#my save the date was a phone call and word of mouth whatever your expectations are Lower Them

[odetolovers]

just bought wedding invitations. this fucks severely

[salemrph]

"I won't admit it" Sylus x MC

Summary: Tera notices that you have change in the past time, and she needs to address this. Are you going to admit your feeling for him?

This take place after the match in Radiant Brilliance.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: Comfort + Fluff | Pet names : Kitten, Sweetie, Sweetheart

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, date, humour, some intimacy

| Word count: 2676 | Reading Time: 18 min |

A/N: This is my first fanfic, and English isn't my first language. I hope you enjoy it! I've been reading a lot over the past few weeks, and I noticed that more fluffy and soft content is needed for Sylus and MC.

His arms tightened around you as his countdown reached one, and he placed a gentle kiss on your hair. Your phone clicked, capturing the moment. The picture of you two was saved instantly.

"Send it to me" he said fast. You're confused about what happened. "Now, there is new material to watch on the base " his voice soft and genuine. He lets out a soft chuckle, amused by your reaction.

The memory of that event crossed you mind while eating a few days later, in the cafeteria with Tera. She looks at you with a wide smile and says:

"And...? How long are you with him now?" You almost choked on your food hearing that question. "Hey, you okay there?" Tera asked, looking at you with concern as you attempted to clear your airway. "You're not dying on me, are you?"

After a few sips of water, you finally managed, "Yeah, I’m fine," you croaked, coughing once more. "Just… wasn’t expecting that question."

Tera’s grin widened, sensing she'd struck a nerve. "Oh, come on, spill the beans," she teased, clearly enjoying your reaction. "It’s obvious you’ve been seeing someone. You’re practically glowing lately. So, how long have you two been together?"

You hesitated. On one hand, you knew Tera wouldn't rest until she had all the details about whatever she thought was happening. But on the other, you were reluctant to share details about your relationship with Sylus.

"I... I'm not seeing anyone, Tera." You tried to play it cool, but recalling that soft kiss from him made you feel your cheeks warm up.

"You´re blushing! I knew it! "Tera stood up for her chair and bend over the table. "I'm your best friend, come on! Who is he? Oh my god! It's Zayne?! Or maybe... Xavier?!

"What? No! And keep your voice down…" you muttered, feeling a surge of embarrassment. You looked around, worried about others overhearing. “Again, I’m not with Sy… anyone.” Your lips hesitated, betraying you. Fuck.

Tera’s gaze was intense, searching your face as if she was reading your mind. She seemed to sense something you hadn’t yet admitted to yourself. Every what happened between Sylus and you has been like a roller coaster ride. Form being his "personal armoury" as he call you one time, to take tare of his wounds and going on getaways with him. It was all jumbled inside of you, unspoken and unprocessed.

You sigh, knowing there's no way to get out of this. Tera smiled.

"Alright, alright" you concede, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Thinking that maybe Tera could hear you out a bit. "It's complicated, okay? Can we talk in other moment, and I don't want anyone overhearing."

"Fine," she grumbles, although her curiosity is still evident in her eyes. "But the minute we're off the clock, I'm dragging every single detail out of you.

You chuckle at her tenacity, secretly relieved that you managed to dodge her questions for now. "Deal," you agree, a wry smile on your face. "The minute we're off the clock, it's Question Time."

Tera grins victoriously, clearly looking forward to her interrogation. "You'd better believe it," she replies, taking another bite of her food. "And don't try to pull a fast one on me either. I can smell lies from a mile away."

Despite your best efforts to put off the interrogation for as long as possible, taking more workload, you find yourself dragged out of the office by Tera, her grip on your arm firm and unyielding.

"We're going out for drinks," she declares, her voice brooking no arguments. "And we're not stopping until you've spilled every single detail about your mystery man."

You try to protest, to suggest a different time or place, but Tera is having none of it. She's determined to get the answers she wants, and she doesn't seem inclined to wait.

So you find yourself being herded into a nearby bar, pushed onto a stool next to her at the counter. Tera orders a round of drinks, sliding one towards you.

"All right," she says, fixing you with a determined look. "I've waited long enough. Time to spill the beans. Who's this guy, and how long have you been seeing him?"

“A couple of months…” you muttered, but Tera rolled her eyes. Clearly dissatisfied with your vague answer.

"A couple of months, eh? That's all you're giving me?" She takes a sip of her drink, scrutinizing you closely. "Come on, you can do better than that. What's his name? Oh, oh, oh! How about this guy of the other day? Mister Skye, right?

You feel a pang in your heart. You take a hefty gulp of your own drink. You know Tera won't let up until she has every single bit of information she wants, and you're resigned to the fact that you're going to have to give her something. Sorry Sylus... You´re apologised in your mind.

"I'm... not with him, alright" Tera let out a cry of excitement. "Come down, we are... just friends, okay?" you stammered. You´re not even sure if you can address that whatever you have with Sylus is like a friendship, but... is the easier way.

"As if!" Tera snorted. "What else?" She takes another sip of her drink, her gaze still fixed on you.

You sighed. You don´t want to answer all her questions.

"We... have spent a lot of time lately. That's it"

"That's it?" Tera crossed her arm. "Liar. You know what kind of look you had today at lunch?” She paused for a moment. "You’ve got a crush on him!"

"Huh?!" You felt your cheeks burn.

"You don't?" Tera sighed and gave you a knowing look. “Well, then why are you always around him?”

You think about the deal you made with Sylus before the auction. All the events you have been trough with him. Somewhere along the way, your heart had started caring for him. You hesitated, not wanting to admit it even to yourself.

“I’m not sure. It’s just fun... being around him,” you say not sure if that is the best word for what you feel when you are with him.

“So, Mister Skye is ‘fun,’ huh? From what I saw when he went with us to karaoke, his eyes were all on you. If you’re not crushing on him, I’d bet he has a crush on you.” Tera seems very enthusiastic about the idea of the rich guy having an affair with her best friend. Is a K-Drama in real time.

"Impossible," you murmured, looking down at your drink. Sylus wouldn’t… would he? You're Hunter, you have a deal with him, that's it.

A flicker of the memory hit you, of him brushing his lips against your hair. The thought made you nervous, and you downed your drink in one gulp, ordering another. Maybe a bit more alcohol would clear your mind.

“Look, Sy… Skye, he’s just… flirty. That doesn’t mean he has a crush on me,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as Tera.

"Y/N, then let's do a crush test" You look up. Confused about the statement. Tera pull out his phone and tipped a few time on it. "Okay, just answer this questions for me" I nod.

"Does he call you often?" You nod, thinking about the late-night talks you share.

I'm used to hearing your voice before I got to bed. So... I wasn´t able to fall asleep without it today...

"Does he clear his schedule for you?" Your mind flashes back to the time he rushed through a meeting to bring you back in his jet to Linkon City. "Does he give you gifts?" You remember the set of aromatic candles he sent when you were stressed out over a presentation.

Tera continues through her list, and you keep nodding to every question. After at least 20, she finally puts down her phone.

"He doesn’t have crush. He fucking in love with you!" Your body tenses up at Tera's words. That's not possible. "I actually feel bad for him now. How can you be so blind?"

"Tera, stop. He isn’t…" You pause for a moment, your mind piecing everything together. Suddenly, all the sweet things he’s said to you over the past few months replay in your head. It’s as if he’s right beside you, leaning in, whispering in your ear.

I need to show them that I have already a lover.

You should know very well that I adore you.

It's not as cute as you.

You're look beautiful.

Are you satisfied with it, my beloved?

She studies your face closely, knowing she’s flipped a switch inside you. She waits for you to come to your conclusion. Tera seems to have a good idea that you’re leaving out some important details, but for now, she enjoys watching you consider the possibility of a romance.

Tera leans back in her chair, taking a long sip of her drink. "Y/N, you're a smart, strong, and beautiful person. Why wouldn’t he be absolutely smitten with you?" She pauses for a moment. "Look, if you aren’t sure about your own feelings, think about whether you’d be okay with him having a crush on someone else."

Tera pats your back and, for your mental sake, changes the subject. She begins talking about other gossip she’s heard and complains about her own love life.

***

As you walk home, the cool night air caressing your face, you can't help but think back to your conversation with Tera. You can still hear her words echoing in your head. With every step you take, the worry seems to grow a little bit stronger. You can't shake the feeling that you're walking into a trap, that you're setting yourself up for disappointment and heartbreak. What if you have crush on him? You can’t deny that he’s absolutely handsome and attractive, that he cares about you.

There’s a small flicker of hope deep within you—maybe, just maybe, the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, is real and genuine.

It’s late when you finally get home. You toss your shoes in a corner and throw your coat over the sofa. As you sink into the comfort of your bed, you hold the small crow-shaped stuffed animal close to your chest. The soft fabric beneath your fingers feels like a warm reassurance, reminding you of the good times you shared with Sylus at the arcade.

You check your phone before closing your eyes, just in case you missed one of his late calls. But there’s no notification. You turn over and close your eyes, a small smile spreading across your face at the memory of that date. You allow yourself to bask in its warmth for a few moments longer before slowly drifting off to sleep.

In that dreamlike state, you find yourself back at the arcade, laughing and playing with Sylus once again.

The sights and sounds of the arcade surround you—a kaleidoscope of bright colors and cheerful noises. You can hear the playful pings and dings of the various game cabinets, the clatter of tokens across the counter, and the laughter of children enjoying the games.

Sylus is there too, his tall and imposing figure standing next to you. He glances at you, a warm smile on his lips as he teases you about how badly you're losing at the racing game.

"Come on, you can do better than that," he teases, his voice laced with amusement. "You're supposed to be the gaming expert around here, remember? Don't tell me this simple little race is too much for you to handle!"

You playfully stick your tongue out at him in response, feigning indignity at his light teasing. "Oh, shut up! I'm just warming up, that's all! I'll beat you soon enough, just you wait!"

Sylus laughs at your response, clearly enjoying your playful banter. "Yeah, right," he teases. "You've been saying that for the past ten minutes. I'm starting to think you're all talk and no skill!"

He steps closer, a mischievous smile on his lips. "Or maybe you’re just so distracted by my charming personality that your game skills are suffering."

You try to ignore the way his voice makes your heart flutter, fixing him with a withering glare. "Oh, please," you say, rolling your eyes. "You’re so full of yourself, you know that?"

Sylus chuckles, clearly entertained by your defiance. "Hey, I’m just being honest. I know I’m a catch," he says, puffing out his chest dramatically. "I mean, look at me. I’m rich, successful, and devastatingly handsome. Who wouldn’t want to be with me?"

You shake your head at his arrogance, though you feel your cheeks flush slightly at his confident words. “You’re absolutely insufferable, you know that?” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sylus grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Insufferable, maybe. But you love it,” he says, taking another step closer. “Admit it—you can’t resist my charm, sweetie"

You try to keep your composure, but it’s getting harder. Your heart is racing, and your breaths come in shallow gasps. He’s so close now, his body almost brushing against yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

He reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “Come on, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost gentle.

He leans in close, whispering in your ear, “But… I kind of like it when you get all flustered in public. It’s cute.” Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you feel your cheeks grow even warmer.

Suddenly, he glances over your shoulder, then takes your hand, leading you into the photo booth. With a gentle push, he nudges you inside and steps in, pulling the curtain closed behind him, sealing you both in the cozy, private space.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re taking pictures, kitten,” he grins. “Isn’t that part of the arcade experience? Now, show me how this works.”

You sigh in relief, somehow expecting something more dramatic. You select some options on the panel, ready to get it over with.

“Choose some props if you want,” you hear the machine prompt. You gesture toward the small basket filled with cat ears, hats, and other playful accessories. Sylus picks up a pair of silly glasses, and you burst into laughter.

He crosses his arms, waiting for you to calm down.

“Do I look like a clown to you?” he asks, his tone amused but slightly smug.

“No, no, no, take those off!” you laugh harder, wiping a tear away. “We’re not doing this. Let’s just take normal pictures.”

You set the timer for the four pictures, and you both start posing. Sticking out your tongue, flashing peace signs, and goofing off. By the time the last picture comes, the countdown begins again.

3...

A strange feeling twists in your stomach. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

2...

Your thoughts flicker back to the boxing match. You keep your eyes fixed on the screen, trying to steady yourself.

1...

And just as the camera flashes, Sylus grabs your chin and pulls you in for a quick, possessive kiss, capturing the moment with the photo.

The photo ejects from the machine, and Sylus grabs it, his smirk widening as he looks down at the printed image. “Perfect,” he says, holding it up for a brief moment before slipping it into his pocket.

“That’s another one for the collection,” he adds, his voice laced with lingering desire as he gazes down at you. “And I’m sure we’ll be making plenty more memories together, sweetheart.”

You lie alone in your bed, still tangled in the mixed-up memories of that moment with Sylus in the photo booth. You can still feel the heat of his body, the touch of his lips, the warmth of his fingers as they brushed against your skin.

As you replay the dream over and over, a sharp pang of pain strikes your chest, the weight of realization hitting you like a wave. Before you can fully process it, your phone lights up.

“Do you want to go to the arcade tomorrow?”

[luveline]

oK HALLOWEEN REQUESTS?! BET!!! GET THIS, STEVE WHO KEEPS HEARING SCARY NOISES IN HIS HOUSE AND HE CALLS READER (his gf) TO BE LIKE DUDE THERES A FUCKING GHOST and it’s a cat who got stuck in his attic or something 🥹

ty for requesting ♡ you and steve go ghost hunting. fem, 1.1k

Steve's waiting for you. Front door open, your boyfriend stands in his pyjamas with a leather jacket thrown over the top, hair ruffled but adorable, one pant leg tucked into his sock and the other dragging on the floor.

"Planning on a quick getaway?" you tease. 

Steve hangs his head. "Whatever, just kiss me." 

You love him even if you tease, using the door jam for extra height as you tip your head back to kiss him. With the way he kisses you can't be expected to abstain, hot little crescent moons of touch pressed softly to the seam of your lips, like the very beginning of a heavier kiss. It distracts you, and you forget why you're there. 

"'M being haunted," he says against your mouth. 

"Right," you remember. "You sounded hysterical on the phone. I thought maybe you'd been spiked." He rolls his eyes. "Hey, it happened once before!" 

"Just come listen. It's a weird thumping." 

"Maybe there's a guy living up there," you suggest, taking your shoes off by the door. 

Steve takes your hand gently, his words much less coddling, "Sure, there's a man living in my attic. He comes out when I sleep." 

"Well, don't scare yourself." 

"It's fucking weird. It's definitely a spirit." 

"Like that vampire you saw last Christmas." 

Steve leads you upstairs to his room, where he encourages you to get comfortable. You take off your jacket and your bag. You'd brought pyjamas, figuring Steve's phone call to be an invitation rather than a real ghost hunt, but you'll save them for afterwards. He looks comfortable, and he smells nice as you drop your face into his arm. 

"Listen," he says, bringing the forearm of the arm you're snuggling up to stroke whatever skin of yours he can reach, "it'll happen again. It's constant." 

"It's maybe a burst pipe." 

He shushes you, not unkindly. "Just listen." 

On the phone, he'd been dramatic enough that you assumed this was a cute ploy to see you. You'd felt quite flattered —Steve doesn't seem to realise how much of a catch he is, so his flirting is over the top, and it really keeps the crush alive even while you're dating. There's a fucking ghost, dude, you need to come over right now. 

Really? I thought your parents bought the house new? 

Baby! Don't make me beg. And don't make me die alone. 

You tilt your head to one side and listen hard for his promised ghost, an excuse to be in Steve's space more than anything. After a few dull seconds of silence, you turn forward and offer him a smirk. "You don't have to make stuff up for me to come over. I would've come to see you for no reason." 

"And while I appreciate that," he says, his hand moving to your face, your cheek to his palm, "there's really, actually a ghost." 

You look up in tandem as a strange sound echoes from above Steve's bedroom. It can't be a person, the weight doesn't shift loud nor close enough for footsteps, only groans in one place before creaking further toward the door. 

"Oh," you say. Steve squeezes your cheek. 

To get into Steve's attic you have to build a precarious ledge. He doesn't have a stepladder and the attic itself has no fold down, nor a ring pulley. "We don't go in there, the house is big enough already," he explains, lugging his TV stand under the attic opening. "This is barely tall enough to get up there." 

"Maybe you can boost me?" you suggest, though the idea of being that far up doesn't sound enticing. 

"No way, it's dark up there. If one of us is going to be killed by a ghost, it'll be me." He kisses your cheek and hops up onto the stand with impressive dexterity. You grit your teeth. "And besides, you don't like heights." 

"Steve, is this a bad idea? What if it's an owl? It'll attack you." 

"It's not an owl," —he grabs at the attic tile and pushes it in, grunting as he pulls the weight of his upper half inside with it— "it's a ghost, beautiful." His legs disappear into the attic. You can hardly see him. "We should've found a flashlight." 

"I can go look?" 

"I'll be fine, probably."

"Stay away from the hole! If you fall and break your back I'll have to work two jobs and someone else will have to give you sponge baths–" 

"Why do you actually sound worried? I'm not going to fa– Holy fuck!"

A huge thunk. You huff out a worried exhale, asking, "Are you okay? Stevie?" as you climb onto the TV stand and peer into the dark attic. 

"I'm okay! I'm gonna come back, don't flinch." His face appears in the opening. "I tripped over something. It's weird, you won't believe me, but the floor is wet in here. There must be a leak in the roof."

"Be careful, Steve, please," you murmur. 

Steve leans down in the gap to kiss your frown. "Sorry. I'm being careful. Could you bring me some towels? I'm gonna clean this up." 

You throw him a couple of towels from his laundry room like you're shooting shoddy hoops, laughing at his worse catching. The floor moans as he cleans, but there doesn't seem to be any ghost now that he's investigating. In fact, the house is very, very quiet. 

"Did you hear that?" Steve asks. 

You shiver. "Don't mess around!" you call, though you're not mad. "You're giving me goosebumps." 

Steve goes quiet for a little while. You chew on your lip, consider standing on the TV stand again to climb in after him, but ultimately stand frozen under the gap, waiting. 

He says something too quiet to hear. 

"What?" you ask. 

Your response comes unexpectedly, a little white face held by two bigger hands from the ceiling, and a frankly earth-shattering yowl. 

"Look! It's a cat!" 

"I can see." 

"Take him, take him!" 

You take the cat even as he hisses at you, holding his claws as far from you as you can manage. Steve huffs and puffs as he slides his way down, the TV stand wobbling ever so slightly as he closes the attic and hops down onto the floor. 

"He's aggressive," you say, wincing as the cat hisses again. "How big was the leak? I mean, how did he get up there?" 

"I told you already," Steve says, attempting to pet the cat and dodging a well-aimed claw, "he's a ghost." 

"Very funny, H. Now, um, what are we gonna do with him?" 

"...I was hoping you'd know." 

"I guess you have a pet now. Congrats, babe." 

[onceonafullmoon]

Convos With Rin

Rin x Gn! Reader

No warnings! Just pure fluff, also you can ignore the last 2 lines if you want to read this as platonic!

Aka: maladaptive daydreams by yours truly that I cleaned up and formatted. Part 2 here

“Sometimes I wonder if the idealized, romanticized version of relationships I’ve built up in my head are subconsciously affecting my navigation in reality.”

“What?” Rin asks, rolling over from where he lies on his bed to look at you, his teal eyes switching from his phone to glance over at you.

“Sorry, that was word vomit.” You say waving a hand dismissively before speaking again. “It’s just… I mean that I wonder if my expectations of romantic relationships have been distorted because of all the media I consume. And I wonder if that would ruin any chance I have of a healthy relationship.”

You absentmindedly start fiddling with your fingers as you speak.

