into a hug!?

"Oh," Daniel says pressed up to Father's chest. "Hello?"

"Hi, son." Father mutters. He squints down at his friend with bloodshot eyes. " Did you get smaller Timmy?"

"Father!" Damian shouts outraged while the rest of his so-called siblings come spilling out of the other sitting room.

"Bruce!" Drake shouts a wide grin on his face. "I'm over here."

"Wha-? Then who is this?" Father blinks slowly, one eye closing before the other, as he tilts his head. He has yet to realese Daniel, though his part his friend seems content with the embrace seeing as he had returned the gesture. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.....ten? Do I have ten children?"

"You only have nine" Thomas calls out helpfully. Father nods, then counts again, pointing one finger at the people in the room

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine" He looks down pointing at Daniel. "Ten. Why are there ten of you?"

"That's a son-in-law, old man"

"No. I could have sworn none of my children are married......Dick you're not married are you?"

"Not yet B."

"Jason?"

"Trying to find a finger to put a ring on it Old man."

"Cassandra?"

"No thank you."

"Tim?"

"Ew."

Daniel giggled at Drake's response and Damian felt the sudden urge to bury a knife in Drake's side.

"Steph?"

"Nah."

"Duke?"

"I'm too young B."

"Cullen?"

"I can't even get a date, Bruce"

"Harper?"

"Inability to get dates run in the Row family tree."

Father nodded then. "Good none of my children-"

"What about Dami?" Daniel asks with a wide grin. Both his friend and Father turn to stare at him. Damian suddenly feels himself sweating through his shirt.

"Damian? You aren't married?

"Of course not!" He denies it loudly and faces an unconformable red. Daniel cackles like the devil he is.

Father meanwhile continues to hug Daniel while muttering. "Then where did ten come from? Alfred? Why are there ten children in my house?"

"Master Bruce if you do not let that young man go and go see Dr.Thompkins for that concussion I swear, heads will roll!"

Damian is grateful that once again Alfred seems to be the only one with a brain in this manner.

"I like it here," Daniel proclaims watching the butler drag away his confused father. Damian is utterly unprepared for the look that his friend shoots him from under his eyelashes, and he almost trips over his own two feet as he says. "Show me to your room?"

"I...of course! This way! I live here!" Curses his voice cracked. It ended in a squeak! He, Damian Wayne son of the Bat and Demon, made a fool of himself by squeaking!

"This is better than a daytime tv sitcom." Row- the male one- snickers from the stairway and Damian flips him off as he passes by with Daniel.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dead serious #Why Ten? au #Bruce was so confused by the tenth person #Danny made a friend #and Damian is experiencing his first-ever crush #The Waynes are watching Damian stumble like they watching a wild animal documentation

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robertreich · 9 days

Video

youtube

10 Worst Things About The Trump Presidency

Donald Trump left office with the lowest approval rating of any president ever. But some people now seem to be suffering from amnesia.

Let me jog your memory. Here are 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency — in no particular order.

#1. Trump fueled division and sparked a record uptick in hate crimes.

#2. Murder went way up under Trump. He presided over the largest ever single-year increase in homicides in 2020. A number of factors might have contributed to that, but a big one is…

#3. Gun sales broke records under Trump, who has bragged about how he “did nothing” to restrict guns as president in spite of…

#4. Under Trump, America suffered more than 1,700 mass shootings.

#5. Trump said there were "very fine people" among the neo-Nazis in Charlottesville.

I’m halfway to ten. If you think I’m missing something big, leave it in the comments.

#6. Trump allied himself with the Proud Boys, a violent hate group who helped orchestrate the Jan 6 Capitol attack.

#7. Trump’s not wrong when he says…

TRUMP: I got rid of Roe v. Wade.

It is entirely because of Trump’s judicial appointments that 1 in 3 American women of childbearing age now lives in states with abortion bans.

#8. One of Trump’s Supreme Court justices was Brett Kavanaugh, a man accused of sexual assault by multiple women.

#9. Trump’s White House interfered in the FBI’s investigation of Brett Kavanaugh’s alleged sexual assaults.

And now: #10. Trump has been convicted of committing 34 felonies while in office. The criminally false business filings he got convicted for in New York? All of them were committed while he was president.

I’m sorry, did I say the 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency? I meant 15.

#11. Trump’s failed pandemic response is estimated to have led to hundreds of thousands of needless deaths. By the time Trump left office, roughly 3,000 Americans were dying of covid every day. That’s a 9/11-scale mass casualty event every single day. How did Trump screw up so badly?

#12. Trump’s White House discarded the pandemic response playbook that had been assembled by the Obama administration.

#13. Trump disbanded the National Security Council’s pandemic response team.

#14. Trump repeatedly lied about the danger of covid, saying it was no worse than the flu or that it would go away on its own.

But behind closed doors, Trump admitted he knew covid was deadly.

#15. Trump promoted fake covid cures like hydroxychloroquine and even injecting people with disinfectants.

After Trump’s “disinfectant” remarks, poison control centers received a spike in emergency calls.

That’s fifteen things. Should I keep going? Ok, I’ll keep going. The 20 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#16. Trump presided over a net loss of 2.9 million American jobs — the worst recorded jobs numbers of any U.S. president in history.

#17. Trump profited off the presidency, making an estimated $160 million from foreign countries while he was president.

#18. Trump also billed the Secret Service over $1 million for the privilege of staying at his golf clubs and other properties while they protected him. That’s your money!

#19. Trump caused the longest government shutdown in U.S. history when he didn’t get funding for his border wall, which he said Mexico was going to pay for.

#20. Under Trump, the national debt increased by about 40% — more than in any other four-year presidential term — largely because of his tax cuts for the rich and big corporations.

You didn’t really think I was stopping at 20, did you? We’re going to 25 —

#21. Trump separated more than 5,000 children from their parents at the border, with no plan to ever reunite them, putting babies in cages.

#22. The Muslim Ban. Yes, Trump really did try to ban Muslims from entering the country.

#23. Trump sparked international outrage by moving the American Embassy in Israel to Jerusalem while closing the U.S. mission to Palestine.

#24. Trump tasked his son-in-law Jared Kushner with drafting a potential Middle East “peace plan” with zero Palestinian input.

#25. And finally, Trump recognized Israel’s occupation of the Goh-lahn Heights, which is considered illegal under international law.

So there you have it, folks: The 25 Worst — Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Did I mention the impeachments? We’ve got to do the impeachments. Let’s go to 30.

#26. Trump broke the law by trying to withhold nearly $400 million of U.S. aid for Ukraine in an effort to extort a personal political favor from Ukraine’s Pres. Zelensky. Trump wanted Zelensky to interfere in the 2020 election by announcing an investigation into the Bidens. Delaying this aid to Ukraine weakened Ukraine and strengthened Russia.

#27. Trump personally attacked and ruined the careers of everyone who stood in the way of his illegal Ukraine scheme, including Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch and Lt. Colonel Alexander Vindman.

#28. To cover up the scheme, Trump ordered the White House and State Department to defy congressional subpoenas.

#29. For these reasons, on December 18, 2019, Trump became the third U.S. president to be impeached. He was charged with Abuse of Power and Obstruction of Congress.

#30. Even while he was being investigated for trying to get Ukraine to interfere in the U.S. election, Trump publicly called for China to interfere in the election.

So those are the 30 Worst Things —

I’ll go to 35.

#31. Long before Election Day, Trump started making false claims that the election would be rigged.

#32. After losing, Trump falsely claimed the election was stolen, even though his own inner circle, including his campaign manager, White House lawyers, and his own Justice Department and attorney general told him it was not.

#33. Trump kept telling his Big Lie even after more than 60 legal challenges to the election were struck down in court, many by Trump-appointed judges.

#34. Trump ordered the Department of Justice to falsely claim that the election “was corrupt.”

#35. Trump and his allies used threats to pressure state leaders in Arizona and Georgia to falsify the election results.

We may go to 40.

#36. When none of the previous schemes worked, Trump and his allies produced fake electoral votes cast by fake electors in multiple swing states. His former White House chief of staff and Rudy Giuliani are among the many members of his inner circle who have been criminally indicted for this scheme.

#37. Trump tried to bully Vice President Pence into obstructing the certification of the election.

#38. Trump invited a mob to the Capitol on Jan 6 with his “be there, will be wild” tweet.

#39. Sworn testimony alleges that when Trump was warned that members of the crowd were carrying deadly weapons, he ordered security metal detectors to be taken down.

#40. Knowing the crowd had deadly weapons, he ordered them to go to the Capitol and…

TRUMP: …fight like hell.

#41 — Yes, yes, I know, bear with me.

Trump betrayed his oath to defend the nation by doing nothing to stop the Jan 6 violence. Instead, according to witness testimony, he sat and watched TV for hours.

#42. On January 13, 2021, Trump became the only president ever to be impeached twice. This time he was charged with incitement of insurrection. It was a bipartisan vote.

#43. The majority of senators — 57 out of 100 — voted to convict Trump, including 7 Republican senators.

So that’s the two impeachments and the Big Lie, but wait, we haven’t dealt with Russia, right? So we’re going to 50.

#44. In a likely obstruction of justice, Trump pressured then FBI Director James Comey to stop the FBI’s investigation into Trump’s National Security Adviser, Michael Flynn. This was documented in the Mueller report.

#45. When Comey didn’t bend to Trump’s will, Trump fired him.

#46. Trump tried to shut down the Mueller investigation by ordering White House Counsel Don McGann to fire Mueller. McGann refused because that would be criminal obstruction of justice.

#47. When news got out that Trump tried to fire Mueller, Trump repeatedly told McGann to lie — to Mueller, to press, to public — and even create a false document to conceal Trump’s attempt to fire Mueller.

#48. Trump ordered his staff not to turn over emails showing Don Jr. had set up a meeting at Trump Tower before the 2016 election with representatives of the Russian government.

#49. Trump convinced Michael Cohen to lie to Congress about Trump’s plans to build a Trump Tower in Moscow, and Cohen served prison time for lying to Congress.

#50. Trump was not charged for criminal obstruction of justice because it’s the Justice Department’s policy not to indict a sitting president, but more than a thousand former federal prosecutors who served under both Republicans and Democrats, signed a letter declaring there was more than enough evidence to prosecute Trump.

So those are the 50 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency. Now I could go on…

And I will! The 75 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#51. Trump said he’d hire only the best people, but…

His campaign chair was convicted of multiple crimes.

So was one of his closest associates.

His deputy campaign chair pleaded guilty to crimes.

So did his personal lawyer

His National Security Adviser

The Chief Financial Officer of his business

A campaign foreign policy adviser

And one of his campaign fundraisers.

They all committed crimes, and Trump pardoned most of them.

#52. Trump said he’d drain the Washington swamp. But he appointed more billionaires, CEOs, and Wall Street moguls to his administration than any administration in history

#53. Trump intervened to get his son-in-law, Jared Kushner top-secret clearance after he was denied over concerns about foreign influence.

#54. Trump hosted a Russian Foreign Minister to the Oval Office, where Trump revealed top-secret intelligence.

Oh, and Trump’s economic policies!

#55 Trump promised that the average American family would see a $4,000 pay raise because of his tax cuts for the wealthy and big corporations. How’d that work out? Did you get a $4,000 raise? Of course not! Nobody did!

#56. Trump vowed to protect American jobs, but offshoring increased and manufacturing fell.

#57. Trump said he would fix America’s infrastructure, but it never happened. He announced so many failed “infrastructure weeks” they became a running joke.

#58. Trump said he would be “the voice” of American workers, but he filled the National Labor Relations Board with anti-union flacks who made it harder for workers to unionize.

#59. Trump’s Labor Department made it easier for bosses to get out of paying workers overtime, which cheated 8 million workers of extra pay.

#60. Trump repeatedly suggested he might serve more than two terms in violation of the Constitution — and continues to do so.

#61. Trump called Haiti and African nations “shithole” countries.

#62. Trump tried to terminate DACA, which protects immigrants brought to the U.S. as children. Luckily this was struck down by the courts.

#63. Trump called climate change a “hoax.”

