#just do what feels right whether it's to laugh

[dear-ao3]

friends, besties, worsties, davids, and meow meows of the jury. i have a tale for you. while i claim to be no bard (like saph, the queen of very long dramatic tumblr stories that make your heart weep), i must spin a wee bit of yarn in the form of a story. what story? a story of the green cake.

we shall, as most stories do, start almost at the beginning.

the date? january 2nd.

the time? late.

the occasion? saph comes home the third.

the problem? i have no butter or sugar.

now, saph's birthday was recently, so like any other best bud i said i was making a cake. i believe my exact words were 'i'm making you a cake whether you like it or not."

now, gang, i must level with you. this is the fourth cake i've made in my life. i am a reasonably good baker (i can bake a Mean Loaf of Bread), but i'm not a very experienced baker. 3/4 cakes were reasonably good, and only one was just slightly off. so, my track record is mixed, but i am hopeful.

now, let me take you to the present.

i am sitting at my dining room table, typing this post. i am wearing a shirt covered in flour, the green cake is in the oven.

how did i get here?

well, we won't go to the beginning. we've already seen what was basically the beginning, with me having no butter or sugar. the real story begins the morning of january 3rd. which is today. which is when saph comes home, expecting a green cake. as most reasonably well adjusted people do when their roommates parents are visiting, i stressed cleaned the entire apartment at 4am, after realizing the mice in my walls are fucking. i did not leave them a condom. i did not have one that would fit them. i can only hope they have plan b. so naturally, i went to bed at 6am.

and i still had no sugar or butter for the green cake for saph.

and i needed to get started on this cake before 10am, or saph would be here before it was finished.

and i went to bed at 6am. so naturally i set my 9:00, 9:02, 9:04, 9:06 alarms, and hoped i'd lock in when i woke up.

friends, i hate to admit it, but i did not lock in. nay, i slept through all of my alarms and woke up at roughly 9:45. it was cold, damp, and the mice were still probably fucking. i threw my hair into a messy bun, and ran downstairs, only to find my mom was selling me to one direction.

jk. it was far worse.

because saph said she had sent me something.

what did saph send me?

a full poster of david malukas! do i know why? no! but he lives in my kitchen now, providing me with mental support. thanks david!

so, i begin to make the cake after laughing for about 10 minutes about why david is now in my apartment. it starts off surprisingly well. i have not forgotten the salt.

everything is normal.

until i remember.

the cake needs to be green.

why? idk thats what saph said she wanted so i am just going to do what i was told to do and make this damn cake green.

but its now late in the process, and if there is one thing i have learned in all my years of watching the great british baking show with my mom, it is to never over beat your cake.

and my cake, right now, was perfect. trust me. i ate plenty of dough to know it was wonderful.

so now i am trying to figure out how to make the most perfect shade of nico rosberg green, feeling a bit like an alchemist. david malukas is staring me down. my time grows shorter and shorter with each beat.

and then, gang, i had to give up on this being nico rosberg green. i did not want to kill my cake. my green cake. my now mint-green cake that i am baking for saph. so naturally i'm like, okay, time to pour this.

easy, right?

WRONG.

so one thing to know about me is i suck at cutting things.

it's unfortunately a key ingredient in cake making that you have a stupid little circle on the bottom of your cake tins. i cut it the best i could. which was bad. so i'm already fighting demons trying to get the stupid parchment paper from sliding every which way, and then, my friends, i realized something horrible.

the batter had not mixed at the bottom. so now i was fighting even more demons and trying not to get loose flour in my cake.

i think i succeeded. only time will tell. david is watching. the cake is almost done.

i am setting the green cake free.

look upon him now, and weep. the green cake prevails! even though he doesn't look very green yet.

and now, for the hardest part. frosting.

let's see how that goes.

david still watches.

[alygator77]

༻behind the screen༺

♡ pairing. gojo x fem! reader (au you're coworkers)

♡ summary. when a late-night swipe on an anonymous dating app leads to a sultry phone call, you think it’s the perfect way to escape your work stress—especially your infuriatingly smug coworker Gojo Satoru. but when the man on the other end starts sounding eerily familiar, secrets slip out.

♡ contents. 18+ MDNI, smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, satoru is pining over you.

♡ wc. 3k

♡ a/n this was a request! it became longer than i anticipated hehe. but i had fun writing it nonetheless 💕

Gojo Satoru was used to being in control. Whether it was at work, in social settings, or just walking into a room, he was the guy who turned heads, the one who made people laugh, the one everyone gravitated toward.

Confidence was his currency, and he spent it lavishly. But around you? His brain seemed to malfunction entirely.

It was infuriating, really. He could charm anyone with a single smile, yet you—you—barely spared him a glance. And when you did, it was usually accompanied by a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

But you didn’t hate Gojo Satoru—hate was too strong a word for someone as maddeningly smug as him.

What you felt for him was more akin to the annoyance of stepping in gum on a hot summer day or spilling coffee on your favorite blouse. He was a constant presence in your life, always hovering with his stupidly perfect grin and those ridiculous quips that made your eye twitch.

And yet, to him, you were an enigma. You didn’t fall for his charm, his playful teasing, or his self-proclaimed ‘devastatingly good looks,’ and that made you a puzzle he was desperate to solve.

At first, he chalked it up to frustration. No one had ever resisted him the way you did, and it had to be a fluke. Then, the realization hit him like a freight train: he didn’t just want your attention—he wanted you.

It was a big, messy crush, and he had no idea what to do about it. Gojo Satoru didn’t pine, for god’s sake. So, he acted indifferent.

Unfortunately, his strategy was… suboptimal.

Relentless teasing. Sarcastic remarks. Even the occasional ‘accidental’ brush of his hand against yours. None of it worked. Instead of pulling you closer, it only seemed to cement your belief that he was a certified pain in the ass.

Case in point: last Friday in the break room.

“Still no boyfriend, huh?” he’d asked with a smirk, leaning casually against the door frame as if he hadn’t been plotting that line all day. “Guess guys just don’t appreciate all that… sarcasm. Or is it the constant glaring?”

The flash of irritation in your eyes was immediate and searing. He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth, but instead of apologizing, he doubled down with a cocky grin. That was his defense mechanism—smugness as a shield.

You didn’t even bother to dignify him with a response. You stormed off, brushing his shoulder while your heels clicked against the floor as he stood there, internally kicking himself.

Now, as you lay in bed on a random Tuesday night, those words played on repeat in your head. It wasn’t because they hurt—of course not. But they lingered, burrowing into your thoughts like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Was that cocky ass, right? No… you could get a boyfriend… if you wanted to.

The thought made you scowl, your finger aimlessly scrolling through your phone as the glow of the screen illuminated your face.

“God, who cares what he thinks…” you groan, tossing your phone aside. But the moment you did, it buzzed, and the glow of an ad caught your attention.

A dating app. Anonymous. Discreet. Perfect for someone who wanted validation… without the strings.

“Why not?” you mutter, tapping the download button.

You didn’t expect much. Maybe a few shallow conversations, something to pass the time and make you feel less… undesirable.

Fuck it.

༻♡༺

Gojo Satoru slouched on his couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest while his other hand flicked mindlessly through his phone.

The TV was on, some senseless drama he couldn’t care less about playing in the background. It was just noise, really—something to drown out the thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. Thoughts of you.

“You’re sulking,” Suguru’s voice cut through the haze, casual and smug as always. Satoru barely looked up as his best friend wandered in from the kitchen, a beer in hand.

“I don’t sulk,” his thumb swipes with more force than necessary, and the pout tugging at his lips, said otherwise.

Suguru snorted, plopping down beside him and cracking his beer open.

“Sure,” he said, leisurely taking a sip. “So, what’s your deal this time? Another tragic failure to get her attention?”

Satoru’s eyes flick up to glare at his friend, but the effect was less menacing and more petulant. He looks back at his phone, refusing to dignify that with a response. Still, his pout said everything Suguru needed to know.

“It wasn’t a failed attempt…” he grumbles after a moment. “She reacts… just… the wrong way…”

Suguru’s brow arches is amusement as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Lemme guess… she glared at you. Again.”

Satoru was silent, staring at his phone like it might provide him with a more dignified answer, but eventually, the admission slipped out, quiet and begrudging.

“Her glare is cute…”

Suguru doesn’t miss the soft pink dusting Satoru’s cheeks, and his eyes roll so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of his head. He sets his beer down with a sigh, leaning back to rest an arm along the back of the couch.

“You’ve got it bad, man. Just confess already.”

“I can’t,” Satoru’s sigh is so dramatic it could’ve won him an award. He drops his phone onto his chest, staring up at the ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe. “She totally hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Suguru counters. “She just thinks you’re an idiot, which—let’s be real—you kinda are.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Satoru said flatly. “Your support is truly heartwarming.”

Suguru shrugs, unbothered as always. He grabs his beer and takes another sip, eyeing Satoru like he’s both a lost cause and an endless source of entertainment.

“Y’know what your problem is?”

“Oh, please. Enlighten me,” Satoru stretches his legs out on the coffee table.

Suguru sets his can back down with a decisive clink.

“You overthink things with this girl. Maybe you need a distraction. You oughta download one of those dating apps everyone’s obsessed with. Blow off some steam.”

“A dating app?” Satoru’s nose scrunches in disgust, like Suguru had suggested he take up competitive bird watching or something.

Suguru, unperturbed, reaches over and snatches the phone off Satoru’s chest with zero hesitation. “Yep,” his fingers fly over the screen. “You’re clearly incapable of doing this on your own, so I’m doing it for you.”

“Wait, what—”

“There.” Suguru shoves the phone back into Satoru’s hands, grinning like a man who’d just solved world hunger. “All set.”

༻♡༺

That was how Satoru found himself lying in bed, staring at the app now loaded onto his phone—the bright interface practically mocking him.

A dating app? Seriously?

He was Gojo fucking Satoru. He didn’t need help in that department—if anything, people practically threw themselves at him.

And yet, here he was, thumb hovering over the ‘Get Started’ button like it was some kind of nuclear launch code.

“This is so dumb…” he mutters to himself, running a hand through his snow-white hair. But the alternative—sitting here alone and thinking about you—was worse. Much worse.

With a resigned sigh, he taps the button. The setup was painless enough, and he will admit that the app’s anonymity piqued his interest. No names, no faces, no preconceived notions—just bios and conversation. A refreshing change from his usual routine.

But once he started swiping, reality set in.

The profiles were… bland. Painfully so. If he had to read one more line about someone who ‘loves hiking and tacos,’ he was going to throw his phone across the room. Plus, the conversations he’d had were dull at best and unbearable at worst. Small talk wasn’t his thing, and most people just couldn’t seem to keep up with his wit.

Satoru was about five minutes away from deleting the app when your profile popped up. It was short, clever, and witty—his kind of humor. Intrigued, he swiped right and shot you a message.

Hours slipped away like water through his fingers. The conversation flowed so easily it was almost surreal. You didn’t tiptoe around him or try to impress him—you met his sarcasm with your own, and every jab you threw only made him want to know more.

The two of you talked about everything—movies, terrible music recommendations, the absurdity of office politics. The way you called out corporate nonsense had him laughing so hard he had to put the phone down to catch his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him laugh like that.

God—you were funny, sharp, and quick on your feet in a way that reminded him of—

Nah…

It wasn’t you. It couldn’t be. The universe wasn’t that cruel—or that kind.

He groans, tossing his phone onto the bed and rubbing a hand over his face. His mind was betraying him again, spiraling back to you like it always does.

‘You need a distraction. Blow off some steam.’

Maybe Suguru was right. Maybe he needed a distraction. Something—anything—to get you out of his head.

As his phone buzzes with a new message, his gaze drifts back to the screen.

still there, or did I scare you off?

A slow grin spreads across his face. Whatever. Whoever you were, you had his attention. For tonight, that was enough.

Still here. Hey, can I be honest for a sec?

mmm… depends. how honest?

He smirked, typing quickly.

Well, tbh I’ve been having a tough time. Got it bad for this coworker. Total knockout, but I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m an idiot.

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it, watching the little ‘delivered’ icon appear. Your reply comes after a brief pause.

yikes… sounds complicated.

He chuckles, already typing again.

You have no idea... anyway, I figured I could use a distraction. And if I’m gonna distract myself, I’d rather do it with someone who can actually keep my interest.

There was a beat of hesitation, and then he boldly added:

Wanna have phone sex?

This time, the pause stretched longer. Long enough for him to wonder if he’d blown it. But then, his phone buzzes again.

fuck it... why not?

Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, he hit the call button through the app. The line rang once, twice, before clicking.

“Hi…” your voice greeted him softly.

“Hey princess,” he drawled. “Thought I might’ve scared you off.”

“Oh… no,” you said, a soft laugh escaping you. “But I will admit, you’re straight to the point, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He leans back further, his free hand trailing lazily over his stomach. “Why waste time, right? Life’s too short for tiptoeing around.”

Ironic, considering how he seemed to do nothing but tiptoe around you—his coworker—at work. You—who always had him second-guessing himself in ways no one else ever could.

However, this wasn’t about you. This was a stranger—right? A voice on the other end of the line. That was all.

But as you laugh through the phone, he closes his eyes, letting the sound settle over him. It was nice… and familiar. Too familiar.

No.

He was imagining things. Again. His brain was playing tricks on him, twisting your voice into something it wasn’t. There was no way it was you.

“So,” he said, steering the conversation back on track. “You’ve done this before?”

“Not really,” you admit, voice dipping slightly. “Actually… no. Honestly, I haven’t. This is my first time.”

His grin widens—the cocky edge returning to his tone.

“First time, huh? Well, you’re in luck. I’m an excellent teacher.”

You let out another soft laugh, nervous but sweet, and it sends a jolt of heat straight through him. What the hell is wrong with him tonight? Your voice—soft, familiar—it feels like a melody he’s heard before.

“Is that so?” you ask, breaking his train of thought.

“Hmm? Oh… absolutely,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk. His fingers drummed against his thigh as he forced himself to focus. “Just relax, princess. Let me guide you.”

“…okay,” you whisper.

He exhales slowly, letting the tension drain from his shoulders as he shifts lower on the bed.

“Now… are you laying in your bed for me?”

“mhmm…” you hum softly.

“Mm, good girl,” he murmurs. “Alright, tell me—what are you wearing?”

“Just… an oversized shirt,” the hesitation in your voice makes him grin. “Nothing else.”

“Yeah?” his hand trails down to the waistband of his sweatpants as he closes his eyes. “That’s perfect. Makes it easy to imagine my hands slipping underneath, right up to that pretty pussy of yours...”

Your sharp inhale crackles through the receiver, and the sound sends a thrill straight to his cock.

“Do something for me,” he begins palming his growing bulge. “Run your hands down your thighs… nice and slow. Tease yourself the way I would.”

There was a beat of silence, and he held his breath, waiting. Then, he heard it—a faint shift in your breathing, followed by a soft, shaky exhale. It was subtle, but it was enough to tell him you were doing exactly as he asked.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his own hand slipping beneath his waistband to wrap around his cock. It twitched eagerly in his palm, already hard and aching as he imagines you following his instructions.

“…you touching yourself, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah.”

The word trembles on your lips like a secret only he’s allowed to hear, and his grip tightens on his cock as he begins to stroke himself slowly—matching the rhythm he imagines your hand moving in.