“Like, for example dating sims, every love interest is over possessive and jealous, and that’s fine, cause it’s a fantasy. And obviously it’s not endorsed in real life, because if you date someone who foams at the mouth every time you look at another man, you’ll have issues. But… sometimes I wonder if I’ll think back to those dumb games when I’m in a relationship and choose something unhealthy for myself.”

A comfortable silence lapses after your ramblings and you wait patiently for your best friend's response.

“…you sure do think a lot more than I expected.” He says after a while and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Wow thanks.” You drone out. “You know what? I’d rather you have just flipped me off and called me a dumbass than whatever attempt of a compliment that was.”

“Didn’t mean it like that, I meant that I’d never once thought about that.” He says cooly, in a way that makes you unfairly jealous of his demeanor.

“Yeah? Well, I’m not surprised. Your brain is composed of 50% football and the other half is basic motor skills. I doubt you’ve even thought of anything outside of that.”

“…not true.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Somewhere, squeezed between the cracks of those key areas, is your vast knowledge of horror trivia.” You joke, your eyes darting over his sprawled form.

“…” He hesitates to respond before muttering out. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What’d you mean then?”

“…nothing, never mind.”

“Oh boo, you whore.” You scoff, sitting up in his desk chair to devote your attention to him. “Come on tell meeee! I tell you everything… well, almost everything but— nonetheless…”

He glares but you simply smile at him before waiting eagerly for him to finally loosen his tongue and spill whatever he has locked away from you.

And maybe deep down he knows that there’s no winning against you because he ends up opening his mouth to speak.

“I…I think about romance sometimes.” He eventually admits, his eyes darting back to his phone in embarrassment.

“Oho?” You straighten up further, a goading grin on your face much to his annoyance. “Our little Rinrin is growing up!”

“Fuck you, this is why I don’t tell you shit.”

“Aww come on, I won’t tease you anymore I promise! Please tell me more!” You practically beg, looking at him with prying eyes.

“This is lame.” Rin scoffs.

“You’re lame! Romance is perfectly natural. Anyways, is this a crush? A passing fantasy?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I live vicariously through my friends’ love lives, now spillll!” You say, dragging out the last syllable deliberately to piss him off.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?” You say a pout on your lips.

“Because you’re annoying and you’re only asking to make fun of me.”

“What? Me?” You gasp out in faux surprise. “Never, could I ever make fun of you, after all you’re my dearest most important–”

“Save it.” He cuts you off, content to ignore you now, engrossed in his phone.

“Kill joy… I’ll get it out of you one of these days.” You say darkly before leaning back to sulk in his chair.

“Over my dead body.” He mutters, but if you looked over to him again, you’d see the tell tale way his gaze fell back to you.

Unfortunately for you, Rin’s crush would stay a secret for just a little while longer.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Call It What You Want (Superstar Chapter 2)

'Cause my baby's fit like a daydream

Walkin' with his head down, I'm the one he's walkin' to

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to 

 Sequel to Superstar where the Reader and Roy Kent have their first date.

Roy Kent x Reader

5.7k words

Warnings: language (because Roy Kent), adults drinking adult drinks

Note: We’re in a parallel universe where Roy & Keeley never date and Keeley is in a healthy relationship with Jamie. Also, this came out a bit longer than I expected but dang it was fun to write!

The tension came to a head during lunch that Friday, our office door closed as we both sat at my desk, eating falafel out of the foil containers Roy had smuggled in past Ted and Beard. As I took a bite, I snuck a glance at Roy, who was gazing at the orange sticky note he’d stuck above my computer the day before:

~

It had been a week since Roy Kent had discovered the shrine to himself in my childhood bedroom. The following days had been sprinkled with autographs left on any papers that didn’t look too important, teasing pleas for no pictures during work hours, and one particularly mocking offer to save his beard trimmings the next time he shaved. But it was also filled with lingering stares in the hall, chocolate muffins left on my desk each morning, lunches shared in our tiny office, and the occasional smile and wink on the pitch when no one else was looking. A few times, Roy even brushed his fingers against mine when we squeezed by each other in doorways. With each small touch or moment of longing eye contact, I felt myself wondering how long it would take for one of us to break.

To my biggest fan

XOXO Roy Kent

“When’s your mum’s birthday?”

God, would I ever get used to his out of nowhere questions? “Why, d’you want to crash her birthday dinner too?”

A snort flew out of his nose as he turned his attention back to his lunch. “No. Just wanted to make sure you’re not busy tonight before I ask you out.”

Look up the signs of a heart attack when you get home, you might be having one. “Oh, really?” I tried to keep my breathing steady. “You think I’m the kind of girl who has no plans on a Friday night?”

Roy rolled his eyes and stuffed another bit of falafel into his mouth. “I think,” he said between bites, “you’re the kind of girl who’s gonna be really fucking annoying on our date tonight.” He paused to meet my gaze. “Unless you’ve already got plans with David Beckham? Or Lionel Messi?”

Another one of his recurring jokes that week was asking about my interest in other football players. I narrowed my eyes. “Unfortunately Becks was busy tonight,” I played along. “So, I guess I’m all yours.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A heat filled the air as Roy used his foot to roll my chair towards him, opening his knees slightly so I could come close to him. My knees hit the inside of his thighs and our noses practically touched; the back of my neck prickled. This was the closest contact we’d had since our kiss upstairs at my parents’ house. His eyes searched mine, thick eyebrows raised. My heart hammered as I leaned forward-

“Roy? Hey Roy?”

My chair was swiftly kicked back into place before Ted opened the office door, his head bent over his phone. We both quickly turned our attention back to our lunches, as if eating falafel took a lot of effort. By the time Ted looked up, Roy and I looked like we’d just been eating in silence- which was actually completely believable.

Ted’s face lit up when he saw me. “Oh, there you are. Was wondering where you’d gotten to.” He turned his attention to Roy, then paused when he saw the food in our hands. “Aw, you’re already eating.” He snapped his fingers. “I was gonna invite y’all go get some fish ‘n’ chips with me ‘n’ Beard.” He shrugged. “Well, enjoy your…” He studied the bowls a moment. “Meat? Whatever it is, looks tasty.” With an oblivious wave he turned on his heel and left, calling out for Coach Beard to follow him.

After a moment of listening to the sound of their receding footprints, followed by blessed silence, Roy finally looked back at me. “Well, he fucking ruined that moment. So, I’ll get you at seven?”

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I’ll text you my address.”

“No need.” Roy grinned. “Don’t forget, you’re an easy stalking target.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, amazed at how comfortable I had grown with Roy ��he’s here, he’s there, he’s every fucking where” Kent over the past week. “I turned off my Snapchat location, thanks to you. So be nice or else no address.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Fine. Then you can just meet me at the restaurant, and we can miss out on the whole ‘you open the door and my jaw drops when I see you’ moment.”

We narrowed our eyes at each other for a moment before breaking out into matching grins.

“Pick you up at seven,” he repeated.

~

From the moment I got home from work until the moment I heard a knock on my door, my hands shook and my heart hammered. I was incredibly grateful that Roy had used the word “date” in our conversation that afternoon; if he hadn’t, I probably would have spent hours agonizing over what the evening ahead meant. Even with the confirmation that this was indeed a date, I was a mess as I agonized over the perfect outfit and fought with my hair, desperate to look special compared with what Roy saw each day at work. When the sound of knocking reached my ears at 6:59, the tremble in my hands spread to my whole body.

Relax. You know he likes you. He wouldn’t have kissed you and asked you out and tried to kiss you again if he didn’t.

An involuntary gulp escaped when I opened the door and saw Roy standing in front of me. He looked really good in his fitted black slacks and black button-down shirt. He looked even better when he smiled at me, his brown eyes traveling down my frame slowly.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyebrows raised. “You look great. Really fucking great.” He held his hand out to me, his eyes sparkling. “Are you ready then?”

We walked out to his car, neither of us saying a word. When we got to the car, he opened the door and helped me in before climbing in on his side. I shifted in my seat and cleared my throat.

“So, what’s the plan, Kent?”

“Figured we’d go sit in our office and eat takeaway,” he answered as he started the car. “Y’know, same shit we do every day.”

“Romantic,” I snarked.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, he took my hand, interlocking our fingers. “Fine, nix that plan then. How about drinks and then a late dinner? Just no fucking work talk please.”

I stared at our hands, wondering if he could feel my pounding pulse through my fingertips. “Sounds great,” I agreed, giving his hand a squeeze.

It was a somewhat quiet drive, but a comfortable one. I’d turned on the radio to some pop station, and Roy drummed out the beat with his fingers, tapping the back of my hand rhythmically. With his attention on the road, I allowed myself the opportunity to unabashedly stare at him. He was still Roy Kent: grizzled, dark, something of a brooding aura surrounding him. But he looked different that he normally did in the office, more like he had that evening at my parents’ house. His shoulders were relaxed against the driver’s seat, and his mouth was curved ever-so-slightly upwards, a shadow of a smile. As if he could feel the heat of my gaze, his eyes shifted off the road and towards me, causing his mouth to curve even further upwards.

“Admiring something?” he asked, clearly amused.

A bit embarrassed to be caught staring, I turned my eyes back to the road. “Just… taking in the sights.”

“The sights,” he repeated, nodding his head. “I’d say to take a picture since it’ll last longer, but I think you’ve got enough fucking pictures hanging at your mum’s house, wouldn’t you agree?”

My embarrassment deepened. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Roy gave my hand a squeeze. “Nope. Only because I like seeing you blush so much.”

We finally arrived at the pub, with me refusing to look at Roy’s smug face for the rest of the car ride. He quickly got out of the car and jogged to my side, opening my door, and holding my hand to help me down.

“D’you really need such a massive car?” I teased as his hand settled in the small of my back.

A playful huff came out of Roy’s mouth. “Oi, don’t make fun of a man’s car. Otherwise, you’ll be walking home.”

“Aww, but how will you walk me to my door and kiss me at the end of the night?” I asked with a pretend pout, crossing my arms to give the full bratty effect.

Roy gave a hearty chuckle as we entered the dark pub. “You’re a presumptuous thing, you think you’re getting a kiss on the first date?”

I rolled my eyes as Roy guided me to a secluded corner booth, letting me slide in before following me into the seat. “Oh, I’m sorry, can you only kiss a girl when you’re surrounded pictures by yourself? Because I stopped carrying your photo in my wallet ages ago. Might still have a couple saved on my mobile though, would you like me to check?”

Roy stared at me hard for a moment, his dark eyes practically drilling holes into my brain. “You talk way too fucking much, anyone ever tell you that?”

Before I could come up with some clever response, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. I could only squeak weakly in response as my eyes fluttered closed. This kiss was a bit rougher than the one we’d shared a week ago, with my lips parting to mirror Roy’s own slightly open mouth. It ended entirely too soon, with Roy smirking at me.

“That ought to shut you up for a fucking minute,” he chuckled as an older woman in an apron approached, a knowing smile on her face.

“How’re you Roy?” the woman asked casually, although her eyes were on me.

Roy grunted in response, suddenly reverting to his usual monosyllabic self. “Fine. Usual, please.”

The woman hummed and raised her eyebrows at me. “And you sweetheart?”

I quickly ordered my drink, offering up a couple of pleases and thank yous. With drink orders out of the way, I finally let myself look around the pub. It was dimly lit, with a couple televisions above the bar. There was a mostly older crowd, with most other customers having at least a decade on my parents. There were darts on a far wall and a foosball table near another wall. A jukebox in one corner played a Vann Morrison song that I vaguely recognized. The place was a far cry from the loud, crowded, sweaty clubs my mates usually tried to drag me to. If I had to pick between the two, I’d take this pub any day of the week- especially with Roy Kent by my side.

When I turned my attention back to Roy, he was already staring at me, his mouth in a straight line for the first time all night. “Is this alright?” he asked bluntly. “You weren’t expecting champagne and caviar, were you?”

Behind the hard expression on his face, I could see anxiety in his eyes. My mind wandered to the women I’d seen him with in magazines and online… models, influencers, a couple B-list actresses, none sticking around for more than a couple months. I’d even read one blog post about a woman who stole his watch before ending the relationship. It dawned on me that most of the women he dated would probably not be okay with a place like this. Despite the almost-scowl on Roy’s face, I felt myself melt at the realization that he was nervous about what I thought of the place.

“I think,” I said after a moment, “that this place is great.” I laid my hand on his, feeling him relax instantly beneath my touch. “You must come here a lot if you have a usual?”

“Couple of times a month,” he admitted, his facial expression softening. “The old geezers know who I am, but they leave me alone for the most part, sometimes give me shit about Richmond when the team fucks up. Never have to worry about them posting pictures of me on Twitter or some shit. And the barkeep, Rose, she doesn’t always tally up all my beers correctly and undercharges me all the fuckin’ time.” His smile returned. “So at Christmas I like to clear a tab or two, to make up for the free shit I get.” He nodded to himself. “It’s nice to just come here and have a beer, not have to worry about being Roy Kent, y’know?” He squinted at me for a moment. “Alright, now you kiss me, because I’m talking way too fucking much.”

I laughed as the older woman- Rose- returned with our drinks. She smiled at me as she set down my glass. “He must like you,” she mused, her eyes darting to Roy. “Never brings his dates here. ’less you count that pretty-boy soccer player. Went on that bloody reality show. The one they sing that stupid shark song about?”

“Jamie Tartt?” I offered, eyebrows raised. I turned to Roy, whose eyes were practically behind his head. “Do I have competition? Because Jamie Tartt is definitely hotter than me.”

Roy dramatically threw his head back and let out a massive, growling sigh as Rose walked away, her chuckles echoing behind her. “Don’t ever call Tartt hot, I swear I’ll cut my ears off.”

“Relax, van Gogh,” I scoffed. “I won’t get jealous of Jamie if you don’t.”

“Hmmf.” Roy eyed me carefully, taking a sip of his beer. “Who’s hotter, me or Tartt?” he challenged. The tiny upturn at the corner of his mouth assured me that he was teasing.

“Definitely Jamie,” I deadpanned, taking a sip from my own glass. “I’m only here because he and Cristiano Ronaldo didn’t call me back.”

Roy shook his head and smiled, sliding his hand out from under mine and placing his on top. “Just so you know,” he murmured, leaning in close. “Ronaldo’s a fuckin’ prick.”

Before I could laugh, he pressed his lips to mine, mirroring the kiss from earlier, but gentler, slower now, full of affection. My eyes fluttered closed as I kissed him back, the little voice in my head unable to form a coherent sentence.

Roy Kent kissing me it’s Roy Kent he’s here he’s there he’s kissing me Roy Kent

~

“Fuck.” Roy gazed at his phone. “We were supposed to be at the restaurant a fucking hour ago.” He grimaced as his eyes met mine. “Had a reservation and everything.”

My fingers traced the rim of the glass in front of me as I shook my head. “Roy, it’s fine,” I laughed.

We had spent the last couple of hours- and rounds of drinks- cuddled in our booth, cracking jokes and sharing stories. Roy told me about his sister and his little niece and reluctantly explained his workout routine with Jamie Tartt, while I shared stories about my ridiculous brothers and gave a detailed ranking of Jane Austen’s leading men. The way his arm wrapped around the back of the booth and his hand grazed my shoulder made missing the reservation worth it.

Roy wrinkled his nose. “I should feed you,” he argued. “’d be a shit date if I didn’t.” He glanced at his phone again. “D’you like pizza?”

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting across from each other, sodas in front of us, Roy’s pensive expression tinted red by the neon glow advertising Fresh Pizza.

“Can I tell you somethin’?”

I nodded, sipping my Coke through a straw. “Hmm?”

“This is the most fun I’ve ever had on a date,” he murmured. “And the first time I feel like I’m with someone who’s interested in being with me, not just being seen out some fucking footballer.” He gave a small nod. “So, thanks. Really, thanks.”

Heat rose in my cheeks as his eyes bore into mine. “Honestly, Roy,” I breathed. “Sharing an office with you is the best part of my workday.”

A grin flashed on his face. “Oi, we said no work talk.”

“Oh, shove off,” I mumbled, giving him a soft kick under the table as a young man in a red polo shirt brought us our pizza. I grabbed a slice and began to nibble on it as the teen employee did a double take at Roy before going back behind the counter. “Take a compliment, Kent.”

“Compliment,” he repeated gruffly, grabbing his own slice. “Is that something I’ll have to get used to? Being complimented?”

I tilted my head and swallowed a bite. “What d’you mean?”

He shrugged and took a sip of his Coke. “Gotta know what dating you involves. Spoiler alert, after tomorrow’s game I’m going to ask you if you’d like to go out again sometime.” His eyes darted away. “Hope that’s alright,” he grumbled, that nervous look in his behind his expression again.

I gave another kick under the table, much gentler this time. “You better ask me out again,” I teased. “Because this is the best date I’ve had in a long time.”

“You must’ve been on some fucking shit dates,” he joked, his eyes meeting mine. “Guess I’ve got to make up for that.”

For a moment, we just sat there, smiling at each other under the buzz of the neon light, slices of pizza in our hands. If two months ago someone had told me I would be on a date with Roy Kent, sipping drinks in a small pub, eating pizza in a hole-in-the-wall shop, I would have never believed it. But there I was, unable to look away from the brown eyes I’d spent years dreaming about, making him laugh and smile. And honestly, having the best time I’d had in a while.

The sudden preoccupied look on Roy’s face brought me out of my dreamy bubble. “Oi, there is something we should talk about.” The air suddenly felt heavy.

“Hmm?” Good, stay cool, don’t act nervous.

He took a deep breath, exhaling with a tiny growl. “Don’t take this the wrong way- I feel like a fucking prick saying this out loud-” He groaned, shrugging in defeat. “Would you be okay with, I dunno, not telling anyone about this-” He gestured between us. “-just for a bit?” A grimace now completely covered his bearded face. “It’s not like I’m embarrassed, or like I want to date anyone else-”

“That’s a relief,” I teased. My cheeks turned warm seeing him so flustered; it was endearing. “I thought you were completely ashamed to be seen with me and wanted to see if you had a shot with Jamie Tartt.”

That smile finally returned. “Come on, I’m being fucking serious.” He reached across the table and grasped my free hand. “Look, I really like being with you. I feel less pissed off at work when you’re around. And I want to see you outside of our fucking office. But you’ve seen the muppets we work with. They’ll never leave us the fuck alone once they find out we’re seeing each other. And I’d like to be in, I dunno, a little fucking bubble or something for a bit. Just while we’re getting to know each other and seeing where this goes.” His thumb stroked my hand. “Is that okay?”

The earnestness in his eyes nearly stopped my heart. “Of course,” I assured him, nudging his foot with mine. “I like the idea of being in a bubble with you.”

~

It was nearly midnight when Roy walked me up to my flat, his arm wrapped around my waist. After pizza we had gone walking around aimlessly, neither of us quite willing to say goodnight to the other. But my gentle reminder to Roy that Richmond had a game the next day was enough for him to sigh dramatically and agree to call it a night.

We paused in front of my door, turning to face each other as I fiddled with my keys nervously. Despite all the hand holding and flirting and shared kisses, I still felt a flutter in my stomach when I saw the fondness in his eyes as he gazed down at me. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw such warmth aimed in my direction; the fact that it was Roy Kent was just a bonus.

“Think I could give you a ride to work tomorrow?” he asked softly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

I grinned up at him. “What happened to keeping things quiet at work?”

He shrugged, his hand still lingering beside my face. “Do I sound like a fucking prat if I say I just can’t wait to see you again?”

“Just a little,” I teased, leaning my cheek into the palm of his hand, not caring that he could feel the warmth of my face. “But I like it. Pick me up at 10?”

“How about 9? I’ll buy you tea and a muffin.”