#64. Trump pulled out of the Paris Climate Agreement.

#65. Trump rolled back more than 100 environmental protections.

#66. Every budget Trump proposed included cuts to Social Security and Medicare.

#67. Trump tried (and failed) to repeal the Affordable Care Act, which would have resulted in 20 million Americans losing insurance. And striking down the ACA’s protections for the roughly 130 million people with pre-existing conditions could have driven up their insurance premiums or led to a loss of coverage.

#68. Trump made it easier for employers to remove birth control coverage from insurance plans.

#69. By the end of Trump’s term, the number of people lacking health insurance had risen by 3 million.

#70. Trump lied. Constantly. He made 30,573 false or misleading claims while president — an average of 21 a day, according to Washington Post fact-checkers.

#71. Trump allegedly took hundreds of classified documents on his way out of the White House, reportedly including nuclear secrets, which he then left unsecured in various parts of Mar-a-Lago, including a bathroom. He was even caught on tape showing them off to people.

#72. Trump seriously discussed the idea of nuking a hurricane.

#73. When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico, Trump delayed $20 billion of aid and allowed Puerto Rico to be without power for 181 days.

#74. Trump suggested withholding federal aid for California wildfire recovery and said the solution was to “clean” the “floors” of the forest.

#75. Trump pulled out of the Iran deal, placing Iran on a path to developing nuclear weapons.

Honestly, there’s so much more, from exchanging “love letters” with North Korea’s brutal dictator to publicly denigrating a Gold Star military widow and making her cry, to the way he attacked journalists, to late night tweet binges.

Look, I can understand why a lot of people want to block all of this out of their memories. But we cannot afford to forget just how terrible Trump’s time in the White House was for this nation.

And we sure as hell can’t afford to put him back there.

#youtube #Donald Trump #Video #Videos #Election

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lundenloves · 1 year

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dad!simon masterlist | taglist | masterlist | request info

dad!simon who will near fall asleep on the sofa, sat upright with wide legs and his arms crossed, only opening one eye to pretend he’s listening while one of his daughters rambles about school drama.

dad!simon who scoffs when another monthly subscription or amazon payment goes through his card, brows knitted together after asking just why the house has to be subscribed to four separate streaming services.

dad!simon who never remembers his kids’ friends names. it could be his daughters best friend of seven years and he still wouldn’t remember.

dad!simon who visually could not care less about the gossip his daughter waffles about, mumbling “mhm” every so often to appear engaged though shrugging when called out on his evident boredom.

dad!simon who tsks at all the parcels that come through the door day-to-day. living with three daughters and a wife, it’s constant. he detests being the only one home and having to sign for something — will actively ignore a knock on the door when there’s other people in the house.

dad!simon who (when drunk) is the height of amusement for his eldest. many snapchats exist of him being handed the phone already recording and goofily grinning into it while looking up at her “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

dad!simon who sticks post-it notes in bold handwriting to the fridge whenever anyone has an appointment due the following day. “don’t forget.” complete with a fullstop and a harsh underline of the time in military digits.

dad!simon who replies sarcastically to almost every obvious question with his natural glare, something each of his kids had genetically taken: “don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get stupid answers.” he loves them really.

dad!simon who silenced the family groupchat as soon as he had figured out how to, only replying every other day with a thumbs up reaction or more likely a thumbs down.

dad!simon who side eyes his kids. he doesn’t mean it, yet it happens. watching throw away tv? side eye. talking too loud on the phone? side eye. wearing a questionable outfit? side eye.

dad!simon who has a firm routine. he fucking detests being interrupted, and or spoken to from the hours of five till seven in the morning. he’ll get up, have food and go to the gym all in this time frame before anyone can dent his peace.

dad!simon who sighs avidly. a long and painful sigh after any merely simple question is asked or he’s to pick up one of his kids from a night out. “fucking well told ‘er not to expect me past twelve.” while accidentally slamming the door behind him, keys jingling around his finger.

dad!simon who struggles to show affection in any other way than a short pat of the shoulder or a one armed hug, pulling his kids into his chest for mere seconds before stepping back.

dad!simon who groans whenever anything gets moved in the house. his military mind in favour of keeping things in one position, untouched and moved for preferably ever unless he was told. though, having kids didn’t quite work like that.

dad!simon who: “do i ‘av to do fucking everything in this house? eh?”

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob

˗ˏˋ university is still kicking my arse into next week. i joined the football team too, fuck knows why i’m making myself busier than i have to be. alas here we are, and i’m feeding the pigeons! aka sprinkling dad headcannons until i get traction again. pls love me, pls follow me, pls reblog, pls validate me.

the reason i tag this as ‘x reader’ as it’s ur fuckin family with him. no one bite my head off man i can’t be bothered tonight.

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley headcanons #dad!simon #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley headcanons

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lnlightning81 · 5 months

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Best Friends [OP81]

Summary : You and Oscar are childhood best friends and maybe a little more but that's something the grid has missed

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Wife!Reader, Logan Sargeant x reader, F1 Grid x Reader

Warning/s: None

Word Count: 1.6 k

Masterlist

Oscar Piastri Masterlist

You and Oscar had started out as childhood best friends. You even moved to England with him because you just couldn’t be separated. As Oscar went through the different ranks of motorsport you decided to do a Sports Science degree and when Oscar got signed for Prema he made sure you were his personal trainer and you’d just follow him into his F1 career.

You and Oscar were now walking through the paddock with his arm around your shoulders. It started as a habit when he started his rookie season to calm his nerves with your warm body, and it gave you comfort at the same time. When he started his rookie season, you were still only best friends. Neither of you had confessed how you felt, but now you had yet, everyone still believed you were still only best friends.

It hadn’t been on the top of either of your lists to correct people when they called you best friends because even though you were more than dating now, he was still your best friend. Walking into the Mclaren garage, Oscar spoke to a few mechanics.

“Osc we’ve got to get you warmed up” You smiled, and you both walked through to his drivers room. As Oscar got changed into his fireproofs and race suit, you grabbed the equipment to get him warmed up. When you turned around, his race suit was resting on his waist before you talked him through some stretches. After Oscar warmed up, you moved out to the main garage with him. Mclaren had some guests in the garage that Zac wanted Oscar and Lando to talk to and maybe do some training in front of them.

“Let’s use the bands to stretch your arms” You smiled, handing him one of the bands, and he nodded. You grabbed your headphones, resting them around your neck. Your hands are coming up to his back a little bit for comfort and a little to correct his posture.

“You okay?” Oscar asked, and you smiled

“Yeah, just correcting your posture while doing this” you hummed, walking back around so you stood in front of him

“You’re gonna do great today. You’re starting in a great position, and the car is brilliant” You smiled, resting your hand on his chest. You and Oscar had always been touchy for as long as people knew you both. The only person knowing the truth about your relationship was Logan and maybe Arthur. He seemed to be good at finding out relationships between random people. Oscar took your hand, holding it in his own larger hand.

“I’m gonna do even better because you’re wearing this thing” He whispered, running his hand over your engagement and wedding ring.

“Well I’m fed up with watching random women flirt with my husband” you hummed, rubbing his shoulders as you walked behind him. He was stressed about today. His home race meant he wanted to do really well, and you could feel the stress in his shoulders

“Relax baby” you whispered, massaging the knots out of his shoulders and necks. Soon, Oscar was getting ready to get in the car. You smiled, standing next to him.

Mclaren social media team had a camera recording Oscar so they could post some behind the scenes of the garage. Oscar handed you his hoodie, and you folded it up, placing it upon the pile of his clothes. Oscar pulled his race suit up and onto his shoulders, turning to you so that you could zip it up something that you’ve been doing since you first became friends all those years ago.

Handing Oscar his balaclava, he pulled it on his head and tucked his hair into it, sending you one last smile as he stepped out of frame to press a kiss to your lips. He took his helmet, placing the HANS device around his neck before pulling his helmet over his head. You secured his helmet strap and corrected the HANS device before tapping his helmet and walking over to the car with him.

“Be safe out there” You smiled, holding his hands, and he nodded

“I’m gonna get a podium so we can continue that celebration from last time” You smiled, looking up at him. The celebration was you, Oscar, and Logan finishing the movie while you helped their aches and pains from the race, although Logan was talking about going out with a couple of other drivers depending on the outcome.

Oscar did get on the podium, and you couldn’t have been more proud of him. Making your way out of the garage with the rest of the Mclaren team. Lando got P2, and Oscar got P3. It was the best result anyone could have asked for. You stood at the front of the barricades, and after Oscar got weighed, he walked over to the team.

The difference between Oscar and Lando when celebrating was quite funny to watch. Lando jumped into the team's arms as he celebrated with pats on the back, shoulder, and helmet as Oscar just thanked everyone before stopping next to you and wrapping you into a hug. Your arms rested around his neck as he rested around your waist.

He had left his helmet on the stand for it, looking into his eyes with a smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss as the cameras flashes up

“I love you so much wife” He whispered against your lips

“I love you too” You smiled as Lando cheered from next to you. You laughed

“Go get your trophy. I’ll be watching” You pushed Oscar away as Logan walked over

“Movie night or drinking?” He asked, wrapping you in a side hug

“Movie night. Well done on the points” You smiled, turning to watch the podium with him. You were so proud of him. A podium at his home race is something he’d been wanting for a long time, and he’s finally achieved it. After the podium, you walked back to the garage, collecting all of Oscar’s belongings and taking them to his drivers room.

As Oscar did his post race interviews and debrief, you decided to stretch yourself, having sat tense watching the whole race, and there was nothing else to do while sitting waiting. Logan was sending you random tweets and tiktok videos as you sat a lot of them about the fact you and Oscar were finally together, causing you to laugh. A set of arms tackled you onto the beanbag in Oscars' drivers room as your neck was covered with kisses, causing you to giggle, knowing it was Oscar.

“I did it! I got a podium” He cheered, and you laughed, turning your head to kiss him

“I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew you could do it. You’ll always be a winner in my heart” You smiled, and he kissed you again.

“Come on, I want to go celebrate” He pulled you up

“Baby you need to get changed” you giggled, pushing his helmet hair out his face

“Okay right yeah, I’ll do that” He nodded

“Logan keeps sending me tweets and TikToks about us revealing our relationship. They’re quite funny, to be honest” You giggled

“Our son” He chuckled, and you nodded

“He really acts like it sometimes. His mum messages me every so often to make sure he’s actually doing how he says he is” Oscar nodded, taking your hand

“How does he say he is?” He asked

“He’s struggling with the fans for obvious reasons. I’ve been told that he greatly enjoys our movie nights and they allow him to relax with people he fully trusts” Oscar nodded, kissing your head

“Then we never stop those. Maybe we should start inviting him for dinner when we’re not racing?” He suggested

“I think that sounds like a good idea but as your trainer I’ve got to remind you to stick to your diet plan” You giggled while jogging through the garage as he chased after you for that comment. Picking you up and spinning you around. You smiled, pressing your lips to his as he placed you back on the ground. Walking out of the paddock, Oscar had his hand rested around your waist, but you were soon stopped by a grid of drivers standing at the paddock exit with their arms crossed.

“Hey everyone” You smiled, looking between the eighteen other drivers standing in front of you

“Hey everyone” Lando mocked, and you frowned now, very confused about what you had done wrong

“What’s going on?” Oscar asked, also confused. Charles pointed between the two of you, and you looked up at Oscar

“What?” You whispered, and he shrugged

“Can someone use their words and explain what you mean?” You asked as Logan wrapped his arms around you both

“They’ve only just realised that you’re together after your kiss” He explained, and you frowned, turning back to the crowd of people

“Want to explain then?” Max asked

“We’ve been married for four months. Dating for nine before that” you explained, still really confused

“What?!” They chorused, and you looked between them all. Oscar is now holding your hand up

“She’s been wearing these for the last three months around you lot" He exclaimed as you both laughed, turning to Logan

“You going back to your hotel room before movie night?” You asked, and he nodded

“If you two don’t mind waiting a little to start?” He asked, and you shook your head

“Gives me time to cook some dinner” You smiled, walking past the rest of the grid, leaving them all standing shocked at your announcement.

