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julietsf1 · 3 months ago

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The Idiot I Call Mine - Lando Norris x BestFriend! Reader

summary: best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently. (7.1k words)

content: fluff! friends to lovers; flirty dynamic; mutual pining

an: whaaat? a fic about another driver? yes loves. this is me coming forward as a secret Lando fan. I hope you'll enjoy as much as I did writing this :)

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Lando Norris has this annoying habit of always being right. It’s not even about anything important—it’s just little things. Like the time he guessed exactly how long it would take before I caved and ordered dessert, or when he said I’d end up watching a rom-com tonight even though I claimed I wanted “something deep and meaningful.”

“See?” he said smugly, leaning back on the couch as the opening credits of The Holiday played. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Hardly,” I shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You just know I have a weak spot for Jude Law. That doesn’t make you psychic.”

“No, but it does make me an excellent best friend.” He winked, plucking the popcorn off his lap and popping it into his mouth like the show-off he was.

I rolled my eyes, pretending I wasn’t fighting a grin. Lando and I had been inseparable for years, the kind of best friends who finished each other’s sentences and shared a borderline unhealthy obsession with late-night McDonald’s runs. But lately, something had been… different.

Not bad, exactly. Just different. Maybe? I wasn’t even sure to be honest.

“You’re staring again,” Lando said, breaking into my thoughts. He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest in a way that felt entirely too casual and yet completely deliberate. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, and his smirk was the kind that could make even the most confident person question their sanity.

“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in my mouth for good measure.

“You were absolutely staring,” he teased, leaning closer. “What’s on your mind, hmm? Thinking about how devastatingly handsome I am? It’s okay—you can admit it.”

“You’re such a joke,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably. “Devastatingly handsome? Please. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin. “And yet, here you are, spending your Friday night with me. Interesting choice.”

“I’m here for the popcorn,” I deadpanned, though even I didn’t believe myself. “And because you begged me.”

“I didn’t beg,” he protested. “I suggested strongly. There’s a difference.”

This was us—lighthearted insults, jokes at each other’s expense, and an ease in our conversations that felt like home. If there was something different lately, I told myself it was just my imagination running wild.

“Speaking of choices,” I said, leaning back against the couch. “What’s the deal with you and your phone wallpaper?”

“What about it?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You really expect me to believe you just happened to pick a picture of me for your wallpaper?”

“It’s a great photo,” he said with a shrug. “You look happy. And let’s not pretend your wallpaper isn’t me.”

I froze, caught. He was right—my wallpaper was him, but that wasn’t the point.

“That’s different,” I said quickly. “You look stupid in yours. It’s funny.”

“Ah, so I’m your personal clown now?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense. “Good to know my humiliation brings you joy.”

“Always,” I said sweetly, tossing another piece of popcorn his way.

The movie played on in the background, but neither of us was really paying attention. We were too busy pushing each other’s buttons, like always.

“Hey,” Lando said after a while, his tone a little softer. “You’re coming to dinner at Mum’s next weekend, right?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “She’s already planning the menu. Something with pasta, probably. You know how she gets when you’re coming over.”

I smiled despite myself. His family had always treated me like one of their own, and his mum had a knack for making me feel special in ways that were both comforting and overwhelming.

“Well, in that case,” I said, pretending to think it over. “I guess I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “I’d be bored without you there.”

It was moments like this—simple and familiar—that stuck with me longer than they should. The way he said things so casually, as if they didn’t carry any weight, even when they somehow did.

“You’ve got something on your face,” I said suddenly, trying to distract myself.

“Where?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Right there,” I said, tapping the corner of my mouth.

He smirked, deliberately licking the spot where I’d pointed. “Better?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I said, shoving him away. But I was laughing, and so was he.

“You love it,” he said, and for once, I didn’t argue. Because maybe I did.

As the night went on, the teasing continued, each remark more loaded than the last. By the time the credits rolled, I wasn’t sure if it was the movie or Lando’s lingering glances that had me feeling so off-kilter.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as he stood to clean up the popcorn bowl. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking,” I said vaguely, not meeting his gaze.

“About?” he pressed, leaning against the counter with a smirk that said he already knew the answer.

“Nothing important,” I said, grabbing my phone and pretending to scroll.

“Liar,” he said, his voice playful but probing. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know that?”

I glanced up at him, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had been doing lately. He was standing there like he had all the time in the world, his green eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Lando,” I said finally, brushing past him on my way to the couch.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

…

“You know, for someone who claims to be an athlete, you spend an alarming amount of time eating,” I said, glancing at Lando over the top of my menu.

“Carbs are fuel,” he replied, flashing me a grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that we could’ve gone somewhere normal instead of whatever this place is,” I said, gesturing to the overly fancy restaurant. The kind of place where the wine glasses sparkled brighter than the chandeliers, and the menu was full of words I couldn’t pronounce.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how hard it was to get a table here? I had to name-drop myself.”

“Wow,” I said dryly. “The struggle.”

“Exactly. And now you’re here, about to enjoy the finest pasta in town, thanks to me. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude? You dragged me here under false pretenses. You said this was a ‘low-key spot.’”

“It is low-key,” he argued, gesturing around. “For Monte Carlo standards.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my face. This was just how things were with Lando—effortless, easy, and borderline ridiculous.

“Alright, what are you getting?” Lando asked, lowering his menu.

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” I said without hesitation.

“Of course you are,” he said, smirking. “Predictable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shot back. “What are you getting, then? Something groundbreaking? Life-changing? Revolutionary?”

“Tagliatelle al tartufo,” he said with a mockingly posh accent.

“Wow,” I said, feigning awe. “Truffle pasta. You’re really pushing the boundaries, Norris.”

“Don’t be jealous just because I have sophisticated taste,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face.

“‘Sophisticated’ is one way to put it,” I muttered, pretending to study the menu again. “Another is ‘pretentious.’”

“You’ll be begging for a bite,” he said confidently, setting the menu down.

“Please,” I said, scoffing. “You’ll be stealing mine before the plates even hit the table.”

He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know me so well.”

The food arrived soon after, and, as predicted, we switched plates halfway through without even discussing it. It was second nature by now, like so many other things about us.

“You know,” Lando said, twirling a forkful of fettuccine, “if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out, I could be a food critic.”

“Sure,” I said, deadpan. “Because people are dying to know what Lando Norris thinks about pasta.”

“They would be,” he said, undeterred. “My palate is unparalleled.”

“Your palate consists of pizza, chicken nuggets, and whatever I’m eating,” I shot back.

“And yet, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Me, enjoying this culinary masterpiece, and you, enjoying my company. Life is good.”

It was shaping up to be another night of easy conversation and mindless teasing until a voice interrupted us.

“Lando?”

I looked up to see two women standing at the edge of our table. They were both tall, blonde, and effortlessly elegant, the kind of women who looked like they belonged in a magazine spread rather than real life.

“Oh, hey!” Lando said, his face lighting up in recognition.

I glanced at him, watching as his entire demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He straightened up, his grin widening just enough to make my stomach twist.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” one of the women said, her smile bright and practiced.

“I know,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “It’s been a while.”

“You look great,” one of them said, her smile bright as she leaned in a little too close.

“So do you,” Lando replied, his tone polite but just warm enough to make me suddenly very interested in my water glass. The conversation floated around me, full of laughter and inside jokes I didn’t understand.

“And who’s this?” one of them finally asked, her gaze flicking to me with polite curiosity.

“This is Y/N,” Lando said, gesturing toward me with a casualness that felt too deliberate. “My best friend.”

Best friend. There it was again.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Likewise,” she replied, her tone perfectly pleasant.

They didn’t linger much longer—just enough to leave their mark before excusing themselves with a wave and a promise to “catch up soon.”

“Old friends of yours?” I asked once they were gone, my voice light but with a slight edge.

“Something like that,” Lando said, taking a sip of his water.

“Something like that?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “They’re sisters. I, uh… may have had a thing with both of them. At different times, obviously.”

My fork froze midair. “Both of them?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that weird.”

“It’s incredibly weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“I mean, it didn’t overlap or anything,” he added, as if that somehow made it better. “But yeah… sisters.”

I stared at him, equal parts amused and horrified. “That’s… impressive? I guess?”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d just been handed an award. “Think I should call them again?”

“Sure,” I forced a laugh, stabbing at my pasta. “And then ask if they have any other sisters you might’ve missed.”

He chuckled, clearly oblivious to the sarcasm in my tone. “Good idea. Always room for a hat trick.”

My stomach churned uncomfortably, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I focused on my plate, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way my mood had shifted.

…

The paddock was its usual chaotic self—teams rushing to prepare for practice sessions, fans peering over barriers for a glimpse of their favorite drivers, and media personnel darting between interviews. I decided to escape the madness for a bit, heading toward the staff catering building for a much-needed coffee.

The line was mercifully short, but as I joined it, I noticed someone already waiting near the front. Tall, dark-haired, and wearing a Ferrari polo with his name—Marco—stitched neatly on the chest. He turned slightly, catching my eye and offering a polite smile.

“Busy morning?” he asked, his tone warm and conversational.

“Something like that,” I replied with a small smile. “You?”

“Always,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But coffee makes it manageable, no?”

I nodded. “A universal truth.”

Marco stepped aside to let me order, a gesture so casual it almost went unnoticed. As I gave my order to the barista, I felt him glance at me again—not invasive, just curious.

“So, not Ferrari,” he said after I stepped back to wait for my coffee.

“Is it that obvious?” I joked.

“A little,” he admitted, his grin widening. “You’re far too relaxed to be one of us.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?” I asked, tilting my head playfully.

“Flattered,” he said easily. “Relaxed is a good thing.”

We fell into an easy rhythm as we waited. Marco was effortlessly charming, asking questions without prying and tossing in a few self-deprecating remarks about Ferrari’s chaos.

“You’re here with a team?” he asked eventually.

“A friend,” I said vaguely.

“Lucky friend,” he said, his tone light but genuine.

I laughed softly. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation.

“There you are.”

I turned to see Lando approaching, his expression relaxed but his eyes sharper than usual.

“Hey,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were doing media.”

“Finished early,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flicked briefly to Marco, who stood quietly by my side. “And I figured I’d find you here.”

“Good instincts,” I said lightly, though something about his sudden appearance felt… deliberate.

Marco offered his hand to Lando, ever polite. “Marco. Ferrari engineering.”

“Lando,” he replied, shaking his hand. “McLaren driving.”

Marco chuckled. “I know who you are. Good to meet you.”

“You too,” Lando said, his tone friendly but with an edge I couldn’t quite place.

The barista called my name, and I turned to grab my coffee, giving them a moment to exchange polite words. By the time I returned, Marco was stepping away with his own drink.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, offering me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Lando watched him go before turning back to me. “Who was that?”

“Marco,” I said simply.

“And what was Marco talking to you about?” he asked, his tone too casual to be entirely innocent.

I raised an eyebrow. “Coffee, mostly. Why?”

“No reason,” he said quickly, taking a sip of my drink.

I studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he said defensively.

“You’re definitely acting weird.”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

“He was flirting,” Lando said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked. “He was being nice.”

“Nice,” Lando repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Lando, he’s just a guy who works for Ferrari,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly,” he said, as if that proved his point.

There was a beat of silence as I processed his words.

“You sound jealous,” I said finally, testing the waters.

“Jealous?” he scoffed, though the flicker of something in his eyes gave him away. “Hardly. I just think you can do way better than some guy who chats you up in the coffee line.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, smirking now.

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me.

We walked back toward the McLaren garage, his mood lightening with every step. By the time we arrived, he was back to his usual self—chatting with the mechanics and laughing at some joke I’d already missed.

But his words stayed with me, replaying in my mind as I sat down with my coffee. My coffee which Lando had somehow already drank half of.

…

The McLaren lounge was a rare oasis of calm in the chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled past the windows, radios crackled with updates, and somewhere in the distance, an engine roared to life. But in here, it was all plush couches, soft lighting, and a distinct lack of urgency.