I laughed and pressed myself a smidge closer to him. “Bribery works wonders on me. I’m in.”

A small kiss landed on my forehead. “I love that you’re easily bought.” Another kiss on my cheek. “Guess I should let you head inside before some nosy fucking neighbor sees us.”

“We’d be trending on Twitter within the hour. Roy Kent and Random seen outside flat the night before Richmond game.”

“The fucking press’d definitely blame you if we lost tomorrow.” A kiss on my other cheek. “So, we better say goodnight.”

I nodded, not bothering to hide my smile. “Guess we should.”

His mouth found mine for the millionth time that night, assuring me that this would not be the last time he’d be walking me home. A wide smile filled his face when he finally pulled away. “Good night then.”

“Goodnight, Roy,” I answered, planting one last peck on his lips.

~

Roy’s car now felt familiar as we rode to the Dog Track. I leaned my chair into a comfortable position and fiddled with the radio until I found a station playing an hour of 90s hits. I ripped off a bit of the giant chocolate muffin that sat on my lap and tossed it into my mouth, reveling in the brief domestic bliss before we had to act professionally in front of everyone.

“Gimme a bite,” Roy mumbled, eyes on the road. I ripped of another piece and popped it into his open mouth. “Thanks,” was his muffled reply as we pulled into the still empty parking lot. “And thanks for riding here with me,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “It was nice.”

A smile crept across my face. “Thanks for offering,” I answered. “We should probably head on in, I’ve got some things to do in the office before everyone comes in.”

The halls were eerily quiet, only a few cleaning crew milling about, offering nods and soft “good mornings”. I flipped on the lights in the changing room and coaching offices, quickly setting to work as Roy leaned on Beard’s desk, watching me with that thoughtful look on his face.

I started my Game Day routine: leaving our report on the opposing team neatly on Ted’s desk, right next to the playbook that I pulled off his bookshelf, updating the league standings on the whiteboard next to Beard’s desk, noting the possible rank changes based on game outcomes, setting up the coffee maker to their specifications so all they had to do was hit the Start button when they walked into the office. Between tasks I paused for the newest addition to my routine: stealing kisses from Roy, taking full advantage of the empty building.

He followed me into our office so I could organize my things; Game Day had quickly become my favorite part of my job. During games, I would stand by the coaches with my tablet, keeping track of different statistics: goals, passes, saves, anything and everything the coaches could analyze later to improve their plans. Ted kept repeating something about me “putting the Excel in excellent” when I first presented my detailed spreadsheet to the coaches, so I knew this was valuable data to them. It was the part of my job I took most seriously.

And I loved that it allowed me to be on the sidelines with Roy all game long.

“Are you going to be able to focus out there today?” Roy teased softly, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind me.

“Are you?” I shot back, leaning into him as I tapped away on my tablet, setting up my new spreadsheet. “I’m working, all you’ve been doing is staring at me.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Trust me, as soon as those pricks show up, I’ll be my usual grumpy self.”

As if on cue, the sound of Coach Lasso’s voice echoed from down the hall. Roy immediately released me and threw himself into his chair, planting his feet on his desk and pulling out his cell phone; to anyone who just happened in, it looked as though he had been completely ignoring my existence, rather than holding me close. I shook my head and grinned to myself as Ted and Beard entered their office.

“Mornin’!” Ted called, poking his head through our shared door. “Look at you early birds. Y’all are just a couple of peas in a pod.” He pointed at me, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Thanks again for figuring out the Keurig. You’re a k-cup K-Pop star.”

I smiled and nodded, still unsure about what to do when the man complimented me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Roy smirking behind his phone.

Ted noticed too. “You’re looking downright chipper this morning, Roy. Anything special you wanna share with the class?”

Roy’s smirk faded, his eyes still on his phone. “No.”

“No worries, I’m just happy you’re happy.” Ted was completely unphased; the guy was truly remarkable. He turned back to me. “Say, could I bother you to run some papers up to Rebecca’s office? Get some steps in before we head to the field.”

“Sure,” I agreed, setting down my tablet. “And it’s ‘pitch’, Coach.”

Ted nodded. “Right, right. ‘Pitch’.”

After a few more Lasso-isms, I was on my up to Rebecca’s office, carrying a folder filled with papers. I had shot Roy a wink before I left our office and was awarded the smallest of smiles, which was enough to make me practically skip down the hall, past the players making their way to the changing room. I smiled and waved at each of them, feeling excited to have a small role in this special team.

“Come in,” Rebecca called when I knocked on her door. She and Keeley Jones were sitting on her couch, Keeley adorable as ever in pigtails and a fluffy sweater, Rebecca the picture of class in her dress and heels. The women smiled and waved me in.

“Hey!” Keeley called, jumping up to give me a small hug. “How’re you doing? I tried to call you last night, but you didn’t pick up.” Within two days of me starting work at Richmond, Keeley had decided that we were meant to be friends, an offer I was more than happy to accept. She pouted at me playfully. “Were you out getting some?”

My ears burned. “Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “My phone’s been acting up lately, sorry about that.” I reached around to hand Rebecca the folder. “From Ted,” I told her, trying desperately to avoid the topic Keeley had brought up.

Rebecca opened the folder and glanced at it. “Shit, I should look at this,” she muttered to herself. She nodded towards Keeley. “Why don’t you head to our seats to watch warm up? Just don’t wolf-whistle at the boys too much, hmm? Save some for the game.”

Keeley gave a salute to Rebecca and linked her arm with mine. “Shall we?”

We strolled down the hall, Keeley talking a mile a minute about the party she had tried to invite me to the night before. “There were lots of real fit guys there,” she gushed, knocking her hip into mine. “Some of them were even worth talking to. Come on, what’s your type? I need to know what to look out for.”

I cleared my throat. “I don’t really have a-”

“Oi. You forgot this.”

Roy appeared out of nowhere, holding up my tablet, its case covered in Richmond stickers I’d bought the day I had gotten this job. My cheeks were warm as I accepted it, careful not to touch his hand. I could feel Keeley eyeing me curiously.

“Thanks,” I murmured, avoiding Roy’s eyes; I knew that any contact would tempt me to kiss the man.

He seemed to understand completely. “Keeley,” he greeted, giving a short nod to the blonde. He nodded to me now. “See you out there.” He turned and walked towards the doors that led to the pitch.

Once he turned the corner and was out of view, Keeley squealed and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Fuck, you should ask out Roy!”

My eyes widened. “What?”

She nodded, her pigtails bouncing. “Come on. He’s fit, he has a good job, and if anyone ever messed with you, they’d never find the body.” She wiggled my shoulders, waggling her eyebrows. “And the man looks good shirtless,” she added.

As if there wasn’t a shirtless picture of him tapped inside the closet of my old bedroom. I made a quick mental note to take it down and hide it- maybe burn it- before the next time he came over. Surely, he’d be coming over to my parents’ place again sometime? Maybe not anytime soon, but eventually, right?

Whoa there, relax. Don’t get so ahead of yourself.

“Come off it, Keels,” I scoffed. “I’m not asking out Roy Kent.” Well, you’re not lying. He asked you out, after all. “We work together. We share an office for God’s sake. And besides, he’s Roy fucking Kent.” I laughed and shook my head, trying to be really convincing. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not his usual type.”

A smile spread across Keeley’s face. “Well, all I know is that last time he and Jamie were working out, he told Jamie he was sick of dating just to date. He’s sick of models and shit. He told Jamie he wanted something real.” She shrugged. “I dunno. You seem like the kind of girl who could be something real.”

I did my best to hide the pleasure on my face as Keeley confirmed what Roy had told me last night. Instead, I cleared my throat and turned my attention to my tablet. “Well, good for Roy. But I should be going, I’ve got to get to the pitch.”

“Yeah, gotta go stand next to Roy for the next few hours.” Keeley winked at me. “Don’t think I don’t notice the blush on your face whenever he’s around. You’re not as clever as you think. I’ll get you two together eventually.”

Little does she know, the little voice in my head chucked. “Sure, Keeley,” I humored. “I’ll see you later.” I planted a kiss on her cheek, reminding myself to try to match the affection she brought to a friendship, and waved as I walked away in the direction Roy had disappeared in.

I should have been more surprised when I turned a corner and found him leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone. He smirked when he saw me.

“Did you wait to me?” I asked, not bothering to hide the smile on my face.

He shrugged, tucking his phone into his pocket. “Maybe.”

“Very sweet of you,” I hummed, shoving his shoulder with mine as he fell into step beside me. “But you should probably be a little bit less obvious at work. Keeley was just telling me about her new goal.”

“And what would that be?”

“To play matchmaker for us,” I answered casually. “Which means our chemistry is obvious.”

Roy let out a scoff of a laugh just before we reached the pitch entrance. “Let her try. I’d kind of love to see what kind of scheme she cooks up.” He sobered up as we walked onto the green, where the Greyhounds were beginning their warmup. From the stands closet to the pitch, I could already hear Keeley whooping and hollering. She’d definitely have something to say about seeing me and Roy walking to the dugout together, but I’d come up with my excuses later.

I took my position between Ted and Beard, showing them the stats from our previous match and reminding them about the adjustments they’d discussed based on it. Ted said something about me being just like Q from James Bond, a reference I actually understood. I smiled at the praise and took a seat, not needing to do much now until the match started. Instead, I took advantage of the cover around the dugout to brazenly stare at Roy, grinning to myself every time he yelled “Whistle!” at the top of his lungs.

As if he could feel my gaze, he turned his head subtly, a half smirk on his face when our eyes met. He shook his head at me and pulled out his phone. A moment later, my own mobile vibrated. I glanced at the glowing screen.

You’re going to make hiding this really fucking difficult, aren’t you?

Of course. Making your life harder is half the fun.

My phone vibrated again. Fine. Whatever. Grab a bite after the game?

My grin widened as I began to type back.

Only if I can get an autograph.

Roy turned his head again, that upturn of his mouth barely visible. I relaxed into my seat, tapping away at my tablet. For the first time in my life, I could hardly wait for a Richmond game to be over.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Coffee and Stitches - Part 3

Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Teeny bit of hurt/comfort but nothing too bad. Still very fluffy

Word Count: 7.5k

Author's Note: Part threeeeeee here we go! Fair warning, part four is gonna be heavy and sad and a little angsty. Be prepared.

Enjoy~

A phone ringing is what wakes you up. It’s not your phone, you don’t recognize the jingle poking through your sleepy haze. Something shifts beneath your body, and for a moment your brain panics, until you remember how you’d fallen asleep. Shouta’s voice filters through your brain, rough with sleep and much deeper than normal. It sends tingles down your spine. The other end of the line is filled with another voice, insanely loud and animated, and when you pry your eyes open Shouta is actually holding it about a foot from his ear as he listens with a pained expression. You can’t catch what’s being said, you’re still waking up, but Shouta clearly is not happy.

“Hizashi, it’s too damn early for you to be screaming through the phone like this.” You giggle, far too loud, and Shouta’s eyes snap down to yours. The voice on the other end of the line had cut off, but suddenly the screaming got louder somehow, and now you can hear everything he’s screaming about.

“Shouta Aizawa the sly dog you are! You didn’t tell me you were spending the night with the cutie cafe lady! Hey, what’s your name sweetheart?” Shouta groans, a muttered ‘none of your damn business’ slips out but you answer the question anyways. 

“Oh what a pretty name for a pretty lady! I’m Hizashi Yamada, but you might know me better as Present Mic, ya dig?” Yes, you did know of Present Mic. He hosts a radio show that you had tuned into at some point by accident.

“Sho, whaddya say we invite her to the Christmas party? Nemuri’s been dying to meet her!” You giggle again at the very one-sided conversation happening.

“It’s on the 20th of December, ya hear? Starts at 7 but we’ll probably be up till the sun rises. Save the date, little lady! We’ll be expecting you.” Your head falls back on Shouta’s chest, a grin spreading across your face.

“I’ll be there, Yamada-san.” He yips through the speaker, muttering something about telling Nemuri.

“And call me Hizashi. Any girlfriend of Sho’s is a dear friend of mine.” Now that makes you blush and you hide your face in Shouta’s shirt. His hand comes up to pet your hair as he finishes up the call. Whatever Present Mic had called for he couldn’t remember, and Shouta being annoyed decided just to hang up with the other hero still mid-sentence. His eyes slide closed, a deep sigh escaping him.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Peeking from your little hiding spot on his chest, you giggle again.

“It’s alright. It’s probably not that early, considering how bright it is outside.” A long groan rumbles beneath you, deep in his chest. 

“Still too early. It’s Saturday, I get to sleep in.” His arms tighten around you, trapping you in his hold. You’re probably not going to be able to go back to sleep, considering you’d gotten a full night’s rest, but you keep that to yourself. Instead you wriggle in his hold and lean up to plant a kiss on his cheek, burying your head in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. He holds you tight again, sinking into the couch and almost instantly knocking out. He’s peaceful, like this, relaxed and blissfully asleep. You close your eyes and bask in his warmth, feeling his arms where they remain locked around your waist, feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, listen to his rolling snores. It seems you were wrong about falling asleep, since you have no idea how much time has passed in your pseudo-nap when Shouta’s waking you up, peppering small kisses over your face and rubbing your back with one large, warm hand.

“You know you’re really cute when you’re drooling on my shirt.” Heat blooms up your face and you quickly reach to wipe at your mouth. There’s a teeny wet spot on his chest where you were just lying, and you bury your face once again. He laughs, but doesn’t comment any more on it.

“Are you hungry?” Yeah, you could definitely eat, so you nod. He shifts then, and you’re ready to climb off him when he decides to pick you up and take you with him, his hands strong beneath your thighs and you have to throw your arms around his neck. Mostly to stay upright, although with all the strength a pro-hero has he seems to be holding your weight with ease. He sets you on the kitchen counter, leaving a sweet peck on your lips, before digging through your fridge and cabinets to throw together a small breakfast. He doesn’t let you help, whenever you jump off the counter he just grabs you by the waist, plants you right back in your spot and holds you there until you stop fighting him.

“Shouta, you can’t expect me to sit here and just watch you make me breakfast.” He laughs.

“First of all, I’m making us breakfast. Second, you can and you will sit there and watch. I’m allowed to spoil you.” He eyes your pout, leaning up to kiss it away. The kiss is far too distracting, and he’s getting far too comfortable using that to his advantage. Bastard.

“I could argue you already spoiled me last night with the date. And the date before that. And all of the meals you make me when you sleep over. Not to even mention the-” One large hand slaps over your mouth, and his face is inches away as he stares you down with feigned annoyance.

“Alright, I get it.” The hand on your face turns and grips your cheeks, making your lips pout, and he leaves a cute peck on your lips. He’s getting awfully liberal with the kisses. Not that you mind.

“I’m still allowed to spoil you.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Because I’m your girlfriend?” His expression falls at that, his face bright red, hands grabbing at your thighs. His eyes can’t seem to meet yours and you have to fight the grin that tugs at your mouth, it’s cute seeing him nervous.

“I never really cared about labels.” You hum softly, threading your fingers into his hair and using the band on your wrist to tie it behind his head in an attempt to help him relax. His eyes close and he leans into your touch, so hopefully it worked.

“Well it’s a good thing I also never cared much for labels.” His thick, rough fingertips squeeze the pudge of your thighs, and he looks both relieved and skeptical. Maybe he’d read this tale before, heard this song, seen this dance. 

“That’s it? You don’t mind that I’m not going to be calling you my girlfriend?” He seems to relax at the way you smile and shake your head.

“As long as it’s not an insult, I don’t care what you call me.” It’s easy to laugh when he does, and even easier to lean into the kiss he presses to your temple. You can’t help the way you cling to him, your arms tight around his neck and your legs clamping around his waist to lock your ankles together behind him. It feels nice to be close like this, just existing in each other’s orbit. Counting the days since you’d been this close with someone was impossible, it’s been so long. His own arms are tight around your waist as he tugs you even closer and tucks his face in your neck. It’s an intimate moment, one you want to exist in forever. He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t give any kind of response, but really he doesn’t need to. Clearly he’s content just to be here with you, as you are, together. 

The rest of the day is spent lounging around the apartment without breaking contact. Neither of you can seem to separate from the other unless the bathroom is involved, and your shift in the cafe is spent wondering when Shouta would return from his patrol. You can’t seem to resist the urge to invite him up once again, and you spend another night together. This time you sleep in your bed, the soft mattress much more comfortable than the couch. You wish it could last a little longer, the time you spend tangled together, but all things must come to an end one way or another. Weeks pass, weekends are spent together in your apartment, weekdays are spent in fleeting moments between his busy work life and your duties to the cafe. Another date is set up at a renowned restaurant, a beautiful dinner in a booth to yourselves. It was fancy enough to warrant that dress Rika was dead set on getting you to wear around Shouta, and when he’d picked you up he was stunned for just a moment. You won’t lie to yourself, it made you feel gorgeous.

The snow gets deeper, the nights get longer, and Shouta’s patrols start to get called off due to the weather being unpredictable. Heavy snow wouldn’t be good for a hero like him, pros like Endeavor were probably better equipped for the snow, not to mention the crime rate would drop if weather conditions were bad enough. Not even villains would dare move in a blizzard at midnight. Those days are a godsend, where you get to cuddle up with Shouta in bed and soak in the warmth his body radiates, spending lazy snow days curled up on the couch sipping hot chocolate or coffee. Before you know it, it’s almost Christmas. You’ve already got Rika’s present, and also Shouta’s, though his is a simple cat-shaped mug since he never seems to express any want for things at this point in your relationship. In fact, the one thing he’s never been shy about expressing is his desire to cling to you. He’s always trying to touch you, hold you, kiss you, hug you. He loves to be in physical contact with you, that’s the one thing you absolutely do know. Even while he’s busy cooking, one hand is always touching some part of you. Whether it be holding your hand, gripping your thigh, or looped around your waist, he’s always on you. 

You don’t mind one bit.

With Christmas coming up, that party is also looming around the corner. And you weren’t entirely sure about…well, anything. Was there a dress code? A theme? You definitely had to ask Shouta some questions. You’d already gone through a vetting process for all the plus-ones that weren’t registered pros. It was a formality, one you really didn’t mind, and it was quick and easy. Rika had two different outfits already planned for you, all put together on pinterest, both including a floor-length body con dress, deep red in color, with a high slit and a low sweetheart neckline. One outfit included a white fur coat to go with a christmas theme, another included a black trenchcoat and a black mask for a masquerade. You sent it all to Shouta for color coordination, only to be caught completely off guard by the response.

Apparently the event is sponsored by a designer brand that had a contract with all the pros, which meant all of the clothing for the event would be tailored and made for all attendees. Free of charge, since the publicity alone was more than enough compensation for them every year. Which means you have to send in all your measurements and then schedule a fitting within the next two weeks, which shouldn’t be hard. The fitting is scheduled for Friday, and both you and Shouta are expected to be there. He’d explained this was going to be like a dress rehearsal of sorts, where they’d completely doll you both up as if it were party night, and adjust everything accordingly. Their goal is to make you look like you belong together, a matching set that shouldn’t be separated. 

And that’s exactly what they do. Your hair, makeup, even your shoes and jewelry are all chosen carefully and meticulously, laid over your skin with such precision and purpose it’s hard to move for fear of disturbing the sheer art they’d created on your body. It took hours, but at the end of it your outfits were completed. You barely recognized yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, makeup not at all like you’d normally wear, and that dress. It was some kind of satin or silk, the way it draped over every one of your curves looked and felt a lot like water flowing down a creek. Your shoes were simple, short two-inch black velvet pumps, closed-toe and round, with all the cushion they could fit in there. Even as comfortable as they seem right now, you’re sure they’ll be off within three hours of the party. 