Tag List

@bearryyy

@molten-m122

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

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yerimacoustic · 23 days

Text

𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 ♡ 𝙨. 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙨 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

summary: you, the head girl of the ravenclaw house, realize you might have bitten off more than you can chew when you take part in a risky challenge with your arch nemesis, seungcheol. 📚🧺🥀

content warnings: academic rivals to implied lovers, hogwarts!au, gryffindor!s.coups and ravenclaw!reader, you’re both head boy and head girl of your houses, banter, banter and more banter (i did my best with it okay), light swearing, kissing, not proofread (sorry besties) 9.8k wc.

note: this took me wayyyy too long but i’m cooking another idea for a fic for a certain seventeen member, so i’m trying to get back into the swing of things <3

“doesn’t it look beautiful?” professor slughorn gazed at the tiny vial resting on his desk, just barely out of reach from the rest of the students. although you had an inkling of what the contents in the bottle really were, you felt just as confused as the rest of your peers.

your best friend, irene was the first to speak up, “professor, what exactly is it?”

“thank you for asking. what you see before you is a curious little potion known as felix felicis. otherwise known as-“

“liquid luck,” you chimed in with a voice behind you just barely beating you to the punch. you knew who it was without turning your head back: choi seungcheol. typical. he was always trying to outshine you.

ever since the two of you had been selected as prefects for your houses, gryffindor and ravenclaw, he seemed hellbent on making your life miserable. you two seemed to constantly be competing. whether it was for the house cup, who would be the top of the class, even who managed to get their students into bed with all the lights out first. it only got worse when the two of you were selected to be in the slug club, seeing a lot more of each other as a result.

unfortunately, slughorn seemed to catch onto your rivalry rather quickly and while he never acknowledged it out loud, there were several instances where he seemed to be fanning the fire.

“yes, that is correct, y/n and seungcheol. liquid luck.” professor slughorn lifted the glass from desk, holding it on display for everyone to see more clearly. “desperately tricky to make, disastrous if you get it wrong. however.. one sip and you will find that all of your endeavors will succeed. well.. until the effects wear off.”

you tilted your chin up while trying to hide a mischievous grin from your classmates. you pondered everything you could achieve from one mere sip of the rare potion- you could pass all of your exams with flying colors, you could finish all of your projects in record time.. the possibilities were endless!

unfortunately, you weren’t the only one chasing good fortunes. seungcheol knew if he led the gryffindor’s team to another consecutive victory, he would be a shoe-in for the holyhead harpies. after all, what was more impressive than leading your time to a winning season four years in a row? he could picture professor dumbledore handing him the house cup clear as day- surely his career in quidditch would only skyrocket from there.

just as both of you pondered how you would be able to get your hands on such a remarkable potion, slughorn clapped his hands, “now, usually every student in my class gets the opportunity to compete for the potion. this year we are doing things a little differently: the two students with the highest grade point averages are competing against each other!”

oh no.

you didn’t doubt for a second that you were one of the students in the running; a large folder dedicated to very successful report cards gave you more than enough confidence in your chances. but you didn’t like considering the odds of who your opponent could be: irene, your best friend. jihyo, another member of the quidditch team who had a secret affinity for brewing potions. or.. seungcheol. but what was there to be said about him that hadn’t been said already?

slughorn made a rather dramatic show of reaching into his drawer to grab the grade sheets. you held your breath as you watched the professor reposition his glasses and examine the parchment with furrowed eyebrows. he cleared his throat, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he gazed towards the class, “the two students with the highest scores are…”

now the entire class seemed to be holding their breath. comically, mina and sana leaned in close while waiting for slughorn’s revelation. your gaze shifted unwillingly towards seungcheol, who winked at you. you replied by scowling and looking away with a huff. if merlin was on your side at all, if he really did have a hand in all of your dealings with other witches and wizards, he would let anyone besides choi seungcheol be your contender.

“seungcheol and y/n, respectively!” slughorn announced cheerfully, setting the parchment on his desk in favor of leading the rest of the class in applause.

respectively?

seungcheol scored higher than you? how was that even possible?

“what?” you scoffed, furrowing your eyebrows.

“don’t act so surprised, y/n.” seungcheol smirked in your direction, his chest puffing out as he threw his shoulders back. “you’re not the only one in this school working your ass off.”

“but i am the only one who’s finally going to knock you off your high horse,” you retorted.

“i feel the need to remind you both-” slughorn interjected, sending something between a glare and a look of concern in your direction. his tone wasn’t scolding, much to your own surprise. “to keep things civil. if you cannot abide by my classroom’s policies during this.. impromptu competition, then i will have no choice but to eliminate you both and revert back to my old customs.”

you parted your lips but seungcheol was quick to interject and smooth-talk the professor (as he always seemed to have a talent for doing), “you have nothing to worry about, professor. i don’t mind a little competition.” suddenly he looked towards you with a shit eating grin. “especially not when it's so damn cute.”

and there it was- that furious, fiery sensation in your cheeks. you weren’t sure if it occurred out of genuine flattery, embarrassment or.. pure rage. you wouldn’t have been surprised if steam fell out of your ears in that moment- you were in pure shock and disbelief that he would say something like that in front of everyone. of course, you were also shaming yourself for being so surprised; it was seungcheol, after all.

the professor ignored the catty whistles and cheers in the classroom with a wave of his hand, “very well. the two of you will brew a draught of the living dead. the first one to create the acceptable potion wins. and there will be no backseat brewing from the rest of the class; you are to take notes on both students’ techniques, is that understood?”

silence passed through the classroom, a few students nodding their heads in response before slowly making their way to the back of the class. “good. seungcheol, y/n, i will give you a few minutes to get your ingredients. good luck to the both of you.”

you, of course, were searching through your textbook for the recipe before slughorn had even extended his best wishes. irene, luckily, had stayed by your side to provide you some much needed moral support. of course, you barely noticed; your nose stuck so far in your textbook you couldn’t see past the faded words. this is what you get for buying it secondhand.

“you’re gonna do great, y/n,” irene reassured you. “seungcheol doesn’t know the first thing about potions. you’ve got this.”

you chuckled bitterly. “obviously that’s not true. he’s top of the class.”

“she’s got a point there,” seungcheol chimed in, smirking. “don’t worry, y/n, i’m sure there’s plenty of positions in the ministry of magic for people who aren’t proficient in potion brewing. like.. secretaries or scribes; you know, record keepers.”

his words prompted you to slam your book shut, keeping your thumb between the pages so you wouldn’t lose your spot. you looked past your shoulder, keeping your tone hushed so slughorn couldn’t hear the two of you bickering. “need i remind you that i’m the second ranking student in this class for a reason. all it’s going to take for me to rise above the ranks is to beat you at this stupid little competition.

“and by the way, i’m more than proficient at potion brewing.”

“says the one who mixed up dittany and wolfsbane two weeks ago,” seungcheol retorted.

“it was a simple mistake! anyone could have made it,” you argued.

much to your dismay, seungcheol’s best friend sangyeon felt the need to chime in with a smirk, “why don’t we raise the stakes a little bit?”

“what do you mean?” irene asked, cocking a brow.

“it’s felix felicis we’re competing for. the stakes have never been higher,” you deadpanned.

“i mean- you two obviously have some arguments and disputes you need to resolve. maybe this competition could be a good chance for the two of you to humble each other.”

you tilted your head, part of you in disbelief that you were actually entertaining his words and another part of you believing that he actually made a fair argument. suddenly, a smirk etched at your lips as you began to calculate.. “alright. if i win, which i will, you have to act as my personal assistant for a month.”

seungcheol barked out a laugh, his eyes going wide in amusement, “personal assistant? for a month? what are you getting at?”

“you heard me,” you retorted. “you have to walk me to my class, carry around my books for me, and help me with all of my homeworks, meetings, and schedules.”

“seems a bit outlandish, but alright,” seungcheol snickered. “alright. if i win, which i will…” he paused. “you have to go to the yule ball with me.”

“what?!”

“you heard me,” seungcheol repeated after you, even going so far as to mimic your smirk. “you have to go to the yule ball with me. we have to wear coordinating outfits, we have to dance together, and take plenty of pictures. and you cannot try to sabotage our last ball at hogwarts.”

you scoffed, “there is no way i’m agreeing to that. not even in your wildest dreams.”

“fine, then you can forget all about your precious personal assistant.”

you huffed. you would love nothing more than the chance to publicly humiliate seungcheol, to get him back for all the times that he had embarrassed you. the devious bastard needed some humbling. but.. what if things took a turn for the worst and he won? he was top of the class for a reason, and the universe seemed to have the cards stacked against you. was it really worth it, adding a bet onto a competition that had high stakes to begin with?

irene sent a knowing smirk in your direction just as you got to your feet, “give me a second to think about it.”

you grabbed irene’s hand, rushing to the supply shelves where the ingredients you had been neglecting were waiting. asphodel, wormwood, valerian root.. as you began to gather everything you needed in one hand, you turned to your best friend with a groan of annoyance, “can you believe that man? he’s incorrigible! insufferable!”

“yes, but who knows? he might end up surprising you and you could have a great time at the dance together,” she peered through the recipe in her own textbook, helping you gather the rest of the roots and broths.

you snickered, “seungcheol? surprise me? i highly doubt that.”

she shook her head and took a much calmer approach, looking through the shelves and graciously handing you a fair amount of the ingredients that you weren’t able to find. “you deserve a night off, y/n. you’ve been focusing too much on your studies your entire time at hogwarts. you’ve barely had any time for extracurricular activities besides the slug club. just do this one thing and if it goes horribly.. then.. we’ll grab some of those prank snacks from zonko’s and ruin his life until the school year ends.”

you tilted your head in contemplation, “i would like to see his face covered in boils.. fine. but all this bet does is give me more incentive to win this competition. i will not be caught dead dancing with seungcheol.”

“we’ll see about that,” seungcheol called to you from across the room.

god, you couldn’t wait to wipe that insufferable smirk off his face.

once slughorn had reset his rather eccentric hourglass to time the two of you and the rest of the class scooted to the back of the room, everything else seemed to disappear around you. you focused only on the recipe, measuring the broth without letting so much as an extra drop fall into your cauldron.

then it was time for the sopophorous bean. you tried to cut it in half, as per the instructions, but it actually bounced out of your reach. you tried it again, but it yielded the same results. and then the third time, seungcheol had to duck his head to dodge it once it was sent flying across the room. what in the world?

you refused to ask for slughorn’s help. you were the second highest ranking student in the class for a reason, after all. you’d gotten this far without asking him or snape any stupid questions. after reading over the instructions again, a particular passage stood out to you: you only needed the juices from the bean.

exercising great caution and timidity, you attempted to crush the bean with the blade of your knife instead. and much to your pleasant surprise, it worked. the bean didn’t budge. you looked over to seungcheol as you began to pour the juices into your cauldron, immediately furrowing your eyebrows, “how are you already two steps ahead of me??”

the man looked up and continued to stir the broth clockwise, per the directions. it didn’t stop him from sending an arrogant smirk your way; you had to hand it to him, he was a great multitasker. “a magician never reveals his secrets. especially to the competition.”

you huffed; you didn’t need his help anyways. as you started to crush the thick root into a powder, you could have sworn you heard the clock from across the hallway ticking. uncomfortable silence rang through the air, save a few quiet mutters from fellow students and the boiling from the cauldrons.

meanwhile, slughorn paced back and forth with his hands intertwined behind his back, studying the two of you carefully. there was a hopeful glint in his eyes, as if he wanted the both of you to succeed. between you and seungcheol, he couldn’t decide who his favorite student was. something told you that the results of this competition would finally give him his answer…

as you tossed the powder into the broth, a thick cloud of black smoke materialized in front of you, covering your face in the powder. the powder had shot straight out of the cauldron, as if rejected by the broth. your hand flew to your mouth as you fell into a fit of loud coughs, which unfortunately were not loud enough to muffle the sounds of your fellow students’ laughs.

just as you regained enough composure to wipe some of the soot out of your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of seungcheol trying to hide a snicker while stirring the broth in the other direction. shit. he was already on the last step. he chortled once he took notice of your scowl, shaking his head, “it’s honestly a shame. i thought you were better at following instructions.”