“Good girl,” he purrs, the sheets rustling beneath him as his hand glides across his length. “Now slide your fingers inside that tight little cunt… nice and slow.”

Your soft moan spills through the line, and his hips buck involuntarily at the sound—his hand moving faster.

“Fuck… love hearing those pretty little sounds” he groans as his thumb swipes over his tip, slick with pre-cum. “How many fingers are you using?”

“Two,” you gasp as the word breaks into a moan.

“Add another,” he commands, almost a growl.

You hesitate for just a moment, but then your breathy whimper crackles through the line, and he hisses through clenched teeth, his dick twitching eagerly at the sound. But somehow, without meaning to, his imagination betrays him.

He pictures you—his coworker. Fuck, why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

You—head tipped back; lips parted as your fingers work you open—his cock throbbed eagerly at the mental image.

Fuck… this was supposed to be a distraction, not fuel for his already out-of-control infatuation. He groaned, annoyed at himself but powerless to stop, and his strokes grew faster, more desperate as he surrendered to the fantasy.

“Haa… that’s my girl,” he praises, eyes fluttering shut as his hips buck into his hand desperately. “Stretch yourself for me. Make yourself nice and ready for my cock… nngh… wanna fucking fill you up, princess. Make you take every inch.”

Your soft, choked moan crackles through the phone, and it unravels him further. His strokes grow faster, more erratic—his free hand gripping the sheets as he chases his release.

“Bet you’d look so pretty,” his hand becomes a frantic blur as he loses himself to his fantasy. “All spread out and dripping for me. Taking my cock like a good girl… haaa… gonna fucking stuff you full as you cum all over m’ dick.”

“Fuck… m’ cumming,” you gasp, and as your broken cry crackles through the receiver, it sends him careening over the edge.

“Fuck… yes, good fucking girl… haaa—m’ cumming too.”

He pumps his cock, hips jerking as thick, hot streams of cum spill over his hand and onto the sheets below. His breath hitches in his throat, and before he can stop himself, your name rips from his lips, raw and guttural, a desperate cry he couldn’t contain.

Through the phone, your own gasping breaths mingle with his—the faint sound of your release trembling through the line. Then, for a brief moment, the world was quiet, save for the shared rhythm of your breathing as the two of you come down from the high.

Until, reality set in.

Fuck.

He blinked up at the ceiling, his free hand raking through his hair as his brain scrambled to process what just happened.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He felt like a goddamn asshole. He’d just moaned someone else’s name—your name—while he was supposed to be with someone else.

What the hell was wrong with him?

But then, you laughed—a soft, breathless sound that broke through his spiraling thoughts.

“That was… fun,” you said warmly, slightly teasing. “But, um… how do you know my name?”

His stomach dropped.

“I… what?” his voice cracked slightly as panic clawed its way up his throat.

“You said my name,” you reply, a curious lilt to your tone now. “I don’t remember telling you my name. And, you know, the app is supposed to be anonymous…”

It hit him all at once.

The voice that had been haunting him, the one that felt so painfully familiar, the one he’d convinced himself couldn’t possibly be yours—it was yours.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as realization washed over him.

“Wait…” your tone shifts from amused to sharp. “You sound familiar. Like… Gojo?”

His stomach flips, dread pooling in his chest like ice water.

“Uh…” He froze, his mind scrambling for something, anything, that could salvage this disaster. “…hi, princess?” His tone was a weak attempt at his usual cocky charm—it fell flat. “Didn’t expect to find you on this app…”

There was a beat of silence, and then, like the idiot he was, his mouth moved faster than his brain.

“Sooo… still no boyfriend then, huh?”

[reiding-writing]

YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end

263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!

a lot can change in 263 days.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.

a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending

DAY ONE

You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.

The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.

The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

You’re here. You made it.

“First day?”

The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.

He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.

“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”

He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”

You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”

He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”

“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”

“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.

You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”

“You too,”

His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.

“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”

A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”

This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”

You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.

But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.

“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.

The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.

“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”

His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”

The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”

“Any initial impressions?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”

The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.

“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”

You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.

Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.

As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.

Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.

The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.

But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.

By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”

He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”

The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.

As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.

Maybe you do belong here.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE

The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.

By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.

Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.

It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.

Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning starts like any other.

A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.

“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.

You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.

“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.

“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”

“Maybe a little,”

The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.

Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.

“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.

“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”

“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.

The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”

He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”

“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”

He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.

—

Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.

It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.

“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.

You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.

He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.

The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.

—

The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.

“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”

He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.

His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Of course,” you say, watching him.

As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR

It starts with the little things.

You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.

A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.

It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.

But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.

You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.

He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.

You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.

Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”

You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”

His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.

He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.

“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.

His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.

“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”

“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.

He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.

For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.

You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.

You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.

It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.

Reid’s gaze.

He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.

It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.

The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.

Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.

How had you missed it?

But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.

The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.

Oh no.

Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.

“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.

Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.

It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.

You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.

Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.

And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.

By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.

As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”

“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.

His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.

As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO

The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.

“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”

But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.

It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.

—

Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.

At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.

But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

“Peace offering?” he says lightly.

You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.

“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”

He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.

“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.

“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.

“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”

As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

—

That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.

Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?

The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.

But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.

He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.

But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE

It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.

“Can we talk?”

You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“Reid, I’m really tired—”

“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”

You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.

He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”

“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”

“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”

You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.

By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.

Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.

The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”

He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.

Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.

“I have been avoiding you,”

He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.

“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Reid.”

His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.

“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.

“Spencer...”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”

His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.

It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.

The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.

You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.

The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”

He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”

“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”

Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”

You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.

The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.

There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.

“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”

You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.

And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.

The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.

It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.

“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.

Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”

From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”

“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.

“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”

Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.

So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.

“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”

He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”

Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.

“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”

You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.

When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.

“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.

As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.

He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.

This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “SHE A RUNNER SHE A TRACKSTAR” ── .✦ ( batboys with an athletic!reader )

a/n: this is a request by this lovely anon (here) and secondly I want to feed you guys some good stories because I’ve been ranting so I need to work too duhh and secondly omg make sure to go vote on the poll for my 1k event, we’re at like maybe 700 votes too (I’m so impressed I ahve all these supporters mwah) but yess back to story was I feel like batboys would’ve LOVED a athletic!reader or like active exercising reader like they would love you 10x tags: (batboys x athletic!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Loves working out with you. Morning runs? Gym sessions? Acrobatic training? Dick is there, grinning like a kid in a candy store. He’s not even subtle about checking you out mid-workout, smirking when he catches you noticing. (Whether you be a Pilates princess or muscle mommy, he don’t care🙄)

Turns everything into a competition. “Bet I can do more pull-ups than you.” Spoiler: you usually win because he wants you to win, and he acts mock-offended for five minutes before admitting he totally ‘held back’ just to see you smile.

Constantly impressed by your athleticism. You pull off a new move, and he’s clapping like an over-enthusiastic coach. “Okay, that was amazing. Do it again so I can record it.”

Secretly uses you as inspiration for his own training. He sees you pushing yourself and thinks, “If she can do it, so can I.” You’ve turned him into an even more disciplined athlete (even though we are gonna be REALISTIC he already was a better one but yk I mean MOTIVATION🙂‍↔️).

Always hyping you up. You’re worried about nailing a performance or event? Dick’s leaning in close, whispering, “You’re incredible. You’ve got this.” He’s the boyfriend screaming your name from the stands when you win.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends he doesn’t care, but he’s obsessed. Jason will act all casual when you’re training, but you’ve caught him sneaking glances when you’re sparring or lifting. “What? I’m just making sure you’re not slacking.” “Sure jason, sure…”

Loves sparring with you. He does hold back (much), but the second you get the upper hand, he’s laughing and saying, “Okay, okay, maybe I underestimated you.”

Always has your back. If you’re dealing with an injury or overtraining, Jason’s the first to step in with tough love. “You’re not invincible. Take a break before you actually hurt yourself.” “Shut up.”

Teases you nonstop. You hit a personal best, and he’s like, “Not bad for a rookie.” But the second someone else downplays your achievements, Jason’s throwing hands.

Casual gym dates. You two will hit the gym together, but half the time, he’s too distracted by you to finish his own set. “Stop looking so good while you’re working out. It’s distracting.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tries to keep up but struggles. Tim’s more of a strategist than an athlete, so when you suggest running a marathon together, he’s immediately regretting every life choice. “Do we… really need to run this far?” (He starts limping at the beginning and then catches speed but it’s so funny to picture him limping idk??🥲) “Tim are you drunk?!” “What- no!” *cue him starting to run faster then you*

Admires your dedication. Tim doesn’t always understand why you push yourself so hard, but he respects it. “You’re incredible, you know that? I don’t think I could ever do what you do.” “Tim your literally one of the best martial artists what do you mean??”

Becomes your unofficial manager. He’s the one keeping track of your schedules, meal plans, and recovery days, making sure you don’t overwork yourself. “You’ve got a rest day tomorrow. Don’t argue.”

Loves watching you train. He’s not one to join in, but he’ll sit on the sidelines with his laptop, occasionally glancing up to watch you nail a move. When you catch him, he blushes and mutters, “I’m just… making sure you’re okay.”

Finds your athleticism insanely attractive. He’ll never admit it, but watching you take down an opponent or finish a grueling workout leaves him speechless. (He does the same but at night when your sleeping)

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Impressed but never says it outright. Damian will cross his arms and say, “Acceptable,” after you crush a workout, but the faint smirk on his face tells you he’s proud.

Pushes you to your limits. If you train together, prepare for no mercy. “You wanted to be better, didn’t you? Then stop complaining and try again.” He’s tough, but he knows you can handle it.

Secretly brags about you. Someone mentions physical skill, and Damian’s like, “My significant other is far superior to anyone here.” It’s his way of saying he’s proud without being mushy.

Enjoys sparring with you. He loves the challenge you bring, even if he won’t admit it. If you manage to land a hit, he’ll begrudgingly mutter, “Impressive. But don’t get cocky.”

Surprisingly protective. If anyone makes a snide comment about your athleticism, Damian’s glare alone is enough to make them rethink their life choices.

[gyaruhana]

Can u please write wlw smut for my glorious queen se-mi player 380

Se-mi/Player 380 - hatefucking

Synopsis: You and Se-mi can't stand each other so what better way to deal with that issue then fight for dominance?

A/N: i did combine this with another request for hatesex bc they both were wuh luh wuh so.. hope you don't mind!!

Warnings: smut content, choking, degradation, slight fight for dominance, fingering, it's hatesex..

If there was one thing you avoided, it was arguments. You preferred to avoid making enemies because; what was the point? It was far better to make friends than enemies who’d plot your death on the daily. Friends would be there to make you happy and comfort you when you're sad. Enemies would just laugh at you and pull you further down into the depths of sadness. That's why you always opted for only making friends and allies.

The only exception to this little rule was her. Se-mi.

Se-mi had been getting on your nerves from the moment you had both spared a glance at each other. There was something about her that reeked of over-confidence and judgement. The way she would look at you with that smirk on her face as if she thought she was better than you. It pisses you the fuck off and all you wanted to do was punch her face in so she could never smirk or scoff at you again.

Whether it was for good or bad, Se-mi felt the same way. You were always so nice to everyone, even to those who didn't deserve kindness whatsoever. It pissed her off that you'd try to be friends with everyone. Were you naive or just plain stupid? Whatever it was, she didn't like it. You were so happy-go-lucky as if you weren't trapped in this hell hole where people are being killed left and right. She didn't trust you at all because you seemed like the type who'd willingly stab someone in the back sooner or later.

In short, the feeling of hate was mutual between you two and, everytime you were near each other, there was a silent tension of unspoken dislike. Neither of you had actually communicated your dislike through speech, it was all just glares from across the room and the purposeful avoidance of each other.

Today, you unfortunately didn't have the opportunity to avoid each other like you two usually opted to do.

It was the third game and it was called ‘Mingle’. It wasn't a difficult game as long as you weren't one to crack under the pressure of a short time limit. All you had to do was form a group of whatever number was called out and then run into a room with them. The first four rounds went well for you since you were friends with practically everyone here and could always find a group to join.

When the fifth round came, the number two was called and chaos broke out quite quickly as people realized not everyone will be fortunate enough to get a room. As chaos broke out and lights flashed, you found it rather difficult to see who was on their lonesome and needed a pair. Luckily for you, you managed to spot the tall silhouette of someone who was on their own so you ran towards them and grabbed a hold of their wrist, dragging them into one of the last free rooms. You quickly shut it behind you as you let out a relieved sigh - glad you managed to find someone before it was too late.  

When you turned around, you were met with the unimpressed face of Se-mi. You almost let out a groan of annoyance at the sight of her. Maybe you should go back out there and just get shot. At least then she'd die as well and you could rest peacefully knowing she'd never plague anyone with her ugly personality again. 

“I'm not happy to see you either,” she says as she folds her arms across her chest and leans against the wall behind her. You let out a scoff of annoyance as the doors finally locked indicating the timer was up. Considering you'd probably be trapped in this room for a while until they clear out the bodies, maybe now would be a good time to confront her about her behavior.

“What's your problem? You're always such an asshole to me,” you say as you step closer to her. Your words may have been slightly aggressive but you couldn't help it when she was around. She just naturally got on every nerve in your body. In response to your words, she pushes off the wall and uncrosses her arms to step closer to you.

“My problem? You're the one with the problem,” Se-mi spoke as she looked at you with annoyance. The audacity you had to call her a bitch as if you were any better. Seeing you like this made her believe all your kindness really was an act for your own personal gain. That only fueled her hatred for you.

“You're the one who's been glaring at me since day one. You're a total fucking dickhead with your arrogant attitude,” you speak as you point an accusatory finger in her face. You were sick of how she'd act and the way she'd judge everyone silently. She needed a wake up call or something so she'd stop standing on her high horse. After all, she glared at you first. What were you supposed to do? Let her treat you like that? Hell no. You might be all for making friends but that doesn't mean you'll back down when someone chooses to be your enemy.

Then suddenly, out of the blue - her hand wrapped around your throat and she pushed you onto the wall. “I'd watch your mouth when you speak to me,” she says with anger bubbling inside her. Calling her arrogant? Who did you think you were? Someone needed to put you in your place.

You were taken aback by the sudden violence before grabbing her wrist tightly and glaring at her. “Or what? What are you going to do about it? Kill me?” you spoke sarcastically. You didn't fear her at all or the hand around your throat. It's not like she'd kill you. She couldn't have the guts to murder someone. You knew her type. Assholes on the outside, total pussies on the inside. They all just made enemies with people they assumed were weak so they could act tough.

She was quiet for a moment as she thought about your words. She couldn't kill you, no. You wouldn't learn anything that way (and she might get in trouble for that). She'd have to take a different approach if she wanted to make you learn a lesson about your bitchy behavior and, thankfully, she knew just how to make someone learn a lesson. She smirked for a moment before nodding her head.

“I won't kill you, no. I'll teach you a lesson,” she spoke before suddenly pressing her lips to yours. Her hand stayed wrapped around your throat, lightly squeezing to serve as a warning. You didn't expect her to kiss you of all things. It left you frozen in shock. Her kiss wasn't gentle either. It was rough as if its purpose was to silence you. There was nothing loving about it and, strangely enough, you found yourself actually being turned on by it. You didn't have feelings for her, no. You hated her but you were stuck in a place like this with no guarantee of a tomorrow so maybe a little hatefuck wouldn't be a terrible idea.