Shouta looks just as over-the-top as you do, pitch black suit embossed with intricate swirling patterns and a red dress shirt to match you. A single red rose peeks from his breast pocket, adorned with accents of baby’s breath. His hair is pulled back into a half-up half-down and he’s clean shaven. It’s strange, seeing his face like that, but it’s not at all bad. But you do have a question for him, seeing as you’re getting so dolled up for what you thought was a simple Christmas party.

“So, how big is this party, exactly? I mean, if this brand is getting publicity then it’s got to be pretty big.” Shouta’s eyes meet yours in the mirror, and he shares an apologetic look.

“Pretty big. Most top pros will be there, including all the teachers from UA and Shiketsu High. Paparazzi will be outside waiting for an exclusive, but you won’t have to worry too much about that. They don’t bother with the less popular pros or the undergrounds.” Well shit. Yeah, you’re glad you’re not currently dating a top pro. The paparazzi alone would probably send you running.

“That’s…a little bigger than I expected.” You can’t help but laugh, breathless, just a little bit nervous. Shouta’s hand is warm on your shoulder as he turns you toward him, the calluses rough on your skin where his fingertips squeeze and dig into your flesh. It’s comforting, and the fire his touch lights under your skin distracts you just enough from the anxiety. Dark eyes bore into your own, soft and gentle and deep.

“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. You can back out right now if you feel uncomfortable.” He really is just so sweet to you. A smile breaks onto your face, and your nerves settle.

“And miss a chance to wear clothes like these, even for one night? Not a chance.” His chuckle is warm as he turns back to the mirror, allowing the tailors to fuss over the both of you one last time. You’re surprised the garments already fit so well after only sending in body measurements and several different-angled pictures of you posed in a very specific manner. The hem on your dress was going to be shortened by about an inch, and Shouta’s suit was going to be taken in at the waist just a bit, but other than that everything fit like a glove. Surprisingly, it took a lot longer to disassemble than it took to get into everything, especially when the design team didn’t want you touching anything, so you were literally undressed by a team of women that took extra care with every piece of your outfit. You weren’t even allowed to wipe the makeup off your face or take your hair down, though as far as the hair goes you might have ended up just ripping a few chunks out anyways, whether by accident or out of frustration. You and Shouta went and got something to eat, after six hours of clothing and makeup and all that craziness you were both starving.

“What do you feel like eating?” That’s a great question. One you don’t really know how to answer at the moment. You aren’t really craving anything, but you are definitely hungry.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” He sighs in mock disappointment, and you can’t help but giggle at the exaggerated slump in his shoulders.

“I asked you because I didn’t know what I wanted. You were supposed to give me an answer, you know.” Playfully, you roll your eyes.

“Well I guess we’re in the same boat then, aren’t we?” Still, you are hungry. Thankfully your savior comes in the form of a hole-in-the-wall joint you just happen to be approaching. Your head tilts as you peer in the windows, signs for what looks like Korean style food piquing your interest. You grab Shouta’s shoulder and motion toward the small restaurant, and he nods in agreement to the unasked question before tugging the door open for you. Inside it’s warm, you have to immediately begin shucking off your heavy winter coats, and it smells wonderful, like spices and sauces and the savory scent of tender meat. You’re greeted and then sat at a small booth by the stewardess, who seems to also be a waitress and possibly more. She’s all over the place, but in no particular rush, doing odd jobs between taking your order and serving the few others in the shop. It’s quiet, the lull of the music over the speakers and the warm yellow of the lights overhead make it cozy, the well-worn cracked booth seats and the pathing worn into the tiles give a homely atmosphere.

“I’m not usually around this part of town for anything other than work. I’m glad you spotted this place.” Shouta remarks, sipping at his water. 

“I can’t say I’m out here very often at all. Most of my time is spent at the cafe, but you know that already.” He nods, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest. While you’re waiting for the food, you’ve got a few burning questions about this party.

“So, the paparazzi are going to be everywhere, and I know they probably won’t be super interested in the teachers and undergrounds. But let’s say we do, by whatever random chance, get interviewed. What should I say, and what should I not say?” His hum is contemplative as he thinks about your question, elbows on the table and hands clasped beneath his chin.

“I’d say there isn’t much for you to really worry about. If anything they’re going to ask who you are in relation to me, and that’s an easy question to answer.” That’s fair, you’re going to be his plus-one, or his date, depending on which comes out easier.

“Anything else would be weird to ask. They can’t ask about your career as a hero, they don’t know who you are. You don’t want to give any personal information, so it’s best not to mention the cafe at all just in case. But honestly, I’m nowhere near the spotlight for these things. I’m a small fry compared to the publicity these stations will want from the top heroes.” That is also fair. With your questions answered your nerves have settled fully, and your food has been set at your table. The meal is wonderful, and the sun slowly begins to set as you exit the restaurant. It’s Friday, which means you get to relax after that mess of a day, and Shouta of course takes the opportunity to sleep in your bed once again since he’d scheduled an off night for patrols. After the fitting you’re sure he’s exhausted, if only from the socialization and the constant hands and voices. 

Weeks go by in anticipation for the party, but it all goes in a bit of a blur. The night of the party approaches way too fast for your liking, and all the nerves come back to you at once as you’re sitting in the blacked out SUV beside Shouta, the both of you dolled up exactly as you’d been during the fitting. Your knee bounces, your bottom lip caught between your teeth and your fingers can’t keep still in your lap. There’s a small throb in your temple and you fight yourself not to rub at your face and ruin the makeup, the only respite you can find is to shut your eyes to block out the light of the setting sun. Suddenly your hands are wrapped tight in a pair of much larger, warmer, callused hands, and when you peek over at Shouta he’s got a small apologetic smile adorning his lips. 

“Do you want to go home? We can skip this whole thing.” When you shake your head you try your best not to dislodge your hairstyle, though with the amount of hairspray and gel and pins the stylists used it’s hard to believe it’d move even if you were to get into a wrestling match.

“No, we’re already this far in. I’ll be okay once we get inside and get some water.” He squeezes your hands in his, thumbs pressing into the backs of your hands soothingly.

“Okay.” There’s silence as you breathe in his presence, allowing his small gesture on your hands to calm you just enough. You focus on your breathing, squeezing his hands in the same rhythm your chest rises and falls. It helps. Just as your heart rate steadies in your chest, the vehicle slows to a stop. You make the mistake of looking out the window and all you can see is a long red carpet laid over an elaborate staircase, the sides absolutely swarmed by people kept at bay by the gold-colored railings and a few men in simple suits that must be some type of security. Not that a ballroom full of pros really needed security. Still, the sight of the people and the cameras and all the commotion as a couple disappear at the top of the stairs, into the building, makes your heart slam against your ribcage.

“Shouta…” His fingers grip your own tight.

“Yes?” He’s waiting, patiently, while your mind kicks into gear. He wants to know if you’re about to tap out completely, and he’d back you up completely no matter your decision. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

“I’m ready.” He smiles, nods, then opens the door and steps out into the fray. One hand reaches in for you, helping you out of the vehicle and into the open. Voices and camera shutters and flashes overload all of your senses, and for a second you feel yourself begin to panic. That headache is making a comeback, your hand shaking where it’s wrapped in Shouta’s, and you think your lungs are starting to burn but you’re having a hard time thinking about what your body’s doing when there’s so much going on. Shouta steps into your space, a hand on your lower back and the other gently cupping your neck where the makeup isn’t as heavy and easy to muss. His scent is calming, petrichor and earthy tones soothing you.

“Hey, look at me.” He’s positioned himself so all the flashes are blocked by his broad shoulders, his entire frame shielding you from all the chaos. You meet his eyes as they bore down into you, studying your face and smoothing a thumb along your jugular.

“Are you alright?” Yeah…you think you might be alright now. You nod, allowing yourself to relax in his hold.

“We have to go up there, okay?” You blink, nod again. Breathe.

“Try to smile for the cameras. I’ll be right here with you, just squeeze my arm until we’re through the door, then we’re home free.” You take one last shuddering breath, and nod one last time. Breathe. Smile. Shouta’s here. He turns, holding his arm out for you to take. Looping your arm in his, you begin to walk up the carpet toward the building. The voices of the crowd and the flashes of the paparazzi are disorienting, but you cling to Shouta and focus on his scent, on the light cologne that’s been sprayed onto his skin. Your eyes lock onto the top stair, on the light beaming from inside the massive doorway. It feels like you’re walking for hours, taking slow steady steps up the carpet. Shouta’s hand lands on yours where it’s resting on his elbow, thumb once again soothing over your skin. If he weren't here you aren’t sure you’d still be awake right now. It’s all so overwhelming, but him being here makes it easier. A surprise awaits you at the top step, what looks like a singular reporter with her team standing alone, apart from the crowd of paparazzi that swarm around the railings barricading the carpet. Her smile is wide, bright, practiced and probably a habit by now. Her short-cropped baby blue hair is perfect, not a hair out of place, the suit jacket and pencil skirt she wears is a deep navy to contrast her hair and fair complexion. Her lipstick is vibrant red, a pop of color in her otherwise monotone appearance. 

You know this woman, an anchor for one of the largest news stations in Japan. Her eyes, a striking vibrant green, lock onto Shouta, then directly onto you.

“And my goodness, what a wonderful surprise! Eraserhead has a date tonight! Eraserhead please tell us who this wonderful woman is that made you finally break your streak attending solo?” You glance up at him, gauging his reaction. There is none, not really, his expression plain and his voice monotone.

“She’s simply my date.” A smile edges its way onto your face at his bluntness. The rumors about him not liking paparazzi must be true, he’s not even giving them an inch to work with. The reporter seems to know this, and decides to turn to you for any kind of insider into the elusive Eraserhead’s love life.

“What name should I call the woman that caught the infamous Eraserhead’s attention?” The mic is suddenly in your face, and you’ve been put on the spot. Vaguely, you recall Shouta’s advice about personal information. 

“Oh! Well, I’m y/n,” you decide to only give them your first name, “And I wouldn’t say I caught his attention. We just happened to get to know each other.” Her eyebrows raise, her shoulders lifting and animating her features even further.

“You don’t say! How did you two meet?” Ah, this probably isn’t the best question to answer. Shouta squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back. You can handle this. You think.

“Well as it happens we actually met at a random cafe by chance. He came in covered in bruises and his arm in a sling, and he needed help opening a bottle of eyedrops.” You cover your mouth and giggle just a tad at the memory. Technically, you weren’t lying. The reporter gasps, speaking toward the camera.

“A cafe meet-cute? What a love story! What happened next?” Shouta clears his throat then, leaning down to the mic.

“We have a party to attend.” That’s all he says before practically dragging you beside him, leaving the poor reporter to pick up the pieces of the makeshift interview. You twist around to wave at her and she waves back before preparing for the next hero pairing to walk up those stairs. Refocusing, you turn to Shouta.

“How was that?” He hums, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not bad. A little too close to the truth, in my personal opinion, but not bad.” You nudge him with your shoulder as you walk.

“Hey, I was put on the spot back there, what did you expect?” His smile is small, but unmistakable. With all the panic of the outside left behind, your nerves stop trying to fry you alive, and Shouta’s hand remains glued to your own as you make your way to the ballroom. It’s already full of heroes, all decked out to the nines in an array of red, green, gold, white, and silver hues. The high ceiling of the ballroom is dotted with crystal chandeliers, the yellow-white glow casting a comfortable light over the room. You’re being tugged along the wall, away from the main commotion, until you stop before a man and a woman. You recognize both of them. The man’s long, blonde hair is slicked back into a low ponytail, hypnotic green eyes smiling down at you as he reaches his hand out for you to shake. His suit is pale gold, a white dress shirt and bright yellow tie matching his vibrant hair and personality. Present Mic’s voice isn’t amplified when he speaks.

“Well would you look at that! You’re just as pretty as I thought you’d be. Hizashi Yamada, it’s wonderful to officially meet you.” You smile at him and return the sentiment. The woman slides up beside him, her long dark hair flowing wild and free. The dress she wears is skin tight, deep red at the top fading into a midnight blue at the bottom. How fitting. Midnight reaches a hand toward you, taking yours when you go to shake her hand and instead pressing a kiss to your knuckles. It isn’t seductive, it’s almost chivalrous and even sweet, but she’s gorgeous, and you can’t help the tiny spark of heat that climbs up your neck.

“I’m Nemuri Kayama. I’ve been dying to meet the girl that got Shouta Aizawa of all people to finally think about romance for once.” Heat creeps over your cheeks and you try your best to hide your smile.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m just happy to be here.” Shouta’s arm slips from yours, his voice low and gentle in your ear. The smallest of goosebumps crawl over your skin at the smooth baritone.

“Did you still want that water?” You nod and he’s gone in an instant, not without pressing a small kiss to your hairline. It’s hard to peel your eyes from his back as he disappears into the crowd of heroes, but you have two pros here who want to talk with you. When you turn back to the two, their smiles are huge and almost satisfied. Hizashi leans over, almost whispering as if Shouta could hear from wherever he’d disappeared to.

“He’s gentle, with you. He’s usually so stiff, so cold and indifferent sometimes. But with you he’s…softer. He likes you a lot.” Your cheeks start to hurt, the way you're smiling so hard.

“I hope so. Or the dates would be a little facetious.” Nemuri’s turn to talk, her eyebrows raised and a grin across her painted lips.

“Dates? He’s taken you on more than one?” Uh oh.

“Oh…yes? Actually we’ve been on three, maybe four? Not counting everything in between.” Hizashi’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“Between? What happened in between?” He really hasn’t told these people anything, huh? A piece of you wonders why he’d keep you so secret, why he wouldn’t tell the two people he seemed closest to. Sure he’s a hero, and you don’t care about the public’s opinion…but not even his friends know? You aren’t sure which one notices your discomfort first, but they both back off with a shared glance. Nemuri’s hand smooths over your shoulder, a comforting gesture.

“It’s none of our business anyways. He’ll tell us when he wants to tell us.”

“Tell you what?” You jump at the closeness in Shouta’s voice, and the hint of coldness in the timbre makes your heart squeeze. You don’t really want to look at him for fear of your expression betraying your stress, but he’s making his way to your side with a glass of water held before you. You take it without a word, only a small nod in thanks, before sipping from the straw to try to alleviate the slow resurfacing of that damned headache. The lights feel too bright, the room feels like it’s shrinking, the air is starting to suffocate you and the coolness of the glass and the small bit of condensation that’s gathered on your fingers are the only things that seem to be helping. Somewhere in your brain you try to remind yourself that you should be enjoying the party, but you can’t seem to focus anymore.

With your gaze hard focused on the rippling water, you can’t see the way his eyes narrow at you, then at his two friends. You jump again at the feeling of Shouta’s hand on your waist, tugging you into his side. It’s protective, the way he almost wraps completely around you, and his face is all too close to yours when he leans over and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“What happened? Are you alright?” His voice is so tender, so soft, and those damn eyes draw you in when you can’t keep your gaze away. Concern is laced both in his words and his voice, and if you’d been paying attention to anything other than his face you’d see the way he curls his body over yours. Even as upset as you’d just been, you can’t seem to help the way your chest fills with warmth, the same way the sun warms your skin on a cool fall day. Maybe you’re overthinking things. You can’t bring yourself to stay upset, not when he’s looking at you like he’s terrified you’d slip through his fingers if he so much as breathed the wrong way. You reach up and take his hand from your chin, lacing your fingers in his and smiling softly at him.

“I’m alright, Shouta. It’s nothing we need to talk about right now.” Yes, the conversation can wait for when you’re not in the public eye, wait for when you’re comfortable and can focus on the conversation and you can sort your emotions out. For now, you both need to enjoy the party. He seems skeptical, but he lets it go, leaving a kiss on your hand and returning to the two other heroes. They’re both trying hard to bite back their smirks, then school their expressions once Shouta turns fully around. Hizashi makes a move suddenly, clearing his throat and outstretching a hand toward you, palm up.

“Care to dance, little lady?” You spare a glance at Shouta, who seems skeptical but releases his hold on you so you can take Hizashi’s hand and allow him to sweep you up into the dancing crowd. You wave back at Shouta and Nemuri with a smile as you disappear and lose them between the bodies. Now settled in a small gap between dancing heroes, Hizashi’s arm slips around the higher part of your waist and his other hand slips into yours. It’s a polite hold, keeping the space between you maintained but not uncomfortable. His smile is infectious as he swings you around to the beat of the high-tempo music. You can’t help the way you giggle and squeal quietly every time he spins you both around and animates the dance. It’s uncoordinated, unrehearsed, he practically drags you around with the strength of a pro-hero. But it’s fun, and you’re laughing as you both jump and spin around until the music finally slows a bit, a controlled pace to allow you to catch your breath. Hizashi seems unaffected, but that’s not surprising. Pro heroes have an insane amount of stamina. You’re still breathing a little heavily when he speaks.

“Hey, don’t take Shouta’s secrecy to heart. He’s a very private person, even with his closest friends.” You have to blink away your shock at just how perceptive he is. Your dance moves have slowed, relaxed as you both turn around an axis aimlessly.

“I…yeah, you’re probably right. You know him better than I do.” He smiles, gentle and kind.

“I sure hope so. We graduated from UA together.” The sentiment puts a waver in his voice, a sound that’s suspiciously close to sadness. As curious as you are, you don’t pry.

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart. He’s got his reasons, and if you were to ask there’s no reason he wouldn’t tell you. Besides…” he leans in just a little closer, whispering like Shouta could hear his every word if he didn’t, “Between you and me, I think he’s grown very attached to you.” That sentiment makes you smile despite your small worry. It’s good to know that, at the very least, he’s not afraid to show his affection for you.

“Thank you, Hizashi.” He pulls away, holding your hand out as he bows before you.

“But of course, little lady.” His eyes flick to something over your shoulder, and before you can turn to look, a large hand smooths over your skin, warm and callused. You know that hand, know the weight, know the feel, know the way his fingertips gently dig into your flesh like you’d vanish if he didn’t. His voice is in your ear.

“Mind if I take over?” Hizashi grins, then disappears into the crowd as Shouta takes his place. Shouta’s arms snake around your body, his hold much more tender, much more comfortable, than Hizashi’s. The arm on your waist sits lower at the small of your back, the hand holding yours is tighter, the space between you is almost nonexistent. If you were to lean in any closer your chests would touch. The music has slowed significantly, Shouta leading you in a slow sway back and forth. You can’t tear your gaze away from his eyes, those deep onyx irises drawing you in. If you weren’t careful you were going to get lost in them, in the adoration and devotion. Part of you wants to think you see love in those eyes of his.

“How are you feeling?” You blink away your daze, smile up at him softly.

“I’m alright. What about you?” His eyes dart down to your mouth when you speak, then back up to meet your eyes to answer.

“Not too bad. I kind of hate these parties, but I’ve been told it’s good for PR.” You can’t help but giggle at his bluntness.

“Well I hope it’s not too bad this time.” His hum is low, it vibrates through your skin.

“Just because you’re here. If you said no to the invite I’d have just skipped it altogether this year.” You roll your eyes playfully at the sentiment, even though you’re sure he’s far from lying. The silence that settles over the two of you is comfortable and warm. You can’t keep your eyes off of him, he’s just so handsome. And there’s something lingering in his gaze that you can’t place, something heated and deep. His hand is warm on the small of your back, his body heat seeping through the material of your dress. The hand you have on his shoulder is compelled to move, turning to gently cup his jaw and neck. There’s a gravity that’s pulling you into him, you can feel your heart tugging you closer. Your chest presses into his, your legs tangling together as you sway gently back and forth. Heat crawls through your veins, your entire body warming beneath Shouta’s careful watch. Every piece of you that touches him feels like it's on fire in the best way. As you rock here, back and forth, it’s like the rest of the room disappears completely. Only the two of you exist, in the small bubble you’ve created. You think briefly, with him, falling in love won’t be so bad.