“i’m doing exactly what the book says! you obviously have some sort of cheat sheet.”

seungcheol furrowed his eyebrows in mock offense, holding up his textbook with his free hand. “hmm.. that’s curious because it looks like we have the same one. maybe you’ve just lost your touch.” before you could offer a rebuttal, however, seungcheol set the ladle down and waved towards your professor. oh no, oh no..

“ah, seungcheol! finished already?” you watched in horror as slughorn strode towards your opponent’s cauldron, fishing a leaf out of his pocket. “well, uh, here we are. moment of truth,” he snickered, holding his breath as his hand hovered over the cauldron. you looked back towards irene, who was watching everything play out in front of her with the smallest frown.

and just like that, the tightening sensation in your chest loomed, causing you to clutch at the collar of your shirt. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the scene playing out in front of you, and of course, the dreaded feeling that your life was over simply because the tiny leaf dissolved into the broth. his broth. you had lost to seungcheol, your rival, your mortal enemy, once again.

“merlin’s beard! it’s perfect!” once again, slughorn slowly began to clap his hands and lead the rest of the classroom in a rather loud chorus of applause. the only reason you joined in was because you were in plain view of slughorn and you didn’t want to risk appearing petty in front of him; however, you made no attempts to rid the look of disappointment on your features.

you were so wrapped up in your dark blanket of self pity that you barely even noticed the older man pick the vial up from his desk and hand it to seungcheol. the look of pride on your professor’s face was too much for you to handle, seeing as how you felt it was entirely misplaced. it should have been you who won. you knew that textbook backwards and forwards, you took extra notes in class every single day, studying was your favorite pastime.. how in the hell did he win?

“now, as promised, one tiny vial of felix felicis. use it well.” as the classroom erupted into thunderous applause and cheers, you vowed to yourself that you would find out exactly how he cheated.

—-------------------------

you could barely speak to anyone after admitting defeat the day before, including irene, fearing that they would bring up your epic failure. endless hours in the library were not unfamiliar to you; in fact, you considered it like your home away from the ravenclaw dormitory. luckily, your extra time alone did not meddle with your duties as ravenclaw prefect. not that it mattered; when news of your failure traveled amongst the rest of the house, you could have sworn they stopped taking you seriously.

granted, it had barely been twenty four hours, but still.

you were brushing up on some light reading, lost in theories of dragon and centaur evolutions when you heard a pile of books slam next to yours on the table. it echoed through the library, causing several nearby bystanders to lift their heads up with matching scowls. when you snapped your head to the left in order to get a better look at the culprit, you instinctively rolled your eyes.

“what? i thought you would be a little happier to see a champion,” seungcheol chuckled in a hushed tone, taking the seat next to you. “oh, and your date to the yule ball.”

“can you keep your voice down? i don’t want anyone to hear i’m going with you of all people.”

seungcheol dramatically pressed a hand to his chest, “oh. that cuts deep, y/n. but i’m afraid people are going to find out eventually. you know, during the prefects’ dance, for example.”

“what?!” you exclaimed, only to be rudely shushed by several of the library attendees. taking a few precautionary looks over your shoulder, you whispered, “you never said anything about a prefects’ dance.”

“that was because i thought you already knew,” seuncheol replied conceitedly. “unless.. oh.. you weren’t planning on going to the yule ball at all, were you?”

you tilted your head, “i know exactly what you’re implying..”

“implying? i’m not implying any-”

“and i could easily have gotten another date to the ball if it weren’t for you,” you lied. unless you had some sort of secret admirer, you knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that you would have been asked to the ball. you were planning on using the extra alone time in the ravenclaw common room to your advantage anyways; there was much more space in there for studying. “i just don’t have any time for such trivial pursuits.”

“i wouldn’t call social interaction or international magical cooperation trivial pursuits,” seungcheol retorted.

you slammed your book shut and tossed it into your book bag. “was there a reason you decided to come in here and bother me? besides attempting to get me kicked out of the library?”

“ohh, right,” seungcheol whispered with a mischievous grin. “i forgot to mention one other thing. as prefects, we’re supposed to help plan the event. decorate the great hall, hire the musicians, the works.”

if you didn’t respect the sacred space of the library, you would have screamed your protests at him. of course he planned this out to the number. he didn’t have a partner to assist him in his party planning tasks and he needed another chance to publicly humiliate you. so in order to kill two birds with one stone, he asked you to be his date. since you were a prefect, now that your attendance was confirmed, you had no other choice but to participate in the planning.

“you slippery snake,” you hissed.

“oh? look what we have here, the high and mighty y/n l/n, picking and choosing which responsibilities she gets to take seriously.”

“this is a new low, even for you. i can’t believe you would trick me into doing your stupid party planning for you.”

he chuckled, “oh no, no, no. i’m not making you do all of it for me, you have my word. i’ll be with you every step of the way.” you cringed; for some reason, that sounded worse than leaving you to do his chores for him. “now we better get a move on, darling, or we’ll be late.”

seungcheol led you eagerly to the great hall where yeji and seungkwan were waiting. the two of them were head girl and boy of the slytherin and hufflepuff houses, respectively, and had already begun preparations for the ball. when you took note of how eager seungkwan was to take leadership and oversee all of the preparations, you began to wonder why he wasn’t sorted into the gryffindor house.

of course, yeji knew that he was simply a placeholder until the real self proclaimed leader would show his face. you witnessed a complete shift in her demeanor in real time, an annoyed frown shifting into an inviting smirk the moment she saw the two of you walk to the hufflepuff table. “ah, there you are, cheol. i was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.”

“i don’t take my position as head boy lightly, unlike some people,” he tilted his head towards you, earning a dirty look. yeji simply held an amused smirk as her gaze shifted from seungcheol to you, a knowing look in her eyes.

seungkwan, however, looked like he had seen a ghost. or a hologram. to be honest, anything else was more believable than you being willing to have anything to do with the yule ball. “y/n! i thought you weren’t coming.”

“i thought so too,” you sighed. “but-”

“she changed her mind,” seungcheol cut in with the shameless lie, much to your surprise. “we both thought it would be a good idea if a head boy and a head girl went to the ball together. especially since its our last year at hogwarts and we didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity.”

yeji made no attempt to disguise her confusion- seungcheol could easily get any other girl to go to the ball with him. so why would he ask you? and why would you say yes? the two of you had a very public and long lasting rivalry; it seemed odd that the two of you were able to make amends so quickly. “seems like the two of you finally made up,” she cooed, folding her arms across her chest.

“yeah, for the most part,” seungkwan laughed, pointing out the look of annoyance etched across your features.

seungcheol barked out a laugh, “we’re both more than capable of keeping things civil. we figured that out for ourselves just the other day, didn’t we, darling?”

it took a great deal of willpower for you to hold back a groan of annoyance. “we’re wasting time. we should probably get started on the decorating now.”

“right,” seungkwan snickered, gesturing to several large boxes cluttering and even surrounding the table. “filch brought everything from the dungeon up here. personally, i think that we should go for a winter wonderland theme. white, grays, light blues..”

“sounds good.” yeji was quick to agree. you would have been surprised, but something told you that she was only agreeing with him so this meeting would go by much quicker. not that you blamed her..

“i agree,” seungcheol chimed in. “yeji and seungkwan, why don’t you work on fixing up the right side of the hall. we’ll focus on the left.”

as the two of them nodded and followed seungcheol’s direction, you could hear seungkwan immediately lecturing yeji on how to carry out his vision with precision and intent. meanwhile, the young man at your side smirked with infuriating amusement as he studied you carefully. as a response you turned towards him with a huff, “let’s just get this over with.”

he chuckled, “i admire your enthusiasm. we’ll need it, considering the ball’s less than a week away.”

great. more good news.

—--------------------

as preparations for the yule ball were under wing, you actually found yourself horrifically overwhelmed for the first time during your attendance at hogwarts. if you weren’t studying, you were figuring out with the others which bands would play at the ball. if you weren’t monitoring the common room with the other prefects, you were organizing the tables, chairs, and centerpieces. and if you weren’t with irene, the only other person who seemed to bring you a sense of comfort during a time when your anxiety was at its peak, you were with seungcheol, who seemed to gift your anxiety to you.

this stupid ball was taking over your entire life. even with a total of twenty four students carefully planning the evening, it seemed to take an eternity for all of you to come to any semblance of an agreement. day by day you were filled with endless disappointment and dread. worst of all, you couldn’t figure out how you ended up in this situation; there seemed to be no explanation as to how seungcheol went about cheating in your little showdown. you learned that slughorn cast a protection spell against cheating in his classroom, so he couldn’t have muttered anything under his breath. he couldn’t have tampered with your spellbook; the recipe in yours was the same as irene’s.

through all of the formulas, the lectures on runes and the arguments with seungkwan and yeji about tacky balloons and garlands, the one question that bothered you the most was how in the hell gryffindor’s beloved, corrupt champion managed to cheat. it plagued your mind even as you and seungcheol began to set up one of the three giant, towering christmas trees in the great hall.

“don’t you love this time of year?” he asked, startling you out of your daze.

you furrowed your eyebrows, finding his attempts at making friendly conversation rather pathetic. you shrugged. “i guess.”

“it’s usually not my favorite, since it can be a pain in the ass to fly a broom around in this type of weather,” he chuckled, gently waving his wand to direct silver ornaments onto the tree. “but i don’t know. something about this year feels special.”

you paused your own enchantments in contemplation, letting a tiny string of garland settle comfortably against the pine tree’s branches. you were using the same spell as seungcheol, hoping to finish the decorations as quickly as possible to put this long day to an end. “maybe this being our last year in the castle has something to do with it?”

although your statement came out sounding much more sarcastic than you intended, your words came from a place of genuine belief. until that moment, it felt like you had been in denial that you were about to leave the castle forever. go into the real world.

seungcheol seemed pleasantly surprised that you were making conversation with him, even if your response was somewhat harsh. he chuckled, “i guess so. but.. i don’t know. something’s different. in a good way.”

“hopefully you figure out what it is before the school year ends,” you chuckled.

seungcheol only nodded before lifting the last few ornaments onto his side of the tree with a mere wave of his wand and then the two of you stepped back to admire your work. it looked beautiful, the silver and dark blue ornaments glowing in the candlelight. but you knew it would look even better on the night of the ball; seungkwan would be casting an enchantment to make the entire hall look like a real winter wonderland. “i think we’re at a good enough place to call it a day, don’t you?”

you sighed in relief and threw your book bag over your shoulder. “thank god.”

he called to you before you could turn your back on him, “hey, wait a minute-”

you sighed and reluctantly turned around to face him, tilting your head to the side. “what?”

something strange happened to seungcheol. for the tiniest moment, a mere millisecond, if anything, he appeared flustered. at a loss for words, as if he was surprised that you were giving him the time of day. “shouldn’t we go shopping for some dress robes together?”

you made no attempt to disguise your annoyance, clenching your jaw. “what, so you can pick out one of those horrendous, poofy dresses that makes me look like a pastry? i think i’ll go by myself, thanks.”

he laughed, waving his hand dismissively. “no, trust me. i wouldn’t do that to anyone, not even you.”

“even so, i don’t feel like going dress shopping with you.”

“and why’s that?” he raised an eyebrow inquisitively. something about that.. punchable look on his face served as a reminder that you really had no reason to decline his invitation. by some miracle, the two of you had been able to keep it civil for this long. plus, if the two of you had to coordinate outfits (as per seungcheol’s terms and conditions), it would be much easier to do that in person.

with all of those sentiments in mind, you sighed in defeat. “fine. let me grab my robes.”

the two of you threw your large, black cloaks over your figures before stepping outside in the real winter wonderland. they did nothing to keep the chilling winds from nipping at your noses and causing the tips of your fingers to freeze. pushing past the flurries of snow and following the magically shoveled pathway, the two of you made your way to the nearest costume parlor.

the moment you stepped inside with your sworn enemy, the reality of the situation hit you. any other girl who was ‘lucky’ enough to be invited to the ball by him would have loved the experience of shopping for coordinating outfits with him. more notably, if you were invited by someone, anyone else, you most likely would have been trying to tone down your excitement.

and yet here you were, staring at the rows and piles of dresses, tunics, and cloaks in dread. of course, he seemed to notice it, moving a hand to pat your back with a stupid grin. “so.. what’s your favorite color?”

you held yourself back from letting out a huff of annoyance, “green.”