I was curled up on one end of the couch, flipping through a magazine, while Oscar and Lando lounged on the other side. Lando, as usual, couldn’t sit still. He was draped sideways over the armrest, absently spinning a water bottle in his hands.

“Alright,” Lando announced, breaking the comfortable silence. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”

I looked up from my magazine, narrowing my eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s an important question,” he insisted, his grin wide and mischievous.

I pretended to ponder for a moment. “One horse-sized duck. Definitely.”

Lando gaped at me like I’d just declared something outrageous. “Terrible answer. Absolutely terrible.”

“It’s the smart answer,” I shot back, sitting up straighter. “You outmaneuver one big target instead of exhausting yourself trying to wrangle a hundred tiny ones.”

“Do you even know how terrifying a horse-sized duck would be?” Lando asked, his voice rising in mock disbelief.

“And do you know how terrifying a hundred duck-sized horses would be?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.

Lando leaned forward, his grin widening. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’d rather face one giant, angry duck with a wingspan bigger than this couch?”

“Absolutely,” I said confidently. “Ducks aren’t that scary.”

“They can bite, you know,” he shot back, gesturing dramatically. “One snap, and you’re done for.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “I think I’d survive. Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“You,” I said, deadpan. “I’ll just toss you in its path and run.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. “Wow. That’s cold, Y/N. I thought we were a team.”

“We are,” I said, grinning. “But only if you pick the right answer next time.”

For a moment, he was quiet, his grin faltering just slightly as he met my gaze. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of something softer beneath the banter. But it was enough to make my stomach do that annoying little flip I’d been trying to ignore.

“Lando,” Oscar interjected, his tone casual but pointed. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” Lando said quickly, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he looked away.

“You are,” Oscar said, leaning back with a smirk.

“You’re imagining things,” Lando muttered, crossing his arms.

Oscar snorted but didn’t press the issue, instead grabbing his phone and scrolling through it idly. But the look he shot Lando wasn’t lost on me—or Lando, for that matter.

As the banter settled into silence, I decided to grab a drink from the catering area, leaving the two of them alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind me, Oscar struck. “Mate, you’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“About what?” Lando asked, feigning innocence as he fidgeted with the water bottle.

Oscar didn’t even look up from his phone. “About Y/N.”

“What about her?”

Oscar set his phone down, leveling Lando with a knowing look. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

Lando scoffed, though the tips of his ears betrayed him again. “That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” Oscar said, dragging out the word like he was savoring it. “That’s why you light up like a Christmas tree whenever she walks in the room.”

“I do not,” Lando said defensively, but his voice lacked conviction.

“You do,” Oscar replied, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Mate, you’re glaring holes into the back of her head every time she talks to someone else. And don’t even get me started on how you were watching her during the duck-and-horse debate like she’d just solved world peace.”

“That’s—” Lando started, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Right,” Oscar said, his smirk firmly in place. “It’s exactly like that, but go off.”

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s… we’ve known each other forever. It’s Y/N.”

Oscar nodded, as if that made sense, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t you think it would be time to change that soon? You two are exhausting.”

Lando shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I’m just saying,” Oscar said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re completely gone for her. Admit it already.”

Lando groaned, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, grinning now. “But I’m right.”

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze drifting to the door where I’d just left. And for the first time, he let himself wonder if maybe—just maybe—Oscar was onto something.

…

The moment we walked into George’s celebration, the energy hit like a wave. The room was packed with familiar faces—drivers, engineers, and friends—dressed to the nines in that effortless way people in motorsport always seemed to manage. String lights twinkled across the ceiling, soft jazz played over the speakers, and a steady hum of conversation filled the air.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” I teased, glancing at Lando. “Dragging me here after wasting twenty minutes deciding between two identical shirts.”

“They weren’t identical,” Lando replied with a roll of his eyes, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we weaved through the crowd. “One had a darker stitch.”

“Completely life-changing,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“See? You get it,” he shot back with a grin, steering us toward a booth near the bar.

The way his hand lingered, warm and steady, was something I tried not to think too much about. It was just Lando being Lando—playful, touchy, and completely oblivious to the little flips my stomach insisted on doing whenever he leaned too close.

We found our way to a booth not far from the bar, where Alexandra and Charles were already seated. Charles was gesturing animatedly about something, while Alexandra sat with her usual poised grace, sipping champagne. When she saw us, her face lit up.

“Enfin, vous êtes là !” Alexandra exclaimed, waving us over. (Finally, you’re here!)

“Lando a changé de chemise trois fois,” I replied, throwing him a look. (Lando changed his shirt three times.)

Charles chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Toujours dramatique, hein ?” (Always dramatic, huh?)

“English,” Lando whined as we slid into the booth. “You’re ganging up on me in French. It’s not fair.”

“Pauvre bébé,” I teased, patting his arm lightly. (Poor baby.)

“Whatever that means,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t upset.

The conversation flowed easily between the four of us. Lando, of course, dominated the chatter, weaving an elaborate story about George’s awkward rookie days. His expressions were so animated, his gestures so over-the-top, that even Charles—usually the calm and composed one—was cracking up by the end.

“That’s not true,” I said, nudging Lando with my elbow. “You’re exaggerating again.”

“I’m not!” he protested, his green eyes wide with mock innocence. “It’s all true. Every word.”

“Sure it is,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Back me up here!” he said, turning to Charles.

Charles raised a brow, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. “I wasn’t there, but… I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Alexandra laughed softly, glancing at me. “Toujours l’acteur dramatique, ce Lando.” (Always the drama actor, that Lando.)

“Hey,” Lando said, pointing at her. “I know that wasn’t a compliment.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “It absolutely wasn’t.”

He gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest. “Betrayed by my own friends. I’ll never recover.”

“You’ll survive,” I said, brushing him off, though the warmth in his gaze lingered just a beat too long.

Lando eventually excused himself to grab drinks, leaving me to chat with Alexandra and Charles. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alexandra leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Il est tellement évident qu’il a un faible pour toi,” she said softly, her voice full of amusement. (It’s so obvious he has a thing for you.)

“Quoi?” I asked, my cheeks heating instantly. (What?)

“Ouvre les yeux,” she said, smirking. (Open your eyes.)

Charles chuckled, sipping his drink as he watched the exchange. “C’est écrit partout sur son visage.” (It’s written all over his face.)

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re imagining things.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, her expression saying everything her words didn’t.

At the bar, Lando was cornered by Carlos, who leaned casually against the counter, his expression smug.

“You know,” Carlos said, his tone casual, “you’re not very subtle.”

“What are you talking about?” Lando asked, though his focus kept drifting toward the booth where I was sitting.

Carlos raised his drink, gesturing toward me. “You’ve been staring at her all night, hermano. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Lando stiffened, his grin faltering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just tell her,” Carlos said, swirling his drink lazily.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando replied, his voice quieter now.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because if I mess this up, I lose her,” Lando admitted, glancing toward our booth.

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. “You’re scared. That’s what this is.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s my best friend. If it doesn’t work—”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Carlos interrupted, his voice softer now. “But you’d better do something soon.”

Carlos’s smirk softened slightly, but before Lando could reply, Liam Lawson appeared at the bar.

“Who’s the girl with Charles and Alexandra?” Liam asked, nodding toward the booth. “She single?”

Carlos grinned mischievously. “Yeah, she is—go for it.”

Lando’s head snapped toward Carlos, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Carlos.”

“What?” Carlos said, feigning innocence. “Just giving the kid a shot.”

…

Liam approached with the kind of confidence that only a Red Bull driver could pull off.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “You’re Y/N, right?”

I blinked, momentarily surprised but recovering quickly. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Liam Lawson,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Nice to meet you.”

“How do you know George?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as if he had all the time in the world.

“Through Lando,” I replied, keeping my tone polite but measured. His easy demeanor was almost disarming, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

“Ah, Lando,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Lucky guy. You two seem pretty close.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink and trying not to overthink his comment.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “his loss if he hasn’t made a move yet.”

That caught me off guard. My gaze flicked to his, searching for any hint of a joke, but he was entirely serious—or at least good at pretending to be.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice betraying my surprise.

Liam grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Just saying. If I were him, I wouldn’t be sitting over there, letting someone else steal your attention.”

The comment was bold, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. My thoughts were a mess of confusion, flattery, and something else I didn’t want to name. Before I could formulate a response, the familiar sound of Lando’s voice cut through the air.

“Liam,” he said smoothly, stepping up to the table. His tone was calm, but his green eyes held a sharpness that made me sit up a little straighter.

Liam glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Christian’s looking for you,” Lando said, his tone casual but firm. “Something about debrief notes.”

Liam frowned, clearly reluctant. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, nodding. “He seemed pretty keen.”

Liam hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and Lando like he was weighing his options. Finally, he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“You too,” I replied, watching him leave with a mixture of relief and something I couldn’t quite pin down.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lando lingered for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he avoided my gaze.

“That,” Charles said, his tone thick with amusement, “was the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Lando shot him a glare, his ears turning faintly red. “Mind your own business, Charles.”

Charles just smirked, raising his glass in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

I didn’t say anything, but a flicker of suspicion settled in the back of my mind.

Had Lando just…? No. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

“Let’s get a drink,” Alexandra said, pulling me to my feet.

…

As Alexandra and I made our way back toward the booth, she nudged me gently, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Lando looked like he was about to breathe fire earlier,” she said casually, sipping her drink.

I laughed softly, trying to deflect. “He’s always protective. It’s nothing.”

“Protective?” Alexandra repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That was not protective, chérie. That was jealousy.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped short as we neared the booth, Lando and Charles’s voices filtering through the hum of the room.

“It will just be awkward, mate,” Lando said, his tone low and almost resigned.

“Just talk about it,” Charles replied simply.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando muttered. “She will never be more than just a friend.”

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My chest tightened, and the air around me seemed to still. Alexandra’s hand touched my arm gently, but I barely noticed.

“I— I need some air,” I managed, turning away before she could respond.

The ache in my chest grew with every step I took, his words echoing in my head.

She will never be more than just a friend.

And just like that, everything I thought I’d imagined felt painfully real.

…

I turned my phone face down on the table at Gigi’s, willing myself not to glance at the screen again. The missed calls from Lando were piling up, his name lighting up my notifications every half hour like clockwork. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him—I did. But every time I thought about his voice, his laugh, his damn words, the ache in my chest tightened.

She will never be more than just a friend.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away as the waiter arrived with my order. The smell of rich, cheesy pasta wafted up, comforting in the way only food could be. I twirled a forkful absentmindedly, hoping the carbs would somehow fill the space that had been hollowed out the night before.

The familiar growl of an engine outside pulled my attention from my plate. I glanced toward the window and froze.

The unmistakable silhouette of Lando’s Miura parked just outside, sleek and shining even under the soft glow of streetlights. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was, stepping out effortless as usual—but his expression wasn’t the easygoing grin I was used to. He looked… worried.

Before I could decide what to do, he spotted me through the window, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He pushed through the door, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.

“There you are,” he said, relief evident in his tone as he approached my table.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

He pulled out the chair across from me, sitting down without asking. “Looking for you.”

My heart twisted. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I looked away, focusing on my fork. “I had my phone off that’s all.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said finally, his voice softer but steady.

I glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“You always turn to cheesy Italian food when you’re upset,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s your thing.”

The casual observation caught me off guard, a mix of warmth and frustration bubbling in my chest.

“So what?” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “You’re some kind of expert on me now?”

He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Y/N, I know you better than anyone. And I know something’s wrong.”

I didn’t answer, twisting my fork in the pasta and pretending to be engrossed in my meal. But the usual comfort it brought was absent, replaced by the uncomfortable weight of his gaze.

“You’re not yourself,” Lando said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my tone clipped.

“Don’t lie to me,” he replied, his tone more serious than I was used to.