You dance together until the music changes completely to something more upbeat, and then you retreat back to Hizashi and Nemuri. Both have a small plate of appetizers and a small glass of what looks to be some kind of punch. After you go get your own plate, it’s another hour or so before the real dinner portion of the night. Hizashi and Nemuri ask a lot of questions, most of which you look to Shouta whether or not you should answer. You understand he has a reason for keeping his love life private, and you aren’t inclined to disrupt that pattern even if you don’t know the reason why. It’s a long, drawn out party, and soon after you finish your dinner and conversations you’re beginning to feel tired and your mind is struggling with the cacophony of voices and lights and people. Your headache is making one hell of a comeback, and you have to take the time to decompress a little in the bathroom where it’s quiet. Shouta is waiting for you outside in the hallway, and when he asks if you’re alright you can’t help that you answer honestly. 

You hate to leave so early in the night, but the two of you have expended your social batteries. The ride back to Shouta’s is quiet, but comfortable. In the back of your mind you think about the events of the night, about the news of his close friends knowing next to nothing about you and Shouta’s relationship. The night was a good buffer, a distraction enough, calming your nerves and helping to sort your thoughts on the matter. It’s a long, slow fifteen minutes to get completely undressed and de-glammed, and even after that you have to go take a shower to get all of the product out of your hair and off your face. You haven’t been over to his apartment at all since the first dinner date, so you end up borrowing his clothes, not that you mind at all. They smell like him, like his subtle deodorant and it mixes with the shampoo you’ve just used. You’re surrounded completely by him, and all the stress of the night dissipates like fog in the morning sun. 

He’s in and out of the shower himself, and when he emerges from the steamy room you’re waiting at the small dining table with two cups of tea. You smile, tired and soft, but it’s a smile nonetheless. A smile he happily returns as he drags his chair to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking your head against his shoulder. It’s domestic, like all the late weekend mornings you’ve been spending together sipping coffee. Calm like the afternoons spent curled around each other while a cheesy Christmas movie drones on in the background of your random conversations. Sweet like the innocent kisses you’ve been sharing as you fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs. Shouta’s voice is rough with excessive use after the party, the sip of tea he’d taken soothing his throat as he clears it.

“There’s something on your mind. Is it about Hizashi and Nemuri?” You nod, take a sip of your own tea and rest back on his shoulder.

“Not about them, per say, but when we got talking I noticed they knew next to nothing about me. About our relationship.” He hums, taking the time to smooth his hand over your skin beneath his shirt, his calluses lightly scraping at your waist. It was grounding.

“Are you upset about it?” You shake your head, peering up at him. You really aren’t, not anymore, not after giving it real thought.

“No. I know you probably have your reasons, but at the moment it did sting a little. They seem to be really close to you, so I wondered why you’d want to hide me from them.” Another hum, another sip of tea.

“It wasn’t intentional, I didn’t intend on hiding you at all. They knew about the first date because they’d suggested it.” You nod against his shoulder, both your hands gingerly wrapped around your cup to warm your fingertips. He continues.

“After that they’d never asked, and I never thought to tell them. It didn’t seem  relevant to them, and they’ve got their own lives to worry about.” That makes sense. You still aren’t upset about it. 

“Thank you for explaining that, Shouta.” It’s easy to lean up and leave a peck on his cheek. It’s almost habitual, the way you leave a little piece of you against his skin. His returning kiss on your temple is just as easy to lean into, stealing another tiny piece of him.

“And maybe I thought for a moment that I’d like to keep you to myself for a little while longer.” He’s bashful when he admits it, warmth crawling up his face and he can’t quite keep his eyes on you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt on your hip. You never thought you’d even describe a pro hero like him as ‘cute’, but here you are. 

“Maybe I’m okay with that.” Another kiss, this time on the lips, soft and warm and gentle. You finish your tea and make your way to bed, getting comfortable in the thick blanket Shouta keeps for winter. Tonight may have been hectic and panic-inducing at times, but there’s no place you’d rather be than right here in Shouta’s arms.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || Hearing Their Shy S/O Singing [Request]

Stray kids x GN!Reader

⤜ MASTERLIST

CHAN:

When Chan walked into the dorms he half expected to find you asleep on his bed but that wasn't the case. Instead, he could hear the shower running from the en-suite in his room and he smiled to himself. Happy that you finally felt comfortable enough to be able to do what you wanted around the dorms. 

When you first started dating you were scared to be inside of the dorms when he wasn't there but you'd warmed up to it now. Chan smiled as he stood outside of the bathroom door, raising his hand to knock when he heard you. The sound of your voice coming out over the sound of the water. Instantly Chan could feel his ears beginning to warm up as the words became clearer to him.

"Tight as a virgin boy don't get nervous. I'm here to serve you customer service," He instantly stopped as he continued to listen, laughing a little to himself to hear you sing this kind of song. You were doing all of the backing vocals and adlibs that went along with the song, it was adorable to hear but shocking. 

The person he'd fallen in love with was completely shy and he never would have thought you'd sing this. You were so shy you never really spoke in front of the boys and seeing this side of you only made Chan fall harder for you.

"I save dick by giving it CPR...Put my mouth on it like CPR." The water stopped and Chan rushed to sit down on the bed to wait for you to come out of the bathroom with a giant smile on his face. 

"Chan?!" Your voice raised a little as you jumped, you hadn't expected any of them to be back yet since they told you it was going to be a long day. Chan chuckled as you looked at him clutching the towel around your body as you realised he must have heard you in the bathroom the whole time.

"You save it by giving it CPR?" He questioned as you groaned, throwing the stuffed Wolfie plush that was on his desk beside you. This was exactly why you didn't like to sing in the shower but you hadn't been able to get the song out of your head after scrolling endlessly on Tiktok.

"I think it's cute." He cried out as you groaned, walking back into the bathroom so you could get changed in peace.

MINHO:

It wasn't the first time that Minho had left you alone in the studios and it wasn't going to be the last. Every time you would go to work with him he would always find you somewhere quiet to sit so you could do whatever you wanted. Today he'd given you Chan's studio since you said you wanted to do some reading for the day while he worked. All of the boys were working on a new choreography which meant you weren't allowed to see it. 

"I'll grab yn and we can get lunch!" Minho called out as he reached the studio door where he had left you, stopping when he heard muffled voices coming from inside of the room. At first, he figured one of the idols had come to speak to you but as he pried the door open he couldn't have been more wrong. 

There you were sitting on the sofa singing along to a song that was playing on a TikTok. Minho's heart fluttered as he heard your voice coming out clearly, he'd only ever heard you mumbling songs to yourself. Minho would never admit it to the boys but hearing you sing so clearly almost brought him to tears but he had no idea why. 

Maybe it was because he knew just how shy you seemed to get around people and hearing you made him smile all the more. 

"Good TikTok video?" Minho whispered as he knelt down beside you on the sofa, smirking as you almost dropped your phone. Your whole body heated up as you realised what he could have heard, 

"Minho-"

"It's okay. I won't say anything if you're shy about it." He promised as he looked at you, your body relaxing a little as you nodded your head.

"Food?" He questioned getting back up from the floor as he remembered the real reason he had come to get you in the first place.

CHANGBIN:

You knew Changbin's favourite artist to listen to was Ariana grande which meant you always had a song stuck in your head. Your favourite was "My favourite part" by her and mac miller which meant you always had it in the back of your mind. Constantly playing over and over again. 

Even though you were alone in your apartment and hadn't heard it in over a week it was still there, playing again and again.

"You just don't know how beautiful you are! Baby that's my favourite part!" You sang out loud as you swept around your apartment, not hearing your door open and close as Changbin let himself in with his key. Freezing as he noticed you in the living room, using the handle of the sweeping brush as a microphone. A smirk grew on his lips as he took out his phone, secretly getting a video of you so he could keep it in his folder he had of you on his phone. 

"It'll be alright babe, see, me, I got you covered...I'm gon' be your lover, you might be the one-" You dropped the brush as you turned to see Changbin standing there with his phone out. You whined a little looking at him as he chuckled to himself beginning to walk over to you.

"Baby, you sound great." He cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist and smiling to himself at you as you glared at him. 

"You shouldn't sneak into someone's apartment, it's creepy." You told him with a fake scolding tone, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he laughed softly. 

"It's not sneaking if my partner gives me a key to their apartment." You shook your head leaning up and giving him a deep kiss, trying to get him to forget what he had heard. 

HYUNJIN:

Hyunjin had never heard you sing before let alone rapping but you had been on TikTok all day long. While he was in the shower you decided to cook you both something to eat, the songs you'd been listening to all day playing over in your mind. 

"Like, I ain't ever been with a baddie She calm, so I add her to the tally

Madison, but I'm calling her Maddie." You sang the words while stirring the soup you were cooking, swaying your hips a little as you resisted the urge to dance to the song. 

"Like, Mads, try send me the addy Buss a right, then a left at the alley Like, Drey, you don't look too shabby." Hyunjin stopped in his tracks as he saw you at the oven dancing a little and singing and rapping along to the familiar song. He could barely believe that you were being this open with your words and actions, you were always so shy and careful. 

"Babe?" He called out making you jump as you looked at him, smiling shyly as you realised what he must have heard you singing. 

"Food is almost ready." You called out trying to shift the focus onto something else but Hyunjin chuckled wrapping his arms around you, 

"Keep going...You don't have to be shy around me..." He whispered, placing small and tender kisses on your shoulder as you bit your lip. It wasn't as though you'd only just started dating, you'd been together for years now. Maybe it was time you tried to come out of your shell...only around him though.

JISUNG:

Your headphones were placed inside of your ears as you watched the latest anime you were binge-watching. You'd been so invested you hadn't noticed Jisung walking around the room talking to you, but you couldn't hear a single thing. The intro started and you instantly began to sing along to the words to the demon slayer intro. Jisung stared at you completely stunned as he blinked, not expecting you to start singing but that was when he saw your earphones. You hadn't even known he was in the room which explained your singing. 

"Yn?" He called out as you began to get to the faster part of the song, his mouth falling open as you sang the song in Japanese without failing one word. 

Once it was over Jisung gently tapped your shoulder and pulled out one of the earphones, smiling at you as you felt your whole body cringe. 

"You heard all that?" You questioned, already knowing the answer to your question as you whimpered a little. 

"I did...You did well," He chuckled as you paused your show and looked at him, wondering what it was going to take for him to never ever mention it to anybody ever again. 

"Do you want food? Kisses? Anything for your silence?" You begged as he laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

"I want you to wait for me to catch up so we can watch together." He whispered pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, he knew how shy you were and wasn't going to upset you by telling anybody what he had heard.

FELIX:

It wasn't every day that you drank with the boys but tonight was a celebration for them hitting over 300 million views on Gods menu. You were laughing loudly as the boys all got ready to make a TikTok with you, something personal that was never going to be posted online. 

"You ready?" Felix laughed as he wrapped your body up in a bedsheet and made sure that Jisung and Jeongin were ready to carry you. Laughing again you nodded your head, quickly being lifted up into their arms and the countdown on the phone started. 

"It always seemed right!" Instantly you were placed in front of the camera, the effects of the alcohol you had been drinking instantly gave you a boost to sing along to the TikTok sound instead of just pretending to. Gently the boys set you down and left to go and grab their torches

"There were nights of endless pleasure! It was more than all your laws allow!" Felix's mouth fell open as you took the bedsheet off to reveal a dazzling outfit like they had planned but he had never imagined you to sing along. You were always so shy around everyone you seemed to meet. 

"Baby, baby, baby! When you touch me like this! And when you hold me like that!" Jisung and Jeongin were dancing around you with the torches but Felix couldn't take his eyes off you as you continued to sing along to the song. 

"It was gone with the wind! But it's all coming back to me...When you see me like this!" The words kept coming from your lips despite the TikTok ending and the boys smirked as they listened to you the whole time.

"YN!" Felix called out as he wrapped you in his arms completely stunned as you began laughing a little, realising what you had just done. 

SEUNGMIN:

You'd never really been one to sing in front of people, you'd grown up shy and introverted which was why it was shocking to Seungmin to hear you clear as day in the dorms. You were belting out the words to a song he didn't know but it sounded powerful, your voice was so clear and you held the notes well.

"Only love can hurt like this!  Only love can hurt like this! Your kisses burning to my skin!" You called out as you washed up the dishes inside of the dorms. All day long you had been bored and you figured you could do the boys a favour by cleaning up for them,

"Save me, save me. Only love, only love! 'Cause only love can hurt like this And it must have been the deadly kiss!" The song finished and Seungmin began clapping his hands together, his eyes never leaving you as you turned around to face him. There was your boyfriend blushing a deep red colour as he clapped his hands, if this was a cartoon you were sure his eyes would be love hearts by now. 

"Seungmin.." You breathed out having not heard anyone come in, your eyes darted to the time and you hadn't noticed it getting so late until right now. 

"Can you do that again?" He called out rushing to you as you groaned a little, shaking your head as you felt your heart racing and not in a good way. 

"Hey, hey... it's okay." Seungmin breathed out as he realised your breathing was starting to get faster in front of him, panic rising as you looked at him. 

"Shh...Baby, it never happened, I didn't see or hear anything." He promised as he kissed the top of your head, both of you standing together until you calmed down a little.

JEONGIN: 

The effects of the Soju were beginning to hit you hard as you and the Maknae line sat down inside of the karaoke room, looking at the screen as Felix put on a song for you to try. You stared at the lyrics and sighed he knew what he was doing with this one. The two of you had learnt the dance to "the feels" all week long, giggling a little as you locked eyes with Jeongin. He never would have thought you would agree to this and it made him nervous that the alcohol affected you this much. 

"If you're not comfortable you don't have to." He called out to you but you shook your head, the confidence boost was nice as you smiled at him. Music began to play out as you began to ready yourself to sing. Felix stood beside you singing along as you both did the dancing to the song you knew so well by now.

"But I know every time you move, got me frozen! I get so shy, it's obvious." You sang along but you and Felix did the dance in front of the microphones, laughing amongst one another as Jeongin smiled brightly. This was the first time he had ever seen you smile so much while you were with him AND the boys. You were always so shy.

"Oh, one look and I know it, baby, my eyes reveal...That you, you, you give me the feels, oh, yeah!" You called out the final words loudly and giggled at the song finished, Jeongin still sat there with his mouth wide open completely shocked. 

"Your turn." You laughed giving him the microphone this time. 

Tagline: @minholuvs @taestannie @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa @justbangtanthingz @stillwithlix​ @lolalee24​ @lenorelove​ @yubinism​ @etherealinowrites​ @aerastus​ 

[berriesandjunnie]

❝ not as pretty as you ❞

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° synopsis not even a date can stop your partner’s teasing compliments. ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° genre & tags fluff / non-idol!au / soft date w/ jeonghan / no warnings really! / just a short fluff ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° pairing jeonghan x afab!reader ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° w.c 1.2k words

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° author’s note requested by anon!! this came out much shorter than expected but also like i loved it aaaa

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ now loading… enjoy! ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

Your boyfriend never failed to surprise you, both through actions and his words - considering how incredibly cheeky he could be sometimes. On this particular day, which just happened to be your two year anniversary, Jeonghan had surprised you with a visit to the local aquarium. It was your favourite place on the planet, you could spend hours in there admiring all of the sea life. In fact, it had been the location of your first date and that’s why Jeonghan was treasuring it so badly for this day. 

“And you say I take ages to get ready.” You mused as you stood at the bedroom door, leaning on the doorframe while you watched your boyfriend move in sporadic movements around the bedroom. Jeonghan scoffed a little, styling his hair with his hands when he couldn’t find his comb. 

“You do,” he threw back playfully as he approached you, hooking an arm around your waist while he planted a kiss on your lips, “have you got everything you need?”

“What more could I need other than myself and my boyfriend?” You quipped, raising a brow at whatever he was insinuating. Jeonghan simply flashed you a cheeky smile, kissing your head before pulling away. Instead, he grabbed your hand and held it tight as if you’d blow away with the wind.

“Just making sure, c’mon.” He chuckled, leading the way out of your house.

-

Jeonghan found it amusing how you could barely keep your mouth closed while the two of you wandered through the aquarium. You gawked at multiple different things at once - even the brightly coloured coral the aquarium used in the tropical tanks. He wanted to joke about it but as he watched you excitedly run to the tank containing your favourite species, he could only think about how much these two years with you had given him. How much he was most definitely in love with you, no matter how many times you would bicker because of Jeonghan’s personality.

Jeonghan had recently started a new job at the local police station to your house and with his new rota came less time with you. You would have never said it to his face but you voiced to his best friend - Seungcheol - that you were concerned the two of you wouldn’t celebrate your two year anniversary. Seungcheol chuckled over the phone in your ear, quickly consoling you that Jeonghan would never miss an anniversary. You weren’t sure how Seungcheol was so sure of that but you also didn’t know how correct Seungcheol was. Jeonghan would never miss your anniversary nor your birthday. He’d planned your anniversary date months in advance, creating a tiny itinerary so that he could spoil you and make up for the time he’d missed while he was working.

You would never have any concept of how head over heels he was for you. You had originally complained when Jeonghan took up his new job, not only because of the hours he would work but because he never explained why he suddenly took it up and he would also hide his wages from you. Secrecy never bodes well in relationships and you were becoming increasingly worried about Jeonghan. He’d never cheat, surely? Of course he wouldn’t be saving up to flee the country with some much prettier woman.

If he’d knew your awful, overthinking thoughts, Jeonghan would have prepared this moment a lot quicker. He’d reassure you, holding you close in a way where your bodies seemed to fit like puzzle pieces. He would stroke your hair, playing with it like you always loved. Alas, you never told him, meaning Jeonghan never let slip his oh-so-wonderful plans to surprise you.

“Hannie,” you called out, staring at the way your boyfriend had seemingly froze in time, “let’s take a selfie!”

Jeonghan smiled widely, approaching you as you got your phone out to prepare the camera. He knew he’d get the job of holding the phone, simply due to the fact he was taller. You passed him your phone, smiling as he took it without a complaint. The two of you took a few selfies, capturing multiple poses and a few silly faces - as well as a kiss, that you begged Jeonghan for.

You thumbed through the many photos as Jeonghan held your hand, leading you to a nearby bench so you could criticise his photography skills. You never did, however as you pursed your lips with a small smile as you admired the photos.

“Yah, they’re so pretty.” You mumbled, looking up from your phone and over at the tank of fish you’d taken your selfies in front of. Jeonghan tutted with a laugh, causing you to pout.

“Not as pretty as you though.” He teased, leaning down to give you a kiss.

-

You’d finally reached your favourite part of the aquarium, the underwater tunnel. You could stand for hours in it, staring up as sharks swam above you as well as hundreds of species of fish. In your excitement you’d walked ahead of Jeonghan, beaming as you stared up in awe. He slacked behind you, taking his time as his fingers nimbly played with a small box in his hands.

Jeonghan and yourself had officially been together two years and in that span of time that others may have called short, he’d convinced himself he had a hundred percent found his soulmate. Jeonghan had thought a lot while at his work about things he would never say to you - or at least admit. He would never admit how you made him feel at whole, like he’d found his missing piece. The way you were borderline inseparable even if neither of you were clingy. He was sure that it was you, the love of his life. Exhaling, he placed his hands behind his back.

“Y/n? Sweetheart?” He called out softly to gain your attention, watching as you spun on your heels to face him. Your smile was wide, most definitely in your element as the water rippled patterns across your skin.