“green..” he cupped his chin with his thumb and index finger, acting as if he was in an state of contemplation. “well, i suppose it's not really in season, but we can make it work. follow me.”

your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as he grabbed onto your hand, dragging you to a row of dresses. it was oddly satisfying, the way the dresses were arranged in a pattern that made the fabrics seemed to fade from key lime to emerald. and they had a lot of options, the rack suffering from the impact of the hangers.

you would have expected nothing less from seungcheol if not to display the first dress with the ugliest shade of asparagus green splashed upon the fabrics. “i think this would look gorgeous on you,” he whispered to you in a sentimental tone, his shit eating smirk giving his true intentions away.

“i’m not wearing that, its ghastly.” you snatched the dress from him, putting it back in its assigned place on the rack. “shouldn’t we focus on darker colors, anyways? since those are what’s ‘in season?’” you made sure to add air quotes when using his words, a smug smirk of your own tugging at your lips.

seungcheol’s smile seemed to be one laced with pride, as if he was pleased to see you catching onto his behaviors and mirroring them. “i like where your head’s at. come along...”

you let him grab your hand again before leading you to a nearby aisle, where dresses with much darker shades of blue and green were stuffed haphazardly onto the racks and shelves surrounding you. “see, this is what i meant when i said i liked green,” you told him as-a-matter-of-factly as you held up a long, modest emerald green dress with gauntlet sleeves that would hook over your middle fingers.

he stretched out his hand to brush along the skirts of your personal favorite selection, tilting his head as if he was carefully studying the fabric. his gaze shifted from the elegant dress to you, as if he was imagining you in it. “i think i should let you pick the outfits from here on out. you’ve got an eye for color theory.”

you folded the dress over your arm with a dry chuckle, “you should have learned that during our committee meetings together. who was it who organized all of the centerpieces?”

“right. i never got to tell you about how well they match the tablecloths.”

“because someone wishes they had half the natural talent for interior design that i possess.” you imitated his trademarked smirk to the best of your ability, tilting your head to the side once it appeared as if the man in front of you was at a loss for words. “we’re going with this one.”

“don’t let it go to your head just yet. we’ve still got to find something for me to wear.”

“and i have just the thing.” this time it was your turn to grab onto his hand, pulling him towards the men’s section. your eyes scanned through the shelves in front of you until they landed on the ugliest thing you could find in that shop: a large, fluffy collar that was adorned by feathers and a large broach in the middle. “i think it matches your eyes perfectly.”

“you cannot be serious,” he deadpanned.

“hey, you were the one that said i’m picking the outfits from here on out. i think wearing it is the very least you could do, all things considered.” you couldn’t disguise the broadening smirk making its way upon your lips even if you wanted to. the look of disgust upon his features was just too good not to revel in. “what’s the matter, you don’t like it?”

he tilted his head up, pressing his lips to a thin line in a vain attempt to smile, “yeah. sure. it looks very eccentric. i think i’ve got just the cloak to match it.”

your eyes widened in a rather successful attempt to patronize the man in front of you. “do you really? i guess fate really does exist.” you stepped closer to fold the collar around his neck, admiring the look of disdain on his face as he made no effort to pull the hideous thing off of him. “see? i think it suits you so well. you could comb your hair back a little bit..”

as if you completely forgot who you were talking to, you lifted your hand up to tuck a few strands of his hair behind his ear. seungcheol’s expression of disdain faded at the contact, a puzzled look quickly taking its place instead. your newfound proximity seemed to almost startle him, prompting you to take a step away from him and clear your throat. “let’s get out of here.”

“huh?”

you shook your head, “we’ve got studying to do. i’m running behind thanks to this stupid ball.”

“you’ll get back on your feet, love,” he countered in a reassuring tone. “you always were an overachiever.”

his words seemed to echo through your mind even as he walked with you up to the register and graciously paid for your dress without a second thought. you could barely even protest, still feeling rather puzzled. even if it wasn’t customary for a man to pay for his date’s dress, you could let it slide just this once. heaven knew he had the money for it.

besides, it was the very least he could do, all things considered.

—---------------

the night of the ball finally arrived. irene graciously allowed you to borrow some extra hairpins she had, tiny snowflakes encrusted with shining diamonds. they shone like tiny stars in the candlelight, only accentuating the emerald fabrics pooled around your figure.

even so, you felt like a fish out of water among your peers who were dressed to the nines in silvers and deep blues.. you alway thought that beauty seemed to come so naturally to all of them. but not to you. never to you. even now, standing in front of the mirror, caked in makeup, hairspray and a dress you wouldn’t have been caught dead in any other day.. you didn’t feel special.

irene seemed to sense your distress, just as she always did. it prompted you to wonder if your best friend had some sort of intuition, or if you were just terrible at hiding your emotions. as she stepped by your side and gazed at your reflection in the mirror, draping her arm around your waist, your frown only grew more prominent. she was by far the most beautiful girl in the common room. while you tried not to envy your best friend or place any blame on her, it was difficult putting those sentiments into practice when you got a full look of her light blue dress and gorgeous icy features.

you bowed your head with a sigh. as her eyes followed your gaze in the mirror, she lifted a hand to cup your chin so you would look in the reflective glass again. “chin up. you look beautiful.”

“i don’t feel beautiful.” you sighed, gazing at your reflections with a forlorn sigh. you wondered how she couldn’t see the stark difference between the two of you.

she moved a hand to brush some hair out of your eyes, offering you a gentle smile. “i promise you- you look absolutely gorgeous. you’ll be the belle of the ball, i’m sure.”

the two of you chuckled as she linked her arms around your waist, smiling at the sight of your reflection. at the sight of a tiny, somewhat reluctant smile slowly starting to surface. “let’s just hope midnight approaches quickly.”

she only chuckled and held on tightly to your hand as she slowly led you out of the dressing room and down the stairs. you could hear the gentle, slow jazz band that yeji and seungkwan had argued about for days beginning to play. their music grew louder and louder with every step down the stairs you took, but the wild heartbeat in your chest seemed to clash terribly with the rhythm of the instruments. it all felt so.. unconventional. and yet, you couldn’t pinpoint an exact reason as to why you were so nervous.

irene’s date, kai was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. you noticed the change in his demeanor in real time, noting how his previously dull eyes widened the moment he saw her making her way towards him. strangely enough, a pang of jealousy surfaced in your chest once she left your side and you immediately missed her warmth. your hand felt empty and cold as she waved goodbye and mouthed a ‘good luck’ to you before joining kai in the great hall.

seungcheol was nowhere to be found near the base of the staircase. before you could assume the worst about him (and mentally kick yourself for ever giving your sworn enemy the benefit of the doubt), you tried to remain neutral as you walked in the great hall alone.

your eyes widened as you took note of your surroundings- it went without saying that seungkwan had mastered the winter wonderland enchantment. fake snow fell from the star studded ceiling, disappearing before it could fall on any of the students. it fell upon the branches of the large christmas trees and stuck to the walls, icicles hung from the pillars, snowflakes shone in the candlelight and yet there wasn’t even the slightest chill in the air.

there was a large circle around an empty space in the hallway, which you assumed was the dance floor. there was no doubt in your mind that the prefects’ dance would be starting soon, which was why panic began to set in once your eyes scanned through the crowds of students surrounding you. your date was nowhere to be found. of course he had stood you up. you wouldn’t have put it past him to leave you stranded near the dance floor, looking like an idiot.

just as you turned on your heel, planning to make a quick getaway before anyone could notice you standing there awkwardly, your body went stiff as you bumped into a man standing directly behind you. the first thing you noticed was the familiar broach surrounded by small, white feathers.. “wow, you actually came,” you muttered.

“i could say the same about you.” tonight, there was something almost..endearing about his smirk. maybe it was because he had taken your advice and combed some of his hair back. maybe because his tone lacked that familiar condescending air. or maybe because.. the twinkling lights suspended in the air made his dark eyes shine brighter than usual. “we better get a move on, darling, the others don’t like to be kept waiting.”

just as you nodded, you felt him rest a hand over your arm in favor of leading you through the crowd of students and onto the empty part of the floor. yeji and seungkwan were the first of the twenty two other prefects that you noticed, paired with taeyong and nayeon, respectively. it felt like the rest of them were just waiting for the two of you, watching you and seungcheol walk towards the center of the hall like merlin and guendoloena themselves had graced the student body with their presence. It was horrifying.

obviously, you’d forgotten to make an efforts to disguise your embarrassment because when seungcheol faced you, he frowned. surprise washed over your features; you thought he would make fun of you or gloat but there seemed to be the smallest hint of sympathy in his eyes. it was almost.. off putting. like he was hiding something. “what’s the matter?” he finally asked.

“nothing.” you were quick to whisper to him.

“hey-” just as seungcheol curled an arm around your waist to reel you in closer to him, his tone grew hushed. “you don’t have to be nervous. just follow my lead.”

“i’m not-” once you quickly came to the realization that this was neither the time nor the place to argue, you swallowed your pride and timidly draped your arm around his broad shoulders. once his hand was laced with yours, you realized this was the closest you’ve ever been to him, your chests nearly touching, and you weren’t even repulsed by him. in fact, you made eye contact with him for much longer than you ever thought you were capable. “thanks.”

seungcheol nodded in acknowledgement as the band in the corner of the room began to play a beautiful, soothing waltz. he took the lead, starting out with a basic box step waltz and waiting until you got a hang of the pattern before starting to turn counter clockwise like the rest of the couples. he kept a firm but gentle hold on your waist, his hand squeezing yours in reassurance as you found yourself scooting closer to him. “see? as always, you’re learning quickly.”

you hated to admit it, but such an unexpected compliment from seungcheol, of all people, prompted your heart to skip a beat. you pushed the unfamiliar sensation away to the best of your ability. “and you’re a pretty decent teacher. who would’ve thought?” you chuckled.

“well.. maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.” he chuckled, affection laced within the quiet laugh. “i will say, though, i expected you to step on my toes at least once or twice.”

“there’s still plenty of time for that,” you mused, a smirk tugging at your lips as your gaze flicked down to your feet. he must have purchased brand new dress shoes for the occasion; the patent leather shone almost like a diamond in the limelight. for some reason, you didn’t want to risk scuffing them.

“i suppose,” he shrugged before looking just past your shoulder in quiet contemplation. he wasn’t fixed on any certain point behind you, but his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was studying the fabric of your sleeves carefully before meeting your eyes again. “but would it be so terrible if we got along? just this once?”

the shift in his demeanor brought a small sense of uneasiness to your chest until he spoke again. hoping to ease the tension growing in your heart, you snickered, “why? you don’t want me to ruin your brand new shoes?”

he hated how your words brought a tenacious grin to his lips, one that he couldn’t get rid of even if he wanted to. and you hated how you found it so endearing, especially when your eyes fixed on the dimples in his cheeks that you never seemed to notice until now. “something like that.” he muttered.

as if he couldn’t get through the dance without embarrassing you just one time, he pulled back from your embrace to spin you under his arm. after you completed the circle he kept both hands on your back, leading you into a less than graceful dip. you stumbled a tiny bit in his tight and affirming grip and held onto his upper arm for that much needed security. before you could bring yourself to curse him out, you let your eyes find his. instead of that infuriating look he had when he knew he’d successfully gotten under your skin, there was a certain warmth hidden in his irises.

it was confusing.. almost more infuriating. especially considering the heat that rose upon your cheeks when you’d gazed upon his features long enough.

and then he carefully pulled you back into a standing position and the fuzzy feeling in your head was gone. for the time being, at least. you had kept your arm draped around his broad shoulders, expecting the music to continue. but the students in the crowd began to clap as the rest of the prefects broke away from their partners and you suddenly felt like you’d been in the embrace for much too long. maybe you were overthinking it, maybe you weren’t.

you let both arms fall by your sides as you took a single step backwards. your date could only chuckle in amusement, “glad that we finally got that over with?” he waved a hand dismissively just as you parted your lips to defend yourself. “come on. i think we could both use a drink.”

much to your own surprise, you let him take your hand in his and lead you to the refreshment table. seungkwan and nayeon beat you to the punch (both literally and figuratively, as seungkwan was already pouring a glass for the two of them), the lovely couple beaming the moment they saw you from across the table.