I set my fork down, the clink of metal against porcelain louder than it should have been. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking.”

His eyes softened, his frustration giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

“Lando, I’m fine,” I interrupted, though the words felt hollow.

He didn’t push further, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He sat back, glancing down at my half-finished plate of pasta before gesturing to the waiter.

“Can we get the check, please?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Paying,” he said simply, standing as the waiter approached.

“For me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Come on.”

“Come on where?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“You’ll see,” he said, extending a hand.

I hesitated for a moment before letting him pull me to my feet.

The warm night air hit us as we stepped out of Gigi’s, the soft sound of waves in the distance mingling with the faint hum of the city. Lando didn’t say anything, his grip on my hand firm but gentle as he led me toward Larvotto Beach, just a short walk away.

“Lando, seriously,” I said as we reached the sand. “What’s going on?”

He stopped, turning to face me, his green eyes brighter under the moonlight.

“We need to talk.” he said simply.

And just like that, my heart started racing, even though I had no idea what he was going to say.

The beach stretched out before us, quiet except for the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The city lights glittered faintly in the distance, their reflection dancing on the dark water. Lando walked beside me, his shoulders tense, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

For once, I didn’t fill the silence. I didn’t trust myself to. My thoughts were a whirlwind—last night’s overheard words still fresh in my mind, colliding with the unexpected intensity of this moment.

We walked like that for a while, the sand soft beneath our feet, until Lando came to a sudden stop. He turned to face me, his green eyes catching the moonlight in a way that made my stomach twist.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I crossed my arms, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. “Try the beginning.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “The beginning’s too far back. I’d be here all night.”

“Good thing I don’t have anywhere else to be,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening. “Y/N, I have a lot of friends. Like, a lot of friends.”

I blinked, confused. “Okay?”

“But none of them get to me the way you do,” he said, his voice dropping.

I stared at him, my breath catching. “What are you saying?”

He glanced out at the water, like he was searching for courage in the rolling waves. “I mean… you’re not just anyone to me. You never have been. You’re the first person I think of when something happens—good or bad. And the idea of upsetting you? It’s unbearable.”

My throat tightened as his words sank in.

“Like today,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “You ignored my calls, and I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I’d done something wrong. Whether I hurt you somehow. Because if I did…” He stopped, exhaling sharply, and shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of you being upset because of me.”

I didn’t respond, too caught up in the flood of emotions his words were pulling from me.

“When you’re upset, it breaks my heart,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And when you laugh… it’s like my entire day gets brighter. When you’re sad, it feels like my world’s falling apart.”

“Lando,” I started, but he held up a hand, shaking his head.

“I’m not done,” he said, his words tumbling out now, faster and more frantic. “I’ve been feeling like this for so long, and I thought I could just push it aside or pretend it didn’t matter, but it does. It matters so much. And if I messed up—if I’ve ruined this somehow—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You didn’t—”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted, his eyes locking onto mine. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. And I know this might change everything, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

I froze, his confession slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if this makes sense. I just… I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

Without thinking, I stepped closer, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

For a second, he was completely still, caught off guard. But then he kissed me back, his hands slipping to my waist as he pulled me closer. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened quickly, making the world around me disappear.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath.

“So… I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re so slow sometimes,” I murmured, shaking my head with a laugh.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” I said, smiling.

The relief on his face was almost comical. He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly like he never wanted to let go.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he murmured into my hair.

“And I’ve wanted to hear it,” I admitted, my voice muffled against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “But… yesterday. Did I say something? Did I—”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting. “I overheard you talking to Charles.”

His face paled. “Oh.”

“You said I’d never be more than a friend,” I said, my voice wavering.

Lando winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, Y/N, that’s not how I meant it at all. I said that because I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Like… you’re so important to me, and I didn’t want to mess up what we already had by wanting something I thought I could never have.”

He looked at me with a mix of regret and hope. “I’m an idiot. It wasn’t because I didn’t want more—it’s because I didn’t think I could have it.”

“You are an idiot,” I said, my lips twitching into a small smile. “But you’re my idiot.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yours, huh? Bold claim.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Think you can find someone else to deal with you the way I do?”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Deal with me? You mean worship my charm and tolerate my perfection?”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “The only thing I’m worshipping is the patience I’ve built up putting up with you.”

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me slightly closer, his smirk turning more mischievous. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Not a chance,” I said, even as my pulse quickened.

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes again, his voice softening but still teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Before I could respond, he closed the gap, kissing me again with a fierceness that took me by surprise. This wasn’t the hesitant, nervous kiss from before. It was confident, teasing, like everything we’d been holding back had finally snapped into place.

I kissed him back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands tightened on my waist, grounding me as he smiled against my lips, murmuring, “Still denying it?”

I broke the kiss just long enough to catch my breath, raising an eyebrow. “You think one kiss is going to make me fold?”

“Two,” he said smugly, leaning in for another without waiting for an answer.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop him, meeting him halfway this time. His lips curved into a grin mid-kiss, and I could feel his stupid, insufferable smugness radiating off him.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked when we pulled apart, my voice laced with mock annoyance.

“Unbelievably,” he replied, his grin widening as he rested his forehead against mine. “And don’t pretend you’re not.”

“Maybe I am,” I admitted, smirking. “But if you keep talking, I might start regretting it.”

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Alright, no more talking. For now.”

“Good,” I said, leaning in again, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore fading into the background as everything else fell away.

The weight of everything unsaid was gone, replaced by the warmth of realizing we’d both been fighting our way toward the same truth: we’d always belonged to each other.

When we broke apart, Lando’s grin turned mischievous, and I immediately knew he was up to something. Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly and started toward the water.

“Lando! Don’t you dare!” I shrieked, squirming in his arms as laughter bubbled out of me.

“Payback for all those times you called me an idiot,” he teased, stopping just as the waves lapped at his shoes.

He finally set me down, his smirk smug and unapologetic. “Admit it. You love me anyway.”

Figures. I’m in love with someone who steals my fries and once confidently argued that dolphins were just “sea dogs.” I wouldn’t have it any other way though.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando x you #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

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jeondesu · 10 days ago

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ೀ⋆ 📚 THE PERFECT PAIR !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. college au, fluff, angst (kinda but not rlly), minor profanity, jisung is the cutiest pie ever oml 𝔀ords. 2.3k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — omg, i just realized i haven’t posted an actual written fic on here in FOREVER that’s crazy, we need to change that. but n e way, this is actually for @sta4, i’m so sorry this took a gazillion years (pls forgive me) and i rlly hope you liked it <3

“Be honest… do you think she noticed?” Jisung looked visibly in distress, his face drained of all color as if he’d just witnessed a paranormal sighting in his own dorm.

“Dude she definitely saw it, you blew it. Big time.” Jeongin states matter-of-factly, as if it were the end all be all.

Jisung slumped backwards, sinking into the mattress, dark brunette strands tumbled haphazardly over the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d been overthinking and analyzing every little detail for hours since that fleeting encounter you had with him in class this morning. He didn’t want to believe a word his friend was telling him, still latching onto a sliver of hope that you hadn’t took a peek at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut the second you walked up to him.

He grimaced at the thought of you taking note of his Goku wallpaper, everything happened so fast, he wasn’t given much time to react— though he’s almost 99% positive you hadn’t caught sight of it.

You approached him with a confident stride, your head held high, even adding a little wave which he barely registered as being directed towards him. He thought he was hallucinating from being so sleep deprived, staying up all night playing video games might’ve finally took a toll on him— but as he blinks again to snap out of his ‘dream’, you’re still standing right there.

Jisung was more than confused why you of all people would want to talk to him, praying by some miracle you couldn’t detect how much of a nervous wreck he was on the inside, forcing a stiff smile as he tried his best to play it off like he totally wasn’t losing his mind.

The strong scent of your perfume lingered in the air, making it even more of a struggle for him to breathe, let alone speak, but he couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. If you knew how much of a weeb he truly was, he’d probably never show his face around you or on campus ever again.

“Okay, maybe there’s a possibility she may have seen it, but only for a split second! Otherwise, I think I played it cool.” He recants, brushing off his friend’s lack of verbal support, “I was in the middle of an intense game of Tetris and she asked for my notes!”

Jeongin shrugs, “Okay, so..? That doesn’t suddenly make her interested in you.”

“Yeah it does, because she asked me specifically out of everyone else so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He reaffirms, the hopeful tone in his voice laced with sheer desperation.

Jeongin shifts slightly, leaning further into the comfort of his gaming chair, not even bothering to pause his game of League of Legends to entertain his friend’s delusions. He didn’t mean to crush Jisung’s ego with his cynicism but he had to be realistic.

“You sound like those giddy high school girls who just interacted with their crush for the first time.”

Well, he wasn’t lying, he surely did feel like one. Ever since you spoke to him earlier all he could think about was you— nothing else occupied his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on a single thing, couldn’t retain any of the information he read as he studied, or even play League which was his favorite game of all time. He was deeply, utterly infatuated and his thoughts were scattered all over the place.

Jisung sinks his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing an unnecessarily thick lump that’s been sitting in the back of his throat, “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t think I totally blew it. She even winked back at me when she left! She’s into me, I can feel it.”

Jeongin chuckles at his friend’s sudden newfound confidence but still remains unconvinced.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow when she ignores you and forgets that you even existed.”

The next day in class, Jisung is doing everything he can to try and maintain a nonchalant demeanor but it wasn’t working— at all. He’d completely thrown his ‘cool’ act out the window the minute he accidentally locked eyes with you, not even noticing how he’s been anxiously bouncing his leg underneath the desk.

He could’ve sworn you were an otherworldly being, he didn’t even feel adequate enough to be sitting in the same room as you.

You had sat a couple rows ahead of him, he preferred to always sit in the back along with Jeongin. He couldn’t help but stare, you were simply nothing short of perfect— lost in a trance as he watched you absentmindedly twirl the pencil you had borrowed from him along with his notes from the day before.

You had jotted down a few things in your spiral notebook, but it seemed as though you weren’t paying much attention to the lecture, copying most of your friend’s notes who sat beside you, every so often you’d be giggling at something she whispered to you— having been shushed by the professor more than once already.

Class went on as usual— it dragged on slower than it normally did, but maybe that was because Jisung kept zoning in and out. He didn’t take very many notes since he already knew most of the material like the back of his hand, but he still pretended to anyway, scribbling nonsense in the margins just to keep his hands busy, not even realizing that he’s wrote your name several times with hearts surrounding it, flipping the page immediately before Jeongin could notice what he’d been mindlessly up to.

Once class was officially over, everyone scrambled out of their seats to rush out of there as quickly as possible. Jeongin had one more class left that took place in ten minutes, bidding his goodbyes before he dashed out the classroom. Jisung slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave— until you appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, the sweet scent of your perfume infiltrating his senses once again.

Holding your notebooks flat against your chest, your delicate, freshly manicured hand tapped his arm lightly— just enough to get his attention. As if you didn’t already have it given to you on a silver platter.

He froze in place, still recovering from the shock of the events that unfolded from yesterday.

“Hey Jisung, I was wondering if-”

“Yes.” He blurts without hesitation before you could even finish your sentence, instantly regretting everything— oh how he wants to bash his head against the wall repeatedly at this very moment..

You could see the desperation seeping through his pores, but you don’t point it out. It was honestly kind of cute to you and you found it endearing how timid he’d act around you, a stark contrast from most of the frat boys you’d often interact with.

He attempts to save himself by quickly rephrasing his words, only to come off as more socially inept than he already is. “S-sorry.. it’s been a long day for me. Uh, what did you need..?”

You giggled softly, “I was wondering if you could help me with statistics? Unfortunately I’m not doing very well and can’t afford to flunk this semester, so I was hoping you could tutor me?” Your eyes beamed at him as if they held a million galaxies in them.

“Y-yeah, sure. I can help!” He awkwardly responds, adjusting his thick framed glasses by pushing them up with his index and middle finger.