“Fuck, you're a shitty kisser,” you speak when she pulls away. She lets out a bitter chuckle at your words and shakes her head. “Thought I told you to watch your mouth?” She said as her free hand trailed down to the waistband of your pants. Oh, Se-mi was going to make sure you submit and watch your attitude towards her from now on.  “You think I'll listen to you?” You respond snarkily. 

“Oh, you will,” she says, her hand making it to your underwear as she gently traces the fabric of it. She moves her hand beneath the fabric and gently feels your entrance. “You're wet. You're just a whore, huh?” she spoke with a mocking smirk. She found it amusing that you were turned on by something like this. 

You were about to make a quick comment in response when she quickly slid her index finger into you making you let out a moan. God, you didn't expect her to do that so suddenly. She was full of surprises today. You quickly recovered from the initial shock as you noticed the smug look on her face. It drove you insane. If she thought she was teaching you a lesson like this, you'd have to teach her one too.

“Don't think you're in control,” you speak before grabbing the back of her head and pressing your lips to hers. Se-mi would be lying if she said she wasn't a little taken aback by the sudden kiss. She had assumed you'd fold immediately but apparently you were much more of a challenge. She smirked into the kiss before pulling her finger out slowly and then teasingly thrusting it back in. You let out a muffled moan at the feeling as you bring your free hand to the hem of her shirt. You lift it up slightly before putting your hand underneath and slowly trailing it upwards. 

“Might want to try harder to please me. You do a poor job at fingering a girl,” you speak after breaking from the kiss. She shakes her head with the smirk not leaving her face as she starts to thrust her fingers in and out of you quicker. “Oh really? Your body says otherwise,” she says, her hand tightening around your throat once more to serve as a silent warning. 

“I'm not even close to getting to cum. Can't you do any better?” You say as your hand that had earlier slipped under her shirt pinched her nipple. She tensed for a moment as her breath hitched, making you laugh. “What? That sensitive?” You tease and she sends a glare at you. She could try to dominate you as much as she wants but you weren't one to submit so easily.

She suddenly presses her thumb to your clit and starts to rub it roughly. The sensation makes you lean your head back against the wall as you moan. “Seems like you're the sensitive one,” she says as she watches your reactions carefully. As much as you wouldn't ever admit it, she was actually quite good with her fingers. She knew exactly how to move them and get someone to cum quite quickly. 

“if we weren't stuck here, I'd show you how good I could really fuck you,” you speak with a smirk as you look back at her again. “sure you could,” she responds sarcastically as she continues to thrust her fingers at a quick pace. She could tell you were close now as she felt you clench around her fingers.

“You're close, huh?” she says, clearly mocking you. You laugh breathlessly as you shake your head and look to the side. God, she was still such a cocky bitch. You looked at her before pulling on her hair and glaring at her. “When I cum, I'll make you lick your fingers clean, yeah?” you speak and the smirk on her face seems to grow bigger. Fuck, she really didn't think you'd still be acting so dominant. It was actually turning her on more - getting to fight for dominance like this.

With a few more thrusts of her fingers you came undone with a quiet moan. She slowly pulls her fingers out of you and you don't waste a second to grab her hand and pull it out of your pants. “C’mon, suck,” you say as you bring her hand to her mouth, her fingers wet with your cum. She looks at you for a moment before slowly putting her fingers into her mouth and sucking them clean of your cum. She pulls them out of her mouth after a few seconds and, as if on cue, the door unlocked meaning the guards had finished cleaning.

You both looked at the door before looking at each other again. “If you make it out alive of this place, I'll have to fuck you on my dildo next time,” she speaks as she steps back from you. “Looking forward to it- seeing you embarrass yourself, i mean,” you respond before walking out without another word and leaving her alone in the room. She watched you walk out before scoffing.

“She better make it out alive,”

[reignpage]

Best Roommate Ever!

Summary: your sweet roommate, Choso, is not who he seems Word Count: 1k Warnings: smut, dubcon, perv!choso, manipulation, coercion, handjob, cursing, nonconsensual picture taking, pillow fucking, ooc, dark themes, fem!reader, not proofread

Roommate!Choso is a blessing — he’s the cleanest person you’ve ever met, he’s sweet and kind, doesn’t bring over loud guests, and never fights you for the remote. He makes soup when you're sick, helps with the chores, and gets along great with you.

Pervy roommate!Choso waits until you leave for your job to walk into your room and jump onto your bed, inhaling your scent from the pillows. He buries his face in it, gripping the soft material as he grinds into your mattress, overwhelmed by your smell and the images of you writhing in bed the way he is.

Roommate!Choso does the laundry and never complains. He separates the whites from the colours, doesn’t cheap out on laundry detergent and fabric softener. Hell, what kind of guy uses fabric softener? 

Pervy roommate!Choso  loves to do the laundry because he gets to see what you’ve been wearing under all those tight jeans, see what colours you gravitate towards, and know whether you’ve touched yourself at all the past week.

You had just come out of the shower, and he was knocking on the door, talking about how the laundry needs to be done immediately. Truthfully, he just wanted to pocket the flimsy material at the top of the pile and press the still wet gusset to his nose. 

Pervy roommate!Choso groans, free hand shoved into his sweats, soothing the throbbing of his cock by squeezing the base the way he thinks you would, firm and teasing. He loves the way your pussy smells and oh god he wishes he could smell it from the source, but he’ll settle for tonguing the wet spot, eyes rolling back at the taste of you. 

Roommate!Choso laughs when you can’t find your favourite thongs, claiming the washing machine eats up things like all his socks, and doesn’t dare say it’s actually in his pocket right now. 

Pervy roommate!Choso sneaks into your room when you’re asleep, eyes roving over the shorts riding up your ass, and the way your big shirt is bunched up right under your tits. 

He snaps a pic of the curves of your ass, lifting the hem slightly so more of your plump cheek is on show. Your skin is soft, and he just can’t help himself; he smooths a hand over your thigh, thumb pressing to watch the flesh bounce and ripple.

And then he’s moving upwards, careful fingers pushing the shirt up and over your tits, unrestrained and gorgeous in the moonlight streaming through the curtains. 

Pervy roommate!Choso sucks a finger, skin absorbing the warmth of his mouth before he’s skimming your nipple, poking the stiffening bud. Kneeling, he takes a risk, heart beating abnormally fast as he keeps an eye out on your face. Any flicker of consciousness and he’ll disappear back into his room. 

He sticks a tongue out, the tip jutting just a little so he can poke at your nipple. His eyes roll back at the knowledge of how wrong it is and then he’s throwing caution to the wind and wrapping his lips around it, sucking hard before you groan. 

When you wake up, you’re confused as to why your shirt is almost choking you and your nipple is oddly sensitive. 

And wet?

Roommate!Choso decides he needs more, that he can’t stand the sneaking around. He needs you, needs to feel your willing touch. But there’s no way he can risk putting his heart on the sleeve and be rejected, because then he’ll lose you. 

Pervy roommate!Choso calls you into his room, claiming his pelvis is sore. You suggest taking him to the hospital, but he blushes, it’s too embarrassing. So, you take pity on your poor roommate and offer to massage it for him. 

A small smile crawls on his face and as soon as a yes leaves your mouth, he’s shoving his sweats down with more vigour than he would have liked.  You don’t notice. Rubbing your hands together, you blow warmth between them before pressing your fingers to his upper thighs and his lower abdomen. 

You’re touching everywhere but where he wants you to, poking and prodding to ease a soreness that doesn't exist. 

Pervy roommate!Choso groans. The ache has moved upwards to his dick. How humiliating. But you don’t mind, do you?

Wrapping your hand around his base, you look up at him with those wide innocent eyes he loves so much and ask if it’s okay, if he’s feeling better, and oh, is he ever?

You jerk him off exactly how he imagined, thumb brushing across his slit and using his cum to smooth the descent. He cums all over your hands, back arching and your name on his tongue.

Roommate!Choso loves movies nights with you! He loves when you snuggle up right next to him, resting your head on his shoulder and sharing a bowl of popcorn. It’s so much fun to critique cheesy dialogue with you. 

Pervy roommate!Choso loves movie nights for another reason; you fall asleep after the second movie like clockwork, hand buried in the popcorn. He scoots the bowl away very carefully, watching your hand fall limp onto his crotch. 

He presses it down harder with his own, hips rutting upwards to chase that pressure and turn it into pleasure. He can’t cum like this, it isn’t enough, but he can if he manages to tuck that hand under his pyjama bottoms, using the oil from the popcorn as lubricant, UTI be damned. 

When you wake up and he’s wiping your hands clean, he chastises you for dozing off without washing up. And you thank him for being so sweet and thoughtful, assuming the flush of his cheeks is from the compliment and not the rapid beat of his heart from being almost caught. 

Pervy roommate!Choso steals your pillows whilst you’re out with friends, he ties them together with rope, taping pictures of parts of your sleeping body onto his creation. 

He rams his throbbing dick inside, cursing the fact that it’s not tight enough but it’ll have to do. He pictures the way your tits would bounce as he pounds into you, the way your pussy would gush around his cock, forming a creamy white ring, and if he closes his eyes, he can hear your moans, can hear you cry out for more. 

Pervy roommate!Choso envisions your sloppy cunt clenching down on him as you cum at the same time he squirts inside, biting his lip to stifle his whimpers. 

The pillow covers are ripped up from his death grip, drying stains of his guilt soaking into the cotton.

Thankfully, you don’t question why he’s bought you brand new pillows, instead giving him a hug for the gift.

He’s just such a great roommate!

[cybrasigilism]

NSFW alphabet with Player 125 (Park Min-su)

warnings: smut and all things of the like ofc | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my personal opinions for the character differ from yours :)

character: park min-su (player 125)

A/N: i know this isn’t the best gif but player 125 gifs are slim pickings apparently! if i could figure out how to make my own gifs i so would

MDNI! 18+ content ahead, reader discretion is advised

─────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

A= Aftercare what are they like after sex?

↳ he would definitely go for the standard cuddling post-sex, he especially loves being the little spoon so you can stroke his hair (that and he can nuzzle his face in your chest)

B= Body part their favourite body part of theirs + their partner’s

↳ he’s quite self conscious about his own body, but if he had to pick a favourite it would be his hands, because he can touch and hold you with them. as for a favourite body part on his partner? he would tell you he loves your lips, but deep down he’s a tits man through and through.

C= Cum anything to do with cum

↳ he will always warn you when he’s close, whether it be verbally or with a tap on the shoulder if he’s too far gone. he will also never cum inside unless his partner states it’s okay.

D= Dirty Secret self explanatory

↳ you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones. and that is too true for our guy Min-su. he may seem meek and unassuming on the outside, but when it comes to sex he’s totally a freak, and that’s all apart of the appeal

E= Experience how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?

↳ he doesn’t have a ton of experience, but he isn’t completely in the dark. he understands the basics, and trust when i say he definitely knows what he wants. but, when it comes to his first time with someone new, he gets super nervous and prefers it when his partner shows them what they want and how to do it right

F= Favourite Position

↳ Cowgirl. he loves being able to see your face when you guys are fucking, but in that same breath he feels much more confident under you then on top. don’t think he’ll be letting you do all the work either, when he really gets into it he’ll grab your hips and fuck up into you

G= Goofy are they more serious in the moment or are they humorous?

↳ at first, he would be way too nervous to really say much of anything when you guys have sex, hell, he’ll even try to hold back his moans/whimpers because he’s so shy in the beginning. however, when you guys have been together for sometime and he gets more comfortable, he takes fucking you very seriously. he won’t goof off or be silly but if you crack a joke amidst the fucking™️, he’ll laugh

I= Intimacy how are they in the moment? the romantic aspect

↳ because he’s so nervous at first he always double checks that he’s doing something right and that you’re feeling good. he needs assurance before moving forward in any aspect of the sexual experience, he just wants to know that he’s making you feel as good as you’re making him feel

J= Jack off masturbation headcanon

↳ he’s very into mutual masturbation; the idea of you getting off on the idea of him while he’s jerking off to you is something he finds super hot. for solo time, he has a habit of edging himself, something unintentional at first but he quickly realized it made the climax feel 1000 times better

K= Kink one or more of their kinks

↳ slapping (being slapped). begging. overstimulation. blindfolding. i’ll leave it at that

L= Location favourite places to do the do

↳ while Min-su may be open to a bit in the bedroom, he would also like to keep it in the bedroom. no public sex of any kind for this guy, he gets too anxious with the constant looming risk of someone walking in on you two getting it on

M= Motivation what turns them on? what gets them going?

↳ as much as he’s lowkey embarrassed to admit it, he totally gets aroused whenever you boss him around. also, if you whisper anything suggestive in his ear, he will melt in your hands right then and there

N= No something they won’t do

↳ he doesn’t like to be the dominant one in bed, he finds it too daunting and again, feels more comfortable when his partner is the one in charge

O= Oral preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

↳ he would rather get head than give it, and that’s purely because he doesn’t feel like he’s good at giving oral. he’s not out of this world by any stretch of the imagination, but he does need to give himself more credit. he also is quite vocal when you give him head, and will grab your hair when he’s close

P= Pace are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

↳ he definitely starts out slower, not only for you to adjust to him but also for him to build up confidence, but he will pick up the pace either when he gets more into the groove of it or if you ask him to. he tries to be rough if you ask for it but he always feels really bad if you wince or cry out, he would much rather you be rough on him than the other way around

Q= Quickie their opinions on quickies, how often?

↳ he wouldn’t be opposed to a quickie now and then, but he prefers for you guys to take your time when it comes to fucking, generally

R= Risk are they game to experiment? do they take risks?

↳ while he gets anxious at the very idea of public sex, he is more than willing to experiment in other aspects. of course, you guys always have a safe word for when you do end up experimenting

S= Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

↳ min-su’s stamina is quite surprising, he can typically last for 3-4 minutes. however, as long as his partner is alright with it, he is always willing to go past the initial release, and at most will go 5 or so rounds

T= Toys do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

↳ he 100% owns a fleshlight. nothing crazy, but it gets the job done. he is also game for his partner to use any toys they might have during the act

U= Unfair how much do they like to tease?

↳ he might try to tease you a bit, but it’s too adorable how flustered he gets when you turn the tables on him tenfold

V= Volume how loud are they? what sounds do they make, etc.

↳ the more comfortable he gets, the more vocal he becomes. he tends to just moan and whimper, usually getting more high pitched the closer he gets to release. if he does get a word out, he usually says something along the lines of “it feels too good” or “don’t stop. oh god please don’t stop”. he will call you mommy if you’re into that

W= Wild Card a random headcanon

↳ surprisingly good at fingering. he also loves it when you call him “good boy”

X= X-Ray what’s going on under the clothes?

↳ now i’m not saying he’s crazy jacked, he’s definitely a softer guy, but he’s slightly buff. he’s average sized, 5 1/2” when he’s hard

Y= Yearning how high is their sex drive?

↳ he doesn’t have a super high sex drive, like he isn’t chomping at the bit constantly to fuck you, but he certainly wouldn’t turn down the offer if you were DTF

Z= Zzz how fast do they fall asleep afterwards?

↳ this sweetheart would try to stay awake until you dozed off, but he just gets so comfortable in your arms that he falls asleep way before you do.