“oh, hey guys!” seungkwan was the first to greet the two of you with a large smile. “you guys looked really good out on the dance floor. for a second, i was worried you were gonna steal all the attention away from me and nayeon.”

nayeon laughed before you could even conjure a witty response, “oh seungkwan. it's their last year here, i think they should enjoy their time in the spotlight while they still can.”

thankfully, seungcheol intervened before you could. “please. there’s plenty of time for us to enjoy our respective places in the spotlight when i’m a world renowned quidditch player and y/n’s the most successful auror in the ministry.”

seungkwan’s eyes went wide. “wait- you mean the holyhead harpies..accepted you?”

just like magic, that all too familiar smirk materialized upon seungcheol’s lips just before he took a sip from his glass of punch rather than providing the three of you with a direct answer. however, it proved to be more than a satisfactory response. the couple in front of you broke out into applause with wide beams and quiet giggles. you, however, stood speechlessly in place.

for until that moment, you’d forgotten all about the potion..

“that’s amazing news!” nayeon almost shrieked. “we should celebrate.”

“maybe some other time. we better let him celebrate with his date first,” seungkwan reasoned while sending a knowing smirk in your direction. before too long, the four of you were exchanging goodbyes and more congratulations until only you and seungcheol stood near the table. of course, you weren’t sure how to approach the subject of felix felicis, so the two of you were forced to revel in the awkward silence for a good minute or two.

that was, until seungcheol decided he had had enough. he brought a hand to your lower back, tilting his head towards the nearest exit. “come on. let’s go get some fresh air.”

once greeted by the chilly december air, you found yourself tugging your wrap closer to your chest. judging by the fresh layer of snow upon the balcony, it had just barely finished snowing for the time being. although he’d removed his hand from your waist, he stayed in close proximity to you, your shoulders barely brushing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. the two of you took a deep breath in alarming synchronization, releasing a visible sigh afterwards.

you watched carefully as the small cloud disappeared in front of you before turning to him. “so.. you made the team.”

seungcheol nodded with confidence, but something told you that he had no intention of rubbing his victories in your face. “that’s right,” he replied quietly.

once again, you weren’t sure how to approach the nagging question in your mind- you had no intention of asking if he used the felix felicis to cheat at tryouts, guaranteeing him a spot on the team. you pondered on the correct delivery for just a moment too long, your eyebrows slowly knitting together as your lips parted. “how..”

seungcheol mocked an expression of offense before quietly replying, “pure talent. nothing else.”

“you mean..”

the man in front of you pressed his pouty lips to a thin line before reaching in his inner pocket. your eyes widened as the small vial he pulled out shone in the moonlight. clearly, seungcheol hadn’t used a single drop of the potion yet. you looked in his eyes, only to see the smallest glint of hurt. “do you really think so little of me?” he asked you timidly.

it would have been a knee jerk reaction to tell him yes, to tell him that he got on your nerves and seemed to be hellbent on embarrassing you at every chance he could get. that you thought he was a pompous asshole and thought too highly of himself. but when you reflected on the time you spent together, you realized.. seungcheol was just like any other student that went to this school.

he had ambitions. he had goals. he had drive. not only that, but he had interests outside the academic field. for example, he loved christmas. winter was his favorite season. he loved strawberry punch. he had a handful of likes and dislikes. in that sense, he was just like any other student that roamed through the halls of hogwarts, trying to make a name for themselves. in that sense, he was just like you.

and you felt horrible for ever accusing him of cheating.

with those sentiments in mind, you shook your head slowly. “no. no i guess i don’t.”

before he turned towards the balcony again, you were able to catch the smallest glance at of his smile, faint as it was. it seemed as if he saw no need for keeping up appearances, considering the two of you were finally alone. he brushed the thin layer of snow off the railing before crossing his arms over the concrete. “i can’t believe in just a few more months.. all of this will be over.”

you mirrored his actions, keeping close to him as you peered down the balcony. carriages pulled by invisible steeds were parked near the entrance of the palace, covered in thick sheets of snow. “i know. can’t believe you’ll have to find someone on the harpies to torment everyday.”

he snickered loudly, “but what about you? hopefully you’ll meet another auror who’ll keep that fire in you burning on.”

“i don’t think anyone will keep that fire in me like you do, seungcheol,” you confessed, looking over to him with a smirk of your own. it was all you could do to downplay the severity of the confession. “i’ve never met someone so infuriating yet so.. captivating as you. and i don’t think i will for a long time.”

you could have sworn you noticed seungcheol’s ears turn red once the bold confession hung in the air between the two of you. had you brought it up, however, he would have quickly excused the display of bashfulness by blaming it on the cold weather. “in that case.. i’m glad that we were able to do all of this.. the planning, the dancing.. even if it meant you had to lose to me one last time.”

you laughed and shook your head fondly, “you just had to ruin a decent moment between us, didn’t you?”

although a deep chuckle from the man in front of you soon followed your display of annoyance, nothing could have prepared you for seungcheol’s quiet response: “well, let me make it up to you.”

even if you could find the right words to ask him exactly what that would entail, you couldn’t seem to make a sound. your lips were parted as he turned to face you fully, moving a cold hand to cup your cheek. his touch was much more delicate than you could have ever expected from him, a sense of timidity within his demeanor. as if he was waiting for you to push him away.. but you didn’t. even if you wanted to, your gaze on his pursed lips kept you from paying any mind to your surroundings, the snowflakes beginning to materialize, the muffled music, the flickering of the enchanted lanterns…

the next few seconds that followed were a blur. you leaned in to meet him halfway, your lips finally meeting. the kiss was deep, slow, as if the two of you were savoring a moment you’ve waited for far too long to come. he kissed your lips with such gentle deliberation that you wondered how long he really had been wanting this. of course, you could do nothing but return the kiss with equal eagerness as you moved your hand to his other cheek. there was a soft exhale through his nose, which fanned lightly over your skin before he pulled away.

the two of you stayed silent for a moment, relishing the beautiful moment in all of its remaining glory. never in a million years did either of you expect something like a bet would result in such a wonderful night. a wonderful night filled with contemplations and observations you previously would never have entertained.

and yet, even after such a truly mind numbing moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking him, “seungcheol.. what are you going to do with felix..?”

this time, it was his turn to shake his head fondly. “you just had to ruin a decent moment between us, didn’t you?” the chuckle that followed his repetition of your own words was much too endearing, causing that heated sensation in your cheeks to materialize yet again. “but to answer your question, i’m.. not sure. i guess i’ll cross that bridge when i get to it.

“or.. i could always give it to you.”

“no,” you immediately refused with a shake of your head. ”as much as it.. pains me to say it: you earned it, fair and square. besides… i learned from someone tonight that real achievements aren’t made with lucky charms. and even if i don’t become an auror.. i’m more than capable of doing something else with my time.”

seungcheol bowed his head with a grin. “whoever he is.. sounds really wise.”

“he is,” you chuckled, moving your hand to lace your fingers with his once again. there was a warmth in his palm, one that you sought for as you squeezed his hand. “he’s.. insufferable and pompous the majority of the time. but incredibly smart and driven the rest of the time.”

his gaze remained fixed on your intertwined hands for a moment before his eyes met yours again. “you finally see your worth,” he whispered to you, almost incredulously. “believe me, y/n, i’ve known you to be more than capable of accomplishing anything you set your mind to since the day we met.”

feeling unsure of how else to express your gratitude, you placed another gentle kiss upon his lips. savoring the feeling, the taste.. since you knew it was only a matter of time until the two of you would part ways as nothing more than pupils. still, as the two of you spent the rest of the enchanted night dancing, laughing, and talking each others’ ears off, you and seungcheol hoped that this night wouldn’t be the end of your precious time together.

#s coups #s coups fic #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol fic #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #s coups x reader #s coups au #choi seungcheol x reader #s coups x you #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen masterlist #seventeen fanfic #s coups fluff #choi seungcheol fluff

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sweeterlovers · 2 months

Text

SUNKISSED / CARLOS SAINZ

carlos sainz x gf!reader / SMAU FIC

FACE CLAIM / antonia kieselb

WARNINGS / google translated spanish

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liked by carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and 66,825 others

yourusername first day in madrid with my love ❤️

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user4 such a cute a couple

user65 wishing you guys a great trip!!!

user5 gorg

carlossainz55 😍😍

yourusername 🥰🥰

user12 love!!

user88 your makeup is on point!!!!!!!

yourusername thank you!!! i literally just recorded a grwm soooo be prepared 😭

user55 finally!!!!

user02 i’m preparing my bank account for this!

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liked by yourusername, carlossainzoficial, and 245,783 others

carlossainz55 día de barco con mi amor y la familia [boat day with my love and the family]

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yourusername i love you 🤍🤍

carlossainz55 love you 😘

user1 i love the view….

user66 i know the sunset is unreal!

user1 i mean i was talking about carlos but the sunset is pretty good looking too

user4 😂😂

carlossainzoficial los quiero muchachos [love you guys]

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

carlossainz55 te amo [love you]

user00 omg!! i think that’s yn and one of his sisters!

user11 aww ☺️

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liked by carlossainz55, blancasainz95, and 69,252 others

yourusername outfit appreciation post!!!! 😘☺️

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user072 so gorgeous!

carmenmmundt bonita 😍😍😍 [pretty]

yourusername te amo carmen 🤍🤍 [love you]

user5 i need her closet!!

user666 seriously!

carlossainz55 mi niña bonita [my pretty girl]

yourusername eres tan lindo [your such a cutie]

user3 glowing!!

blancasainz95 ❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

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yourusername last night in madrid but i can’t wait to be back and spend time with my second family 🤍 i always have an amazing time here with carlos and his whole family! i love you all so much! mucho amor [lots of love]

also for photo credits to @carlossainzoficial who knew you were a natural photographer 😘

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user5 prettiest!

carlossainzoficial Siempre puedes contar conmigo para buenas fotos porque todos sabemos que Carlos no puede. [you can always count on me for good photos because we all know carlos can’t]

yourusername 😂😂😂❤️❤️❤️

user8 i guess carlos didn’t receive those genes

carlossainz55 hey! i’m not that bad at taking photos ☹️

yourusername don’t worry! your good at other things!!

user23 i love how she has a good relationship with his family!

reyesvdec vuelve pronto [come back soon]

yourusername confía en mí lo haré! nunca me fui por más de un mes. [trust me i will! i’m never gone for more than a month]

reyesvdec 🤍

user173 you got so tan!!!

alexandrasaintmleux hermosa 🥰 [beautiful]

yourusername ❤️😘

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liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 234,629 others

carlossainz55 Siempre lo paso muy bien con mi familia, especialmente cuando tengo a mi novia conmigo. Te amo mucho, eres mi mundo entero. Supongo que se podría llamar a esto una publicación de "aprecio a la novia". Gracias por estar siempre ahí para mí. [always a great time with my family especially when i have my girlfriend around with me. i love you so much your my whole world. i guess you could call this a "girlfriend appreciation" post. thank you for always being there for me.]

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user1221 aww!!!! 😊

yourusername your such a softie ☹️ i love you so much ❤️

carlossainz55 only for you bebé [baby]

user544 i need a carlos in my life…..

user23 seriously!!!! i’m jealous

user21 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

user501 i love how he takes photos of her! so cute

user269 i know! i love the photo of them on the boat ❤️

user14 match made in heaven!!

user47 love her outfits 💅

landonorris he was mine first 🤦‍♂️

yourusername not anymore 😋🤭

carlossainz55 sorry lando!!!

landonorris 😔

TEAM RADIO / SWEETERLOVERS - hope you enjoyed!!! i love carlos soo expect more posts about him!