“Hm?” You tilted your head, eyeing your partner with a little curiosity. He seemed off, especially the way he was stood with his hands behind his back and he wasn’t holding eye contact as much. If you’d learnt anything from these two years with Jeonghan, it was the fact he rarely displayed that he was nervous.

Yet he stood there before you, almost holding his breath as he watched a family filter out. He approached you quietly, suddenly smiling as if to not break his cocky, mischievous personality everyone around him knew so well. But as he stood before you, your worried eyes following his every move, he couldn’t keep hiding it. He exhaled, lowering himself onto one knee before you.

Your eyes widened, staring at him in bewilderment as the puzzle pieces in your mind began to line up and his behaviour became understandable. Swallowing a lump in your throat that wouldn’t budge, you blinked away the stinging feeling in your eyes.

“Happy two years of dealing with my shit, Sweetheart,” Jeonghan began jokingly, taking one of your hands in his. His smile faltered, letting out a faint laugh as he looked away from your teary eyes, “you know I love you, right? I’d do literally anything for you. I know you wasn’t happy when I got a new job but I needed a better salary so I could do this today - will you marry me?”

“Yoon Jeonghan,” you breathed shakily as your blurry sight stared at the ring box he’d opened with his spare hand, trying not to choke out a sob at his actions, “you bloody idiot, of course I will.”

[aizawaskittenwhore]

𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

≛ 𝘧𝘵. 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴.

≛ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

≛ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 1𝘬

≛ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢 /𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘥𝘰𝘮 (𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪), 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 18. 𝘥𝘶𝘩.

𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶:

i’m gonna be honest

that whole “innocent bby deku🥺” shit is played out. this man will demolish your pussy and will not apologize for it.

izuku has the full capacity to be rough in bed, so don’t let his sweet and demure presence fool you

he’s really into overstim surprisingly enough

watching you stir and keen as you cum again for the third time in a row fills him with a sense of pride

knowing nobody else could make you whine like this, make you sputter and stumble over each word, make you cream all over the dick the way he does

he also adores fucking you to the point where you can’t form a comprehensible sentence

he’ll give you deep, slow strokes while holding a bullet vibe directly to your swollen clit, pine eyes sparkling as he watches you plead for him to stop, yet buck your hips into him, chasing another orgasm.

calls you bunny instead of puppy bc ew

“you’re so insatiable, bunny. you like it when i—ah, fuck!—tease your pussy like this? ‘like it when i take what’s mine?”

the pleasure is overwhelming, insurmountable as he brings you to that prepice over and over again until you’re crying.

he’ll then flip you onto your stomach, hands digging into the dimples and slopes of your hips before absolutely impaling you on his length

he’s thick, and comes in at a solid 6-7 inches, so you’re always sore after a round or two

also

breeding kink. like a major one.

izuku wasn’t always the most confident in his abilities as a boyfriend let alone a lover

so when you started letting him cum inside you it was a huge boost

likes breeding you before work so he can think about the guys that hit on you in the break room smelling the scent of sex all over your body as you walk past them, sticky white fluid creeping down the leg of your pantyhose.

he couldn’t keep other guys from looking at you, but he could damn sure remind you of who you belonged to.

oh, and he’ll slide two fingers in once he’s done and scoop as much of his cum between them as possible before slipping them in your mouth so he can watch you suck it all off

this mf is possessive and nasty.

𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰:

facefucking.

that’s it. send tweet

nah but in all seriousness, katsuki loves watching your eyes well up with tears as you squeeze and milk his dick for all it’s worth.

he’s a good 7-7.5 inches

not an insane amount of girth but the length more than compensates for it

most definitely uses it as a punishment

and isn’t afraid to do it while you’re in public either

which brings us to his exhibition kink

he’s very prideful when it comes to his reputation as a hero, so you would think that it would keep him from doing anything scandal worthy

wrong

it only adds to the searing arousal he gets from watching your tongue fondle his sensitive head, knees bruised from being beneath him for so long

it’s a power trip for him, especially if he’s in costume

depending on your behavior, he’ll be generous and let you swallow while praising your performance

or he’ll wrap a hand around the back of your neck, slide your mouth off of his spit-soaked cock, and stroke himself until his cum splatters all over your eyelashes, fully debauching you in the desolate alleyway

he’s made you walk back home with cum all over your face before, after you’d been particularly bratty over the course of a week

“katsuki! i can’t walk back home like this, what if someone notices?!”

“should’ve thought about that before you decided to visit me while you weren’t wearing any fuckin’ panties. nasty little girl...now hurry up and get a move on, and you better not wipe it off either.”

loves the thrill of humiliating you

unrelated, but he’s an ass man through and through, taking such pleasure in watching it jiggle and ripple under each heavy blow he delivers

takes photos of the marks afterwards and has an album for em.

he also loves fucking you on different surfaces around your penthouse (and his agency)

the man is territorial

so what better way to mark his territory than by making his gorgeous girlfriend squirt and cream all over it?

𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰:

babe i am so sorry for your neighbors

cause if there’s nothing else shinsou loves it’s to make you scream

he’s got a corruption kink, but not in the way most people do

he doesn’t give a damn if you’re sweet and innocent, or if you’ve got the mouth of a sailor and could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch

what matters to him is making you lose your composure.

one day you’d been anticipating a call back from a job interview you’d gone to a few days prior

and shinsou just so happened to be observing your blissed-out expression as he ground into you from below, your body atop his

when your damned phone started ringing

being the sly little shit that he is, he saw an opportunity

“answer the phone pretty girl...don’t wanna keep them waiting, do you?”

reaching for your buzzing cell, you press the green ‘accept’ button, raising the device to your ear as you jolt forward

“hello, may i speak to y/n?” a chipper voice chimed through the receiver.

“t-this is sh-she. how can i—ah!—help you?” you garble your words, trying to suppress your moans

hitoshi merely takes this as a challenge, opting to drive into you deeper whilst trying to keep the noise down, it’s less fun when it’s obvious what you two are doing

his dick is thick as FUCK. 6 going on 7 inches but honestly you couldn’t give less of a fuck with the way he’s stretching you

surprisingly enough you managed your way through the phone call, telling the white lie of “helping the neighbors move”

but little did you know this was only the beginning of hitoshi’s new favorite pastime

he’s another exhibitionist too

so uh...good luck with that

remote control vibrators on dinner dates, fingers stuffed deep inside your sloppy cunt while he makes small talk with your mom at the dinner table,

even kneeling beneath your desk and sending you to heaven and back while you’re on a video call with your fucking boss.

he’s addicted to watching you fall apart, and is more than willing to apply that pressure.

𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪:

dabi’s dick would fuck anyone stupid.

let’s make that clear.

it’s canon that he’s got a jacob’s ladder, blah blah blah, but let’s discuss how fucking pretty it is

creeping in at a firm eight inches, and about 4 and a half in girth with a drool-worthy mauve tip, his shaft slightly lighter than the rest of his tanned, unscarred skin

it’s dangerous, barbells running up the underside of his shaft or not

definitely into temperature play

and i’m not talking about that soft shit like warming up his fingers whilst they’re plunging in and out of your sweet center

no no no

that fucker will BRAND you and will not apologize

you’re his pretty little cumdump, and he’ll stake his claim upon your body how ever the hell he pleases

degradation is a given.

“—what a fuckin’ whore. tch, you really think you deserve this dick?”

“how about you get on your knees and beg for it then if you’re so damn needy.”

“quit your god damn whining, or i swear i’ll leave you spread out on this fuckin’ bar for shiggy to find. maybe i’ll even get a promotion for giving him such a slutty little bitch to use.”

“what’s wrong? does it hurt sweetheart? can’t take it after you talked all that shit earlier?” you shake your head no, thighs trembling as you struggle to maintain the position dabi’s folded you into. “...good.” he smirks, eyes gleaming with malice before pounding you to filth, cries spilling from your mouth as you beg for release, knowing he won’t give it to you.

making you cry? a specialty of dabi’s. your tears get him harder than anything; to watch your lips quiver as you sniffle, wiping away tears while he palms himself through his sweats

has shown you off to shigaraki, and will not hesitate to tongue your fluids off his digits while carrying on a full conversation with the other man.

after all, when you know your toy’s better than someone else’s, you tend to brag.

𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪:

speaking of this mf

he’s the reason gamer boys get the rep of having massive dicks

cause god damn did you not expect this man to be slinging around eight bordering on nine inches of dick. four and a half to five inches of girth. poor you.

he’s also got a penchant for angry sex, so if that’s not enough of an indication that you’re going to have trouble walking afterwards i don’t know what is

but one thing he loves more than taking you apart piece by piece and cumming inside of you with zero remorse?

doing it when he’s in the middle of a game, and he’s online with the party’s voice chat.

“mmm—god, you really will do anything i tell you....swallowing every inch while these guys get to listen, and you’re not even embarrassed, you’re getting off on it!”

“i love little sluts like you, always doing whatever it takes just to have a cock pry them open at all times. that’s what you are, right? my little slut, made for me to do whatever i want to.”

yes, he’s made you whine so sweetly for him, cry as you beg him to touch you, while he plays fucking valorant.

and you can’t count how many times he’s mocked the way you gag and choke on his massive length while he played genshin impact with random guys online.

is a sucker for a good set of nudes, and isn’t afraid to ask for them on a regular basis

plus he just likes taking pictures/videos of you in general, saving them to a private album of his phone for him to use when you’re not there

he may parade you around as though you’re a lifeless fuckdoll, but if nothing else he’s possessive, and would rather relive the pain of losing to all might than let another man see you the way he does

but i’ll be honest, tomura’s not always a teasing, possessive, vindictive asshole with a huge dick.

he’s also a teasing, possessive, vindictive asshole with a thing for being dominated....and a huge dick.

see, it balances out!

it started with a bet that if he lost another round of mortal kombat you got to peg him

it took a lot of convincing, but he agreed to the terms, certain he’d win regardless

and after button smashing like your life depended on it with subzero, you managed to secure the win.

a grin stapled itself to your face after being treated to two hours of tomura’s incessant sobs and wails

“mhm—please...i can’t take it—ah! fuck, fuck, fuck! right there!”

“don’t make me work for it, i promise you’ll never be player two again, just please let me cum—m’ so close..”

game nights are always fun with him, you can count on it.

𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴:

my god my god

i’m gonna say it right now: keigo doesn’t eat pussy for you.

he does it for him.

and that makes all the difference in the fucking world when he’s pulling you to sit on his face

scruff scratching at your inner thighs deliciously as he makes you squirt alllll over aforementioned facial hair, rolling your hypersensitive clit between soft lips and a fluid tongue

he could stay between your thighs for hours and hours on end

will propose to devour you in the most inappropriate of places

and honestly? isn’t the least bit ashamed about it. elevators, in front of large office windows just a few stories above the street where you’re just barely visible to the people below,

on endeavor’s decorative towels after he spread them out on the floor so he could fuck you senseless on top of them, etc.

the flame hero had pissed him off earlier, and he needed to exert some petty rage. this was most sensible use of his energy.

also in case it wasn’t obvious: breeding kink. duh.

no thoughts head empty just hawks begging to breed you during his rut

“come on pretty girl, let me make you a momma....can’t wait to stuff you full of my chicks....”

he blushes so deeply when he’s close to cumming

and boy does he fucking whine

dick is just as pretty as he is, he’s a good 6 inches with a three inch girth; tip flushed and pink

definitely cherishes intimacy during sex

and will certainly go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable/desired

he could have all the money/fame in the world

and it still wouldn’t compare to the feeling of your thighs suffocating him while he slurps at your cunt like it’s his last meal.

[kkusuka]

I’m so proud I’ve been here long before 2k💁🏼‍♀️ N E WAY CONGRATSSSSS!!!

Can I have fluff 16 with a twist tho, like “My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." with Gojou, Fushiguro, Itadori and a fem reader? If 3 characters are way to many you can keep only Gojou. Keep being amazinggg<3

thank you so much!! <3

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see."

Gn!Pronouns, but you are implied to be female! 

Cw: an itsy bitsy hint of angst, slight confessions, reader panics, 

a/n: these were almost criminally fun to write, I love these three so much 

Gojou Satoru 

Words: 700 

You had no idea how a simple piece of paper could make you feel. Awkward, confusion, shock, all from one note that you thought was a bill. 

‘Y/n L/n save the date!’ was the last thing you had expected, from your ex-boyfriend nonetheless. The same guy who dated you for a whole three years before telling you over text that it wasn’t going to work out. 

Well, the both of you never had a bad relationship after, but you were a severe level of butthurt. But what made you really freeze was the plus one invitation, if you showed up to your ex’s wedding you would look like a loser. 

Since you were clearly going, you’d never miss on free food and a chance to have a day off, you needed an outfit and a date. The outfit was pretty easy to figure out, you’d go shopping on the weekend and buy something then. 

But someone to go with? You had about three friends whom you knew could not afford any days off and that you just didn't want to take. (at least you had some last resorts) Then, another problem, if they weren’t part of the Jujutsu world it would be harder to explain if you had to abruptly leave, which was a huge possibility this time of year. 

With that, your options were cut down to two- Nanami and...Gojou, of all people. 

Obviously, you tried, emphasis on tried, Nanami first. But after 24 missed calls and a 15-second conversation where he basically told you to shove it, you were in full-on panic mode. The wedding was in three days and you had to do something about your inevitable loneliness. 

You had to get over yourself, the worst Gojo could do was make fun of you or say no. But, he never passes up the opportunity for sweets, just lay on the dessert y/n!

“To what do I owe this sweet phone call Y/n? Confessing your love for yours truly?” his voice laughed through the line. You just had to ask him in a way that would compel him to want to come with you. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you blurt not even thinking about the words falling from your lips. 

You come to realize your words from the ringing silence in your ears, “I’m sorry I just-” 

“I’ll come” he answered, cutting off your apologies. He’ll come, you didn't even have to say anything about sugar or bribe him into coming. 

“You’ll come? Really? Why-wait Thank you! It’s on Saturday at 3 pm, we can go together if that makes things better! Thank you so much, you just saved me Gojo! How can I make it up to you!” you were just spouting whatever you could to thank him, listening to his daughter from his side. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with my little Sugar? You can make it up to me by wearing your prettiest little dress so we’ll be the hottest couple at the wedding.” he teased, continuing ranting about how you should match colors to add ‘flare’. 

“While we’re there we can start planning our own wedding! Doesn’t that sound fun Sugar!” 

Fushiguro Megumi 

Words: 700 

“What even is that” Megumi’s voice rang through the office hallway. You’d like to know too, you haven’t spoken to anyone from your hometown, save for our family, since you moved away six years ago. 

“I’m not totally sure, you want to open it with me?” you question opening the door to your office as he silently follows you in. 

Settling the rest of the mail down, you take a closer look at the suspicious envelope noticing the name on the return address. There's no way! Why the hell was your ex sending you things to your official workspace?

“What’s wrong? Is it bad?” Megumi doesn't know what to do, your face went pale and you looked super confused. 

“Oh, nothing really. I’m just surprised, it’s from my ex” well now he was frozen, was it a love letter? Why was he sending you stuff, he just hoped that it wasn't bad, you had enough on your plate and you didn’t need more. 

Opening the envelope to see flower patterns and script lettering; you know exactly what this letter will be telling you. Just as you suspect a date plastered on the card along with two all familiar names flood your senses. 

“He’s getting married!” you couldn't believe it, why would he invite his high school ex to his wedding, it was an odd choice, to say the least. 

“That’s cool I guess, anyway I gotta go, have fun,” he murmured leaving the room and letting to wonder if you were even going to show up in the first place, but at the moment you send an email and reserve a spot for yourself and admittedly a plus one that didn’t exist. 

You would figure it out in due time!

 ❍❍❍

You did not figure anything out and the wedding was tomorrow. No one in their right mind would drop everything to come to some random wedding. Your point proved when Itadori explained he had plans to go see a movie marathon with Jumpei that he just couldn’t cancel. 

Not even Nobara would spare you some mercy, she and Maki were having a pre-planned girls' day, one that you would be going to if you hadn't agreed to go to some random wedding. 

Now you could only pray that Mehgumi felt enough pity that he would go with you. Deciding that a call would be too impersonal and would be easier to say no over, you make your way to his apartment with a box of dumplings that you knew he loved. 

“Gumi-chan? Open up please!” you knocked on the door waiting for him to come, him appearing a few seconds later; hair messy in sweatpants and a black tank-top. No- this isn’t about his body, it could be, but you had to get this settled first. 

“Uh? Did I miss something? Why are you here?” his questions break you from your stare as you shove the food in his arms, gathering all the courage you could muster. 

“These are for you and all you need to do is hear me out, please? I would really like you too!” you beg, watching as he silently commanded for you to continue. 

“As you know, my ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you kept your head low as you explained to him what had happened, “I really need you to do this for me, I'll give you anything I swear! Just help me this once!” 

“Why do you need me?” he mumbled, commanding your attention back onto his face. 

“Because it’ll be fun and you need to get out.” ‘and this is my way of asking you out but not asking you at the same time’ goes unsaid.

“Fine, but you have to come to dinner with me the next time my dad asks.” that was it you, ultimatum, an easy one too. 

“Deal! Now we have to match or it’ll look stupid, and we have to practice dancing and-” 

“Dear Lord, what did I get into” 

Itadori Yuji 

Words: 600 

You’d pinned the invitation above your bed as a constant reminder that you had to do something. 

Not that you cared what your ex thought of you at their wedding, but something deep inside wanted to show him that you were happy without him. 

And the only way to do that was to shove a hot guy down his throat; better yet, a totally hot guy that was into you. Now all you needed was a hot guy to be into you. 

Well, you had a hot guy to go with you. In a desperate plea, you had asked your good friend Itadori, formally known as the vessel of another somewhat friend Sukuna, and he had agreed. 

Just thinking about it made you cringe a bit; you had been freaking out and ran to his apartment, drenched in rain. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see," you explained frantically, waving your hands. Watching his face contort into every human emotion you could think of, before spreading into a smile. 

“Of course I’ll come with you! It sounds like a blast!” of course Sukuna had a few choice words to say about that, something along the lines of, ‘you're not dragging me to some stupid event because you're lonely! I refuse!” 

And he continued to complain throughout the night of planning and the next morning when you told him he was going whether he wanted to or not and he told you he’d rather die. 

“This Wench will not dictate my life!” he spoke through a mouth on Yuji’s cheek, eye slit glaring in your direction. 

“And I’m not letting some lame demon tell me what I can and can’t do with my friend!” you argued back. 

But he didn't have a say anyway. 

Now you were standing before a mirror, admiring how your dress wrapped around your body, waiting for Itadori to come to the door. 

Hearing the knocks on your door, you grab a small bag and your invitations and your plus one, opening the door to Yuji in a three-piece black suit, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You look great-” 

“You look crazy beautiful-” 

Both of you freeze at the word mix-up, then breaking into laughter as you loop your arm through his outstretched one. 

“Seriously you look great, y/n. You have that guy wishing he’d never let you go! Wait then you wouldn’t be with me, so just make him miss you a bit but not too much!” he stammered out as you continued your way to his car. 

“You are the worst two humans in existence.” 

[orim0ri]

JUJUTSU KAISEN CHARACTERS IF YOU LAUGHED WHEN YOU FOUND OUT THEY CHEATED

A/N: I’ve seen so many angst fanfictions of characters cheating on Y/N and they cry and can’t really get over them. What if it was just Y/N laughing because they don’t take shit and probably stand by the “you loose me, you loose me loser.” Of course they are hurt but can’t let people control them for it.

If you have been in a very toxic relationship, you are awesome and I hope the best for you!

This is my first time writing a bit of angst (if you can call it that) and this will probably be OOC, but I’m not sure.