A smile spreads across your face upon hearing that, “oh, awesome!” You weren’t expecting him to readily agree on the spot, but it worked out in your favor perfectly. “So, what days are you free?”

24/7. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He would simply rearrange his whole life for you.

“Usually I’m free on Tuesdays or Thursdays, sometimes Wednesdays but it depends,” he answers, trying to sound as if he’s been asked this a million times before. “But.. if none of those days don’t work for you, I can work something else out.”

That was a total lie. There was nothing he needed to work out.

“Oh and weekends are kinda iffy for me,” he added.

Yet another lie. He was quite literally always free.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays works out perfectly for me, actually!” You take up his offer right away, “how does tomorrow after school at my place sound?”

You spoke so casually, completely unfazed, as if you weren’t actively flipping his entire world upside down. He simply nodded. Somehow managing not to freak out instead of dropping to his knees in front of you like some lovesick puppy.

“Cool! Wanna exchange numbers?” You calmly suggest while pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jisung nervously gulped, his throat going dry yet again as he slowly feels himself about to have a mental breakdown.

You wanted his phone number?

Now he’ll really get the last laugh when he rubs it in Jeongin’s face that he’s got one of the prettiest and most popular girls at school’s number. You switch phones and he adds his contact information into yours to which you do the same for him.

Once you gave it back, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the contact name you set in his phone: ‘y/n <3’

“C’mon y/n, we only have four more problems left.” Jisung is doing all he can to try and motivate you, pointing his finger at the next problem he urged you to solve but you groaned in response.

You invited him over to your dorm while your other roommate would be gone for a couple of hours, opting to study in your room rather than the common area. Your room was on the smaller scale, but still had a warm and cozy atmosphere to it. Movie posters and fairy lights lined the walls of your side, along with dozens of little random trinkets you’ve collected over the years as decoration, and succulent plants sat on the window sill. The vanilla candle you burned added a nice touch, it was calming, tranquil— exactly how Jisung imagined it to be.

“I can’t do this anymore..” you draw out a heavy sigh, looking at the equation as it were in a third language. Math has always been your Achilles heel, it was your least favorite subject and you barely passed by the skin of your teeth each time.

“My brain’s going to explode if I continue this for another minute,” you couldn’t even force yourself to power through, you were beyond over it. Yes, you were being a little overdramatic, but you got the point across— you needed a well deserved break.

His hand accidentally brushed up against yours to grab a colored pencil, “okay, if you really need a break then let’s take one and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you in any way. I’ll finish the problem for you and we can stop for a while.” He writes the rest of the equation down on the worksheet and turns to you to hand the colored pencil back, hoping that you don’t notice his flushed exterior.

You lean your arm against the desk, resting the side of your face inside your palm, “can’t believe this is my life now.. studying for my stupid stats exams instead of having fun with my friends.”

Jisung couldn’t help but take some pride in himself for that, sure you may be just using him as a personal tutor but at least he’s getting to spend one on one time with you.

“So you chose studying with me over hanging out with your friends?”

He still couldn’t believe he was even here, he almost had a heart attack when you texted him first that same day you asked to exchange numbers. He would spend minutes contemplating over every little word, every punctuation, and if he wasn’t sure how to respond, he’d simply send you some weird meme that he found while scrolling on Reddit. His phone used to be drier than a desert, but now he’s checking it every 5 seconds in case he gets a new message from you.

“Yeah, I mean I could always see them another time but I refuse to retake this class again over the summer,” you shrugged, “plus you seem pretty cool, I like hanging out with you.”

Was he hearing things correctly? Did one of the most popular girls on campus just say that she likes hanging out with him? He truly felt like he was dreaming— yeah, he had to be dreaming.

“I didn’t think you hung out with guys like me..”

Your brows furrowed, glancing over at him as if he’d just said the most absurd news you’ve ever heard. “And what makes you think that?”

“Uh- I dunno.” He stammered, his eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere but at you.

Curse him for being so damn awkward… and curse you for being the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I actually think you’re really cute,” you confess, choosing a less subtle approach about expressing your feelings, “you’re nice and super smart too, which most guys aren’t.”

The two of you stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he grew the ability to choke up a response, his ears burning the deepest shade of crimson, “Well.. thank you.”

“I mean it.” You solemnly replied, “Also, I think your Goku wallpaper is really cool.”

So you did notice it after all. But you didn’t care, you took interest in him because he was authentically himself, you liked him exactly for who he is— he’s never pretended to be something that he’s not.

Before you even gave him the opportunity to speak, you decide to lay it all out on the table. Harboring no regrets. “I like you a lot, Jisung.”

He paused, still trying to process everything that’s been thrown at him in a matter of seconds, but he could no longer deny the way he felt. The corners of his lips curled upward, his gummy smile making an eventual appearance, knowing exactly where this leads after he says those final words.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

it’s literally 3 am and i am SO SLEEPY, but i had to finish this for you guys <33 pls lmk if you liked this, likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated tysm !! ( *ﾉ ▽ﾉ) ✧･ﾟ

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lihhelsing · 9 months ago

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Steve is that kind of high school teacher that changes the lives of his students. He's attentive and kind, always offers them support the best he can.

They love him! No surprises there.

So it's the end of the semester and they want to thank him for everything he does.

It's a whole thing. Steve walks into class and he can tell everyone is buzzing with anticipation. One of the girls comes forward, she's very sweet and Steve remembers helping her coming to terms with her sexuality.

Remembers giving her advice when she wanted to come out to her parents. Jane has this big smile on her face and starts telling him how the whole class is grateful for him and how they wanted to give him something different.

She tells him they noticed his favorite band.

Steve is not obvious about it, but the clues were there.

One time he showed up wearing that band's t-shirt. Another student remembers walking into class while Steve was singing along to one of their songs while it blasted on his phone.

And the biggest clue of it all was Steve's phone wallpaper.

Steve blushes when they say that

He dips his head and everyone laughs.

"I don't blame you, he's really hot!" Yells another student from the back and everyone laughs again.

Steve groans, but offers them a soft smile.

"So we tried getting you tickets for their show but it's sold out!" Jane says.

"Oh that's ok," Steve says. "I appreciate the gesture."

She then explains they couldn't give up.

"Someone said we should reach out to their team and explain the situation."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! So I did. And they were pretty cool about it, said they would love to have you there."

And then she proceeds to give him an envelope. Steve opens it to find a single ticket and a poster he's seen a million times.

In big, bold letters the name of the band is written on top. 'Corroded Coffin'.

"Oh, thank you," Steve says and everyone is clapping and cheering

And is all so silly that he can't help but smile.

"They couldn't give two, though, so I guess you're going to have to go alone Mr. Harrington."

Jane says apologetically and Steve waves her off.

"It's fine."

"Maybe you'll meet someone there!"

And since they are high schoolers they all cheer louder, saying all sorts of things about Steve finally meeting someone and Steve blushes.

He'll go to the concert, of course. He'll thank them for the rest of the year.

And he'll have to make Eddie promise to never tell them the truth.

Maybe he'll tell them he's married, eventually. Has been for a long time and that's why he has that picture of him as his wallpaper.

He cannot believe his husband actually read that email from his students and happily went along with it. The bastard.

#steddie #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #ficlet #steddie ficlet

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amoressb · 5 months ago

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𐙚 bows

pairings : bf!ot7 x reader

synopsis : where he would let you put/wrap bows

lee heeseung - loosely around his neck

this is truly for your eyes only. you wouldn’t let him go out with it around his neck of course. he wears a lot of necklaces so why not give him a special necklace being the loose bow around his neck. now it could lead to other things..or just you two laying down watching a movie, you on his chest messing with the bow a bit giggling at your special privileges.

park jongseong - top of his guitars and wrist

for the guitars, jay went to play one of his guitars only to find them all decorated with bows on the tuning pegs and of course they’re like this because you snuck in a little earlier to put them all on cuz it felt like they were missing something. he didn’t mind of course, not even when you came in to watch him play and put the same pink bow around his wrist so it flows while he plays.

sim jaeyun - around his wrist or finger(s)

if there was something you loved just a bit more about jake besides him and his lips it would be the veins that run from his forearm down to his hands and his fingers. his skin is so soft as well..he’s too pretty. you’d alternate between putting a bow on his wrist or finger maybe even both if you can’t decide. it’s truly mind blowing how a guy can have such soft pretty skin.

park sunghoon - biceps

it’s one of two reasons why the bows are there. either he’s gone to workout and you put the bow there in case any girl tries to make a move he can easily use it to show he’s obviously not interested. now the other reason, which is mostly the reason, is simply because you can’t look away as it’s not too common he shows his arms so when he does..and he flexes them for you..in a tank top or pulls his short sleeve up a bit..now…

kim seonwoo - his hair as pigtails and clips

it always amazes you how incredibly soft his hair is. you love laying down with him or him just laying his head on your lap and you run your fingers through his hair so its only natural you had the urge to put bow clips in his hair. what stunned him were the pigtails you had done with little silk ribbon around them tied into bows. he was so relaxed he didn’t even realize you giggling while making them.

yang jungwon - his torso or waist

it’s unfair to you that he has a more snatched waist than you. his torso being the perfect v shape..ughh too perfect. you HAD to put a pink bow around his waist. the times you put it around his torso it always ends up slipping down to his waist and its the most attractive thing ever since his waist is smaller than his top half, the bow sits so loosely around his waist..you just faint right there. truly a blessing for your eyes only.

nishimura riki - around him completely

he really doesn’t know how he got into this situation. all he remembers is you running to him all happy and now your giggling while tying a silk pink bow over his arms around his torso, everything, completely caging him in while he’s sitting on your bed. you took many pictures of course trying to decide which one would be your new wallpaper, but truly he doesn’t mind at all. do whatever you want. he’s utterly whipped for you.

(note : a bit biased towards niki i love him sm sorry😓; but i would wrap them all completely tbh and also thank you so much for the love on my first post i love you all !!)

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cheeseceli · 1 year ago

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When you have plushies

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, reactions

Request: so if skz had a partner who sleeps / collects plushies??? maybe also add a little where the reader is a tad bit embarrassed of it?

Warnings: none

A/n: if you saw this when I posted it for the first time no you didn't!

Bang Chan

Y'KNOW THAT LAUGH OF HIS

The one that's so adorable and it looks like a giggle while his eyes are like crescent moons

THAT ONE

It's the one he gives you while he tries to understand that somehow he is dating the most adorable human being in the whole world

He literally has no problem if you want to sleep with them, will reassure you when it comes to that

"Do you think I can take one of your plushies with me for the tour? It'd make me feel closer to you"

Lee Know

Of course he will tease you

That's like one of the things that are included in his boyfriend package: relentless teasing

He will stop immediately if he sees that you aren't feeling it though

Will take a picture of you cuddling your favourite teddy bear and set it as his phone's wallpaper

AND will buy you some plushies and put them in his dorm

So you can feel more comfortable even when you're away from your own collection

Will never admit but he cuddles with it when he misses you

"Dori was sleeping with the plushie I bought for you. I'm going to send you a pic"

Changbin

Now that he knows, there is nothing stopping him from buying you thousands of plushies

Your collection will double in less than a month if you let him (please let him)

Might even buy some matching ones so you guys can share something in common

But he'll feel a little betrayed if you don't cuddle him to sleep and instead hug the teddy bear

"Why are you cuddling a plushie when you have me right here?? Like, c'mon now!!"

Hyunjin

You know those things where you can make a teddy bear from scratch and then gift it to someone?

He would do that for you😭

Would probably gift you a personalised plushie in your first valentine's

But overall he finds it adorable

Laughs endearingly every time he sees you sleeping while cuddling one

But will not lose the opportunity to replace the plushie and hug you throughout the night

"Would you rather have a dog or a bear as a plushie? No specific reason"

Han

Wants to give names to some of them lmao

And finds you 200% cuter because of it

Like, he knew you were adorable but you always surpass his expectations somehow

And if you get embarrassed abou it he finds you even cuter

But will make sure you don't have a reason to be embarrassed

He will throw himself in the pile of plushies, feeling like he's in heaven and making sure you knows he likes this side of you as well

"This one looks just like you! Oh my God, it's literally you"

Felix

HE LOVES IT

And he would be so casual about it as well??