─────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

another reminder that all advice and constructive criticism for my writing is welcome and requested! i’m always looking to improve my skills. i hope you enjoyed :)

[misshuntereevee]

This had been in my draft since forever. I'm gonna put it here, if you have a better idea of how to write this story, please go ahead! If not, feel free to toss it.

Zayne x mc. His pov when he had to move away and study to become a doctor and finally seeing mc again when he becomes her primary physician. Bc i feel like he had a crush on her when they were kids. And in the story mc said she finally meets her childhood friend after she met her primary physician or something like that

Thank you in advance! <3

₊˚｡ ❆ ⋆⁺₊❅. & isn't it just so pretty to think; all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? i fucking love this prompt thank you! ♥ i hope this is okay, i did make it a continuation of that one zayne memory where he gives her an ice seal.

prompts open.

The second he saw you again, he knew he couldn't lie to himself any longer. Time, he had figured, would ease his crush on you. His attraction to his childhood friend.

But the second you stand in front of him with that adorable smile, a little tooth poking out, he knew he was screwed. You were not textbook. In fact, you were everything but textbook. And that's what Zayne was used to. Zayne liked order. Zayne liked playing by the rules. Because the rules are there to protect you...right?

But it's addictive. Even if he'd tried to imagine how you'd look now, he'd never come close to the perfection you are now to him. How you laugh, how your nose and eyes crinkle when you do. And the color of your eyes. He's sure a million artists could try, and never replicate the exact shade of your hue. Lips so kissable... So when you join him at lunch because he's the only one with room at his table -- he's too shocked to say much. You're here. Not only are you here, but you remember him!

You're giggling as you recount the story of him giving you a snowball at you at the seal exhibit. Back then, you thought he'd been teasing you by making a sculpture of the snowball the seals had just thrown at you. He'd made it out of his Evol and you still have it.

He doesn't widen his eyes or respond physically, but he's not sure whether to laugh or cry at the fact you didn't realize it was supposed to be a seal. It was supposed to be cute and impress you. But you thought it was a snowball! And thought he was making fun of you!

Finally, he closes his eyes, shaking his head with a laugh. You finish the rest of your meal together, and you aren't sure why he keeps giving you a look that is on the verge of smile -- but holds back. When the meal is finally over, he offers to walk you to the cab.

Outside, he's mesmerized by you. Suddenly embolden, he realizes he can't let you think he was making fun of you any longer. He needs to show you what it was supposed to be.

"Can I show you something? Stick your hand out."

You furrow a brow at him, but you trust him. You stick your hand out, palm up. He places his hands over it in a dome...and then you feel it. Icy tendrils on your palm. But besides being cool to the touch, they don't hurt. That's intentional.

When he pulls his hand back, an ice seal sits in the palm of your hand and you beam at it. "Something to put next to the snowball you gave me? That's so sweet!"

He mutters something, but you don't quite hear him. You lean in closer, a hand resting on his forearm casually. (Casually to you, but his heart is racing in his chest. He's a cardiologist and even he's concerned about the effect you have on his heart.)

"What was that?" You ask him, leaning in.

He's going to have a heart attack. With a exhale, he repeats it: "You can throw the last one away. It's..."

He pauses, his eyes closing. "Just... this one is better."

And as he walks away, leaving you at your cab, you smile down at it -- and then realize. It's better... because it's what it's supposed to be this time. Your mouth is almost on the floor. He was trying to make something cute all those years ago...

But as you continue to grin down at the new seal, you know you're never throwing out the first one, even if he probably wants you too. No, because you have a feeling... something started right now.

And as he heads home, he also thinks about how happy he is to have a reason to see you again, even if it was just to correct that past mistake.. he should have never given her that snowball-looking seal. But looking out the window, he realizes... maybe the snowball made sure you didn't forget him.

Maybe he's grateful for the ugly thing.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 5

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual themes and language, drinking, not my best work lol Wordcount: 6.6K A/C: so have we come up with a shipname for zari and paige yet?? anyways ty all for the support and sooo much love on the last part - especially those who remained patient for a new part! i've got a LOT of stuff going on rn so please be understanding if parts take a little longer to come out! i wanna write badly but i gotta prioritise real life unless y'all wanna start paying me lol anyways, this should be a rewarding chapter to some of y'all!! anyways go read!!

-

Before London

“The skirt,” my childhood friend Olivia’s voice filters through the speaker, my phone set up on my bed as I try on different outfits for the evening on facetime. 

I stare into my reflection, the black miniskirt not leaving much to imagination, my legs fully on display. I sigh, unsure whether it would be too much for the night.

“I don’t know Liv, the dress is a little less revealing though,” I complain, turning around and seeing the way the tight skirt hugs my curves.

“Exactly why you should wear the skirt instead.”

I laugh, shaking my head at her face on my phone screen. “I’m not going there to shag someone. It’s going to be mostly the team anyway.”

“Izzie, you are single now. Act like it. Have you even hooked up with anyone since…?”

I scoff. “Do you think I have time for anything like that?”

“Maybe if you schedule it in…” Olivia jokes, making my mouth fall open feeling offended.

“Hey! I’m perfectly happy being single right now. Love is the last thing I should be thinking about.”

“Well, I still think you should wear the skirt,” the girl answers, making me groan.

“Fine, okay gotta go. I’ll text you!” I wave bye, before hanging up, realising my ride must have arrived. One more glance in the mirror and I decide it will do - the black mini skirt and a matching black cowl neck top, the back draped low to reveal the smooth skin of my back along my spine. The outfit was simple yet sexy, the stacked chunky golden jewelry dressing the look up. I’ve pinned my hair up in a bun, curls falling out as if by accident - in reality the hairdo had taken over 45 minutes to accomplish.

“Good enough,” I murmur to myself, putting on my boots and quickly hurrying out the door. Just like we had agreed, Trey is waiting in an Uber, waving me over. He had sent me a message earlier asking if we could ride together. Of course I had said yes out of politeness. Though if I’m honest, I always felt a little uneasy around him.

“Hey!” I smile politely climbing into the backseat with a potted orchid in my hands.

Trey meets my smile with an even wider one, eyeing me up and down as I buckle my seatbelt.

“Housewarming present?” He asks, pointing to the potted flower. I shrug and nod.

“I didn’t really know what to get them,” I admit, crossing my legs and eyeing the purple and white flower.

“Lala’s gonna love that,” Trey nods, his eyes still locked on me and my outfit. “You look…” he goes silent, and from my peripheral vision I see the man shaking his head. “Really good.”

“Oh, thanks,” I mumble, brushing it off lightheartedly as I grab my phone which is frantically buzzing.

Paige  When are u coming? I’m already here and idk anyone Oh nvm Lou and Chris are here So… when u coming???

I feel my stomach doing flips as I read the texts, my mind still swirling with how she’d made me breakfast just earlier this morning. How my couch still smells just like her even hours later. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something comforting about her presence. The way she worked to make me laugh, to get me to relax. Like she wanted to take care of me.

Just left so I should be there soon x

Izzie Iz Help We’re drinking wine

Time to be a big girl and learn Paige

But I don’t wanna 🙁 Fine Bc you said so

Good girl

Freaky 😏

Paige

Sorry I pregamed

Of course you did I’ll be there soon x

Giggling at my phone, I place it on my lap, not wanting to be rude towards the man sitting next to me. Trey’s eyes are locked on me, and I can feel myself growing uneasy, especially when I realise I have nothing to talk to him about other than work.

”You excited for tonight?” He asks.

”Yeah, it’s going to be nice to see everyone out of work,” I answer, keeping my composure despite feeling awkward, begging he doesn’t pick up on it. I had become quite good at that (or Trey was more ignorant than I realised).

”Oh yeah, you haven’t really had the chance to do that yet huh?” He asks, his deep voice gravelly.

“Not really no.”

“Well, if you ever get lonely, you can always call me up Zari,” Trey says, reaching over and suddenly placing his hand on mine resting on my lap. I keep still as long as I can before pulling it away, pretending I just needed that specific hand to hold the pot in my lap now.

“Uh, yeah that’s really sweet of you. Thank you,” I chuckle awkwardly. “Paige lives right upstairs actually so I’ve been spending some time with her.”

Trey is taken aback, his brows rising. “Paige?”

“Yeah we’re friends,” I smile. Trey’s dark brown eyes keep watching me, clearly thinking about something till he shrugs and looks away. 

The drive is quiet, full of awkward comments by the man clearly eager to make conversation. Normally I was better than this at the small talk that the Americans seemed to love so much - but not today. I could feel my stomach twisting with nerves and butterflies in anticipation for the evening. I wasn’t entirely sure why. But all I knew I was eager to see Paige - she had a way of grounding me.

We finally get to the building, awkwardly accompanying each other in the elevator much like my first day working for the Wings. I’m the one to ring the doorbell, Trey standing close behind me.

“Hey pretty girl!” Lala opens the door with a warm smile. “Oh hey Trey, come in come in!”

She steps aside, letting both of us in. The hallway is long and the ceilings are high, the space modern but filled with gorgeous furniture bringing warmth into the space. 

“Wow, beautiful,” I gasp looking around.

“Issa work in process,” Lala laughs. I catch a glimpse into the open concept kitchen/living room, filled with people who had arrived on time unlike me and Trey (our Uber had taken a “shortcut”, which ended up taking 15 minutes longer than the normal drive. I could tell alcohol was already flowing from the loud laughs echoing around the apartment.

“Oh, here you go!” I smile, handing Lala the orchid. “I wasn’t sure what you two wanted so I hope that’s okay.”

Lala gasps, admiring the plant. “No, this is gorg! And so are you, look at that skirt girl.”

I blush a little as she spins me around, admiring my outfit. 

“Is it too short?” I ask but Lala looks at me with raised brows. It’s then I notice her skirt is just as short, if not shorter. “Nevermind!”

The woman laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me further into the apartment. My eyes immediately land Paige next to Arike, both taking up half of the couch as if partaking in the Olympics of manspreading. Their laughs rise above the chatter of the crowd, making them impossible to miss. Even if subconsciously I had been looking for the blonde the second I stepped in.

“Yeah… they’re already drunk, thought you should know,” Lala nods towards the two.

“I heard, Paige was texting me already.”

The woman turns to me grinning a little. “Of course she was.” I’m not exactly sure what it means but don’t get the opportunity to ask before I hear a loud screech interrupting the both of us.

“Izzie!!” Paige gasps, her voice soaring above the noise. She climbs off the couch, rushing to me through the crowd. To my surprise the blonde wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. I can’t help the smile that spreads to my face. It comes naturally, when my arms wrap around her neck, pulling her in. Like since our first hug this morning, physical closeness felt easy. She smells like deodorant, sandalwood and a hint of alcohol. Breaking the hug, I eye her fit up and down - the olive cuban collar shirt and shorts in a matching pattern, two silver chains dangling on her neck, hair in a slicked back bun. 

All while I’ve been admiring Paige’s outfit, her gaze has been roaming across my body, taking me in. I notice a hint of red burning on her cheeks when her blue eyes land on my skirt. Suddenly I have the strongest need for a drink. Our stares meet, and for a fleeting moment I think she’s about to say something. But before she can, Arike is pulling me into a friendly hug.

“So glad you came, Zari! Whatchu wanna drink?” 

I feel flustered, barely hearing her. Clearing my throat, I finally answer, feeling the blonde’s eyes boring into me.

“White wine please?”

Lala laughs, shaking her head and grabbing my shoulders. “You’re gonna need something stronger to keep up with us baby.”

I laugh. “Okay, tequila soda then?”

“Attagirl, lime?”

“Yes please,” I nod, watching Lala and Arike head towards the kitchen island covered in bottles of booze and glasses, leaving me alone with Paige. 

For the first time in weeks, there’s a sense of awkwardness between us, neither of us knowing what to say. I wanted to tell her she looks good, that the olive against her skin that had grown more tan in Dallas made her glow in a way I had never seen before. But something in my throat doesn’t allow the words to come out. Thankfully the booze in Paige’s system makes her miss the weird tension completely.

“You look,” she starts, stepping closer to me, arm brushing against mine. She shakes her head, looking me up and down which is enough to make my ears burn. “Never seen you look like this before.”

I tilt my head, meeting her blue eyes challengingly. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

To my enjoyment, this makes her flustered, her cheeks bright pink now.

“You know it is ma,” she grins.

“You and that bloody nickname,” I shake my head, rolling my eyes at the blonde, when Lala and Arike return to us with my drink.

“You guys wanna play beer pong?” Arike asks as I grab the glass from Lala.

“What is this, a frat house?” Paige laughs, making Lala groan.

“Trust, it wasn’t my choice.”

-

After a long debate between me, Izzie, Arike and Lala on who should be teaming up, we decided that the only fair combination was me with Lala, while Arike and Izzie played against us - the girls claiming it wouldn’t be right for the two hoopers to play beer pong against non-athletes. Honestly, I barely had listened to the conversation at all. Because the way Izzie looks tonight has me grasping the drink in my hand so tight my knuckles were beginning to turn white. My mind is travelling to the filthiest places at the thought of what is underneath the hemline of her skirt, her glowy legs making me weak in the knees. Even worse was the low, scooped back of her shirt, her spine’s movement visible as she walked around the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, I couldn’t even stop the trembling of my hands. I needed to get more drinks in me quickly.

It seemed like the dark haired girl had the same idea, downing her first tequila soda in a matter of minutes as we set up the game. The tension often visible on her face only to me was slowly beginning to melt away.

“We’re about to win aight?” I tell Lala next to me, which makes Izzie let out a loud scoff.

“You really think I’ll let you win Bueckers?” The dark haired girl asks, challenging me.

“Yo, who’s the athlete here,” I respond, an arrogant grin on my face but she won’t back down, catlike eyes staring me down at the opposite end of the table.

“You’re enormously underestimating my desire to win.”

“Oh yeah?”

Izzie nods. “Yes Paige.”

And she’s right. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol already flowing in my system, or the way Izara looks, her green eyes locked on me everytime I bounce the ball off the table but my aim is off. And somehow she keeps aiming perfectly, a sly grin and her sharp eyes glimmering as she makes me drink one cup of beer after another, after another until Lala is the one to call it off, admitting defeat gracefully.

Arike and Izara hug, celebrating their win, but I can’t even be mad - the way Izzie’s mouth is stretched into a wide smile, the way she was letting go off her disciplined, hard exterior as a result of the alcohol was such a joy to watch I could’ve soaked in it forever.

“I told you! I told you!” Iz laughs, coming over to me and getting up in my face. But all I’m doing is smirking, my hand snaking around her waist and pulling her close without thinking about it much. But she doesn’t pull away either, even when our fronts nearly press together, heat radiating between us. The party has turned loud, drunk people bumping into each other, yelling over the music, but all I see is the dark haired girl in front of me, and the blush on her cheeks.

“You were cheating Iz,” I tell her, heavy eyes gazing down at the girl.

“How?” She asks, stunned.

I shrug. “I dunno.” I did know. It was that damn outfit. It took every ounce of self-discipline I had not to drag her to the bathroom and pull that skirt up. How was I expected to aim while my thoughts were running out of control.

“Here you areeeee!” Satou’s voice interrupts the moment, making me stumble backwards and letting go of the girl in my arms realising how close I’d been to losing control and leaning down to kiss her.

Satou hugs both me and Iz, looking around for the couple of the hour who have suddenly disappeared. “Where the lovebirds at?” She asks, holding a wrapped present in her hands. I chuckle shrugging but Zari lets out a giggle.