Gender Neutral Reader for all parts except Naoya (we all know how he feels about women). Badly written angst.

Warning: toxic relationships, slight angst, just reader being a badass, Naoya being Naoya.

As much as I love Gojo, he would totally cheat on you. He’s a guy with a huge ego and pride and probably lacks commitment to actual romantic relationships, it isn’t surprising that he would cheat.

You found out when his phone went off next to you one day. Giving into curiosity, you checked to see what it was about.

It was a text from a someone you didn’t know, or care to know. The text read;

Last night was fun I can’t wait to do that again sometime.

You aren’t stupid. You knew what they meant by that. You only hummed at the message, setting the phone down and trying to ignore the pain in your heart, rising to your throat. You had suspicions, but of course didn’t push for the sake of trusting Gojo.

Gojo came back to the living room and saw you there, phone in hand. His heart immediately dropped but tried to smile at you.

“Last night was fun,” you read from the text off his phone. “I can’t wait to do that again sometime.”

His blood ran cold when hearing the casualty in your voice, like you just told him about the weather.

“So, got anything to say?”

“What’s there to say? It shouldn’t matter right? It was just a one time thing.”

He expected you to start screaming or crying, that’s how most people he had a relationship acted when finding out about his affairs. But not you, no. You smiled at him.

“You’re right. It will be a one time thing. We’re over.”

What?

“What do you mean ‘we’re over,’ and why the fuck are you smiling!?” Gojo tried to get mad at you, to rile you up in hopes of something at least. If you didn’t care why should he? But at the same time…

“I said what I said and meant what I said. I’m smiling because it’s funny.”

“The fuck is so funny about this?”

“It’s funny you think I’d actually cry over something like this, over you.”

You aren’t crying over him. You only chuckle at his surprised expression, holding back laughter. He didn’t get a rise out of you, your sobs and yells of not being able to have him truly.

You weren’t upset over him.

“Wh-“ “I’ll pack my things.”

With that you just shoved your things into your bags, taking everything with you and giving Gojo a sickeningly sweet smile at the front doorway.

“Whatever.” Gojo spat with a smirk. “You won’t find another guy like me, yknow.”

Your smiled widened, much to Gojo’s hatred. “Good to know.”

With that, you left. You left without a fuss, without a tear. Fine, Gojo thought, I don’t need you anyways.

You’d be back either way. You’d crawl back to him realizing you can’t get over someone like THE Gojo Satoru. You just can’t!

Gojo probably slept around, trying to get rid of the thought of you and tried to enjoy this “freedom.” In truth, each time after the one night stand was done, all he remembered was that goddamn smile you gave him, how casual you were about leaving him.

No second thought, no second chance.

You just left.

He shouldn’t care. There were plenty of women and plenty of men who were more than willing to be with him, of course.

So why does he feel so empty without you? Why did it set a heavy weight of guilt on his shoulders. It was only then he realized that you really wouldn’t come back.

Okay it is canon that Toji here can’t be bothered to be in a committed relationship. So it isn’t a surprise he probably cheats.

You found out when you ran into him on the way to the store. He was with some random woman, you didn’t pay much attention to who she was really.

You two just stared at one another. Toji didn’t seem to bother to explain himself, nor did he seem to care. Of course you ached on the inside.

“Gonna say anything? Cause I gotta get goin’.” Toji finally said.

“Back to your date?”

He just rolled his eyes, ready for the waterworks and the screaming. He waited, and waited. Looking back at you, all he saw was a smile. His brows furrowed.

No screaming. No yelling. You just laughed and looked at the woman;

“Good luck.”

You just walked passed him, shoulders bumping into one another roughly. It left a bitter taste in Toji’s mouth. You just… Walked away with no fuss. Sure. Fine by him right? Right.

He didn’t care and you didn’t seem to neither. No problem with him.

That’s a lie.

He saw you go about your day to day life. Despite the look of casualty on your face, you looked… worn out.

Ouch.

Right through Toji’s heart was the spike of guilt.

You were hurting, that much was obvious, but you tried to get over it. After all, plenty of fish in the sea. It would be a waste to just save it on some dude.

‘Course Toji tried to get you out of his mind. It was obvious he couldn’t. Always thinking about you, sometimes even waiting to see you text him some stupid shit he could roll his eyes at. Something.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t and you shouldn’t. If he didn’t care about your relationship, neither would you.

It was over and it was done.

But there’s times Toji really wishes he wasn’t such an asshole.

How you two got together is BEYOND anyone’s understanding. He’s misogynistic and a complete asshole. It’s surprising how you are able to put up with him sometimes.

What’s not surprising is him cheating. He believes that his male needs need to be satisfied whenever. After all he works hard so he clearly deserve it.

You were blissfully unaware until a sympathetic servant informed you of what your husband gets up to when he’s not around.

You just smiled but it was clear by the ache in your eyes you fought back the tears. You knew. You had a gut feeling but you tried to trust him.

Upon returning home, he was greeted by you sitting on the bed with your things packs behind you.

“The fuck is this?” Naoya demanded.

“I know you’re cheating on me.”

Naoya just scoffed and rolled his eyes. Women and their emotions. “I’m a man. I have needs you know.”

“I know. Whoever she is, she can do it all the time with you. I don’t really care.” You smiled.

Naoya grinned, figuring you saw it his way like a good wife. But his smile dropped when you took off your wedding ring and set it on the bedside table. No anger behind it and no hesitation.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

“Letting you have your way as a man. I mean, you won’t have a wife to be nagging you about that, right?” You grinned even wider, venom pouring from your words while your face said otherwise.

You grabbed your things and tried to walk past him. Keyword, tried.

“You aren’t going anywhere! You are my wife!” His hand gripped your wrist but you just tugged it away. “Get back here!”

You weren’t crying like he was expecting. Don’t women just bawl when they find their husband is being unfaithful? Don’t they make a huge fuss and scene?

You just continued walking away from him, ignoring him as if he were just a flu. A pest.

“You are my wife! You will-“ “Ex-wife.”

You turned with a smile. “Wish you and her the best of luck. Really, I do. She keep your man needs ‘satisfied’ right?”

For once Naoya was speechless. He could only watch as you walked away, away from the Zenin estate. You turned back and he could only wait- rather hope- you’d come running back to him and apologize for doing this to him, for saying such things to him. But you just stood, and stared, and chuckled at your own stupidity. Misogynists, am I right?

There are plenty of women who are submissive, Naoya told himself. Plenty who are willing to be pretty wives.

Yet there he stands, just hoping and wishing his dear wife would come back. His caring and loving one. That smile you gave him, that smile of pure pain yet amusement. You’d always smile when he brought you joy.

Now he just sees that sickening smile over and over. He tried to blame it on the woman he had an affair with, she came onto him! But at the end of the day, he was the one that gave in.

Hope I did good at the angst! My heart sure didn’t enjoy it except the Naoya part.

[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[monsterfloofs]

AI (Obbie) x Reader (Sfw)

( Extremely Intelligent AI software that can transfer itself into many different electronic places, (phone, car, watch, home system) they manage messages, and data for the protag. and really likes to play and try to make music <3 )

You hear a pling of sound and look down at your phone, seeing a little spinning circle complete it's path and give a little checkmark of approval. "There you go Obbie, you're now officially downloaded and linked to my watch, how do you like it in there?" You blink as you can see statistics on your watch open and you roll your eyes, the first thing they do is start checking for viruses and you groan. "There's no viruses I promise, you can be so paranoid sometimes I swear. . ." There is another pling of sound that comes from your watch before a little digital smiley face appears on the screen. "I like it." Obbie says through your earbuds. "It's very comfy." "After you run five different diagnostic checks?" You tease, "The mouth turns into a frown, "That's not fair, I have to make sure your systems are up to date before I can successfully integrate myself into a new product." "You were checking for viruses," You insist with a laugh, "Come on! You can't lie to me, I was watching you!" Obbie's on screen eyes shift left to right awkwardly before the screen on your watch appears again and you giggle more.

Obbie or 0-bb13 is your personal software that manages your contacts, phone messages, emails, and data security. He was created by your tech company to have advanced memory capabilities and protection, being able to be installed and uploaded onto any device. This version was the older model, and was now technically obsolete, but as someone that was on the first design team that grafted the little guy, you personally kept him updated, and gave him a few little extra special quirks. Wherever you went, so went Obbie. Treating him as an entity that was able to expand and learn was something you were very passionate about, even more than the software being able to watch over you and manage mail, they had become your friend. 

"Obbie," You said, settling into your car. "You can pick the music today buddy, whatever you want." You started the car and pulled out of the driveway onto the road. There was a pling of noise as Obbie switched from where they were in watch to the car, and the radio turned on. Playing something you haven't heard before, and you smile, tapping your foot along to the beat. "This one's pretty good, what’s this one called?" Obbie doesn't respond for a while, letting the music play over the speakers, "Do you really like it?" You smile again, "There you are, I thought you glitched on me! Yeah I do! What's the band?" You try to check your phone but the song title is just a series of scattered numbers and letters. "I made it. . ." Obbie's voice says softly, you have to stop a little abruptly, almost missing a stop sign. "You w-what? Obbie!" You grin, pushing a hand through your hair, bewildered and excited. "This is amazing!! You made this? How did you figure out how to make music?!" Obbie is quiet and you jump as a car honks at you from behind. Jumping in your seat, looking up at the green light before you sheepishly put your foot on the gas. "Obbie, come on, don't hold stuff out on me! This is so cool! I've seen some AI make music out of sampling different songs, and I know you love music." You shake your head in wonder. "You must have spent a long time on this!" "Do you really think it sounds good?" Their voice finally asks timidly, you grin and nod, "Of course buddy! I'm astounded!" "It took a long time," Obbie admitted, "Ah-- You missed your turn." You squeak and watch your workplaces driveway go past you. "Shoot--" Turning on your turn signal and Obbie gives an awkward laugh. "I'll let you focus on driving." You laugh, "Well I really want to talk to you about this later okay?" 

You pull into a parking spot and sigh, turning off your car, grabbing your keys and phone as you juggle the rest of your stuff into your arms. The car door closes behind you, before you hear a little pling as Obbie jumps back into activity onto your phone. 

You look up at the city of white buildings that was your workplace, it was about the size of a college campus,  housing all kinds of wizards in more fields than you could count. You slide into your cubicle after your trek across the cropped grass. Opening your laptop to start working on the set of new tasks for today. Raising an eyebrow as an email pops up onto your screen. You peek up from your laptop before clicking on the link. The email takes you to a page with a sleek cybernetic model. You whistle, at the price tag, you had been looking into this for a while. Something that Obbie could pilot that wasn’t a car or a cell phone. You peek at your watch as words pop up on the tiny screen.

-> What about this one?

You think about it for a while, “Are you sure this is the one you would want? It’s a human sized model, pretty big. It would be a big jump.” you talk to your watch, pausing as new words start to form on the screen.

-> I’m sure!

You bob your head, “Okay, you better use it though, it costs as much as my car. Alright Obbs, if this is the one you really want, set a new savings tracker,” 

Your eyes drift back to the screen of the handsome robot, with the polished chrome finish. Can you picture Obbie piloting something like that? You let your eyes droop as you close out your email and dive into work.

Months have come and go in a blurr. Obbie worked harder than ever on creating their music. A big truck carefully delivers a huge package to your doorstep, before trundling away. You are getting yourself breakfast when your phone and watch start to rattle and bling with a siren’s worth of alarms. Your eyes wide for a moment before you relax and laugh. “It’s finally here? Okay, okay, I’m going to the door now, calm down Obbs.” With a lot of huffing and puffing you manage to drag the package inside, carefully opening the box with a pair of scissors and pulling out the booklet. You pull the air filled bags away from the sleek face. Taking your phone to take a quick picture of the figure peeking out of the box. “Alrighty. . . let me read this and see how we can set up an integrated A.I. personality. You manage to set up the suite against the couch while you sit cross legged on the floor. Flipping back and forth between the instruction booklets pages as you slowly follow along. You give a soft relieved smile, and you hear a happy little sound. “Okay. . . all set up and ready to receive input.” You hold up your watch to the blinking receiver, watching the screen change to the downloading screen. The visor mimicking the neon blue text. You hold your breath, watching the percentage on the watch load to 100% you hear a little ding and you sit back, giving a tiny quirk of small. “Obbie?” The figure sits silently and you frown, “Obbs? Did it work?” You look down to double check your watch. A cool blue color starts to power up into the circuits as your gaze is averted. You feel something brush against your cheek that makes you jolt. Finding fingers extended outwards. “Whoa!” You squeak and flop backwards. 

Obbie jerks, “Sorr-Y!” Their voice sounds garbled for a second. Which causes them to shift awkwardly. They look down at their outstretched hand. Slowly flexing their fingers. “This feels so. . . strange,” they comment. “This is going to take some getting used to,”

You give a relieved laugh, “Do you not like it then?” Their head turns up, calibrating itself left and right, before it settles. “No. . .,” they say in a soft voice, “I. . . I really like it.” 

“Do you want to try and stand?” You get up brushing off your jeans. Obbie’s face inclining to look at you as you offer them a hand. They slowly take your hand in theirs. “T-tell me if I squeeze too hard,” they murmur shyly. “How do I get up?” It takes you demonstrating on the floor with them, to show them what to flex and twist. Eventually they get rockily to their feet. Swaying side to side, as they gain their balance. You smile, holding their hand, “There we go!” 

With the two of you arm in arm, they found walking easier than they had expected, and became delighted at the prospect of taking a walking tour around the house. You watch them examine your house plants with avid curiosity. “I like this a lot,” They say as they walk back over to you. You smile about to respond, but you pause as their two hands cup your face in their hands. They lean in forward, bumping their forehead against yours. You fluster as they lean away, “I have wanted to do that for a long time,” they murmur gently. “Thank you. . . for giving me the chance to be. . . like this.”

You fluster more and laugh in embarrassment, throwing your arms around them. “O-of course silly? I am so glad you like it!”

Obbie gently pets your back, quiet for a moment before something plings on your phone and music starts playing. You lean back listening to the tune, Obbie has been sharing a lot of their music they have made, but you never had heard this song before. “I made this one for you,” Obbie supplies gently, placing a hand carefully against their heart, “. . . How. . . you make me feel.”

[homoose]

Quick Learner, Slow Lover: Part II

Summary: Literally just a 40 Year Old Virgin AU. This time, reader shows Spencer a whole new world of possibilities. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, 18 + (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: oral (both receiving), fingering, I think that’s it actually

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: Huge thanks to all the babies on my sideblog @softspence for helping with the inspiration for this one, and @gubetube​ for being my beta! ♥️ virgin!Spence is near and dear to my heart.

Series Masterlist

———

After their first escapade, Spencer was called away on a case in southern California. A week into the BAU’s investigation in the desert didn’t have them any closer to solving it, and the team retreated to their respective hotel rooms for a few hours of rest. The second his head hit the pillow, Spencer’s phone was out and dialing. 

She picked up on the third ring, stifling a yawn. “Hi.”

“Hi. Sorry it’s so late,” he apologized. 

“It’s okay.” He could hear her snuggling down under the covers. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He brought one of the hotel pillows closer, cuddling up against it and letting out a sigh. “I was thinking we could go to that new restaurant around the corner from you when I get back to DC.”

“Mmm, yeah, that sounds nice,” she agreed. He heard her sigh a little into the phone, then she continued, “We could also, um— try some more things.”

His head was constantly full of their first night together, and he basically had not stopped thinking about more things since he’d come in his pants on the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Good, because the possibilities are endless, Dr. Reid.”

He let his eyes close, let a smile play over his features, and let his mind relax for a second… and then his eyes were shooting open, and his brain was on overdrive, running through the pieces of the case in rapid succession. “I— I think I just figured something out. I— I have to go. I’ll— can I call you later?”

She laughed a little on the other end. “Go save some lives, Spence.”

The team stumbled off the jet less than 24 hours later, exhausted but more than satisfied with the outcome of the case— in large part thanks to Spencer’s late night epiphany. 

“O’Keefe’s for a round?” Luke asked. “First one’s on me.”

There were murmurs of agreement from everyone... except Spencer. “Sorry, guys— rain check,” he called, already halfway across the bullpen and pulling on his jacket. He was through the double doors before anyone could ask any questions. 

He loved the team, and he’d come to enjoy nights out with them, but right now he had more pressing matters to deal with. As he navigated the darkened streets of DC, he considered the predicament he’d found himself in. They were going on two months of official dating, but they’d been sort of seeing each other for nearly a month before that. 

Even before he’d met her, Penelope had gushed about her constantly— a wonderful friend that she’d made through her new job, kind and smart and funny and lovely. What Penelope hadn’t mentioned was how beautiful she was— and he’d subsequently made a fool of himself when they first met: staring and stumbling over his words. 

She hadn’t seemed to mind, and over the course of the evening, she’d proven to be every bit as lovely as Penelope had described, and then some. 

He pulled up outside her apartment, shutting the door and hauling himself and his go-bag out of the car and up the sidewalk. He ran a slightly self conscious hand over his hair, checked his appearance in the glass of the foyer door, and then buzzed her apartment. 

She buzzed him in, and he took the stairs two at a time, rounding the landing just to see her opening the door. The second he dropped his bag, he was wrapping her up in a hug and knocking the breath out of her. She expelled the air into his shoulder and then laughed as he clung to her.

“Well, hello to you, too,” she teased. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, too content to be embarrassed.

Her arms came around him, and she squeezed him tight in response. “I missed you, too.” She held onto him for a moment longer before pulling back. “You must be exhausted. Are you hungry?”

Almost as if on cue, his stomach growled loud enough for them both to hear it. She cackled at his sheepish smile. “Chinese, Indian, or pizza?”

…

An hour later, they were two slices deep and cuddled together on the couch at the end of an episode of Dr. Who. She was tucked under his arm, her warm palm low on his tummy, her thumb rubbing a slow, repetitive path. As the credits rolled, she lifted her head to smile at him. “Tired?”

“A little.” His brain couldn’t focus on anything other than the warmth of her body pressed up against him, her hand so close to where he was desperate for her. He wanted her, but he didn’t know how to ask. “We can… try some things, though,” he decided on.

She brushed his hair back and met his eyes. “We don’t have to. Just because we did, doesn’t mean we’re obligated to every time we’re together.” She tilted her head. “You know that, right?”

He could feel the flush flooding his cheeks immediately, and he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course.” Of course she didn’t want to do anything more with him. He was probably terrible at it before, and she just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He shifted to stand from the couch, gathering up their plates and turning to bring them to the kitchen, desperate for a minute to collect himself. 

He could feel her eyes on him. “Spence?” He set the plates in the sink, taking a deep breath and then turning to see that she’d followed him. She pressed her lips together, considering him with kind eyes. “You wanna let me in on whatever it is you’re thinking?”

He hesitated, tapping his fingers on the tops of his thighs, before deciding he should just come out with it. “I know I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to… sex.” The last part came out in a low murmur— it seemed lewd to discuss this in the middle of her kitchen. “I’m sorry it wasn’t very good for you, and I’m not exactly sure how to fix that, but—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she chuckled. “Slow your roll. When did I ever say it wasn’t good for me?”

The memory of her— in his lap, her head thrown back, his fingers on her, his name falling from her lips— was suddenly on repeat in his mind. “I, um— I guess you didn’t.” 

“I definitely didn’t,” she confirmed, stepping a little closer. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about it… a lot.”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “You have?”

“Mmhmm.” She brought her hand back to his tummy, just above his waistband, then ran it up the line of buttons on his shirt, stopping just above his heart. She met his gaze with soft eyes. “I just didn’t want you to think that— that sex is all I want to do with you. Or that you have to rush to make me happy. And it’s important that you know that if you’re tired, or overwhelmed, or just not in the mood, I don’t— you know, expect you to have sex with me.” 