Like, you'd be kinda scared of his reaction but then he's just the kindest about this

Wants to know about their names and stories you might have about them

The kind of guy who'd stitch one of them if they need to get repaired (I love him btw)

Tries to win plushies for you in those claw machines

"Which one do you want? I'll win it for you"

Seungmin

Is kinda intimidated at first lmao

Like I can see him just standing still while an army of plushies stare at his soul 😭

After the initial shock though I think he'd find it cute

Especially if there is a plushie who kinda looks like him/his skzoo

If that's the case he'll just tease you (while finding it so endearing)

"You should name this one 'Minnie'"

"I'm not naming every single one of my plushies after you"

"Why not?"

I.N

I think he wouldn't react at first, but mostly because he doesn't know what to do

Will you get sad if he teases you? Will you get embarrassed if he says it's cute?

He ends up not saying anything lol

Acts like he sees a huge collection of plushies every day

Might give you some plushies as gifts after finding out

"I just bought a very cute teddy bear in Japan. I'm giving it to you once I come back home."

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

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4klovver · 2 months ago

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Streaming ꩜ Hamzah x Reader

When Hamzah is on stream he accidentally shows stream something he shouldn’t...

“Yea, bananasummer will be coming back soon. Watch out,” Hamzah responds to someone in his chat while streaming. What was supposed to be a Fortnite stream turned into a talking stream replying to comments and answering questions on upcoming and old videos.

He starts reading the chat, searching for more things to talk about. He eventually finds one to read, clicking on it to make it bigger. “Do you like being outdoors? You seemed like you knew what you were doing in the camping video,” he reads it slowly, squinting slightly.

“Well, I actually used to be a Boy Scout, but I don’t really like the outdoors. More of an inside guy now,” he says. He knew you were going to be home soon, so maybe he would log off in a bit.

“Yea, guys, I’ll respond to a few more questions. Then I think I’ll log off,” just as he says this, messages flood the chat with pleas for him to stay.

He finds another he wants to read through the chaos of the chat. “It’s about 4 a.m. on a Monday here in New Zealand. What time is it in Canada?” He reads this as his eyes widen.

“Woah, you’re up way too early for this stream. Here in Canada, it’s still Sunday!” He goes to fish for his phone, trying to find the time. “Yea, it’s about 10 a.m. here too,”

he says, showing his phone screen to the camera, showing off the time. What he didn’t remember was his wallpaper. His wallpaper was a photo of you, as you describe it, “disheveled”. It was after a long day of traveling, and you totally crashed on one of the benches in the airport. Your hair was a mess, you hadn’t slept in 2 days, but Hamzah swears you look cute in it.

He quickly takes his phone away from the screen once he sees the chat going crazy. “Omg you guys weren’t supposed to see that. Y/n’s gonna kill me,” he says. Just when the situation couldn’t get any worse, he hears his door open.

“Why am I gonna kill you?” You walk over to him, smiling after a long day of errands. “Oh, are you streaming? Hi, everyone,” you give the camera a small wave while looking at the chat. While you read the smile on your face, it drops slightly.

“Hamzah, why is chat talking about your wallpaper?” He laughs a little bit, hoping he changed it or something. You look down at him in his chair; he’s not looking back at you, his eyes looking down at his keyboard.

“I’m sorry!” He pleads, finally looking at you. You look at him, upset, and then back to the chat to confirm.

“Hamzah!! I look terrible in that picture! I’m gonna kill you!” You turn and step out of frame, looking down at Hamzah, a now scared expression plastered on his face.

“Okayguysimgonnagonow bye!” He said, mushed together and quickly ending the stream.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed this is my first time writing somthing about Hamzah so i hope its good. Go look at me other stuff !! ok bye byebye

#fanfiction #downtown girl #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #slushy noobz #i love fluff ahhhh #fluff #jillians a yapper °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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agatharkn3ss · 6 months ago

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Rio's flower theory (contains spoilers!)

Some people have noticed how Rio's flower kept making appearance in the last episode, so naturally I re-watched it for the 100th time, and made note of every moment we see the flower because I have a theory...

First appearance - Rio presents it to Agatha when she crawls out of the ground

Agatha pushed it out of her hand, but it's unclear what happens to it - I thought maybe it looked like she put it in her coat pocket, but actually I think she just threw it to the ground, she would be too angry to keep it. And so we see the flower back in Rio's hands when she merrily hops along the Road. She doesn't stop playing with it even when they stop to look at the trial house.

The flower (and also her knife) is also present in the trial. As we saw with Agatha's locket, amulets and Joe's spell book, the trial seems to let the witches keep things that are important to them.

When they exit the trial, frantically trying to save Teen, Rio is back playing with the flower again, silently observing Agatha.

This continues until the campfire. Seriously, why is this girl stimming so much?

The interesting bit is when Agatha returns from Teen. Her hands are in her pocket, so we can't see whether she's holding something in her hands or if she's taking something from her pocket. But in the next frame, as she sits down to join the coven, she has that flower in her left hand! I think Rio must have put it on the seat, waiting for her. There are some interesting looks!

Finally, when Rio gets up to go after Agatha, the camera pans out and we see the flower has actually been left back on the log, where Agatha sat... What is the meaning of it?....

So in summary, the flower has some deeper meaning to Rio and she seems to really treasure it, maybe even use it as a stimming device, maybe trying to control her emotions?

Enter the Marvel promo for Death tarot card!

In one hand, we see Death holds her dagger (looking familiar?), in the other hand she holds an object that people believe to be Death's black heart. But it also reminds me the shape of a flower. So what if Rio's flower IS her heart? That she keeps offering to Agatha?

But I wonder if Agatha realises the meaning of the flower yet. In ep.1 she looked a little surprised when Rio says she does have a heart, that it's black and beats for her. It would be hard to believe that if these two were an item for centuries, that they wouldn't end up knowing everything about each other. So Agatha's "you don't have a heart" could just be a snarky, hurtful comment to reflect Rio's possible betrayal (the "job" she had to do) or a more literal fact that she doesn't believe Rio can be truly human in any physical way (no heart, no scars), because she's Lady Death. Or both. So maybe Rio hid that part from her? They certainly seem like they didn't even talk and reconcile after the dramatic events because Agatha seems surprised at Rio's hurt and regret when she tells her "scar story".

Anyway, I digress... In short, I think flower is (or at least symbolises) Rio's heart.

Bonus content - we actually get a glimpse of that flower in ep.1 as it makes its appearance even in Agatha's fake reality. Even though the camera angles make it impossible to see it most of the time, there are scenes when Rio moves her head just enough that we can see a bit of her her clip - which looks eerily like the flower!

While there was no actual flower in their ep.1 fight scene, Agatha is wearing a flowery robe and the wallpaper is all flowers. So I think there is a deeper symbolism there that the show is trying to subtly incorporate - does it all link to the Green Witch powers? Or the language of flowers?

Even Teen places a flower on Sharon's grave, where would he even get it from in that dark place? And finally, Jen uses blue flowers when they summon the green witch (Lilia offers a rock, Agatha adds a leaf and it's not clear what Alice adds - some dust or fruit?)

So... after all that, I don't actually know anything about plants or gardening. So does anyone know what type Rio's flower even is? I mean, there literally is a flower called Rio, could that be a hint or is it too simple?

EDIT: My bad, Rio is a proprietary company name who sells those flowers. But what about this flower called Surprise Lily? (also called Resurrection Lily!) Doesn't look quite like Rio's but I like the name as it would be quite funny if it was true...

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #rio vidal #agatha all along spoilers #agathario #agatha x rio #vidarkness #flower #agatha all along theory

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zanarkandss · 1 month ago

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the perks of having a teleslate

phainon/reader: 656 words; established relationship; mentions of rough sex; phainon is whipped but also very down to ruin you; gn reader; nsfw (minors dni)

part of the reason i wrote this was bc i kept making jokes about how the hell they were gonna deal w phones in ancient greece. well turns out they did and also gave a guy a gun. so what do i know.

Phainon’s wallpaper is you. You’re pretty sure he had you as his teleslate screen before you got together - ‘It’s what best friends do!’ he’d told you, grin plastered on his face. He even rotates the image out on a weekly basis, wanting to make sure he captures every moment of your life.

It’s a sweet sentiment, really. You’re just…slightly concerned for his storage space. Surely it’s getting full by now? You’ll ask to go through his phone and he’ll hand you his teleslate no questions asked, and you can’t help but put your head in your hands at how many photos he’s got of you. Some of these, you have no idea when he’s managed to take them, or how he’s managed to convince your friends to send him photos of you when you’re not with him.

(‘What did you bribe them with?’

‘Who?’ You glare at him. ‘Ahem. Aglaea gets to go through my wardrobe and sort through it. She said she’d keep what you bought me, though, and said it was a blessing you had—‘

‘No more, please. I can't fault her for that.’)

Oh, and Titan’s forbid you try to delete any. He’d swiftly pull the device up and away out of reach, using his height against you. Only when you provide him with the number of kisses he wants (a lot) will he let you go through them again. If you want to delete them, he’ll allow you, though, not without going on about what the photo means to him. Losing to him is an inevitability; you end up way too flustered to let him continue to harp on about how much he loved you in this single moment. That he can do that for each of the photos he has is…a bit too much for your heart.

Well, at least he has the other ones of you hidden. They’re behind another app, something benign that no one would go on. And even then there’s a passcode. He’d whined about wanting to get some photos of the two of you having sex so that he could have something to use while he was away from you.

You found it hard to say no. After all, he’s so earnest, and a hero to boot. Who else could reward him with something like this?

Now, whenever he feels it right, he’ll take a photo. Maybe a quick video too, if he’s daring, though he’d much rather tend to you. These photos you don’t really realise he takes at that moment. You tend to be too fucked out, malleable to his whims as he grips your cheeks with one hand to get you to look into the camera, eyes bleary and body covered with bites. There are others as well. Some, where your face is pressed into the pillows and he pushes you down so hard you can see the veins in his arms. Others, where he’s got you laying on his chest, too tired to sit up to ride him properly, make-up streaked down your face. They’re always followed up with pictures where he’ll be stroking your hair, gentle, placating, as if he didn’t put you in this situation in the first place.

Not that you’ve got room to complain. He tends to you well. Maybe you’re more annoyed at the fact he calls it ‘making love’ like some young pining maiden instead of a man who can fold you in half and ruin you until morning comes, only stopping because he has duties to attend to instead of being left drained of all energy.