“Last I saw them they were getting pretty cosy,” she laughs, leaning into my side whether on purpose or on accident I’m not sure. But it leaves my skin tingling.

“No one’s surprised,” Satou laughs, waving her friend over. “Savannah, this is Paige and… Izara, right?” 

“She prefers Zari,” I correct before Iz can even say a word. From my peripheral vision I see her head snap to me, eyes growing softer as they land on me. I could tell she was happy with me, which made me want to get on my knees and beg for her to let me serve her forever. Okay, no, let me get a grip.

“Whassup,” I nod at Savannah, who smiles at both me and Izzie. Suddenly, the girl beside me stumbles as someone bumps into her, crashing straight into me.

“Woah,” I grab a hold of her, my hand naturally landing on the small of her back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she giggles, watching me and her nose scrunching as her face twists into a laugh. The sparkling eyeshadow covering her eyelids makes her shine even more, curled strands falling onto her face out of the updo her long, dark hair is in. She looks so beautiful I feel breathless, even more so up close.

“You want a drink ma? I could use one,” I ask, staring into the green of her eyes, feeling the alcohol too much to realise that our faces are only inches away at this point.

She rolls her eyes. “Paige, I hate that nickname.”

“Do you want a drink or not woman?” I ask annoyed, teasing her. But her face hardens, and her eyes sharpen.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is hard and serious, making my lower abdomen flip. As inappropriate as it feels, I’m exceptionally turned on.

I swallow, biting my lower lip. “Uh…”

“Woman?” She interrupts me, furrowing her brows. I can feel heat pooling between my legs, making my mind spin.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my voice coming out shaky from how flustered my thoughts had turned me.

“What’s that?” She asks, brows rising as she watches my mouth expectantly.

“I’m sorry Izzie,” I say louder, my chest heaving now. To my surprise, I notice her breathing is growing heavy too.

“Mhm, that’s better,” she nods, eyes still on my mouth as I bite down on my lower lip. And for just a second, as my eyes flicker from her eyes to her glossed lips, I consider leaning in and pressing a kiss on them, mind jumping to how she might taste. Like heaven I bet.

“So a drink then?” Iz asks, interrupting my spinning thoughts. 

“Oh right, yeah,” I compose myself, “we’ll be right back.”

We leave Satou and Savannah alone, my hand on the small of Izara’s back guiding her through the people to the kitchen island.

“What do we want to drink?” The girl asks, looking at the row of bottles lining the counter. I lean in even closer to her side, letting my hand drag from her back to around her waist. The girl’s breath hitches audibly, yet she doesn’t pull back.

“Shots! Now!” Arike suddenly interrupts us, Lala following close behind her.

“Bro where you been?” I ask, watching as she begins to pour shots of vodka for all four of us. Her and Lala exchange a look that tells me I don’t want to know the answer to my question.

“Nevermind,” I mumble, making Izzie giggle, the alcohol finally loosening her up.

“No, I really shouldn’t,” the dark haired girl shakes her head, pushing the shot away.

“Oh c’mooonnn!!” I groan, pushing it back.

“Yeah Zari, c’mon,” Rike complains.

I pick up my own shot glass, and Izara’s as well, bringing it to her lips. She’s considering, meeting my gaze, until her pretty lips open and I tip the glass, pouring the shot into her mouth as I throw my head back, swallowing mine. 

“Holy shit,” I cough, making everyone around me laugh, looking at the dark haired girl whose face doesn’t even twitch from the alcohol. Damn.

“And another oneeee,” Arike laughs, now pouring tequila into the glasses, clearly trying to get us two drunk. I glare at her, picking up on what she was up to. But Rike merely winks at me, handing us salt and lemon slices.

“Oh boy,” Izara chuckles, eyeing the alcohol. I follow closely as her tongue darts out to lick her wrist, my mind spinning with dirty thoughts involving that tongue between my le-

“Lemon!” The girl yelps, squeezing her eyes shut having taken the shot. I quickly grab the slice from the counter, holding Izzie’s face still by her chin as I place the wedge between her lips. Her teeth bite into it, sucking on the bitter fruit to get rid of the taste in her mouth.

Her dark lashes flutter open, and she pulls away with a grin. “Your turn.”

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling my tongue already growing numb from the alcohol, my speech certainly beginning to slur soon.

“Yo Zari, you should let Paige lick the salt from your wrist,” Arike yells from the opposite side of the counter, earning a slap on the shoulder from Lala.

“Huh?” Izara laughs, turning to the pair.

“Ignore her, God knows I do,” Lala rolls her eyes.

Flustered, I fumble with the salt shaker, licking it off my hand and downing the shot of tequila, feeling the burn in my throat making me want to cough. To my surprise, Iz brings the slice of lemon to my lips, the bitter taste putting an end to the burn.

I can feel the alcohol hitting, making my cheeks burn - or maybe it’s the way the dark haired girl is looking at me, her eyes even more catlike than normal, sparkling in the dimmed lighting. Either way I can feel my brain and mouth beginning to slow down, yet my words and actions seem simultaneously sped up, like I couldn’t think them through before doing.

“I’mma admit, I’m drunk as fuck,” I laugh, making Izara throw her head back and let out a bright chuckle, grabbing onto my shoulder as she does. Fuck she looks hotter than usual, the hard, poised exterior breaking, letting me catch little glimpses into her internal life, reminiscent of the softness on her face when she fell asleep on me.

“Let’s run away before Arike makes us take more shots,” she whispers and simultaneously somehow screams, grabbing my arm and dragging me down behind the island, as if Arike and Lala weren’t standing right on the other side, watching the two of us. Still I let her, crouching behind it and letting her drag me wherever she wants to. 

-

I love Dallas! Or maybe I should reconsider when I’m sober, but now that the shots and drinks had been flowing, I had decided I loved Dallas for certain. Paige and I have been hiding behind a corner, by the entrance to Arike’s and Lala’s bedroom, for the past hour, giggling and talking. I’ve realised Paige might be one of my favourite people I’ve ever met, the strain in my abs a reminder of how easily she made me laugh. How effortless it was to spend time with her, like I didn’t have to put up any exterior or front. I felt comfortable being myself with her. So naturally, in my drunken state, the words slip from my lips easily.

“You’re like, my favourite person right now,” I giggle, leaning my back against the cool wall and watching upwards at her. Paige’s eyes are heavy and red as a result of the alcohol, hair somehow still neatly slicked back, however a button on her chest left unbuttoned, displaying that she definitely wasn’t wearing a bra under the shirt.

“Yeah?” Paige asks, a proud smirk on her face. She’s standing in front of me, arms crossed.

“Don’t let it get into your head darling,” I scoff, pushing her off by her abdomen, feeling the muscles there tighten when my fingertips graze her through the shirt. For whatever reason I’d been wanting her to touch me all night, enjoying the times she wrapped her arm around my waist, or guided me through a crowd. It felt good to be touched, so I didn’t worry about what it meant further. I just wanted her hands on me. Like you’d want to hug a friend after remembering how much you love them.

“Why do you get to have all these nicknames but I don’t get to call you ma?” She asks, stumbling back but returning to her prior position, if not a little closer. I place my hands on her waist, having to tilt my head to look at her - that’s how close she is.

“Why do you want to call me ma?”

“Because,” she groans, looking for something to say. “Ion know it suits you.”

“Why?” I laugh.

“Because you’re sexy.”

I’m drunk. And I know it’s because I’m drunk. It has to be. But I can feel myself begin to throb between my legs when Paige says those words, when her teeth bite onto her bottom lip, when she looks me up and down. Suddenly I’m painfully aware of the swirling in my lower abdomen, the heat spreading straight to my core.

The blonde rubs the bridge of her nose. “Ahh shit Iz, I didn’t mean it like that. My bad. You just look really damn good. In like a friend wa-”

“You think I look sexy?”

It’s like my mouth and brain aren’t working together, the words just forming and leaving my lips without a single thought or action to stop them. For some reason it comes out almost whiny. Like I want her opinion, her reassurance.

Paige looks surprised, clenching her jaw before kissing her teeth and licking her lips, hands twitching as if for something to touch.

“I meannn… you really gotta ask that?” She says hoarsely, stepping closer and placing her hands on my hips. It feels good, but I want more, pushing my body off the wall and pressing my front against her. The sparks are immediate, and I nearly groan at the contact. 

“You didn’t answer,” I demand, staring into the blues of her eyes. Only then I realise how blue they really are, like a turquoise ocean against a sandy beach, inviting, beautiful. My heart begins to pound, even more so when I feel Paige’s hands move from my waist, downwards to my hips, to the small of my back, and finally to my ass. 

“Perfect,” she coos.

The breath she lets out is heavy, loud, but I barely register, my mouth parting a little. To say the chills travelling through my body are overwhelming would be an understatement, my mind suddenly spinning with realisation of something I’d been feeling for a while, yet only recognised now.

“Is this okay?” Paige asks, making me nod my head. When I do so I feel the blonde’s hands squeeze just a little, forcing a breathy whimper to spill from my lips. Overcome with the urge to be even closer to her, I wrap my arms around the girl’s broad shoulders and lean my head into the crook of her neck, my body slotting against hers just right. It feels euphoric.

 “Baby I would leave too if I was Paige, that poor girl got to deal with you on a daily basis alr-”

Suddenly Lala’s voice grows louder as she turns the corner, Arike on her tail. 

“Oh, sorry y’all,” the woman gasps seeing us embracing, Paige’s hands resting on my ass. Embarrassed, I pull away, nearly pushing the blonde off of me.

“Uh, I need a drink,” I murmur, my thoughts moving so quickly they make no sense, not even entirely sure what just happened in a drunken hue.

“Yoooo,” I hear Arike snickering, and Lala shutting her up.

Paige follows close behind me all the way back to the kitchen island, people around the apartment now notably drunker, louder, stumbling into each other. “You aight?” 

“Yeah, yes. I am,” I murmur, pouring whatever booze there was in reach into a glass and downing it, attempting to calm the running thoughts trying to make sense of all of this.

“You sure ma?”

Fuck. The nickname. Suddenly it’s making my core burn, and I feel arousal pooling between my legs almost uncomfortably. Maybe that nickname wasn’t so bad. Maybe it got me so hot and bothered I could barely think. Maybe I wanted her to call me that and only that for the rest of my life.

“Mm, I’m sure,” I mumble, turning to look at the tall blonde beside me, the way some of the buttons on her shirt have come undone, the way she’s eyeing me back, her veiny hands wrapping around a bottle as she pours herself another drink, the chains on her neck, dangling into her shirt. It’s then when I realise - I want to fuck Paige Bueckers.

“Here you are, Paige! Have you seen Satou?” Savannah interrupts us, but my eyes are still stuck on the blonde next to me.

“No, I got no idea where she is sorry.”

“What about your girlfriend, she seen her?”

Suddenly my eyes snap from Paige to the stranger leaning over the island, blinking stupidly.

“I’m not her girlfriend,” I say sternly, my tone harder than it needs to be. I could feel myself getting overwhelmed.

“Wh- oh shit, I’m sorry. You two just seem like a coup-”

“We’re not together,” Paige interrupts her, clearly picking up on my stress levels rising. I feel the room spinning, my breathing growing shallow, my cheeks burning up.

Lala, who had been watching me and the blonde all night, swiftly walks over and grabs me by the waist. “Come with me baby,” she coos, her voice caring and affectionate as she walks me into the couple’s bedroom, closing the door behind us, separating me from everything causing the engulfing emotions.

“Sit down Zari, I’ll get you some water.”

I do as the older woman says, feeling embarrassed, just praying to any God that I didn’t cause a scene. I could feel my head spinning still, the effect from the alcohol still flowing in my bloodstream.

Lala returns and hands me a glass. I chug it down, handing it back to the woman and staring at the floor.

“Are you alright?” Lala asks, sitting next to me and following me closely. I rub my forehead, shrugging.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m more drunk than I realised,” I murmur but the woman shakes your head.

“I think it’s more than that, Zari.”

I look at her, a knowing expression on the woman’s face.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Paige isn’t it, you like her?”

I sigh, not even sure how to answer that question. Not sure at all what the feelings swirling inside me meant. 

“I… I just think I’m drunk-”

“She likes you,” Lala interrupts me. I take her words in, blinking slowly as I do. Paige likes me?

“How do you know?” I ask in a moment of vulnerability. Something about the older woman made me feel safe.

Lala chuckles, shaking her head. “I think everybody knows baby.”

Oh.

I’m speechless for once, staring at the wall, recounting every interaction I had ever had with the blonde girl. My friend. Could she really like me? Worse of all, have I led her on?

“Look, just be careful alright. Don’t give her the wrong idea if… you know, you don’t feel the same,” Lala rubs my shoulders, like reading my thoughts. It all confused me, my feelings most of all - and deep deep down I wasn’t sure about what I felt, my mind an entangled, confusing pile of perplexity.

-

“Hey you alright?” Paige murmurs to me, pressing into my back as I’m pouring myself more water in the kitchen after my little breather. My body is covered in chills once more by her proximity - which must be a sign I like her at least a little bit. Or maybe I’m just needy for someone to touch me. I was drunk after all, and it had been a while. But then again, these chills always occurred when the blonde’s hands were on me, sometimes even when they were not. Just a simple look was enough.

“Yeah, I felt a little dizzy. Feel better now though,” I murmur, finishing another glass of water.

Paige hesitates, chewing on her cheek, clearly in her head as I turn around and notice her expression. “I didn’t do too much ri-”

“Here you are!! I love this song, come dance!” A drunk Satou interrupts the moment, dragging both me and the blonde into the living room, not giving us much choice in the matter. 

“Song’s almost over,” Paige chuckles, glancing at me as I shrug but follow the two hoopers.

“Who cares, I love it!” Satou laughs. We’re surrounded by a few others, dancing to the Drake song echoing around the apartment. As the beat fades out, I hear the soft melody of What You Heard by Sonder take over.

“Nooo, boo, I’mma go ask for more Drake,” Satou murmurs, walking off, leaving me and Paige alone.

Our gazes meet and we chuckle at the same time at the girl who just left, clearly even drunker than me and Paige.

“Fuck your mind up, waste time, I'm prone to that, do it all the time, Keep your guard up or wait in line”

“This song is actually fire,” Paige grins and I nod.

“It is.”

I take a dip in her blue eyes, finding comfort in them as the song plays, not at all shocked when Paige steps closer and grabs a hold of my waist, swaying with me. The alcohol is still pumping through my veins, making it easy to wrap my arms around her neck without thinking what it might mean. It felt good to be close to her, so what?

“What's the word? Tell me what you've heard, Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts.”

Paige sings along to the lyrics, the tiniest bit off-key yet something about it makes me grow flustered quickly, mind flashing with images of her doing exactly what the lyrics describe.

“What's the word? Tell me what you've heard, Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts, When I get you to myself, it's murder,” I sing back to Paige, our eyes meeting. Her eyelids are heavy from the drinks, and there’s a hint of a smirk on her face. Her silver chains sparkle in the dim lighting, but all I’m looking at is the way she’s staring me down.

Something about the alcohol makes me bold, pressing my body closer to hers, my fingernails scratching into the back of her neck gently, watching as her eyes nearly flutter shut at the contact.