#sweeterlovers #formula one #formula 1 #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x female reader

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coco-loco-nut · 6 months

Text

Miss Americana

Pairing: Lando Norris x American!Reader

Summary: Moments with Lando and his silly, American, girlfriend

TW: AMERICA! RAHH🦅

a/n: i wrote this super quick bc the ideas were bombarding me at work and it is not proofread. it’s also silly and stupid as an apology for my last oneshot which seemed to break y’all.

requests are open! masterlist part two

—————————————————

Lando didn’t mind you were American, in fact, that might be why he loved you. You poked fun at his britishness, even trying to copy his accent. It’s almost like a joke with you two.

“Baby, where are you?” Lando whines from his gaming chair, needing attention, having texted you a minute ago asking you for cuddles.

“I’m declaring my independence!” You yell back, your voice coming from outside. He pauses his game and trudges towards your voice. The two of you are spending time in your American residence, near Miami. He spots you near the pool, holding something out.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He spots your camera recording.

“Happy December 16th!” You grin, dropping a box of tea into the pool. Lando’s brows furrow, thinking back to the book he read about the Revolutionary War. Needing to have some sort of reference for your jokes, he bought a book with the basics to read on the flights to races.

“Oh… I get it. Babe, we aren’t even IN Boston,” Lando says after a minute, and after you start laughing, he does too. Lando quickly grabs your phone and pushes you in the water too.

“Rude,” you huff, grabbing the tea box and climbing out of the pool. If it weren’t for your grin, Lando would be running away. You grab your phone and Logan pops out from behind the bushes as Lando’s phone dings.

“Wait, I thought you were recording,” Lando says, his eyes narrowing at Logan.

“Nope,” you pop the p and walk inside, the video quickly going viral and spreading around the drivers group chats. Logan makes his quick escape, leaving Lando to wonder why he agreed to associate with Americans.

———

“GO GO GO GO! YES! TOUCHDOWN!” You yell, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Lando surprised you with a trip to your alma mater’s biggest football game of the season. He asked Logan for help with the surprise, but the Floridian didn’t mention, well, how much of a cult the school was.

“Logan said it was going to be cold, but not this cold,” Lando grumbles, taking a cute pic of you cheering.

“Babe, he has terrible taste in schools, why would you take his advice? Also, this is the northeast, it’s obviously going to be way colder than Austin will be next week,” You snort before joining in on a chant. Lando was only slightly regretting choosing seats right beside the student section, however, he could get behind the drinking. Especially tailgating. When you drug him out of his nice warm bed to hang outside the stadium at 9am with your old college friends, he was skeptical. All it took was one freshly grilled meal and a beer to turn that around. He is planning on creating an American tailgate for the race next week in Austin.

“American universities are... something else,” Lando smiles at you. Seeing as you are only one year removed from college, you had plans for the weekend.

“Just wait until we go to the bars later. Oh! And the frat party tomorrow, it’s family weekend and my cousin is getting us in,” you smile back at him. It was indeed a long, drunk, weekend, but Lando couldn’t help but admit that he would be more than happy to come back for more games throughout the year.

———

Austin was something else the next weekend. You and Logan were quick to jump on board with Lando’s idea for a tailgate, and you all gathered at the Airbnb that you rented the night before the race, right after qualifying. The team’s socials loved the idea as well as the Formula One social media team, so you paid for nothing as the drivers and friends gathered at the Airbnb for your and Logan’s tailgate. You made sure there were multiple coolers full of alcohol, soda, and water while Logan manned the grill. You wore a NFL football jersey while Logan repped a Miami Dolphins jersey.

“Why are those two arguing,” Max asks Lando, observing you and Logan fight about whose team is better.

“Either college football or pro football,”

“American football, mate,” George says, standing on the other side of Max.

“All I’m saying is that you have TERRIBLE taste in teams!” You huff in Logan’s direction. He rolls his eyes, turning his focus to the grill as you grab a beer. Lando, who is sporting your alma mater’s football jersey, walks over to the two of you.

“She’s not wrong, Logan,” Lando chuckles as the blonde boy throws his arms up in the air in frustration. Honestly, the only thing that can top the bickering between the both of you is when you pull out the jell-o shots and people start grabbing food.

Half an hour later, you turn on the projector to the screen, a Disney logo behind you. You take position in front of the screen, remote in hand as a microphone. The crowd turns their attention to you. Lando’s lips twitch up in amusement.

“I just got three things to say. God bless our troops. God bless America. AND GENTLEMEN. START YOUR ENGINES!” You yell as you hit play on the remote.

“Okay, focus. Speed. I. Am. Speed.” The voice says over the screen. You and Logan decided to culture everyone, making the end of the tailgate partly a movie night. Eventually, everyone finds a seat in the lawn chairs scattered in front of the screen. Lando grabs your hand and kisses the back of it when you sit down.

“I love you, y/n,” he smiles softly as he nurses his beer.

“Love you more, Lan, but not as much as America,” you chuckle, teasing him. He playfully rolls his eyes, knowing you are jesting.

“Are you always so… American?” Daniel laughs as he sits in the open chair beside you.

“Shut up before she drunkenly sings the national anthem,” Lando hisses, cringing at the time he mistakenly took you to a karaoke pub in London on July 4th. Honestly, he should’ve known better.

“I hate you all,”

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #lando norris imagine #america #logan sargeant #silly goose

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kairawrites · 2 months

Text

first match.

author's note: first story I am sharing. please let me know if you want more for jude.

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: jude bellingham x singer!reader

kiss prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

summary: After a nasty breakup and a smear campaign by your vengeful ex, your PR team goes into hyperdrive, searching for a way to salvage your reputation as you finalize your sophomore album. To reclaim your title as America's sweetheart, you reluctantly agree to 'date' footballer Jude Bellingham. After a successful and perfectly planned meet-cute, you realize the plan might actually work. To keep the rumor mill spinning, Jude invites you to Madrid to watch him play.

You sit stiffly in the plush leather chair, your gaze fixed on a random spot on the far wall. The spacious office of your record label, with its panoramic view of Los Angeles, feels more like a cage than a refuge. Your fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread on your sweater, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken tension. Last night was another sleepless one, your mind spinning with the chaos of the last few months.

The door creaks open, and Lara, your manager, strides in with her usual brisk efficiency. But it’s the man following her who catches you off guard. Tall and athletic, with a calm self-assurance, he immediately seems different from anyone you usually deal with during one of Lara’s many SOS meetings.

Unlike the man next to him, who wears a suit, he’s dressed in a well-fitted navy blackbomber jacket over a crisp white T-shirt, adding a casual yet polished touch. His dark jeans are tailored to fit just right, and his sneakers are sleek and clean, hinting at their designer pedigree without being overtly flashy. A simple silver chain peeks out from beneath his shirt. He wears a black fitted cap that he removes as he scans the room. His dark curls are neatly styled, and his eyes are a striking shade of deep brown—intense and thoughtful.

You turn to Lara, your irritation evident. “You didn’t say we were meeting with another artist. I’m not doing a feature with a random guy.”

Lara, however, ignores your protest, her focus on the two men before her. “Y/N, this is Jude Bellingham,” she introduces the young man with an upbeat, professional tone. She motions for you to stand. Doing so, you quickly shake his hand before sinking back into your chair. “Jude, meet Y/N.”

“Pleasure,” Jude grins, his eyes lingering on you as you lift your phone from the table.

Email Hendrix new song. You ignore the calendar notification before placing your phone back onto the table.

You were supposed to submit the new song last week, but it has been rescheduled for the third time. You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation you had zoned out of.

“Thank you for fitting us in during your vacation,” Lara says with a smile as your gaze drifts across the table.

You stare just long enough to take in the polite smile he offers. He’s handsome, you note distantly. “What’s your name again?” you ask, your voice flat.

“Jude Bellingham,” he repeats, his voice steady, though you can see the hint of surprise in his eyes.

You nod absently, not hiding your lack of interest. “Never heard of you.”

Lara’s eyes widen, and she quickly looks between you and Jude, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m so sorry, Jude,” she says hastily. “She’s been…out of the loop for a while. She kinda keeps her head in the sand when working on new music.”

Jude’s lips twitch into a small, amused smile as he takes a seat beside his manager, who has been silently observing the exchange. “No worries,” he says, his tone easygoing.

He attempts to hold eye contact, but your gaze drops as Lara passes you an iPad.

Jude, however, can’t help but stare for a moment longer. He knows exactly who you are. He’s seen the headlines, the endless parade of tabloid articles that have taken over his social media feeds in recent months:

*"America’s Sweetheart Caught Cheating?”*

*"Ryan West’s Heartbreak: Y/N’s Betrayal?"*

*"Ryan West: Played a Fool by Y/N? Singer Dumped After He Helps Secure Her First Grammy!"*

*"From Darling to Villain: The Fall of Y/N."*

The headlines were relentless, painting you as the villain in the messy, public breakup with Ryan West, the wild, playboy singer whose antics are as legendary as his music. Jude had seen the pictures throughout your relationship—snaps of a happy couple slowly morphing to you tearful and exhausted outside of clubs and in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car, Ryan’s angry rants during concerts, and the public’s merciless scrutiny of every detail. The narrative turned on you overnight, casting you as the one who shattered the fairytale, though it’s clear to him now, seeing you in person, that there’s much more to the story.

You’re undeniably beautiful, even though your appearance starkly contrasts with the perfectly curated photos on your Instagram. Your skin glows softly in the muted light of the office, and your long dark locks are pulled back into a simple ponytail. Without makeup, your natural beauty is evident, but there’s a guardedness about you, a weariness that clings to you like a shadow. You’re wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and your lips are set in a firm line. Your dark, eyes remain focused anywhere but on him. You’re present in body but somewhere else in your mind, uninterested in the moment and, by extension, in him.

Lara notices how Jude’s eyes linger on your features, a hint of admiration in his gaze. She gently but firmly pulls your chair closer to hers, her expression shifting to one of urgency. As Jude leans over to better hear his manager speak, Lara shoots you a sharp glare. “Do you really not know who that is?” she hisses quietly. “Didn’t you read the email I sent?”

You shake your head, already annoyed by the direction this conversation is taking.

“He’s one of the biggest footballers in the world right now,” Lara explains. “He’s just finished a fantastic season with Real Madrid and is on vacation after helping his national team reach the finals of the Euros.”

“Throwing out accolades isn’t going to make me suddenly know who this guy is, Lara. I don’t watch soccer—”

“For the love of God, please do not call it that to his face,” Lara winces. “Since you didn’t read my email, here it is. He’s basically a household name for every fan of the sport. This isn’t just some random guy we’re talking about—Jude Bellingham is a huge deal. Kids want to grow up to be him, women want to sleep with him, and men want to be him. This is a massive opportunity, so you need to make this work because, frankly, we don’t have many other options right now. The media has been brutal, and we need to change the narrative.”

Change the narrative–the phrase that has appeared in every text, phone call, email, and conversation with Lara from the past six months.

You take in her words, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. The last thing you want is to be forced into something like this, but you also know Lara’s right. If this can help you regain some control over the situation, it might be worth it.

“Fine,” you say at last, your voice laced with reluctance. “But let’s keep it simple.”

Lara nods, visibly relieved. Her swift response suggests she’s eager to finalize things before you change your mind. “Thank you. Now, let’s get this started on the right foot.”

You straighten your posture as Lara retrieves a stack of iPads from her purse. Powering the first on, she slides it across the table. Your expression remains guarded as you look at Jude. He seems relaxed, though there’s an air of curiosity about him as he watches you.

Jude clears his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice steady despite your apparent lack of interest. “I’m actually a big fan of your music.”

“Thank you,” you mutter, barely audible. “And thanks for coming.”