Still, you love him. And he loves you too. You’re the only one he’d ever dream of being with like this, the one he wants to see the future of Amphoreus with. And if anything comes between him and that dream? Well, he’s enough strength to protect your honour. He is not a Chrysos Heir for nothing, after all.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #phainon x reader #phainon #hsr smut #bb. works #bb. nsft #i firmly believe he is more of a freak than mydei #idk i need to dissect his brain

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starrystevie · 1 year ago

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"what are you doing," eddie mumbles in confusion, hair fanned out on steve's pillow, the moonlight streaming in giving him a hazy halo.

there's a hand on the side of his face and it's cupping his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin. it's soft, so soft, too soft. another hand is trapping his against the mattress, fingers trailing over his forearm before tangling into his own and squeezing tight. it's gentle, so gentle, too gentle.

eddie isn't soft, eddie isn't gentle. eddie isn't making love in a full size bed with wallpaper that matches the drapes. he isn't fluttering kisses in time with fluttering heartbeats and the fluttering wings of butterflies trapped in his stomach like the most lovely cage.

eddie is fucking at 2am when there's enough intoxication to make him look like he's worth it. he's rough and wild, quick and easy. a means to a barely wanted end because he's there and willing and with long enough hair to let people imagine he's someone else.

he should be caged instead of the damn butterflies. he bares his teeth and thrashes his limbs just to fight and see what he can get away with. he laughs loud and brash in the face of sweetness just to see anger, just to see hurt.

he has half a mind to think he's a feral animal that's hardly been trained, performing in some fucked up circus that charges two bucks to see him snarl and hurl insults at anyone who passes by. he bites at the hands that try to touch, try to feed, proving to the onlookers that he's only worth the pocket change they pay to see him.

but steve. he's holding his face like he wants to, holding his hand like it's the most important thing in the world. he's pressing kisses along eddie's jaw without any hurry, without any rush, kissing just to kiss. feeling just to feel. he's like a ray of goddamn sunshine even in the darkness that midnight provides, warming eddie from the inside out.

eddie wants to run. he wants to scream. he wants to feel like he's allowed steve's soft and gentle but he's-

"is this not okay?" and now steve's looking at him with all of whatever he's trying to give him lacing into his face, his eyes and spit slick lips sparkling in the moonlight like a shiny new toy. "do you not like it?"

concern and care are different sides of the same steve shaped coin and if eddie looks hard enough, he can see them blurring together in his frustratingly beautiful sparkling eyes and those damn butterflies start to come back.

"no, it's-" he let's out a sigh, relaxing his tight muscles and sinking into the bed, sinking into whatever steve is willing to give him. "just different, is all. good different, i think."

steve smiles and eddie shakily mirrors it back, before he's ducking his head again and slotting their lips together, fingers still holding tight to eddie's, still cupping his face like it's something precious.

eddie's come to terms with the taste of the metal bars of his cage, teeth wearing down as he tries to bite his way to freedom. maybe this time he'll let himself get used to the taste of soft and gentle smiles if it means loving steve.

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 18 days ago

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The house still smells of Eddie, even though he left an hour ago. One hour that had Buck simply standing in the middle of the room, overwhelmed by memories and the lingering scent of a tangy aftershave, as if it’s imprinted in the wallpaper. The paintings on the walls seem to stare at him, just like the odds and ends. It’s just not his yet, Buck knows that without opening the door to Chris’s room, behind which nothing has changed even though it’s been empty now for a long time. He still needs to put his mark on this house, like he did with the loft, and he’s got some ideas, even without tearing down a wall.

Buck wanders around hardware stores, choosing paint, protective sheets and brushes; he’s smiling when he passes pet supply aisles. His thoughts revolve not only around his couch, which he definitely wants to take to Eddie’s house, but also around possible places for a dog bowl. Everyone finds the idea of taking pieces of furniture into a fully furnished house strange. But it's not just any couch. He took a long time to choose this piece, as if it were somehow symbolic, and… Tommy slept on it. Sometimes at night, when his leg kept him awake, Buck would limp down to the kitchen and make himself some tea, and then he would sit in the armchair next to the sofa and stare at its outline in the dark, as if he wished there was still a hollow from the night Tommy slept on it.

He doesn't tell anyone about it, nor does he mention that sometimes he lies on the couch and tries to catch a whiff of Tommy, although it has evaporated much faster than Eddie's aftershave in his house. He knows exactly what everyone would say: that he needs to look ahead. It's just odd that no one said this when he took over Eddie's house. Everyone smiled and patted him on the back and thought it was convenient. And although Eddie hinted at it a bit, no one suspected that he only wanted the house to somehow be close to his friend who was more than a thousand miles away. Buck is taking a remembrance of Tommy into a house that’s a remembrance of Eddie; he’s aware of that and it’s his choice. And now, to some extent, it’s his house too, a place where he can have a dog and as many memories as he wants.

Buck is painting the walls and ceilings, and on every day off he comes up with something new that he needs from the hardware stores. He meets salespeople and other customers, and everyone has good advice for him, so he drives further and further out to find the things they recommend; things he absolutely needs to keep the house in good condition. The point at which he no longer renovates the house to maintain it for Eddie but because he wants to feel comfortable in it himself is like finally reaching a mountain top, and Buck stays up there for a while and enjoys the view. Now he's buying skirting boards and new lamps and a stylish medicine cabinet for the bathroom. He removes the old one, but now he needs new screws and wall plugs for the new one, and as he snatches the car keys and leaves the house, he whistles to himself like a man who’s got work to do and is happy with it.

However, not a hundred percent happy, as he realizes when he passes the dog supplies again. Eyes and fingers roam over bowls in which names can be engraved. He clutches dog leashes, in his mind's eye already in some meadow, the likes of which L.A. hardly offers.

Next to him, someone clears his throat and finally says, “Didn't know you had a dog.”

Seeing Tommy is like opening a window; everything is suddenly much brighter, somehow more realistic. He's looking well, some time has passed, but he’s still looking great.

“I don't,” says Buck, “not yet. But hey, I'm living in Eddie's house now. I'm s-seriously considering it. A beagle maybe, or a l-labrador?”

He’s not stuttered in weeks, and now he’s oversharing; to Tommy of all people. Tommy, who left and didn’t call and didn’t text, who didn’t explain. He didn’t have to, because Buck knows he’s a handful.

Tommy scrunches his nose, “You’re living with Eddie?” he asks, somewhat confused. “Something wrong with the loft?”

“Not with Eddie, at Eddie's house. Eddie moved to Texas. W-wait, you don't know?”

“No,” says Tommy, nothing more, as if that explained anything. As if he wasn't the type to explain things, but to assume that people just know.

Buck’s tongue carries answers, words like that Eddie maybe had too much to do, was too preoccupied with himself and Christopher, but he swallows them. Maybe Eddie’s just not the kind of person to maintain friendships. That's a painful thought. Tommy just stands there, waiting or just being polite, as you would when meeting old acquaintances. A shopping basket dangles from his left arm, and Buck points at it and says, “You’re renovating?”

“You too, I guess,” Tommy replies, pointing to the pile of stuff in Buck's shopping cart. Then, hastily, as if afraid of his own courage, he adds, “Do you need help?”

There’s the hint of a blush in the soft flesh of Tommy's neck. Buck remembers occasions when that color appeared, and he almost has to force himself not to reach out and touch it. Tommy's expression is also familiar to him; for a moment it feels like looking into a mirror. The insecurity, the hint of hope in his eyes; Buck knows how quickly it will die. Maybe he's reading too much into it, maybe there's nothing there. But if he's going to make a fool of himself, he might as well do it in front of Tommy.

“Do you know how to install ceiling spotlights?”

Tommy arches a brow, “Depends on the ceiling.”

Buck, lost in thought, fixes his gaze on the curve of Tommy’s lips, but that doesn’t help a bit.

“I'm not s-sure,” he goes, and for now, he actually has forgotten the type of the house’s ceiling. Maybe it’s wood, or styrofoam, or cotton wool like his mind.

“Well,” Tommy drawls, “to be honest, I don't remember either. Do you want me to come over and take a look? I'm not the greatest electrician, but I think I can manage.”

Then he fixes Buck with a look that says so much without saying it, and Buck wants to believe what he reads into it. Because Tommy says, “If you want me to.”

“I do,” he answers, and he means it.

AO3 version | All my BuckTommy on AO3

#bucktommy #Buck/Tommy #buck x tommy #tevan #kinley #dailykinley #bucktommy fanfic #ficlet #writing #fanfiction #my fics #kind of an episode fix-it #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 fanfic

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dunnerlars · 8 months ago

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truth or dare - mat barzal

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: summers are your favorite, but what comes after summer? word count: 2.7k warnings: alcohol mention a/n: and we're pinch hitting! this is for the lovely @writingonleaves for the #the summer fic exchange 2k24 hosted by the absolute kick ass @wyattjohnston! cobbled this together the last couple of days so i hope it's okay!

—

You coveted summers.

Summers were the only time of the year that you got uninterrupted moments with your best friend. Every summer it felt like he became more and more busy, with less time to spend at home so, summer was what you looked forward to and the little time he did manage to carve out and visit.

You’d grown up living just a few streets down from where Mat did, tucked away in a sleepy suburb, moving to the area when you were 10. It’d been hard moving to a new country, even if Canada wasn’t all that far from the States, things were just different. Making new friends and trying to fit in had been overwhelming, most girls already forming their friend groups and shunning outsiders, but when you’d met the boy down the street just a couple of years younger than you, when he came by your house one hazy afternoon asking if you wanted to play street hockey, well- that’d been it.

Despite the small gap in age, you two were inseparable and his friends became yours and it made the move easier- settling in seem inevitable instead of never ending. When he left only a handful of years later for Seattle to play hockey, it felt like everything was falling apart again. The infrequent texts and calls, trying to keep in touch through things like Facebook or Snapchat, was rough. You were 17 and sure Seattle wasn’t all that far but it’s not like you could explain to your parents why you suddenly needed to cross the border to see your best friend who’d helped you keep everything together.

Eventually things got easier. Mat’s friends were still yours, but you made your own. Went off to University, made more friends, moved to Vancouver, and got a big girl job but still summers were spent at home. With Mat.

And so: summers.

You didn’t actually get the whole summer off, normal jobs were like that, but you saved all of your vacation to make sure you were home for most of it. But, well- you'd quit your job just before the beginning of summer. And you were set to start the new one in early September so now the entire summer was yours.

There’s been something about this summer that’s felt different. Maybe it was the fact that you’ve been hiding something you’re nervous to share with the important people around you or that you were nearing a new decade in life soon, time changing, even if you felt like you were the same. Summer’s spent in the same childhood room with posters covering the wallpaper, fairy lights strung around the ceiling, polaroids tacked on your closet door full of memories and friends.

Mat had come home earlier than planned this summer, knocked out of the playoffs in the 1st round. You’d let him sulk for a week before you dragged him out into the sunshine with promises of ice cream and letting him beat you at tennis and then he’d left again- for Italy and weddings, relaxing far away from responsibilities and you. And then he was back. Back to soak up the last bits of summer before he flew across the country, and back to hockey.

—

It was one of the last days of summer and you were determined to make the most of it.

So, you packed a bag full of towels, sunscreen, books, and a million other ‘just in case’ items, and made the short trek over to Mat’s childhood home.

The front door was slow to open once you knocked, Mat appearing sleep rumpled and hungover.

“I thought you went home early last night,” you frown in greeting, pushing past him and into the house you were just as familiar with as your own.

“I did,” he groans, making his way to the kitchen and starting coffee, “Just tired. Are we really going to the beach this early?”

“It’s noon.”

Mat bangs his head against the cabinets at that and you snort, setting your bags down and hopping onto the counter next to him.

“You leave tomorrow. I leave next week. We don’t have to go, but I thought it would be nice. Everyone’s already down there. Charlotte’s made those sandwiches you like and Justin got you a whole case of only mango White Claws. And Hannah might kill me if we don’t show up and I’ll blame you.” You nudge his thigh with your foot, trying to get his attention as he watches the coffee pour. “Come on. Please.”

Once his gaze catches yours, he stares for a second and nods reluctantly. “Fine. Give me five?”

“Perfect. I’ll finish the coffee. You get dressed.”

You hop down as Mat shuffles out of the kitchen, doctoring his coffee into a to-go cup and putting the rest of the pot in a thermos you dig out of the back of the cabinet.

As you tuck the milk back onto the shelf of the refrigerator, the sight of the photos littering the doors as you close them has you smiling. You’re in a handful of them, Mat tucked under your arm in a couple of them until he hit a growth spurt a couple of years later. One of you both playing street hockey the first year you’d moved to Coquitlam. Your favorite, though, is stuck under an Islanders magnet on the top corner from Mat’s draft day where he’s giving you a piggyback ride down the hallway of the hotel after a long day of shaking hands, phone calls, and endless press.