“You be wildin', I be wildin', too, But not like you, shit, maybe a little like you, Maybe we ain't so different, maybe I be trippin', too,” we sing to each other, the blonde’s thumbs rubbing circles on my hips as we dance together. I feel the burn from earlier spread to my core once more, making it hard to think clearly. 

Our faces are inching closer, to the point where I can feel her hot breath on my skin. My heart begins to pound and it becomes difficult to keep my eyes open. Paige licks her lips, leaning downwards. For a moment I think she’s about to kiss me, the distance between us growing smaller and smaller - until she ghosts my lips, turning her face, mouth hovering right over my ear, warm breath tickling against my skin.

“If he was a winner, Girl, you wouldn't have to worry 'bout a damn thing, If I was up in it, shit, I bet a pound that I'd put it down, Make you forget that you was ever with him,” she murmurs into my ear with the lyrics of the song, left hand staying on my hip, right hand coming up to the back of my head to hold it still as we keep swaying to the melody.

I feel flustered, my cheeks growing hotter and my core aching for something. No, not for something - for Paige.

“And I hate talking 'bout my stroke game, But girl, I'm giving you the whole thing,” she murmurs with a deep, hoarse voice, my body tingling and on fire at the same time. 

Turning my face, my nose brushes into the blonde’s, but I’m too scared to open my eyes, too scared that if I do I’ll start thinking again, realising how senseless this entire situation is.

Paige’s nose nuzzles mine, and I can hear the shallowness of her breathing, her hand at the back of my head maneuvering me in a way so our lips are hovering over each other. I feel like I might pass out, my heart trying to race out of my chest at this point.

“Paige, Zari, I finally found herrrr!” Satou shouts over the crowd, making both of us pull away. My eyes shut open and I see the girl holding her friend Savannah.

“Oh! Good!” I smile awkwardly, Paige’s hands still on me. 

“Jesus…” The blonde murmurs to herself, looking around clearly frustrated by the unwelcome interruption. “You wanna go to the balcony for, uh, some fresh air?”

“Yeah,” I nod, without thinking. I let the tall girl walk me onto the balcony, closing the door behind us.

Fresh air it is not, the weather a hot and humid warning for the approaching scorching Dallas summer. But it still feels right to be alone with Paige, under the dark Texas sky. I glance upwards, looking at the stars to avoid meeting the blonde’s stare.

“So damn hot,” Paige groans, unbuttoning her shirt even more to get more airflow, though I couldn’t care less. I’m only gazing at the way the chains on her neck rest against her skin.

“Yeah, it certainly is,” I mumble, leaning my back against the glass railing.

Paige looks at me with something I can’t recognise, her expression softening as she’s taking steps towards me. “Fuck, that accent,” she murmurs, her hands easily finding their way to my waist again.

“What do you mean?” I laugh.

She shrugs. “I dunno, I just love hearing you talk.”

I chuckle, bringing my hand to her chest and playing with the chain there, number 5 dangling off it. Paige grins too, continuing.

“And the things you say too.”

I scoff, displeased. “Like what?”

“I dunno! British things!”

“British things??” I ask, laughing so hard my stomach begins to hurt, my fingers still fiddling the number 5.

“Like… Taking the piss!” She laughs, leaning closer. I bend forward too, my face scrunching as pearls of giggles spill from my mouth.

“Oh my God, you’re so stupid,” I murmur in a blur of joy, my hand snaking behind her head. In the haze of the alcohol and the giggles and the newfound feelings, before I can think it through, I’m pulling her down by the chain and her head, leaning closer and kissing her.

It’s heaven. Every nerve in my body is on fire. The blonde’s lips open for me, slowly but sensually sliding against mine. My legs feel weak, and my nails dig into the skin of her neck, a whimper leaving my mouth but she swallows it, groaning in response. Her hands squeeze my waist before moving to my face, landing on my jaw to keep me as close as possible - like she might die if I pull away.

I’m pressed closer to the glass behind my back as the kiss grows hungrier. Paige’s mouth opens further, her tongue darting out to slide against my lower lip, begging for entry with a small whine slipping from the blonde’s mouth. It’s like everything pent up was finally releasing, something I didn’t even know was there, bubbling right underneath the surface. My tongue meets Paige’s, both of us melting into the kiss. I feel like putty in her hands, like she could mold me whichever way possible. This is the best kiss I’ve ever experienced, I know that for sure. Jasper always kissed in such a stiff, forceful way. Right. Jasper.

It takes me back to the moment, as if for a sliver of a second I can think clearly. What the fuck am I doing. This isn’t me. I haven’t thought this through at all. I’m leading Paige on.

Abruptly I pull back for air, the taller girl already dragging me back into another kiss needily. But I push Paige back by her chest, stopping her. We’re both breathing heavily, staring at each other. What the fuck am I doing.

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” I mumble, shoving her off me as gently as I can, saying quick goodbyes to Lala and Arike before practically running down the stairs and throwing myself into a cab, leaving Paige upstairs as if nothing happened. The only proof of the night’s events merely the way my lips still burn and tingle, and my racing heart and swirling mind trying to make sense of everything.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part twelve

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 3.2k (3203)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part thirteen!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

If revenge took so much time, you weren't sure you wanted to take revenge against Gabriel and possibly Ursula. You had been spending all your time calculating your ex's steps in great detail for a month now, trying to find the tip of the iceberg that hid a world of mistakes underneath; but you couldn't find this tip, and you were starting to lose hope. You knew for a fact that Gabriel had a lot of secrets that the more hidden the worse they were, but you couldn't figure out where to start to unmask these secrets of his. You can't help but admit that he's a smart person, and he's definitely trying to use this potential to hide all his mistakes

After that night, Kaiser had decided to take his vacation early to enjoy some time with you, and in his humble opinion you yourself needed your boyfriend to work better and send Gabriel to hell. It was Kaiser's cute way of saying he wanted to be around you, you knew, but it made you laugh to imagine him as if he were at home planning some sort of murder with his soccer ball. Besides, since you had that hysterical crying fit, you had never found yourself without breakfast ready in the morning and someone to take you to and from work. Some paparazzi had intercepted Michael in the car, but so far you were not in any other current scandal. If they had started something you would have simply shut everyone, the media and the entire world, with yet another excuse

You pick up the phone, retrieving it after hours in the hands of the stylists, who have used your body for at least four consecutive hours with the clothes of the next fashion show. Today in the agency there are few models, you and a few others scattered throughout the entire building; Ursula should be in her office and there is no trace of Gabriel since this morning. It's a pretty boring day, the next show is still far away and many prefer to stay home and come in the afternoon, if they have to. You could have stayed in the arms of your beloved boyfriend in your soft and warm bed, but if you really want to find out something about Gabriel you have to be around all the time

And if that means wasting hours you could spend with Kaiser, you'll do it for now. You sighs, checking messages you've received

mihya ♡

— Return home at least for lunch is not an idea, right? — 12:08

— I take that as a no, schatz — 13:10

you — I was busy, sorry love — 13:20

— I had guessed it. But for dinner I want to order from that french food shop that disgusts you, so be ready — 13:21

you — Obviously I'll eat before I return home, disgusting boyfriend — 13:21

— You are hurting me badly. You might not find your favorite socks when you get home — 13:22

you — MICHEAL KAISER TOUCH THOSE SOCKS AND I SWEAR TO GO BACK TO ITALY, I SWEAR — 13:23

— You're always so sweet, schatz. Any news on your evil plan of destruction? — 13:23

you — None other than I'm thinking of giving up. That bastard seems to have everything hidden so perfectly, my god. I thought I had learned to read he at least a little after years, but apparently not. I'm thinking of just making up something far away that he might have done and making it the news of the century. It looks cool — 13:25

— You could say he cheated on you, manipulated you, maybe even slapped you once, and you wouldn't even be lying — 13:26

you — I don't know whether to be amused by the fact that you're absolutely right or to feel stupid for letting him act like that — 13:27

— The one that make you feel better, or the one that make you come home to me now — 13:27

you — Mihya :(( — 13:28

— Shall I pick you up then? — 13:29

As you are about to write 'yes' to Kaiser you notice someone passing by you, proceeding towards his destination with a certain hurry. You look up, noticing that that someone is Gabriel, who strangely did not bother you as he usually does. His face is a bit worried, and his pace is hurried as he begins to climb the steps that lead directly to Ursula's office. He has a folder in his hand, from witch a sheet of paper accidentally slips out, ending up on the steps

You put your phone in your pocket, making a mental note to answer your boyfriend. You walk a few meters away from Gabriel, who disappears from your life as soon as he passes the highest staircase. You run to the place where the paper fell, pick it up and sit for a moment on a nearby step, taking a long sigh. The last time you had to deal with secret papers you almost risked ending your friendship with Kaiser, but in the end the result is having him as a boyfriend. Will it bring you luck this time or not? You ask yourself this because, deep down, you know that this paper is important, maybe really important. You yake a little preparatory sigh as you begin to observe

The sheet is presented with simple data about the models and their paychecks. For some more information are written, such as their age and how long they have been working for the agency, but reading it you cannot find your name. You reread the paper several times, but you can't find yours. Why, even though you work here, you are not on the list of models?. You search for the name of some model you are more or less friends with, and at the bottom of the description of one you find a somewhat strange sentence

"Alleged friend of X. Seen with her more than a few times, probably they have an informal relationship. Seems to know about X's situation, possible collaborator. She might ask for a raise, a higher position at the next fashion show, or a transfer to another agency"

You reread the sentence several times, not fully understanding it. What should she be a collaborator for?. Also, she's a model who's been in the agency for a short time, and you're the only one she has any sort of relationship with. You'd like to avoid thinking about it, but you think X is a code name they gave you, for who knows what reason. You turn the sheet over, and in the white part you find a small erased note, still half legible

"She simply asked for a pay rise and more vacation days during the christmas period. She will provide information via messages during the day. X should have told her about deleted and maybe some details about her old deleted"

The girl in question then spoke, but on what topic? If it's really you X, you've never told this girl anything personal, except some old stories from when you were in other agencies, but those have nothing really important. Did she lie?. You get up from the step, walking towards Ursula's office with a cautious step, hoping not to find anyone on your way. Arriving in front of the door you look from inside the crack to see if there is anyone, but you are surprised to see absolutely no one and to find the door open, which is strange considering that Ursula is very reserved. You inadvertently find yourself opening the door, being careful not to let anyone nearby see you. You look in the office, but while you are looking on her desk you hear voices, two that you recognize well, talking; you think they are coming from the corridor, but when you check you don't find anyone. You go back into the office, and noticing the door of the personal bathroom slightly open you are convinced that the voices are coming from there. Cautiously you hide behind the wall that separates the bathroom from the office, trying to figure out why they are in the bathroom and why they are Gabriel and Ursula in question. Maybe you have seriously found the last thing you needed to unmask Gabriel, or at least you hope

"So?"

"You saw the papers I gave you, right? She has few relationships here, with the other models. The only one who agreed to talk said she'll call me tonight or send me messages, but I don't know why I can't find the paper where I wrote it... maybe it stayed at my house. I don't really care, I just need to know that I'll finally have some material in my hands"

"And will it be enough?"

"I suppose so, after all the media doesn't take much to ruin a person, and she's not in such a good situation already. Give me a week and you'll get what you want too"

"I've been waiting for two years, Gabriel. I'm fed up, if it doesn't work this time I'll do it my way, and you know my methods aren't exactly legal"

"Trust me, you'll get what you want and I'll get what I need. I just need to get those messages tonight and by tomorrow you can already say you're her"

"Now I really like the way you talk"

"Maybe you already love me but you don't want to admit it"

"Let's go step by step, I'll think about that later"

"Do as you wish, darling. Just think that from tomorrow Y/n will no longer be her but you will be her. The dream you have been living for will finally come true, and that slut will end up in some forgotten place. No longer the stylist, but now the model, my dear Ursula"

You are petrified, hearing their words. Even without knowing the situation, you already know that those two are doing everything they can to get you down once and for all, probably using something much more powerful than scandal.

"No longer the stylist, but now the model. And you, dear Gabriel, no longer the founder, but the general boss"

You pick up your phone, going to Kaiser chat to start a voice message. You need to record, you know you need to if you want to get out clean off this situation. You're ignoring the tremors that are plaguing you, because now you really need to concentrate, it's for your final win

"Anyway, I really don't believe it took two whole years to get to this point. On the one hand, I'm also sorry I treated her like that, it wasn't that bad... she's nice, more or less. But if treating her this way means I get where I want to go I don't care, or maybe I never really cared about her"

"Two years because, I don't know how, she withstood the scandal. I suspected she would swallow it completely, but evidently she still has some tricks up her sleeve. Then I can't imagine what's going on between her and her fucking best friend, the famous soccer player I mean, Kaiser Micheal. Will they fuck?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. I honestly don't know if she hasn't let anyone else touch her after me yet"

Oh well Gabriel, you have pretty high hopes. You and Kaiser had fucked a few hours after you broke up, let's say you hadn't wasted any time

"You're just a junkie, Gabriel. You ruined that poor girl for your own interests!"

"Are you speaking, Ursula? Destroying someone who has never done anything to you is not exactly good behavior, dear. Being obsessed with the idea of Y/n just because she is actually a successful model, something you couldn't become, is a bit of bad behavior... you even went so far as to ask her beloved boyfriend for help"

"And you destroyed her to become the boss of the TraumLaufsteg, silly"

You've had enough, you get up and leave the office in a hurry, running as fast as you can towards your dressing room. Everything is so damn clear to you, finally something has formed with a logical thread, and damn, this time you even have the proof. You don't know how for two years you didn't notice anything, but finally everything is clearer to you; you won, really won. You arrive in your dressing room, closing the door behind you as you rush to the couch, once again taking up the chat with Kaiser where your most precious evidence rests. You sigh deeply, listening to the audio of less than 5 minutes, where Gabriel basically unmasks himself together with Ursula. You notice that Micheal has viewed the message, and because of the emotion you can't even write, so you opt for a voice message

"Mihya... we'll talk about it at home. But trust me, trust me, this time I've really won, this time I can make him look like a monster, this time I can seriously-" you say excitedly, but you turn when you hear footsteps in the hallway that you would recognize anywhere. The door to the room opens, and the smiling figure of Gabriel makes your blood run cold "Am I disturbing you?" he say "What the fuck are you doing here?" you say, getting up from the couch, and he shrugs "Nothing big. I just think you listened to too much" he says, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb. He saw you, you don't know how, but he saw you. But this time it won't be a problem to be there, this time you decided that he won't hurt you "I heard, oh yes I heard, you piece of shit" you say taking a few steps forward "How good, my sweet Y/n. She still knows how to spy and listen" he say giving a small laugh, but grabbing your chin "So, what would you like to do? Who would believe the naive girl who everyone believes betrayed the genius of Italian fashion? Do you really think your opinion counts so much compared to mine?" he asks, mixing seriousness with a hint of sarcasm. You don't look down, but you suddenly have a little plan in mind, if everything is happening as you think "Gabriel... god, I hadn't thought of that. You're not entirely wrong" you say, faking a surprised and sorry tone, while you lower your gaze, as if you want to make him feel superior. He raises an eyebrow, smirking when he sees you so defeated, so naive and innocent "You see? You know it too"

Showing yourself weak might help the plan you just came up with. You hate to do it right now when you were showing yourself strong, but if the outcome is what you imagine, you have to do it