“Y/N, Jude’s team approached us with a proposal that could be mutually beneficial,” Lara explains. “We think it’s a great opportunity for both of you to take control of the media narratives for each of your careers.”

As she begins explaining the details of the contract, you lean forward to start reading it, trying to focus on the terms. You attempt to ignore the brown eyes carefully watching you from across the table by zooming in on the document. You skip each page, focusing on the bolded text.

**Duration**: The PR stunt relationship will last for six months, giving both parties a clear timeframe for the arrangement. The time can be adjusted to fit the likings of both parties.

**Public Appearances**: Both parties agree to attend a minimum of five public events together, including concerts, charity functions, and social gatherings, to ensure maximum media coverage.

**Social Media Engagement**: Both will make joint social media posts and coordinate public appearances to generate buzz and maintain public interest.

**Media Interviews**: Both parties will participate in at least three joint interviews or promotional activities, designed to keep the media engaged and the narrative active.

**Behavioral Expectations**: Both parties are expected to maintain a positive public image and avoid any controversial behavior that could negatively impact the arrangement.

**Privacy Clauses**: Provisions are included to protect personal boundaries and ensure that certain aspects of your private lives remain confidential.

**Termination Conditions**: The contract includes terms for early termination, specifying any penalties or requirements for ending the arrangement before the agreed-upon end date.

You bite your lip, unable to hold in a nagging thought. You glance at Jude before looking back at Lara. “I don’t date athletes. My fans know that.”

Jude raises an eyebrow, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. “That’s fair. But, well, we’ve seen how it turned out with musicians. You might need to give an athlete a try.”

His smile spreads as he notes the narrowing of your eyes.

“I mean,” you huff directing your attention to Lara. “Won’t people be suspicious if I suddenly fall head over heels with someone like him? He’s not my type.”

“I can be pretty convincing.”

As you approach the security gate, you are greeted by shocked but excited murmurs. Fans recognize you immediately, their phones out, capturing every moment as you present your ticket. You pose for a few quick pictures, deflecting questions about whether you are here specifically to see Jude play. “Just here to enjoy the game!” you say with a smile, trying to stay composed despite the intense scrutiny.

“Follow me,” Toby Bishay, Jude’s best friend, says with a reassuring smile, breaking through your anxious thoughts. His warm smile brings one to your lips. “I’ll show you to your seat.”

“Just stick with Toby,” Jude assured you through a brief text exchange earlier in the morning. “He'll keep an eye on you. Glad you had a safe flight. See you after the match."

You trail after Toby, trying to shake off the feeling of being under a microscope. The perfectly crafted “meet cute,” which happened shortly after your initial meeting, was captured by paparazzi in LA, not taking long to circulate. The rumors exploded, and the world wondered when you’d be spotted together again. The time finally came nearly three weeks later, and now you find yourself on the biggest stage in the football world, every eye on you.

The electric hum of excitement buzzes through Santiago Bernabéu Stadium as you follow Toby through the corridors, the air thick with anticipation. Thousands of fans are already in their seats.

“Have you ever been to a game before?” Toby asks, glancing back at you.

“No, this is my first time,” you admit, feeling a little self-conscious at the admission.

“Then you picked a great game for your debut,” Toby says, guiding you through the maze of hallways. “The atmosphere here is insane–unlike anything else.”

You study him as he glances at his phone, wondering how much he knew about the relationship between you and his best friend.

“Jude pulled out the stops,” he chuckles, pausing to hold the door for you. “Wanted you to have the best seats in the house. Remind me to have him invite you more often.”

As you emerge into the open, the sheer magnitude of the stadium hits you like a tidal wave. The sea of fans stretches out in every direction, a sea of white Real Madrid jerseys and waving flags. The stands are a swirling mosaic of movement and color, with scarves held high and banners flapping in the breeze. The roar of the crowd is overwhelming, a vibrant, pulsating force that envelops you.

The atmosphere reminds you of your own concerts—the energy, the collective excitement. But it has been a while since you’ve been a member of the crowd instead of the one performing. The memory brings a nostalgic smile to your lips. You hear the crowd chanting in unison, their voices melding together into a powerful wave of sound. “Hala Madrid! Hala Madrid!” The energy is palpable, a living, breathing entity that seems to resonate with every cheer and chant from the stands.

You look over to find Toby watching you with a grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“This is nothing,” he assures you over the roar of the crowd. “Wait till the game starts.”

Toby leads you to your seats, which are positioned near the halfway line, offering an excellent view of the field. You can feel the weight of the crowd’s curiosity pressing down on you as you settle in.

A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach as you notice the woman next to you widen her eyes. She quickly turns to her boyfriend, whispering something in his ear.

You adjust the jersey you are wearing. It was delivered to your house merely twenty-four hours ago, as you struggled to finish last-minute packing. It came with a note from Jude that read: Gotta look the part.

You instinctively reach up, adjusting the elastic of your ponytail. You remember leaning over the hotel sink, studying your handiwork. The high ponytail was strategic, making it impossible for anyone to miss Jude Bellingham’s name and number prominently displayed across your back.

You sit forward in your seat, your hands gripping the railing as you scan the warm-ups. Your brow furrows once you realize Jude is nowhere in sight. It is strange not to have seen him in person since your first public appearance. Busy with training, he had flown back to Spain while you attempted to work on your album. But the lack of inspiration meant you hadn’t made any progress. In the three weeks since your last meeting, most of your communication has been through text, with a few phone conversations as you worked out the logistics of your visit. His texts were a consistent flood of humor, cheekiness, and a few tidbits of personal information. He didn't seem to mind that your answers weren't nearly as interesting or long as his. He had expected it to take a bit for you to warm up to him. When you'd expressed the struggle with finding inspiration for your new song, he invited you out to Spain for the week.

“Don’t worry about the attention,” Toby says, sensing your discomfort. “Once the game starts, they’ll be too focused on Jude and the action to pay much attention to anything else.”

You nod, trying to take comfort in his words. You pull out your phone and snap a photo of the field as the players warm up. The view is breathtaking—the vibrant green of the pitch, the players stretching and preparing, the energy of the stadium. You carefully consider what to write before deciding to type “Hala Madrid!” and sharing it to your Instagram story.

You instantly close the app, knowing it will only take a few seconds for the post to confirm what the internet is already wondering. Clicking on your messages, you ignore the waiting message from Lara that reads: Remember to smile and cheer for your man!

Instead of responding, you click on Jude’s name. The last message he sent was a simple, No need to say thank you in response to your gratitude for ensuring Toby would be your guide.

You quickly type, Have a great game! before slipping your phone into your purse.

As the game begins, the referee’s whistle pierces through the air, and the match kicks off with a burst of energy that ripples through the stadium. The crowd's collective roar washes over you. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation, and you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

As the first half unfolds, Toby leans over, pointing out a few things. “So, Jude’s playing midfield. His job is to control the game—set the pace, connect the defense and attack. Watch how he moves off the ball, too. That’s where he really shines.”

You nod, not entirely sure you understood everything, but appreciating Toby’s effort to make you feel more comfortable.

At first, you find it hard to focus. The crowd is so loud, so passionate, that it is hard to concentrate on anything else. You’d never seen anything like it—the way the fans were completely engrossed in every pass, every tackle, every near miss. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting swept up in the atmosphere, your eyes increasingly drawn to Jude.

He is everywhere on the pitch, commanding, graceful, yet powerful. The way he moves, the way he controls the ball, it is almost hypnotic. Toby was right—Jude was something special out there.

“See how he’s always looking around?” Toby points out as Jude receives the ball. “He knows where everyone is before he even touches the ball. That’s what makes him so good—he’s always thinking two steps ahead.”

You nod, your focus entirely on Jude. The noise of the crowd fades into the background as you watch him maneuver through opponents with a grace and precision that’s nothing short of extraordinary. The skill and artistry of his play make it clear why he is so adored by fans.

Suddenly, a collective gasp from the stands jolts you from your trance. Your eyes snap to the field just in time to see Jude being tackled hard. He hits the ground with a thud, and for a brief moment, he lies motionless. Panic grips your chest, a cold wave of fear crashing over you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, clutching the edge of your seat. The stadium seems to hold its breath with you as Jude sits up. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind racing with worry.

Relief floods over you as Jude grins, pushing himself off the ground. The crowd erupts into cheers, and Jude gives them a reassuring wave. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still racing.

“Surely that’s a foul,” you glance over to find Toby grinning.

“That happens a lot,” Toby says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Jude’s used to not getting calls. He’ll be fine.”

You nod, your eyes following Jude as he moves back to position.

The game progresses, the tension building with each passing minute. As the half winds towards halftime, the tension in the stadium is palpable. Jude makes another run down the field, and you can’t help but feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. Memories of his earlier tackle flash through your mind, making you hold your breath as you watch his every move. You grip the edge of your seat, your heart racing with anticipation.

Jude skillfully navigates past a defender, and you can barely contain your nerves as he lines up for a shot. The entire stadium seems to hold its breath in a collective gasp as the ball sails through the air. Time seems to slow down in that suspended moment, and your eyes follow the ball as it arches toward the goal.

Then, with a powerful strike, the ball whizzes past the outstretched arms of the goalkeeper and smashes into the back of the net. The stadium erupts in a cacophony of deafening cheers. The sound washes over you like a wave, a mix of joy, relief, and exhilaration. You find yourself on your feet, screaming and jumping up and down, completely swept up in the euphoria of the moment.

Toby pulls you into a hug, the thrill of the goal echoing in your cheers. The crowd's energy is infectious, Jude stumbling forward as his teammates crash into him in excitement.

As the crowd’s cheers intensify, Jude escapes the huddle and waves to the stands. Your heart skips a beat as you realize he’s jogging in your direction, his eyes locked on yours.

Without hesitation, Jude leans over the barrier and pulls you into a tight hug, his arms securing around your waist and drawing you close. You giggle, maintaining your balance as you feel the heat and sweat of his jersey against your skin. Jude’s embrace is warm and comforting, his grip tightening as his face buries into your neck, and the crowd’s cheers fade into the background.

As you pull back from Jude’s embrace, still breathless from the moment, you can’t help but exclaim, “That was amazing!” Your hands instinctively rest on his cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from him. "You were--amazing!"

Jude’s smile broadens, a genuine, radiant expression that lights up his face. His eyes lock onto yours with a softness that surprises you. There’s no trace of the cheekiness you expect from him.

“I had to make your first match memorable,” he breathes.

“You did that.”

Jude’s eyes linger on your grin as if savoring the sight. He registers the way your smile lights up your entire face, making you look even more radiant. The warmth and joy in your expression seem to captivate him, making you appear more beautiful than ever. It’s a sight he, and the world, hasn’t seen from you in months, and the pride he feels at making you smile swells beneath his racing heart.

Your smile softens as his grip drifts to your hips. The warmth of his smile seems to draw you closer as if an invisible force is compelling you to bridge the gap. His eyes hold a gentle intensity, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the entire stadium fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared understanding and anticipation.

But the spell is broken as his name rings through the intercom system, forcing you to blink. The deafening roar of excitement from the crowd reminds you of the public nature of the moment. Jude’s gaze shifts briefly to the surrounding commotion, and with a playful grin, he pulls back, his smile still warm but tinged with a hint of mischief.

“So, how about a kiss? It’s definitely what they wanna see.”

"And let me guess, you're a man of the people?"

"So I've been told."

Your eyes roll. Lightly pressing against his shoulders, you arch your brow as his grip remains. Your eyes pass over Jude's shoulder to the players returning to their positions.

“Maybe if you get another goal.”

“Deal,” he winks, before pulling back with a smirk and jogging back onto the field.

You watch him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. As you sink back into your seat, a hand resting on your chest to steady your breath, the realization of the stunt hits you with renewed clarity. It’s all part of the carefully orchestrated PR show. But as you look at Jude rejoining his teammates, a small part of you wonders if there’s something more beneath the surface. The match continues, and you find yourself caught between the excitement of the evening and the nagging reminder of the reality you’re playing in. But you can't help but wonder what will happen if he looks at you like that again during your week in Madrid.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham x black!reader #jude bellingham imagine

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