Mat breaks the moment as he comes back to the kitchen, dressed in swim shorts and a long sleeve button down on, buttons completely undone leaving him bare chested. You have to take a deep breath, willing yourself not to say something stupid as he presses up behind you and hooks his chin over your shoulder. “Coffee good?” he asks, peering at the pictures on the fridge too.

“Yep, uh huh.”

Leaning over you, Mat presses his finger to the picture of you both playing street hockey and taps it with an airy laugh. “Who knew, huh?”

You barely manage to swallow and nod before he’s peeling himself away and grabbing the thermos and to-go cup of coffee, tucking them into his own bag and waiting.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for, you’re driving. Let’s go.”

—

The drive to the beach is a short 20 minutes, Mat filling the time with his obnoxious singing. Normally it was something you’d give him shit about, but you were thankful he didn’t notice anything off about the lack of ribbing he wasn’t getting, lost in your own thoughts.

Since you were both late, it was easy to spot everyone down near the shoreline set up near a haphazard volleyball net. Cheers of your names were mixed as you both approached the group, like they hadn’t seen you both in years, not hours since you’d all gone out last night too.

Mat’s quick to pop open one of his mango White Claws once you reach everyone and you roll your eyes, setting up your towel and undressing down to your swimsuit. You were determined to make the most of the sun, knowing you weren’t going to see it too often soon. Hannah, one of your best friends who you’d met in college, lays out next to you and pulls out her book.

“Are you excited for the move next week?” She asks curiously, turning to face you.

Hannah was the only one who knew your news, confiding in her when you’d gotten the job offer a couple of months ago.

“I think so? I’m still so nervous and being so far away from everyone,” you sigh, “But it’s not like I won’t have anyone. And I still haven’t told Mat.”

Hannah’s expression turns funny and you realize why when Mat plops down near you both, “Haven’t told Mat what?” he wonders.

You scramble, looking around and catching Charlotte playing cornhole with Jordan and remember, “Charlotte forgot the sandwiches. She texted me on the drive over. Sorry.”

Groaning, Mat dramatically lays down and feigns upset. “Can’t believe you lied to me. What kind of best friend are you? Have the last 20 years meant nothing?”

“I still can’t believe you two have been friends for that long. I can’t remember the last time I could stand someone longer than a couple hours,” Hannah chimes in and you pinch her thigh with a scowl.

“Best 20 years of my life,” Mat says proudly and you glance up at him through your sunglasses, catching the grin spread wide across his face.

“Okay ya big sap,” you tease.

The afternoon wears on. You finally finish the book you’re reading and switch with Hannah, reapplying sunscreen and choosing to drink water over alcohol. Mat never strays too far from you, choosing to lay out and play on his phone while you read or fetch new water bottles as yours deplete. It’s sweet and Hannah makes sure to make a big deal of it when he leaves, poking you in the side with a sly grin.

Eventually you need to cool off and sure enough, Mat’s right behind you and volunteering you both for a game of chicken. It’s best out of 3 and you lose in the last round, Mat losing his footing and you both topple into the water, giggling. You can’t remember the last time you felt so carefree, at ease and not wanting or wishing for anything else. There’s no hurry for either of you to get out, so you both float around, chatting nonsense until Mat catches your ankle as you float past him.

“So,” he starts, and suddenly you know it’s kind of serious. “I know Charlotte brought the sandwiches, the jig is up. What uh- what haven’t you told me? If you don’t wanna tell me that’s fine, I just. Is it something bad? Should I be worried?”

You let yourself fall out of your floating position, trying to find footing in the bottom of the lake but come up empty, not realizing you’re so far out you can’t touch the bottom. Mat’s the nearest thing so you hold onto his shoulder, kicking your feet to stay afloat until he grabs you around the waist to hold you close.

“I, uh. I got a new job,” you tell him, nerves filling you up.

He’s puzzled and you can tell. “Okay? Why wouldn’t you wanna tell me that? That’s awesome. What is it?”

“It’s at a publishing house in Manhattan,” you take a deep breath, starting the spiel you’d been practicing for when you finally told him. “And I don’t know, I’ve been feeling a little weird about it? I didn’t want you to think I was following you or something but like, obviously it’s benn my dream job and I know you know that but-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You got a job in New York? That’s amazing, holy shit!” Mat pulls you to his front, squeezing you tight and relief floods you as wrap your arms around his neck.

For whatever reason, this was not how you pictured this going. You knew Mat- he didn’t like feeling stifled and that’s what you thought this decision felt like it might be to him, like you were encroaching on something that was his.

“Really?”

Mat pulls away, searching your face in confusion. “Yeah, of course. This is gonna fucking sick. I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

“Well, I-”

You’re interrupted as Hannah yells at the two of you from the shore, “Hey, we’re gonna start grilling. Justin says you need to help, Mat!”

“Ugh. Fine!”

You both swim to shore and before you part, Mat grabs your wrist. “Don’t think I’m done with this. I have questions,” he tells you, waiting for you to nod before letting go.

Settling back on your towel, you turn towards Hannah who you can feel burning holes into your side.

“Spit it out.”

“What was that all about? You two looked pretty cozy out there,” she teases.

You shrug, still not sure how you’re feeling. “I told him about the job, moving, all of it. He was excited but then I think he realized I’d been keeping it from him and he might be upset? I can’t tell.”

Hannah glances over at the grill and you follow her gaze, both of you watching Mat and Justin goof off and she shrugs at you. “Maybe he’s forgotten,” she offers and you can’t help the laugh that passes your lips.

“Fat chance.”

—

Everyone gathers together to eat and discuss plans for after the summer and you’re pointedly quiet, still not quite ready to share your news with everyone. Hannah’s known and now Mat knew and that felt like enough. You still had a week, it would be fine. They all give Mat shit for going back all the way across the country and you’re thankful he doesn’t say anything, just gives it right back and tells everybody they’re welcome to visit.

Once the weather starts to cool, everyone begins packing up. You’re still sat on your towel, wrapped in an old hoodie of Mat’s he’d grabbed you from the car earlier and Hannah comes to sit beside you, placing her head on your shoulder.

“Gonna miss you, ya know,” she tells you quietly.

It’s hard, trying to hold the tears that are threatening to fall and you sniffle. “I know. God, we have a week left. Stop making me emotional and go home,” you tell her, voice wet and you push her away lightly.

She clambers up, dusting the sand off her ass and wipes at her eyes. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Obviously.”

She salutes you and you watch her make the trek back to the parking lot behind the beach before turning to find Mat. You find him easily enough, hugging a couple of friends goodbye and slapping them on the back. It’s easy for your mind to wander to when the time will come and you’ll all be doing different things, too busy to come together for the summers. Time filled with new families and friends.

Eventually, Mat makes his way back down to the beach and packs up what little is left: the rest of his White Claws and the couple of chairs you’d eventually brought down later in the day. He packs up the car but you’re not quite ready to leave, waiting for the sun to set.

Mat’s quiet when he sits beside you, picking at the corner of the towel, and you nudge his arm with yours. “I’m sorry for not saying something sooner about moving, I-”

He cuts you off, shaking his head. “No, you don’t need to apologize.”

There’s a pause, and you can see him trying to gather the thoughts he’s been holding onto since you told him the news a few hours ago.

“I think I just wish you’d felt like you could’ve told me,” he starts. “I didn’t even know you were looking at jobs out there. Like, we’d talked about it before years ago- you moving out there, but it always kind of seemed like a joke? And I guess it was, for a while anyway. But at some point I thought maybe you’d actually come out there and we could, I don’t know.” Mat shakes his head and you sigh, glancing towards the horizon of the setting sun and wonder if you’ve gotten something wrong here.

He continues, cutting his gaze towards you. “I guess I just thought at some point you’d actually make the move for real and we could finally try something.”

And oh.

Mat looks serious and you suddenly feel warm all over despite the chill taking over, the breeze from the water rushing over you and giving you goosebumps.

“Mat…”

“Was I crazy to think that?” He asks, earnest.

You shake your head quickly, hands sliding out from the sweater sleeves and you reach for him, intertwining your fingers. “No. Not crazy.”

Sitting there, you both watch the sun finally set in the sky, the beach awash in a hazy blue glow and Mat turns to you.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” you answer without hesitation.

“Kiss me.”

The dare catches you off guard but Mat’s grinning, his smile stretched wide across his face and you lunge forward and press a kiss to his smiling lips.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fanfic #mat barzal imagine #my writing #the summer fic exchange 2k24 #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic

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fatliterature · 4 months ago

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The Streamer

Something was happening to Carlos.

Before it began, he was an early 20s hoodie-wearing streamer boy. See his tub of protein powder on the shelf behind him, his laundry basket in the corner, his gym bottle reflecting the blue LED lights of his room. He had all the gear, the lights, the mic, a good brb animation, his subscriber count wasn’t crazy but he was happy with his progress. ‘What is uppp guys uhhhhhh I’m gonna stream some Fortnite tonight guys… but I also wanna watch some stupid videos on YouTube maybe?’ See his face framed by his hood. He’s cute, he has big dark eyes and thick eyebrows, lots of potential. This is the night he makes a mistake. ‘Okay okay okay lemme get up my YouTube okay I have uhhhh…’ He shares his screen with the viewers. There is a kind of guilty pleasure in seeing a streamer’s screen shared for a few seconds, a weird wallpaper, a messy desktop, how many notifications? He opens the browser and brings up YouTube. It’s the usual recommended videos, they look like yours, games, video essays, meme compilations. But what’s that? The bottom right hand corner. There is a recommended video. It’s on his ‘watch again’ list. The screen changes but it’s too late. The chat starts to react. ‘Uhhhhh what are you all talking about?’ There’s a long pause. Belly play video. Belly play video. Bro…. Belly play video? WTF LMAOOOOOOOOO. Bro is watching belly play videos whatttt. OMG. No. No, no, no, no. ‘Chill. Someone uhhhh somebody sent that to me as a joke chat literally chill.’ It’s fine. They’ll move on. They’ll forget it. Jesus why would the algorithm do him dirty like this. Last time he ever shares his screen on his YouTube homepage. Plus, it was TRUE, somebody had sent him it as a joke, and he had loved it, he’d laughed and watched it again, and again, and again. Each time laughing less, each time getting a little quieter, totally perplexed, and… curious. ‘OKAY guys, we’re gonna go to Fortnite.’ He thinks the moment is forgotten. But someone watching him won’t forget.

It’s a few months later. And chat is driving him crazy. He had started eating on stream, just snacks and whatever. But someone in the chat was making it into a thing. 600 calories! The first time they did it he barely noticed. But the next time he ate… 450 calories! Was that the same person in the chat? 1800 calories!!! OMG yesss! Okay, so every time he ate something, they were gonna comment the amount of calories it had, kind of a weird joke. Also, what the fuck, this meal has 1800 calories? He finished his soda. 400 more calories! Keep it up king! Fuck. Something about this was making his brain feel funny. ‘Chat why is everyone calorie counting me? Let me live!’ He looked away from his game for a second and read the chat. We love it king. You should eat more. Everyone spam 5000 CALORIE GOAL in the chat right NOW. 5000 calorie goal!! 5000 calorie goal king Carlos!! You can do it! BANG! He looked back at his game. Game over. You placed #80th. ‘Fuck.’ How long had he been staring at those words? ‘Alright guys, clearly I suck at this game tonight.’ His heart beat a little faster. ‘You wanna see me reach 5000 calories by the end of the stream? Get me to 5000 subscribers! Then maybe I’ll think about it you fucking weirdos.’