"And this time you want to send me down too. How did I not notice that..." you say mortified, and he seems to be convinced "You're so stupid, you don't act so strong when Kaiser's not around, right? Look, I guess you guys fuck, or maybe I don't even know, but I don't care. This time he's not around" he says smiling "And you are the umpteenth brainless and alone with a badly used potential. You could have remained silent in your place and lived at least another year without me having done anything to you, we would still be a couple and only then would I have spoken against you. And yet no, you acted like a bitch and unleashed a huge mess, coming here in Germany"

Gabriel continues, caressing your face "It was never my intention to hurt you, sweetie. The first year was beautiful between us, remember? We lived well in Milan and you paraded like a professional model, even though you had never been in the industry that much... good times. But then you found out about my first cheat, but you didn't leave, silly girl, because you loved me so much. And so, while you were growing in fame, I suddenly became 'Y/n's boyfriend' and no longer the fucking founder of the biggest Italian modeling agency of the moment, and it bothered me darling, it bothered me so fucking much, because I fucking created you. And so while I was looking for some German stylist to open a fashion agency in Germany I met Ursula, who coincidentally was so obsessed with you. She who has always walked the catwalk never got your fame, and she got fed up with creating clothes but not wearing them, and she wants to be you so much, amore mio. So while she became the boss of the TraumLaufsteg, keeping my identity a secret, I continued to cheat on you, and you always noticed everything, baby. The goal was to push you down as much as possible, I would become the official boss of the TraumLaufsteg, which I would later merge with my Italian agency, since Ursula would finally become a model and could give me the role. Because I depend on you, but you depend on me, slut. And if that meant making you the shittiest person in the world, painting you as a traitor, I would have done it. And I did, because I knew you would go down and I could finally take over as the boss of the TraumLaufsteg. And yet you got back up even after the scandal, and I don't know how"

Finally, everything is clearer to you. Gabriel's words come out like a raging river, and you don't know if you're still looking sad, because inside you're dying of happiness. You knew it was shit, you knew it damn well, and he admitted it. You loved a piece of shit that has now exposed itself, without him knowing it. You had been stupid, so damn stupid to let everything slide, but you finally had everything in your hands

"So you admit that you cheated on me...?" you ask sounding desperate, and he nods happily "More than you can imagine. You're gorgeous, I can't lie, but you're more type for a long term relationship, and in the fashion world relationships between people last as long as a fashion show. I've probably been with seven or eight different women... maybe a few more" he says thinking about it "And you painted me in front of the media as a monster" you say, returning to the main topic. He shrugs, sighing, "Give the media what they want, right? No one would ever imagine you would cheat on me, but remember, my opinion carries some weight. I've made up so much bullshit about you that I can't even remember anymore, but look where you are now... you're about to sink. And I love this thing"

You sigh, falling dramatically to the floor as you cover your face "I can’t believe this…" you say, but you’re hiding a laugh. It’s all working out, it’s all worked out, you’ve got it all. Gabriel chuckles softly, giving your hair a light caress before leaving the room "Sorry again, sweetie. Don’t make me feel too bad, good fall into hell"

He leaves, the room is finally empty and silent again. You stand up, moving towards the couch where the phone is still open, and the audio in Kaiser's chat is still recording, and Michael's online

You won. You fucking won

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan ; @sabrina-senpai ; @vannilaa16 ; @kaz-0e (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 9

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 2,893 of 24,664

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AO3 Link

Light peeks through the drawn shades of the sleeping cabin, painting the wooden panes so they look like they have been recently polished with a fresh lemon cleaner. My whole body is exhausted, too tired to even put my hand up to block the glare. It feels like I have done a full day's work of scrubbing and washing and then only slept for 2 hours. The air in the cabin is cold, and it’s an effort to pull the duvet tighter around my chin. I want to go back to sleep, but between the glare and the chilled air, it’s unmanageable. I blink my eyes several times, trying to rid them of the blurry sleep and when that doesn't work, I rub at them.

As my vision clears, I can see the Wizard in a white undershirt standing at a looking glass that had been bolted to the wall, face half lathered in white foam, a razor in hand. It feels incredulous that there would be shaving cream and a razor on this train as part of "necessities" but it was probably the Wizard himself who ordered what was stocked on this train, all the way down to the unnecessary shaving cream.

The train rocks unexpectedly and he jerks the razor away from his face, cussing as he reaches for a bit of sticking plaster that is set on the desk below the mirror.

"Don't cut yourself," I croak in my morning hoarseness.

I can see the corner of his mouth tug upward as he presses the plaster into the cut. "I'll uh... try to keep that in mind," he says. He pulls the skin of his cheek taut again and his hand moves the blade slowly as he resumes his morning routine.

I pull the covers tighter to me as a shiver creeps through my body, trying not to gawk that he was standing there in just an undershirt and tuxedo pants from last night. "Aren't you cold?" I ask.

"You're only as cold," he singsongs, "as the love in your heart." I pull the covers up past my nose to hide the grimace on my face. The silliness is a bit too much forhaving just woken up. Whether or not my heart was cold was up for debate; my stomach, however, definitely had the hollowing ache that begged for breakfast.

"We got any food?" I ask.

"Is the little beast hungry?" he asks with a smile. I pull the covers down to let him see in the mirror that I do not appreciate being called a beast. "We have some of those..." he shudders, "bars in the supply cabinet. We’ll be at Settica soon. Should be able to get something decent there."

"And what about clothes?" I ask. I can feel the velvet emerald dress still warming my body, the crinoline of the skirt having gotten tangled between my legs in my sleep.

"Hmm… nothing for the lady. Sorry. We'll have to get that in Settica too." He wipes away the rest of the white foam with a white rag, revealing a fresh Wizard of Oz, minus the bit of sticking plaster on the right side of his jaw. "It’s a shame, really. I liked the wardrobe I had picked out for you."

"You mean the half-naked one?" I say, contempt barely hidden in my voice. He exhales a laugh at that, and I want to throw a pillow at him, but that would mean sticking my arm out from under the warm covers. Jerk.

____________________________________

We pull into the Settica station an hour later. The northern train station of the Emerald City was the farthest I'd ever been. Fileah and I have no relatives to visit outside of the high gemmed walls, so it shocks me just how beige everything is up north. The buildings look like they were painted with oatmeal, with large black timbers holding the soggy walls in place. I climb out of the stiff bed, taking the woolen blanket to shield me from the cold.

The Wizard was kind enough to step out into the hallway to redress into the emergency clothes provided for him. I see him now in the clear sunlight that floods the sleeping compartment and I know that the rotting lights of the hallway had played a trick on my eyes. His clothes are just as oatmeal as the rest of Settica: dark brown slacks, brown waistcoat minus any fancy chains or baubles, white shirt, and a tweed jacket. To finish it off he’s wrapped a large black scarf around his neck.

"You look...awful," I say, adjusting the scarf tails so they are more even. It felt wrong to see him like this: without any rich greens to play up his vitality or the warmth of his complexion.

"Speak for yourself," he says, pulling the scarf back to its original position. He's right in that. When I see myself in the fixed mirror, it looks like I got into a fight with the bed and lost. My hair is completely disheveled, and the woolen blanket wrapped around me is not helping. I smooth my hands over the flyaways and pieces of hair that have been pulled out of my updo, pulling out the decorative gold and emerald comb and shoving it back in once I have smooshed everything back down.

Satisfied with my renovation, we head out onto the platform and into the train station. It's a large enough building, built in the same oatmeal and dark timber fashion as the other buildings. I see that the Wizard has pulled his scarf up a bit to cover half his face, and I pull the woolen blanket tighter around my shoulders, even though the building has been heated to a toasty warmth.

The inside is nearly abandoned with a few drunks slopped into chairs that were bolted to the tile floors, and a few more put-together travelers waiting at a concierge counter. Aside from them and a lone waitress wiping down tables in the bistro, you could drive one of the trains through the building, and not a soul would be maimed or killed. I want to head over to the bistro to get something into my stomach, but the Wizard walks up to the concierge line.

"Some bad business about the Emerald City, eh?" one of the men waiting in line says, flipping a page of the newspaper he was reading as he leaned against the counter. He's dressed much like the Wizard, except with a pork pie hat perched atop his head and a beat-up briefcase at his feet.

"Yeah," another man says. "Well, what are you gonna do about it? Least it's not here."

"I'm never gonna hear the end of it once I get to work," the pork pie man says. "Got businesses down in Green Town. The office is going to be a nightmare, especially if this siege business turns out to be real."

I pull the woolen blanket tighter around me, trying my best to keep the emerald velvet of my dress undercover. I must look absolutely ridiculous next to the Wizard, but I have a sense that right now is not the time to let the entire world know that we just came in from the Emerald City.

The concierge lady comes back, a short woman with a cloud of lavender hair and bold red eyeglasses that are two sizes two big on her sweet round face. She's brought back a fresh stack of blank tickets, and a cup of coffee, presumably from the bistro. Like lightning, she flies through the two businessmen and the others, filling tickets and checking timetables.

When we get to the counter, the Wizard asks for some stationery, as well as the service of an errand boy. He takes the envelopes and paper and slips a piece of paper to the lady for the errands. I grab the newspaper one of the men had left on the counter and we go find a table at the Bistro.

"A siege?" I whisper to him as he arranges the small complimentary ink pot and papers on the white wooden table.

"Damn jackanapes," he says, licking the pen before dipping it into the inkpot. His hand works in a quick, neat, and tight cursive script, small enough that I can't make out the words from my side of the table. "Damn monkeys too...Should've replaced them when I got here. Fly off the handle and too… too stupid to recognize when you shouldn't..." he raises his eyebrows at that as he continues to write and I know what he means. Too stupid to recognize when you shouldn't murder a foreign ambassador in front of hundreds of witnesses.

I don't want to distract him, so I pick through the newspaper. For however fast I thought letters could travel, gossip travels faster. It's the front headline: "Winkie Country Lays Siege to Capitol". I skim it and can pick out that Fiyero seems to have gotten out alright, having been rumored to be seen fleeing through the North Gate. Apparently, there had been a host just on the border, a security backup in case the Wizard had decided to take Fiyero as captive too. Well he didn't take him captive, I think. Is inviting someone to a party so big of a crime?

"Prince Fiyero got out," I say.

The Wizard's mouth tightens at this. "I'm sure you're happy to hear it," he grumbles.

I roll my eyes and go back to my skimming, even if there's not much left to read. "Who are you writing to?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Don't worry about that," he says as he finishes the first letter and moves on to the second. "Why don't you get us a cup of coffee or something?" He fishes out a leather wallet from the breast pocket of his coat and hands it to me. "Easy on the cream and sugar, okay?"

I take it, hesitating until he reaches it out a little further to me. I know he's trying to get rid of me, to get me to stop asking questions. Well, I could just take the whole thing and run if that’s how he feels. I'm sure I could find a ride back to the Emerald City somehow, and then I'd be able to get Fileah and we could be free from this whole mess. As I walk to the counter, I open the wallet to see that it is stuffed with bills. It's more than I've ever seen before all in one place. I could just take it...

"Ma'am?" the girl behind the counter asks. "Ma'am?"

I snap my head up to see her looking at me expectantly. "What?" I ask.

"I said, 'Can I get you anything?'.”

I look at the Wizard. He is finishing up the last letter, already moving on to the envelopes. I bite my lip, as I look at the fold of money, enough to get me back to Fileah. I pull out a dollar bill. "Two coffees, easy on the cream and sugar, and some of your breakfast pastries to go."

She rings them up, takes the bill, and hands me back the change. The Wizard is dabbing the envelopes closed. I quickly slip out ten dollars from the wallet and pocket it with the change. Just in case.

I grab the bag of breakfast pastries and coffees, doing my best to balance all of them while keeping the woolen blanket wrapped around me. I hand him his wallet and coffee, and soon we are headed back to the concierge counter. He slips the envelopes onto the counter and I spy that the top one is addressed to a Governor Thropp. In the upper left corner, in his neatly connected script, it says Oscar Diggs. I narrow my eyes at the name, trying to figure out who it is. One can't exactly hand over a letter addressed from the Wizard of Oz, so maybe it’s a code.

She takes them and says that the errand boy will be back in half an hour. The Wizard grumbles about this but tells her it will be fine and that he'll be back to pick up and pay for the order when the time comes, and then escorts me back to the train.

"Who's Oscar?" I ask as he helps me back into the car.

He steps in too and shuts the door, taking his scarf off. "Well, aren’t you a nosy little beast? Now, where did you come up with that name?"

"I saw it... on the letters you were sending," I say. "Who's Governor Thropp?"

"An old friend who owes me a favor," he says, climbing the steps up to the main compartment. I follow after him into the bedroom.

"So the siege is real then," I say, setting the bag of pastries down on the desk.

"Real? Fiyero might have half a brain, but he’d be an idiot not to, especially with backup," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. He scrunches his face up and sticks his tongue out from the taste, but takes another sip anyway. "I'm not going back to find out for myself. We'll meet up with the others in Wittica and head to the safehouse at Rouncible together."

Mount Rouncible was in the exact opposite direction from Fileah, and a good 10,000 feet up too. "Can't we meet them at Shiz?" I protest.

"Morrible wouldn't stand for it," he says. "An active war on campus? There's a saying where I come from..." he pauses, his eyes tracing his lashes for the phrase. He takes another sip of the bitter coffee, seemingly giving up the effort.

"I need to get back home to Fileah," I say.

"Look, doll," he says, setting down his coffee. "The best thing you can do is to forget about her, okay? We can't go back there now." He picks a pastry out of the paper bag and casually takes a bite out of it. "You ever been skewered by a sword?"

I'm trying to get over the shock of his suggestion to just forget Fileah. I stutter, "No."

"Yeah," he says, "well, me neither. And I'd like to keep it that way. Your Winkie Prince might be debonair on the dance floor but I'm sure he’d string you up in a tree the same as me."

"He's not my prince," I say, "and he would never do that."

The Wizard laughs at that, setting the pastry down. "Do you- Do you think he'll take you out on a lovely date before asking you nicely to tell him where I am? Hmm?” He leans forward, staring me in the eye. “He wants to avenge his cousin.”

"You're jealous," I spit before I can think.

"Jealous?” he scoffs. “Of what? A braindead yahoo whose biggest accomplishment is barging into my palace?" He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair. "Please..." he says, "please enlighten me why I would be jealous."

I don't want to say it. I want to get off this train and away from his smug ass. Screw the fact that he is the most powerful man in the land. "You wouldn't even let him kiss me," I blurt. "You were never in that game of Blind Man's Buff. You just couldn't bear it, could you? You're jealous of him."

The Wizard suddenly rises from his chair. He’s so tall the top of his head nearly touches the ceiling. I find myself cowering away until my back bumps against the door. He has me pinned against the wall without even touching me, and my stomach flips as he grabs my jaw easily with one hand, bringing my face to his.

His mouth is warm and soft as he slips his tongue past my teeth to shut me up. I can't help the way my head and body feel like spun sugar under his power: so light, airy, and sweet. My hands have a mind of their own as they slide up the scratchy tweed that covers his chest – oh, and how warm it is – trying to steady myself as his tongue presses against mine, and a small whimper is muffled between them.

He pulls away at this. "Why would I be jealous when I could have you whenever I want?" he whispers hoarsely, pressing closer to claim me again.

I shove him back and am ready to lay into him when there's a knock at the car door. We do our best to straighten ourselves: the Wizard sweeping his hair back into place, and I dabbing the wetness from my lips with the back of my hand. We go to the car door and it's the concierge lady with the errand boy and a brand-new steamer trunk, all ready to go.