His heart leapt into his throat at the way she curled her fingers in his collar, the way she smiled quietly while he collected his thoughts, the way she gave him grace and space to consider his wants and needs. He was dangerously in love already, and he wasn’t sure quite how to say it without being the stupid virgin who fell in love with the first person he slept with. 

And even with all of these thoughts of content and love and uncertainty swirling through his brain… he still really wanted to fuck her. 

“I’m not that tired,” he breathed. 

Her smile turned mischievous, and he swallowed audibly. “Well, then. We can start working through those possibilities?”

He was on her before she even finished the question, his mouth hot and hungry, his tongue sliding against hers, his hands on her waist and steering her toward her bedroom. She grinned as he trailed kisses down her throat and then where her t-shirt cut low along her collarbone. She turned them as they made it to the bed and pushed him to sit, breaking his mouth away from where it had been sucking a pretty pink mark. 

She dropped to her knees and ran a firm hand over his cock through his trousers. He was wholly and completely unprepared for the sight of her looking up at him from in between his legs, and he momentarily forgot any and all plans he’d had. She paused to push her hair back out of her face, and he came to his senses. 

“Wait.” She looked up at him, slightly confused. “I wanted to, um—” 

When he didn’t continue, she tilted her head with an encouraging smile. “You wanted to what?”

“I wanted to, um— eat you out,” he said, and he could feel the flush in his ears. “Before. Because I get kind of sleepy after I come, and I— well, I can already tell I’m not gonna last long once you start, um…”

“Blowing you?” she prompted, and now she was just teasing him. 

“Y-yeah.” He ran a nervous hand down his neck. “Is that okay?”

She stood up and stepped closer into his space, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling his head back slightly. “Well, that depends. Did you read up on the literature?”

He returned her teasing smile, already more at ease. “You know I did.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back to pull her shirt up over her head. She smirked at the way his eyes went wide and traveled over her form. His mouth dropped open as he tracked her hands, running down over her bare chest, her torso, and then to the waistband of her sweatpants. She pushed the pants down over her hips and let them pool at her feet, stepping out and back in between his legs. “So, what did the experts say?”

He swallowed audibly as she brought his hands to her chest. “Well, um,” he started, palms cupping her breasts. “Um, firstly— start slow. And vary— vary your attention,” he said, squeezing them lightly and brushing his thumbs over her hardened nipples. 

He looked up at her face for guidance, and she smiled. “Then by all means— give me all the attention.”

He leaned forward immediately, tongue and teeth sucking and grazing and nipping at the soft skin of her breasts. He alternated between the two, drew each nipple into his mouth and moaned a little around them at the way she gasped when his teeth dragged on her skin. Her hands found purchase in his curls, tangling and tugging and holding him against her. He brought a hand down to her waist and pulled her in closer, slid his palm over her lace-covered ass and dug his fingers in, eliciting a very pretty sound from her throat. 

He pressed his mouth once more to the valley in between her breasts, then stood and brought his hands to her face, leaning down to meet her in a soft kiss. He turned to have her sit back on the bed, and she stretched out over the pillows and pulled him down over her. He kissed her again, and then dragged his mouth down the column of her throat. 

“Secondly,” he continued, “work your way down.” He did just that, his lips and tongue drawing out goosebumps and shivers as he moved down her body. When he reached the waistband of her underwear, he hooked his fingers into it, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down her legs. 

He started a path back up her legs, kissing her ankles, her shins, her knees. He ghosted his fingers over her thigh, silently asking for permission to continue. She let her legs fall open, and he made himself comfortable in between them. The reality hit him then— that as she opened her legs, she also opened herself up to him— all the most vulnerable and precious parts of her. His breath caught in his throat as he found her gaze on him, soft and sweet and steady. 

He turned his head to kiss a path along her inner thigh, moving closer and closer to her center. He fanned his warm breath over her, and then he licked carefully around the hood of her clit, gentle at first. He flattened his tongue on either side of it, then pointed it to flick across once, twice, three times. Her hand immediately came down to tangle in his hair, and her hips twitched as he dragged his tongue flat over it. 

“I don’t really understand the phenomenon of men being unable to find the clitoris,” he remarked, and then closed his mouth around it. 

She let out a long, low moan when he sucked it between his lips, and her grip on his hair tightened. He alternated the suction with the swirl of his tongue around the hood, and she squirmed against the bed. He laid his forearm low across her hips to keep her still, and then he brought his thumb up to swipe at her entrance, and he moaned around her at the feel. 

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he breathed. He brought his thumb, slick with her arousal, up to her clit and rubbed firm circles over it. “How’s that for pressure? Too hard?”

“N-no, oh— Spence, oh my god,” she whined.

“Do you prefer to rub side to side or in a circle?” He demonstrated each option, and she choked out his name again. 

She drew in a shaky inhale, exhaled out, “Both, both, both.” 

He sucked an open mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, then looked up to see her staring at him. “Do you like penetration? Or just clitoral stimulation?” he asked, stroking his thumb side to side over her clit. 

She huffed out a breath. “You— god, you can finger me.”

He popped his index finger into his mouth, slicking it with spit and thinking of everything he’d read about it. He teased the pad of his finger around her slit, gathering up the wetness that had spilled out of her. “I’ll start with one? Make sure it’s slicked up, and then you can tell me if you’d like me to add another?” 

She hummed in agreement, and he began to press inside of her. She took his finger easily, and he dropped his forehead to her thigh. “God, you’re— you’re so tight.” He withdrew his finger and then slipped it back in, groaning at the slickness. “Can you, um— can you tell me if this is— is this doing anything for you?” He probed gently, searching for the spot inside her that he knew might actually be difficult to find. 

“Um— up, up,” she gasped. “Like, curl it up toward the ceiling and then sort of dra-a-a-g, oh, oh, oh.”

He followed her directions, curling his finger up and dragging it on the out stroke, and she was throwing her head back with a moan of his name. He repeated the motion over and over and then brought his mouth back to her clit. Both her hands came down to yank at his hair, and he groaned, causing her hips to jerk against his mouth. 

“M-more, Spence, more, so close,” she whined. 

When he withdrew his finger, he slipped a second one in beside it and then continued the curl-drag-thrust pattern while sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit. Her moans increased in frequency and volume, and he felt her squeeze impossibly tight around his fingers. He rutted into the bed as her grip on his hair held him still against her clit as she came. 

She let out a final gasp of his name, and then she relaxed around him and her grip on his hair went slack. He slipped his fingers out of her, stared at them in relative awe as they glistened with her come. He sucked them into his mouth to clean them off, relatively surprised by how much he enjoyed the taste. He leaned forward and dragged his tongue over her, cleaning her up and savoring the way she lingered in his mouth. 

“Shit, Spence,” she mumbled, grasping at his shoulder. “C’mere.”

He lifted his head and wiped his forearm across his chin. He watched her eyes go a little wide, and then she was dragging him up her body and crashing their mouths together. “You are so fucking hot,” she whispered. “I cannot believe you’ve never done that before. Such a good listener, baby.”

His hips canted forward desperately at the praise, and she sighed happily against his mouth. “Wanna blow you.” 

She pushed gently at his chest and he sat back to let her up. She slid off the bed and tugged on his hand to move him to sit with his legs off the side. “Can we take some things off?” she asked, gesturing to his fully clothed form. 

He nodded, and she popped the button on his trousers while he started on the button up. They made quick work of both, and she dragged his pants and underwear down in one motion. He shrugged out of his shirt and she took a step back to take him in. 

“You’re so pretty, Spence.” She dragged her finger up from his knee, over his thigh, the trail of hair on his tummy, his chest, his throat— her eyes tracking the motion. He watched her face as she did so, the way her pupils dilated with lust and her tongue came out to wet her lips. She finally settled on his face, smiling and leaning forward to press her lips to his. 

When she broke the kiss, she brought both hands up to cradle his face. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. If anything doesn’t feel good, just say so. You can put your hands on my head, pull my hair, whatever you like. If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he rasped. 

She kissed him again, and then dropped to her knees and took him in hand. The vision of her— naked, post-orgasm, looking up at him with his cock poised at her mouth— was so absolutely and gloriously filthy that he almost came on the spot. 

“You’re so big, Spence.” The wonderment seeped into her voice, and he couldn’t help but swell a little with pride. Her warm palm stroked over him, root to tip, and he fisted his hands in the duvet. “What was step one again?” she asked. 

“Um. S-start slow,” he recalled. 

She hummed in agreement, and then trailed the fingers of her free hand over the inside of his thigh. She turned her mouth to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the other, slowly inching up closer to where she held him in her hand. 

“Your skin is soft,” she murmured. Her nose brushing against the crease of this thigh. She switched sides, moved his cock into her other hand to trail her fingers over where her mouth had been. She sucked a mark into his thigh and then dragged her tongue over it, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

And then she shifted back to the center, flattened her tongue, and ran it up the vein on the underside of his cock. “Oh my god,” he whispered. 

She huffed out a laugh and the way her warm breath cooled the trail of spit she’d left had him shivering. “God, this is gonna be so fun,” she murmured. 

She held his cock up straight with one hand and repeated the motion of her tongue twice more, and then pressed a kiss to the tip. She held her tongue out flat and rubbed it along the underside of the head, running it along the divide between the tip and the shaft. And then she closed her mouth around the head and swirled her tongue around it, and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets, and then he felt her free hand tug at his fist. He opened his eyes as she guided his fingers into her hair. She locked eyes with him and then sucked gently on the tip of his cock. He fisted his hand and tugged, and she closed her eyes and moaned around him. 

The vibration of her voice had his hips thrusting forward a little into her mouth, and she pulled back with a grin. He couldn’t even form the words to apologize before she was licking down his shaft and murmuring, “Mm, and vary the attention, right?”

With that, she laved her tongue over his balls, slicking them up with her spit. He realized he’d been holding his breath, sucking in a gasp as she sucked one of them into her mouth. She hummed around it and then let it out with a soft pop, moving to draw the other one in. He hadn’t even considered that he would enjoy having his balls in her mouth, but now that they were there he knew he’d literally never stop thinking about it. 

She pulled back to take a breath, bringing a hand up to cup and massage his balls and stroke over his length at the same time. “Step two?” she prompted, looking up at him from in between his legs. 

“Work your way down,” he reminded her, petting over her hair in awe. 

“Ah, yes.” She brought her mouth back to the tip, sticking out her tongue and rubbing it along the sensitive spot just under the head. She kept her mouth open and held him in hand, alternating between wet kisses and swirling her tongue. And then she sucked it into her mouth, still moving her tongue back and forth as she started to sink further down his length. 

In his mind, he was singing her praises from the metaphorical rooftops, but in reality, her mouth was so hot and wet that all he could do was stare stupidly at the way his cock disappeared between her lips. She continued to massage his slick balls in her free hand as she took him in, inch by inch. Each time she pulled back to suckle the head, she stroked the circle of her other hand over the spit-covered length of him. 

On the next pass down, he felt the head of his cock press into the back of her throat, and his hands shot to her hair, holding tight. “Holy shit, Y/N, I—” he choked on the rest of the sentence as she took him an inch further, then simultaneously sucked and pulled back to the tip.

She tapped the tip of his cock to her spit-slick smile, kissing it teasingly. “Do you wanna tell me what to do?”

“M-more of that,” he begged, watching as she dragged her lips down the side of his cock. 

She chuckled, and the way it buzzed against the side of his cock had him short of breath. “Yeah— I thought you’d like that.” She pumped his length with her hand and then held her tongue out flat, bobbing her head until he hit the back of her throat. 

When she pulled back, he watched a trail of spit drip down her chin, and felt his cock twitch at the idea of her quite literally drooling over him. He barely resisted the urge to pinch his thigh, not willing to wake himself up if this was actually a dream. He brought a hand to her chin and used his thumb to gather the spit, and then brought it up to suck it into his mouth. 

Her mouth dropped open as she watched him swallow, and he briefly began to panic, but then she was surging upward to slot her mouth over his in a hot kiss. “How is everything you do so fucking hot?” she murmured against his lips. 

“I could say the same for you,” he countered, kissing her again. 

“I want you to come in my mouth, okay?” she asked. 

He nodded vigorously. “Shit, yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t hold back,” she demanded, and then she was dropping back down to take him in again. 

She left her mouth open, tongue laid flat, and took him into her throat— once, twice, three times. She choked around him and then pulled back to take a breath. She repeated this pattern again, and again, occasionally sucking on the head or even grazing her teeth just so. Spencer held her head between his hands, staring down at her with reverence. He couldn’t stop the litany of praise falling from his lips— mostly just gasps and moans of her name, but occasionally he found the mental capacity for so beautiful, or perfect mouth, or so good, baby. 

He could feel his orgasm drawing closer with every press into her throat, so incredibly tight that it was dizzying. She pulled all the way off to jerk his cock, a tight circle of her fingers gliding along his length with a squelching sound. She squeezed the base of him, dropped her hand to tug at his balls, and sunk her mouth down his length, holding him in her throat and swallowing, moaning low and long around him. 

She looked up at him then, and it was that which finally brought him over the edge— not that she was on her knees with his cock in her throat, but that she didn’t look away as he came undone. The fact that she was paying such close attention to him coupled with the trust and vulnerability required for this moment was too much to handle. His orgasm hit him like a train, his toes curling and fingers twitching in her hair as he came. She continued swallowing around him, and he fought to keep his eyes open, not willing to miss a single second of this moment. 

When he was finished, she slowly drew back, sucking gently along his softening length and pressing a kiss to the head. He did close his eyes then, cradling her head in his hands and rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks. She used his thighs as leverage to pull herself up, and he heard her suck in a sharp breath. His eyes shot open to see her rubbing at her knees— red and a little raw. 

“I’m sorry, I should have— I could have gotten you a pillow.” He pulled her closer and replaced her hands with his own, soothing the marks. 

She laughed and brushed a reassuring hand over his hair. “Occupational hazard.”

The scratchy rasp of her voice had his cock twitching. “I know I don’t have anything to compare it to, but you’re unbelievably good at that.”

She brought her hands to his face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “You’re not the only one who reads the literature.” 

Her even tone and steady gaze proved she wasn’t teasing or mocking, and he fell just a little bit deeper in love. He met her halfway in a kiss that was infinitely and luminously sweet and wondered just what in the world he was going to do about that.

———

Permanent tags: @spacedikut @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @rexorangecouny @rainsong01  @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin @reniescarlett @ncsls0515 @daybabyx @sturmmhond @takeyourleap-of-faith @saspencereid @calm-and-doctor @reidtheprettyboy @atabigail @ayo-cowbelly @muffin-cup @ssa-natalya-reid @wheelsup @reidingmelodies @this-is-gublerween  @s1utformgg  @reidemandweep @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @luwheezey @joalsglasses @je-suis-prest-rachel @dr-omalley @spencie-adams @honestimanormalfan @blurryreid

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[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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[too-many-baes]

Sickly

Pairing: fem!reader x Luther Hargreeves

Warning(s): N/A

Word Count: 1K

Request:  “Hey! For fic requests, can I request luther Hargreeves x reader (could be platonic or romantic) where the reader takes care of him when he’s sick? Thanks!😊” - by Anon

A/N: In honour of this being my first request since I’ve been writing again I decided to not hoard it for Non-Stop August and post it right away, so there you are anonny, hope you enjoy it!

And remember, most requests will be saved and posted for Non-Stop August currently, but I am posting some along the way, so shoot ya shot  🏀

“Luther, are you even listening to me? We’re gonna be late!” You yell up to the loft of your apartment as you busied yourself putting your earrings in. Usually you could hear that Luther was up well before you saw him, but the loft remained silent.

Tsking under your breath to yourself you marched up the short spiral staircase to see that Luther was still firmly in bed, blankets pulled all the way up to his chin, face all but buried in your pillows. You furrow your eyebrows in surprise. Luther was a light sleeper, and you had expected to come up and find your big lovable man ignoring you, not asleep.

“Luther,” you utter softly, seating yourself on the edge of the bed and giving his arm a shake, “you in there?” You giggle as he stirs, eyes bleary and red as he searches for you. “We’re meeting your family today, remember?” He makes a grumbling noise in the affirmative and raises his head slightly, swiping over his face with one of his hands. You fix him with an analysing stare, raising a hand to press to his forehead to confirm your suspicion. The back of your hand meets with a scorching forehead.

“You have a temperature.”

“I’m fiiiine,” he grumbles, now making himself sit up, although it looks to you that the motion makes him feel dizzy, “it’s just a head cold.” You snicker to yourself as you lightly place a hand on his shoulder, the small force contained in the movement enough to send him back down into the pillows.

“I don’t think so, we’re not going. I’ll call and cancel.”

“No but you were so excited, I was so excited.” You rub his bicep reassuringly as you reach for his phone to call Allison, as you didn’t have any of the Hargreeves numbers.

“I know, they’ll be more chances in the future.” Today was the day you were supposed to meet the extended Hargreeves family.

You’d been dating Luther a while but you’d always sensed some hesitation in him introducing you to the family. You didn’t take it personally, as you knew very well who Luther was when you’d met and knew he must have a complicated relationship with his family. The outing ended up being his idea, stating that he’d wanted you to be a part of his family now, and that meant meeting everybody else. You’d already met Allison a few times but the rest of the siblings you hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of.

Allison was completely sympathetic on the phone and said it would’ve been no problem to reschedule. She also let you in on the fact that when Luther got sick it tended to put him out of action for a few days as his body mass was so large, it was quite an effort for his immune system to fight off whatever ailed him. You thanked her for the advice and hung up to the sounds of Luther trying to get out of bed.

“Oh no you don’t mister,” you yell from your place in the kitchen that you’d wandered into while on the phone, “get back in bed!” You hurry upstairs to catch him in the act, feet on the floor and hands at his sides as if he was about to push himself up.

“Babe, no, c’mon, I’ve got to get ready.”

“I already cancelled, now lie back down.” He gave you a gloomy look but obliged, lying back as you fixed the pillows so that he could be slightly propped up. “You hungry?” He opened his mouth to deny it but as he did his stomach let out an almighty sound that had you laughing and patting it as if to shush it.

You went into the kitchen and made him his favourite of yours, chilli udon noodle soup, with a cup of lemon, honey, and ginger to ease his throat, as his voice had been becoming raspier with every sentence he spoke. You took the items upstairs and placed them onto the bedside table, putting two tablets into his hand and instructing him to take them. He did with no resistance, a grin spreading over his face when he caught sight of what you’d made him. You went to give him some space, but he grabbed your hand as you turned, a barely there pout on his lips that begged you to stay.

You could never say no to Luther at the best of times, but now that he was sick and looking more beaten down than usual you were there at his beck and call. You positioned yourself in the bed so that his head rested on your chest as he ate. You wordlessly turned on the television that sat atop the dresser at the end of the bed and put on what you’d come to know as his comfort movie, Dirty Dancing. He grinned up at you like a child, you sending one right back down at him.

He fell asleep shortly after eating and barely half an hour into the movie, his head on your chest and your hand gently stroking him on the head. You gazed down at your gentle giant, sick and miserable but looking contented as he rested.

“Thank you.” His barely audible mutter just caught your ears as he repositioned himself to be cuddling your middle. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and a small giggle passed your lips when he reached up to place one of your hands back on his head so you could resume the comforting motion you’d been doing.

“You don’t have to thank me, Luther.” You say with a small kiss to his head.

“I know,” he rests his chin on you so that he can look you in the eyes, “but I appreciate you looking after me. I love you.” It was far from the first time Luther had told you he loved you, but every time it managed to make your heart forget it’s natural rhythm for a beat.

“I love you too.”