It’s a few months later again. This is where it’s safe to say, something was happening to Carlos. He tried not to think about it too much. His audience of subscribers had grown, a lot. And they seemed to be in on the joke. It was a joke by the way, the calorie counter at the top of the screen, which had made the chat go WILD when he first put it up to make them laugh. Carlos found that the more he leaned into the joke, the more his subscribers grew. The more he did what they wanted, the more they came back for more. The more he ate, the bigger he got. And he had definitely gotten bigger. ‘I mean chat, look at me, you’ve made me blow up it’s not even funny, I don’t move off this chair and you want me to RAISE the daily calorie goal are you insane?’ He jiggled a little when he laughed. His brain felt funny a lot of the time now, it made him feel kind of foggy, to play along with this. But what was he doing? He had actually gained weight… and he had yes, gained a lot of subscribers too. And they loved it, they loved it more than the games he was streaming. His breathing got a little faster. What if my subscriber count just kept getting bigger? What if I kept it up? Could this be like, my gimmick? Ge could just let his chat decide how big…. His breathing got a lot faster. Up until this point, he had denied the semi erection that happened every time he started thinking like this. He tried not to think about it too much. But he wanted those subscribers, he wanted his platform to grow… he wanted…to grow. What? ‘Chat I think you guys are messing with my head.’ A long pause. The comments appeared… We just want you to be who you truly are - Calorie Carlos! Omg yes. Calorie Carlos… our fat streamer boy. Carlos felt dizzy. Calorie Carlos! Our growing streamer pig lmaoooo. Okay, his erection wasn’t going away. What the fuck was happening. He tried not to think about it, as he reached for the keyboard. He tried not to think about it, as he raised the daily calorie counter to 6000 a day, he tried not to think about it, as he lifted his hoodie, jiggled his belly for the camera, and changed his name to Calorie_Carlos.

It’s a year later. The games Carlos plays are almost irrelevant. The calorie counter glows in the corner of the screen, it makes sounds and animates as it tracks his every meal, and every time it updates the chat goes wild. The more he gave in, the more he shared his growing belly and showed himself eating, the more every stream filled with responses. Encouragement. Looking good Calorie Carlos! Looking BIG. Keep growing! This changed the landscape of his chat. It…. turned him on, it KEPT him turned on. And eventually it began to change the landscape of his brain. Good streamer. Good piggy. Never stop. He couldn’t get away from it. The hazy brain fog that happened when he read these things, it became how he spent most of his days. Show your belly in the next 1000 calories king. Good fat boy! Eat more for us. What effect did this have on Carlos? He stopped worrying about why this turned him on, the validation he received from so many subscribers meant his mind was filled with encouragement and gluttony, it struggled to find space for anything else. His personality began to change. See his tubs of ice cream on the desks around him, his neglected gym gear pushed into the corner and hidden under empty pizza boxes, his 2 litre bottles of soda reflecting the pink LED lights of his room. He is Calorie Carlos. ‘What is upppp guys uhhhh URPP tonight I’m getting a HUGE fast food order and I’m gonna rate it all as I eat it, I know you all wanna see this massive belly when it’s full ha! Well, you’ll just have to keep watching.’

#belly gainer #gainer boy #weight gain story #gainer stories

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dearlenore · 11 days ago

Text

A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE TO LOVING YOU • S.REID

SUMMARY: after Spencer attends his first support group meeting, he discovers an odd girl who recently relapsed after using the same drug he did. Weirdly enough, he sticks around to see her reckless behavior

PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer

tags: fluff and sort of angst mentions , reader wears gn clothes, mentions of drug use and addiction, rushed relationship (breaking thirteenth step sort of), Spencer is down bad, reader is sort of manic pixie dream girl coded… (not in a senorita awesome way.) y/n usage

a/n: I’m BEYOND excited to post this one I’ve been working on it for a little while tho🥹 idk why it wasn’t turning out how I wanted

w/c: 1.8K

The first time you met Spencer you were shaking.

Your fingers trembled against the Styrofoam cup of stale coffee, barely steady enough to keep it from spilling over the edge. You’d picked a chair in the corner, shrinking into yourself like you could disappear into the peeling wallpaper.

You hadn’t wanted to come to the meeting — your chest still ached from the hollow pit your fiancé had left behind, and your mind buzzed from the remnants of a mistake you’d sworn you wouldn’t make again.

But here you were.

The meeting droned on in the background — voices blending together — until you heard him.

“I’m Spencer,” he said softly. “And I used to have a problem with Dilaudid.”

That word hit you like a slap. Your fingers clenched tighter around your cup.

He spoke quietly, like he didn’t want to take up space. But there was a weight to his words — the kind that only came from someone who knew what it was like to fall.

“I’ve been clean for a while,” he continued. “But… I’ve been thinking about it more than I should lately.” His voice faltered. “I know where that road leads, and I don’t want to go back.”

You watched him carefully, something about his honesty anchoring you in place. He didn’t look like someone who’d ever touched a needle — not with his too-big sweater sleeves pulled halfway over his hands and his fingers twitching nervously in his lap.

But you knew better than anyone — addiction didn’t care what you looked like.

When the meeting ended, you didn’t plan to talk to him. But somehow, your feet carried you toward him before you could change your mind.

“Hey,” you said softly.

He blinked, surprised to see you. “Hey.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you offered. “I relapsed…recently…”

His eyes softened, and you knew he understood.

—

You hadn’t expected Spencer to stick around after that. People came and went in these meetings — some stayed clean, some didn’t. You figured he’d just become another face in the circle.

But a few days later, he called.

At first, your conversations were cautious — two people afraid to say the wrong thing. He’d show up on his day off, coffee in hand, and the two of you would sit in a park or walk through quiet streets. He talked about work sometimes — something about profiling and the FBI — but mostly, you just talked about life.

It felt… easy. Like maybe you weren’t as broken as you thought.

But the longer Spencer knew you, the more he realized that ‘easy’ wasn’t exactly how you lived your life.

—

The first time he caught you being… you, it nearly gave him a heart attack.

“Y/N!” he shouted from across the street, watching in horror as you sprinted down a graffiti-covered alley — sneakers barely touching the pavement before you leapt and caught hold of a low-hanging fire escape ladder.

“What are you doing?” Spencer demanded when he caught up to you.

“I forgot my sketchbook!” you called down, halfway up the ladder already.

“You can’t just climb things!” he scolded, voice breathless.

“I climb things all the time!” you shot back.

“That’s not comforting!”

Moments later, you hopped back down, landing with an exaggerated flourish and holding up your prized notebook. “See? Safe and sound.”

Spencer stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

“Relax,” you teased, nudging his arm as you walked past him. “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough,” he muttered.

But despite himself, he smiled.

—

It became a pattern after that — Spencer watching helplessly as you danced dangerously close to chaos.

He found you sitting barefoot on a bridge railing once, legs swinging as you tossed bits of bread to ducks below.

“You know you’re, like… one strong gust of wind away from falling in, right?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, smiling as the ducks squabbled over the crumbs. “But I’ve always been a pretty good swimmer.”

Or the time you convinced him to sneak into a rooftop party — not for the drinks, but because you “just had to see the view.”

“What if we get caught?” Spencer whispered as you tugged him through the back stairwell.

“Then we run,” you grinned.

“I’m not good at running!”

“Good thing I am.”

Moments like those made Spencer’s heart race for all the wrong reasons. But somehow, despite the stress you caused him, he couldn’t pull away.

Because no matter how chaotic you were, there was something about you — something bright.

You were like sunshine — golden and warm, refusing to dim no matter how much the world tried to smother you.

—

It wasn’t until a quiet Sunday afternoon that Spencer realized how much he cared.

He’d been walking home from the bookstore when he spotted you across the street.

You were sitting on the pavement, cross-legged, sketchbook open in your lap. A little girl sat beside you — maybe six or seven — eagerly copying your drawing with her own crayons.

Spencer slowed his steps, watching as you laughed at something the girl said, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

You looked… happy. Like someone who hadn’t been through half the pain you had.

“Hey,” Spencer called as he crossed the street.

Your head shot up, smile widening when you saw him. “Spencer!”

The little girl waved too, flashing him a wide, toothy grin.

“Making friends?” Spencer asked, glancing between you both.

“Always,” you said brightly. “I was just showing Hazel here how to draw a dragon.”

“It’s so cool!” Hazel added, proudly displaying her scrawled creation.

“It’s very impressive,” Spencer agreed.

The girl’s mom called for her a moment later, and after a quick hug, Hazel was gone.

“You’re good with kids,” Spencer said as you packed up your pencils.

“I like them,” you replied simply. “Kids just… they don’t assume the worst in people.”

“Not yet,” he said quietly.

You gave him a sad smile — the kind that told him you understood more than you let on.

“I think that’s why I like them so much,” you murmured. “I want to believe people can be good, too.”

Spencer swallowed hard, suddenly desperate to say something — to tell you that you didn’t have to be the bright one all the time, that you didn’t have to run so fast or shine so hard to make people love you.

But all he said was, “I think you’re a good person, too.”

You smiled — a real one this time, soft and grateful.

And for once, Spencer didn’t feel like he needed to save you.

He just hoped he could keep up.

—

Falling for you wasn’t something Spencer planned.

He thought love would be neat and logical — a series of carefully measured steps with clear markers along the way.

But love with you wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t slow. It was loud and fast and messy.

It was him losing sleep because he couldn’t stop replaying the way your smile hit him like a punch to the chest.

It was the way you kept finding ways to sneak flowers into his apartment — a daisy in his mailbox, a tiny sunflower on his desk, a bright red poppy tucked between the pages of his book with a note that read: Because you’re my favorite nerd.

It was that day at the flea market when you’d found a stack of old records and spun him around right there in the aisle, laughing as you hummed along to some forgotten tune.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” he muttered, stepping awkwardly to the rhythm.

“I know,” you laughed. “But you’re dancing with me anyway.”

He fell in love with you then, too.

—

But for every moment of warmth, there was also fear.

Because sometimes your brightness dimmed.

Sometimes your smile faltered just a little too long.

And sometimes, when you thought no one was looking, Spencer would catch you staring off into space — your eyes distant, shoulders tight — like you were holding yourself together with nothing but stubborn will.

It terrified him.

Because he knew what that emptiness felt like — how easily it could swallow you whole.

He remembered the night you called him — voice thin and shaky.

“I messed up,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to, I just… I couldn’t stop thinking and everything hurt and… I just wanted to stop for a little while.”

He was at your apartment in minutes.

You sat on the floor, knees drawn to your chest, tear-streaked and shaking.

“I’m sorry,” you kept repeating. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, dropping down beside you. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m trying so hard,” you choked. “I just… I don’t know how to make it stop sometimes.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I know.”

He stayed with you that night, sitting on the floor until your breathing steadied, until your head tipped against his shoulder and you finally fell asleep.

And in that moment — watching you cling to sleep like it was the only thing tethering you to the world — Spencer realized how badly he wanted to protect you.

Not because you were fragile — God knows you weren’t — but because you were the brightest thing in his life… and he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

—

Falling in love with you wasn’t graceful.

It was messy and terrifying — full of too-fast heartbeats and late-night worries.

He worried when you didn’t text back. He worried when you climbed things you shouldn’t climb. He worried when you laughed a little too loudly like you were trying to drown out something else.

“You need to stop looking at me like I’m going to break,” you said one afternoon, perched on the railing of a bridge like it was the safest seat in the world.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted.

“Spencer… I’m fine.”

“You say that like it’s true,” he muttered.

“It is true,” you insisted, hopping down beside him. “I’m not perfect, but I’m okay. I’m still here.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

“And you’re still here, too.”

His heart stuttered.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

And somehow, you always made that enough.

⸻

The moment Spencer knew — really knew — was quieter than he expected.

You were sitting in his apartment, curled up on his couch in one of his oversized cardigans. Your head rested against the armrest, a book balanced lazily on your stomach. You weren’t dancing or climbing something dangerous — you weren’t even smiling.

You were just… there.

Soft. Quiet. Safe.

And in that stillness, Spencer realized that loving you wasn’t about chasing your chaos.

It was about being your quiet place — the calm after the storm, the steady heartbeat you could rest against when everything felt too loud.

And as he watched you — curled up and breathing peacefully, like for once you weren’t fighting to keep yourself afloat — Spencer knew there was no turning back.

He was completely, hopelessly, undeniably in love with you.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #x reader #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #fluff #cm

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