“Everything in order?” she asks, opening the trunk to reveal linen and cotton and buttons, and not a bit of green. Traveling clothes.

“Looks great,” the Wizard says handing her a couple of bills from his wallet.

“I’ll get it loaded and then let your conductor know you’re free to go,” she says. “Safe travels.”

The errand boy picks up the trunk and I retreat back to the passenger car. So much for getting off this train.

[sakuraszn]

ⵌ ECHOES OF WHAT COULD BE !

ft. Izuku midoriya x fem. reader

synopsis. Izuku quietly harbors feelings for someone he knows he can never have. He watches from the sidelines, silently suffering as his heart breaks piece by piece, helplessly observing his friend fall for someone else.

cw. sfw content upcoming!! ┊angst ┊unrequited love┊unspoken feelings┊this takes place during highschool.

nia’s notes. I haven’t wrote in forever..I highkey missed it soo I’m back n ready to come out with a bunch of content for u guys! I got inspiration from a song called: girl by the internet. 0.9k words.

Izuku Midoriya had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. He was gentle, his spirit was kind, and his dreams vast. But, despite those wonderful qualities that he has there was one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do: confess his love to the person he loved the most.

when it came to his feelings for you, he kept them locked away, buried deep within the confines of his heart. The dreams of becoming a great hero and harvesting the power of one for all were already a monumental task, and adding the complexities of love to his already chaotic life seemed like an insuperable challenge. So, he chose to keep his feelings at bay when the time was right.

you must be wondering how his feelings started for you, yeah? well, it all started during the second year at UA high school.

By then, you and Izuku had become among the closest of friends, like two sides of a coin, always together. Anywhere he went, you were right by his side, and vice versa.

Izuku has always admired your inspiration to help others even when it’s not needed.

Your presence had a way of lighting up a room, and your devoted attitude knew no bounds. All those things about you just had him in a chokehold and lured him to you like a cartoon character flying in the air for pie. He often grappled with the question: why couldn’t he muster the courage to confess his true feelings for you? It was a struggle he faced daily, a quiet battle that kept him awake at night. Each time he thought about disclosing his heart, fear crept in, wrapping around him like an unshakeable cloud.

Instead, he chose to remain in the background, silently observing as you drew closer to Shoto Todoroki, the charming boy who seemed to effortlessly grab the attention of everyone in the class.

Izuku couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy stirred within him lately every time he saw you and shoto together. You two were always laughing, sharing inside jokes, and supporting each other in ways that made Izuku's heartache. he could see the way your beautiful eyes sparkled when you looked at shoto, the way you would easily get flushed whenever he was near. It was clear to everyone, including Izuku, that you, y/n, had fallen for shoto.

Weeks dragged on, and the interactions between Izuku and you widened painfully. He still crossed your path often, still fought beside you in battles that demanded trust and unity, but the ease of your conversations had vanished. Laughter that once echoed between you now felt forced, awkward—a fragile reminder of what used to be.

One evening, the sky bled crimson as the sun dipped below the horizon. You stumbled upon him outside the dormitories, alone and consumed by his relentless training. His kicks sliced through the air with a desperation that mirrored the turmoil in your heart. It was as if the rhythmic motions were a futile attempt to keep the ghosts of your shared moments at bay. You stood in the shadows, unsure whether to approach or linger in the silence that had grown so thick between you.

“Deku,” you said softly. “Can we talk?”

He glanced up, jolted by your sudden approach, the gravity in your voice catching him off guard.

“Of course.”

You stood there hesitantly with your hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of your skirt. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. It’s about Todoroki.”

Izuku’s heart sank quickly. He nodded, bracing himself for the knowing words that were about to come out of your mouth.

“I… I think I like him,” she admitted, your cheeks tinged with warmness. “I’m not sure how he feels, but I wanted to tell you because… well, you’re my closest friend, and I value your opinion.” The words hung heavy in the air, and Izuku felt like someone plunged him with a knife and twist it in his stomach.

Izuku forced a smile, but inside, a storm raged. “That’s great, y/n. Todoroki’s a great guy.” Each word felt like a dagger, carving into his chest as he fought to maintain his composure.

“You think so?” she asked, her eyes searching his face for the reassurance she desperately wanted, unaware of the uneasiness brewing beneath his calm surface.

“Yeah.” The word slipped out, almost a whisper, his voice trembling just enough to betray the shambles within. “I think you’d make a great couple.”

The weight of her smile hit him like a shipment train, a bittersweet wave of comfort washing over her while he stood there, drowning in his own heartache. “Thanks, Deku. That means a lot.” Her gratitude pierced through him, leaving an aching void where hope once flickered, a crushing reminder of what could never be.

As you walked away, exchanging bittersweet goodbyes, Izuku let out a shaky breath, his hand pressing against his chest, overwhelmed by an aching nothingness. The words he desperately wanted to say felt heavy and trapped in his throat, swallowed by a paralyzing fear that gnawed at his heart. A deep sense of regret washed over him as he watched her figure recede into the distance, every step pulling her further away from him. He couldn't shake the painful thought that if he had only conjured the courage to confess his feelings sooner, maybe, just maybe, things could have been different.

He also understood that some things were better left unsaid. As he gazed up at the now dark sky, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the moments lost to silence.

©sakuraszn! xoxo

[amiaclone]

Omg hai Chat I literally love your writings! If you don’t mind could you maybe do dae-ho dating headcanons? He’s literally such a cutie 😭😭😭

Thank you! and you asked you get

Is such a gentlemen omggg

Not the best with psychical touch always wants to know if you’re comfortable or not 🥲 mostly holding hands and kisses on your forehead and cheek and always stares at you to see if you’re okay with it laughing awkwardlyyy

Sometimes has nightmares due to being a marine and all but you always comfort him ❤️

Will always and ALWAYS defend you especially if they insult you with him right there? Nah there tripping

Loves doing random anniversary stuff like first time you met first date etc…..he’s a sucker for them

Not exactly open with your relationship publicly don’t get me wrong he’d never hide being with you! It’s just he doesn’t wanna make you or other people uncomfortable with pda and stuff doesn’t mind holding hands tho

If your into matching things like bracelets like he is he loves you even more

Sometimes feels like you’re too good for him just random thoughts he gets he ends up telling you cause it feels like he’s hiding stuff from you 😭

Loyal to a fault!

Idk why but will beg you if you and him can get a pet he’s just giving the guy

If anyone ever flirted with you in public he honestly wouldn’t know what to do whether get rude be nice? He’d just akwardley walk over holding your hand then feel bad like what if they weren’t flirting they were just being nice 😭

You’re always comforting him though!

Short but hope you liked ittt

[shizuturnspages]

okay, consider... yandere childe with a strong s/o. absolutely strong enough to snap him like a twig. i wanted to ask for hcs about what it'd be like bc i feel childe's one of the few who would actually be super into a strong s/o y'know???

Oh, you want Childe—a man who practically lives for the thrill of combat and danger—to fall for someone who could snap his neck like a toothpick? Say less.

Yandere Childe With A Strong S/o

Strength Is His Ultimate Turn-On

❥ The first time Childe saw you in action, it was like love at first bloodbath. Watching you handle yourself in a fight with such raw power left him completely smitten. He was practically swooning, though he’d never admit it outright.

❥ He views your strength as both a challenge and a blessing. He wants to test himself against you, to spar with you, to feel your raw power first-hand. But more than that, he’s obsessed with the idea of having someone so capable at his side.

Overprotective Despite Your Strength

❥ Rationally, Childe knows you don’t need his protection—you could probably take down an entire Fatui squad without breaking a sweat. But that doesn’t stop him from stepping in whenever he thinks you might be in danger.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t keep an eye out for you? Besides, it’s not about whether you can handle it—it’s about whether I let you.”

His Obsession Is Fuelled by Insecurity

❥ As much as Childe admires your strength, it also makes him feel insecure. He’s used to being the strongest in the room, the one others fear or admire. With you, he’s suddenly faced with someone who doesn’t need him in the same way others do.

❥ This insecurity feeds his yandere tendencies, making him more possessive and controlling. He’s constantly trying to prove his worth to you, even if it means eliminating anyone he sees as a threat.

You’re His Weakness, and He Loves It

❥ Childe’s always been drawn to danger, and you’re no exception. The idea that you could destroy him with a single move only makes him love you more. He thrives on the thrill of being with someone who’s not just his equal but possibly his superior.

❥ “You could kill me if you wanted to, couldn’t you? Good thing you don’t. Or maybe you’re just waiting for the right moment, hmm?” He says it with a smirk, but there’s an undercurrent of genuine awe in his voice.

Unapologetically Possessive

❥ Childe’s yandere tendencies shine brightest when he feels like someone else is trying to get close to you. He’s not above “removing” the competition, whether it’s through intimidation, sabotage, or outright violence.

“You’re mine. It’s not up for debate. If anyone tries to take you from me, they’ll regret it—assuming they live long enough to.”

Constantly Testing Boundaries

❥ Childe loves pushing your buttons, whether it’s by teasing you relentlessly, challenging you to spar, or intentionally getting himself into trouble just to see how you’ll react.

❥ He’s always toeing the line between playful and dangerous, but he knows better than to push you too far. After all, he’s not looking to get himself actually broken—just enough to feel the thrill of your strength.

Scenario: A Fight Turned Love Confession

The battlefield was chaos—shouts, clashing weapons, and the unmistakable scent of blood hanging heavy in the air. You didn’t know how you’d ended up fighting side by side with Childe, but you had to admit, he was a force to be reckoned with.

“Not bad!” he called over his shoulder, slicing through an enemy with a practised ease that bordered on graceful. “But you’re gonna have to try harder if you want to keep up with me!”

You rolled your eyes, dispatching three opponents in quick succession. “I think I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

He laughed, a wild, reckless sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Fine? Sweetheart, you’re incredible! It’s almost enough to make me fall for you.”

“Almost?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow as you wiped the blood from your blade.

“Fine,” he admitted, grinning. “You got me. I’m already head over heels.”

The fight ended as suddenly as it had begun, leaving the two of you standing amidst the carnage. Childe turned to you, his expression unusually serious. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I wasn’t joking. I meant what I said back there.”

You frowned, confused. “About what?”

“About falling for you.” He stepped closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted—strong, fearless, and absolutely stunning. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Childe…”

“But it’s not just admiration,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous whisper. “It’s more than that. I don’t just want to be near you—I want to be yours. Completely, utterly yours. And I want you to be mine, too.”

There was a possessive edge to his words that should have been unsettling, but instead, it sent a thrill through you. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that Childe’s intensity was oddly compelling.

“What if I say no?” you asked, half-teasing, half-testing him.

His smile didn’t falter, but there was a glint in his eyes that made your pulse race. “Then I’ll just have to change your mind.”

It wasn’t a threat—it was a promise. And somehow, you knew that Childe would stop at nothing to keep it.

[espace--positif]

A Dragon Age Newbie's First Impressions of Inquisition Companions [Part 1/?]

SO. I've acquired ye olde Dragon Age brainrot after completing Veilguard and starting Inquisition. I have a lot of Thoughts and Ideas TM about both games, so while I decide whether I should make a separate blog for DA, enjoy this messy post on my first impressions of all the Inquisition companions. I also wanna be able to look back at this and see whether my judgments were right or wrong lmao. Yes this is what I'm doing instead of writing fics.

Spoilers for... I don't know where I'm at in Inquisition man. I just got to Skyhold and did a few missions. And MAJOR DAV spoilers, probably. Under the cut.

Cassandra

CASSANDRA PENTAGHAST THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE.

she honestly grew on me a lot. I knew I wanted to like her from like, the opening scene. she just exudes intensity, and you can immediately tell that she cares. she, however did not like my Lavellan one bit, and disapproved of every single choice I made for a while 😭

early game Cassandra whenever Lavellan breathed:

but she honestly feels like the realest, and maybe most good-hearted character in all of DAI. conflicted, caring, under far too much pressure, and with a cold exterior that isn't just there for the sake of being unapproachable. she second-guesses all of her choices, which I believe is HEALTHY for someone who has that much power.

as I progress through the game and get to know her more, I just end up liking her even more. she also knows how to disagree with you, on small and large things, while keeping an open mind and trying to understand your reasoning - that also encourages me to hear her out. I truly enjoy that about her! her VA is also STELLAR, I just love to hear her talk!!

overall, 10/10 no notes.

Solas

oh you motherfucker.

so DAV Varric (or whoever it was who said this) lied when he said this rat egg man doesn't lie to your face and only lies by omission.

"I know about the fade because of my studies in ancient ruins" "I know about spirits because I befriended them in my dreams"

what if I punched you in the throat? ok but in all honesty. I'm trying to do the Solavellan ting and, well, he's got game. I'll give him that. I was positively shook at the first fade dream thing. they teach you how to rizz up dalish women in those ancient elven ruins? 🤨

speaking of dalish. why is he so mad that Lavellan is dalish LMAO. my ass chose the "proudly dalish" option and he DISAPPROVED. it's not Lavellan's fault that that one dalish clan threw rocks at you when you told them you were fen'harel! damn...

overall? I need to see how badly he betrays her to make a better judgment. will it be worse than the DAV betrayal? probably. will I eat it up? absolutely.

Varric

VARRIC MY GOAT!! THE REALEST MF IN ALL OF THEDAS!!!

I love Varric so much. it obviously helped to play DAV before, so I kinda knew him... for like, 20 minutes, I guess...

anyway, I'm really looking forward to getting to know him some more. as always, he's the only mf who cares how your character is feeling, who bothers to check in on you because everyone just tells you to roll with all the Crazy Shit TM that's happening. everyone keeps asking WHO is the herald of andraste, WHERE is the herald of andraste. no one ever asks HOW is the herald of andraste. except Varric.

he's caring, hilarious, compassionate, but also extremely REAL. cause yeah, Varric, you SHOULD'VE run the other way the moment Cassandra set you free. this breach shit is crazy! but you're literally too good of a man to do that 😭

I also cannot stop laughing at his reaction to Cory being alive. "shit, we stabbed him a bunch, I can't believe he's alive"

Varric continue to be your best real self, I am your biggest cheerleader as you are mine ❤️

Blackwall

ok so Blackwall is great. just a chill dude. super chill actually! however. he's kind of not very helpful at all, is he? "why did the wardens disappear?" "idk. can i join your inquisition?"

you're in luck, we actually take anyone because we're desperate!

but what can he actually do. him being a warden doesn't seem to help very much, because he literally never displays any warden expertise. when Stroud (?) mentions how all the wardens hear the calling now because of mr. Cory, he goes "oh shit yeah me too". and you just forgot to mention it? world's chillest warden, I guess.

I like him! but I just don't know why he's there especially when Iron Bull absolutely clears him when it comes to warrior combat.

anyway thank you Blackwall, very cool!

---

This post has been long enough, so I will make a Part 2 at some point thanks bye!!

[the-siphonophore]

When you realize behavior mostly guided by values/beliefs and practice it's much easier not to worry about how your personality comes off. Just pay attention to doing what you think is best, (including if that's to have fun and goof off) the rest will happen naturally. The more you do it the easier it gets until eventually it's second nature^^

Edit: if this doesn't make a ton of sense pls lmk I'm very tired and happy to clarify after sleep xD